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Chapter Two

The flight to Vancouver was blissfully over before I knew it. Out of guilt my father had sprung for a First Class ticket. Unfortunately the flight attendants knew I was underage so I didn't get the complimentary champagne that the other passengers in my cabin did.

I grabbed my carry on from the compartment above me; my well-loved and abused leather backpack Lissa had gotten me a few Christmases ago. It was still early evening, just past 6 pm as I stared blankly waiting for my suitcase to come down the luggage carousel. I finally saw it, the blinding hot pink polka dot ribbon Lissa tied on it for me "to find it easier" making the black luggage stand out.

I heaved it off the carousel and wheeled it behind me hoping to spot my dad amongst the crowd. I shouldn't have been shocked when I was instead met with a non-descript driver holding up a sign that said Rosemarie Mazur.

It was a constant point of contention between my parents, what my last name should be since they weren't married and couldn't stand each other ninety percent of the time. They eventually decided to hyphenate it so I was Hathaway–Mazur. I always just preferred Hathaway as it was easier with my peers and less of a mouthful.

I walked up to the guy and raised my eyebrow, handing off my luggage. "So the Old Man was too busy to come himself huh?"

"Your father said that he will meet you back at the apartment, he unfortunately was stuck on a business call."

"Isn't he always? Lead on Jeeves."

The driver had the better sense than to reply to my sarcastic comment, and wheeled my luggage out to his town car. He opened the rear door for me, shutting it firmly behind me once I was inside. After he stowed my suitcase in the truck he made his way back to the front smoothly pulling back out into traffic and hopping on the highway towards downtown. I pulled out my ipod and let the music drown out the uncomfortable silence until we arrived in front of his building.

My father Abe Mazur was a lawyer specializing in representing professional athletes. That's how he met my mother, former champion Olympic figure skater Janine Hathaway. He was 25 and just passed the bar and she was 18 and looking to rebel. 9 months later, I popped out ruining what was left of her career.

My father lived in a modern high-rise where everything was sleek and contemporary. To me it felt cold, but to everyone else it screamed luxury. He was always concerned about the image he projected. I wheeled my suitcase into the elevator and hit the button for Penthouse 8, feeling my stomach turn as I ascended rapidly.

The doors dinged and I exited into his private lobby entry. It was too much to expect him to actually be waiting on my arrival, so I used my key to let myself in.

The marble floors must have been recently polished as the smell of chemicals invaded my nostrils. I left my luggage by the main closet and walked into the rest of the apartment trying to locate my father.

I heard him first, yelling in Turkish in his study. 'Still on the phone then.' I snorted to myself. I made my way to the door, knocking gently on the frame and drawing his attention away from the papers on his desk up to me.

He smiled, showing off too white teeth brightened by the contrast against his tan skin.

"I want this sorted out by Monday, there are still too many points left in this contract from our original redlined agreement. Listen, I have to go my daughter just arrived. We'll talk again tomorrow, goodbye."

"Kiz! You are getting so grown up" He stood up and gave me a bear hug.

With a greeting like this, you'd think he'd actually cared. I suppose he did in his own way, but Abe Mazur was never really cut out to be a father. He was more of benevolent mafia leader type. You wanted him on your side, and he'd take care of you. Cross him, and you're sleeping with the fishes.

"Hi Old Man. You keep working these kinds of hours you are going to give yourself a heart attack."

"You sound like your mother, I'm only 42 for Pete's sake."

"Since when do you talk to Mom?"

"We talk. Don't sound so surprised. We are both still responsible for you."

"Responsible in that you trade off summer's with me when the Academy won't let me stay in the dorms?"

He cleared his throat uncomfortable with my turn of topic and retreated back behind his desk when his phone started ringing.

"You're setup in the guest room, if there is anything you need that isn't already in there, just leave a note and my housekeeper will pick it up for you."

When he picked up his phone, I knew I was effectively dismissed. I slammed the door behind me, no doubt rattling a few of his pictures on the wall in the process.

Grabbing my suitcase, I wheeled it down the hall until I reached my prison for the summer. As far as prison's go, it wasn't that bad. Queen bed flat screen tv, and balcony overlooking the city. I also mercifully had an attached ensuite.

The room to me however felt like a blank canvas, white, steel and wood. I made a mental note to try to find a couple of brightly colored pillows to try to bring life into the room.

After I put away all my clothes in the dresser and closet, I decided I wanted to go walk and explore. My stomach growled, and I knew I would find a fully stocked kitchen down the hall, but I craved the grease of McDonald's.

I shoved my phone into the back pocket of my jeans and grabbed some cash I remembered to exchange at the airport. I didn't bother telling my Dad I was leaving, he wasn't the type to hover or check on me. So long as I stayed out of his way and out of trouble, I was pretty much allowed to do whatever I wanted. When I stayed with my mother it was like living in a military state.

I shoved my hands in my pockets as I walked the few blocks to the fast food chain and my awaiting burger. I never got past how clean Vancouver was as a city compared to even Missoula in Montana.

I saw the familiar golden arches and pulled open the door instantly smelling the fried goodness. After ordering a Big Mac Combo meal, I took my tray and sat down in the corner observing the rest of the clientele on a Tuesday night.

One old man sat at a table in the front nursing a coffee and reading the paper with his cane propped up on the chair next to him. A young mother was in one of the booths, bouncing a baby on her hip tried to mediate the dispute between her other two children fighting over the happy meal toy. And last but not least a group of four teenagers walked in three boys and a girl with blonde bouncing hair.

I couldn't help but watch them out of curiosity, two of the boys were quite tall, one with flaming red hair. The other tall one was broader in the shoulders with dark hair. The last boy with overly styled blonde hair had his arm around the girl's waist and was whispering something into her ear.

While they were ordering, I busied myself with playing the free game on my phone. I hadn't activated international calling yet, and my mom would kill me if I racked up roaming charges trying to text Lissa. I'd have to see if she was on IM when I got home to my laptop.

"Hey," A voice to my left startled me away from popping bubbles on the screen. The red head was standing over me with his thumbs hooked in the pockets of his corduroys as he rocked back and forth.

"Hi…" I said tentatively looking up at him. His smile was nice I decided, he looked genuinely friendly, but that didn't mean he wasn't a potential psychopath.

"My name's Mason. You're welcome to join my friends and I at our table over there if you want." He pointed his thumb back at the other kids who were staring at him in disbelief.

"That's okay, I'm almost done. Besides, not sure everyone at that table wants me to join you guys." The blonde girl had been shooting me daggers since he came over.

He glanced back catching my meaning instantly.

"Mia's alright once you get to know her. She's just protective over all of us."

"Oh? And what's she trying to protect you from now?"

"Well right now she's hoping to protect me from the beautiful girl who could easily break my heart." He slapped his hand over his chest dramatically and waggled his brows.

"Wow… that's cheesy. Epically cheesy. Do you think those lines actually work?" I laughed.

"I was hoping it might. But listen, I don't want to bother you, you just looked like you could use a friend. If you want, a few of us are going over to the ice rink on Napier at 3 if you want to come. I'll also let you graciously hold on to me so you don't slip and fall."

"Well with an offer like that, its gonna be pretty sad when I whip your butt racing around the rink."

His face lit up with a huge smile causing the corners of his eye's to crinkle up.

"So you'll come then, yeah? I promise my friends will be on their best behavior."

"And what about you?"

"Oh, I'll be on my worst behavior." He winked at me and turned around making his way back to his friends who instantly began to grill him on the strange girl on the corner.

I finished up the last of my fries and tossed my rubbish in the bin by the door before heading out. When I got out on to the sidewalk, I watched them all laughing together from the window.

At least if I made a friend this summer, maybe I wouldn't be so damn bored. It had been a couple of years since I last laced up my skates. I mostly avoided ice-skating out of spite towards my mother. For a while she had tried to push her failed career on me, making me take lessons all the time when I was small and practice before I could stay at the Academy full time. I was her little prodigy, but I lacked discipline. Ultimately, she grew frustrated with me and claimed I was a waste of talent.

However it gave her the idea to start coaching professionally now that her body was never going to be up for competing again. I started seeing her less and less, and her desire to force me on the ice dwindled.

I actually enjoyed skating when she wasn't yelling at me to turn faster and lift my leg higher. I was looking forward for tomorrow, Rose Hathaway the ice princess was gonna stretch her legs.