traditions. I say we starAuthor’s note: Review responses for last chapter may be found in this address: http:www. livejournal. com/ users/ foxdance/ 29764.html (remove spaces).

UNSUNG

A Fox Trail Side Story

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Chapter 2:

Naomi

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The early November morning was frigid and uninviting. The only window in the cramped, dank room wept out the fog it had accumulated from the chilly night before. Julian would have stayed cooped up beneath three layers of thin linen blankets all day sleeping his hangover away, but some sick bastard had dared to storm into his room and smacked him in the head.

“Too early. Gohway,” Julian mumbled groggily, burying his head under his pillow.

The rolled newspaper swept down once more, this time slapping his unprotected area – his ass.

Julian opened one eye and peeped beneath the pillow, and raised his brow when he saw well-shaped thighs wrapped in a bright yellow miniskirt. “God, just what I need. A dominatrix bitch wanting some when I’m too wasted to perform,” Julian grumbled sadly.

“You idiot!” Fray bellowed, materializing from behind the woman in the miniskirt. “That’s my woman you’re talking to, so show some respect. Get up before she pummels you!”

The woman with the shapely thighs and sexy miniskirt nodded, her dark dreadlocks bouncing as she shook her head while re-rolling the newspaper into a tighter cylinder. Idly Julian noted how her yellow dress flattered her chocolate-colored skin, but sensibly decided not to express the thought out loud.

“It’s not wise to ogle your landlord’s tenant, especially when said landlord is in the same room,” Fray commented dryly.

Julian finally crept out from beneath the blankets, painfully clutching his head. Fray’s nagging had magnified itself a thousand fold in his head, courtesy of a nasty hangover. “Yeah, yeah. Geez, how would I know that was her when she didn’t--” Julian toppled to the floor face-first with a grunt, his naked behind jutting out like a proud hill. Above him, Fray’s girlfriend gave a muffled squeal. “…goddamn say anything,” Julian finished, pulling himself up.

“Pathetic bastard,” Fray muttered in disgust as he tossed Julian a pair of pants he snatched off the foot of the bed. “You know Sherry can’t speak. Cover yourself and follow me downstairs. You have some explaining to do.”

A few minutes later, all three were assembled at the pub, staring down at a young, blonde man curled up in a fetal position on one of the pub’s booths, drooling on the red upholstery. Sherry pointed an accusing finger at the boy as she stared venomously at Julian, her dark brown eyes demanding an explanation.

“Sherry wants you to explain how this hobo managed to get in here when you’re the only one other than us who has a key,” Fray translated automatically.

Julian scratched his head, struggling to remember what he was supposed to say. He knew he had a good explanation for this somewhere in his head. Damn, if only he wasn’t too stoned to remember… He blearily shoved his hand into his messy head of pale brown hair. “I can explain, Sher, I swear.”

“Lemme guess,” Fray interrupted. “You mistook him for a girl and took him home for a screw.”

“Your high regard of my character humbles me,” Julian retorted sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “I found him last night on the trash pile.”

Sherry raised a perfectly tweezed eyebrow dubiously, her narrowed gaze seeming to bore through Julian’s head like lasers.

“Sherry wants you to stop spewing crap,” Fray translated yet again.

“No, really, Sher. No bullshit. Those dreadlocks look hot on you, by the way, it makes me want to…” Juno halted with a sheepish smile at Fray’s grievous frown. “Never mind, I can wait ‘til you dump him. Where was I? Ah… The kid. He must have gotten mugged because he had blood stain on his clothes. I carried him inside because it would have been such a drag if some punk kid died behind the pub; the corpse would have smelled foul, and my room’s window opens right above the trash dump.”

While Fray and Sherry grilled their tenant, their subject of discussion began to rouse, arms outstretched as he groped around the booth awkwardly.

“Excuse me for impolitely interrupting your exchange, but has anyone seen my glasses?”

Julian’s litany of alibis drifted off as he gaped at the young man sitting cross-legged on the chair, innocent sky blue eyes blinking up at them in confusion. With his soft platinum blonde curls falling in unruly wisps over his vivid eyes and his delicately shaped face pinkish from the chill, he looked uncannily beatific, almost angelic. Fray’s mouth fell agape. Beside him, Sherry’s face softened, and Julian was sure that she would have said ‘aww’ had she not been mute.

“Well, ain’t he pretty,” Fray murmured, amused. “Almost as pretty as our Julian.”

Julian, however, found nothing amusing. He had a splitting headache, and he had been awakened a tad too early. “Good. You’re alive. Now get lost so these two can get off my back,” Julian ordered harshly, hands on his waist.

“Oh! Oh. I apologize.” The boy glanced down, noticing his muddy, blood-soiled shirt for the first time. “I can’t believe this happened again. I really am sorry for imposing on you. I don’t remember what happened last night, but lately I’ve been passing out at random locations, and I wake up all sullied and lost. It’s most distressing. I suppose you are the one who has found me and taken me in.” He paused and beamed a smile at Julian. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Julian mumbled, already turning around. “I’m going back to bed.”

Sherry made a sudden grab on Julian’s shoulder. Her free hand started to wildly make a bunch of gestures that Julian knew was sign language, not that he understood any of it.

“She says it’s already a quarter past seven, Julian,” Fray translated wearily at Julian’s puzzled expression. “School? Ring any bells?”

Julian’s lime green eyes practically bulged. “Oh shit, I have class in fifteen minutes!”

“Class!” The strange boy suddenly exclaimed. “I have class! I have to go.” He glanced wildly at the clock above the liquor cabinet at the bar, and squealed, scrambling off the booth and tripping on his brown loafers in the process. “I have to get home and change and get my laptop and my file folder and my pens and…” He pushed himself up and hastily shook the hands of a rather dazed Sherry and an amused Fray. “Thank you for your hospitality. I’m Seth Macintosh, and I’m pleased to meet your acquaintance, even that of the rude half-naked young man.” And just like that, he was rushing down the street after clumsily ramming himself head-first through the door.

Julian did not wait around to watch the strange young man make his escape; he had already rushed to the bathroom for a quick shower. He could not afford to cut another class; he had already missed far too many. He was not fond of studying, but he did not exactly want to flunk out of Harvard. He needed a certain GPA average in order to shift out of his major like he had been planning since last year.

Fray was just restocking the bar when Juno darted out of the bathroom stark naked, his hair dripping over his slim form and over the floor that he and his girlfriend had just mopped clean earlier. Sherry cast his toned body an appreciative glance disguised underneath a disapproving hiss, and tossed Julian a towel as he passed by on his way upstairs. Fray only shook his head as he grabbed the mop, prepared to repair the damage done on his immaculate floor.

A minute later Juno was running out the back door, pulling a bright red shirt over his damp skin while donning a backpack as he ran. His father was going to have a fit, he mused gleefully as he circled the building. Old man Midou was a control freak with no consideration for his own son’s happiness, forcing Julian into a tedious business course in an attempt to turn his son into a suitable replica of himself. Julian had tried to fight the tide, of course. Rebelliousness was simply in his nature. He’d purposely flunked the Harvard entrance exam, but his father remedied the situation by donating a huge sum to the administration for a new building, and even the delinquent Julian Midou was instantly accepted. Well, Harvard also happened to have a rather decent performance arts department, and there was no harm in salvaging the last three years of his college life by getting a degree in something he actually loved – music. Hopefully, his father would not discover the sudden change of directions until the documents have been settled.

His hope for secrecy was dashed the moment he stepped into the street in front of the pub, where a black sedan was discreetly parked on the far end of the curb. From the distance, he could make out a woman’s figure waiting on the driver’s seat, her eyes acutely focused on the pub’s front door. He couldn’t tell what she looked like, or how old she was, but he was certain from the stealthy pose that she was one of them, most probably the new bodyguard sent by his father to monitor him. He cussed, backed off into the curb away from her sight, and decided to take the long way through the back alley.

- - -

Julian came into his first period class fifteen minutes late and drenched with sweat. Luckily, his professor seemed to have a worse punctuality problem than he; the teacher’s desk in front of the rising auditorium-style classroom was still devoid of any books. He breathed a long sigh of relief, and avoiding the censorious stares of his male classmates, he skipped up the aisle. He shuffled to a seat beside a pretty redhead in a yellow Channel sundress who raked her eyes appreciatively over his torso. Ah, who cared about the guys when the girls obviously liked the way his sweat-drenched shirt clung to his lean, willowy frame? He winked at her and borrowed a scrunchie, which he used to tie his hair back in a loose ponytail. The blonde girl sitting in front of him smiled in approval at the new style and leaned over to stroke the stray strands that escaped to frame his face.

“You’re late again. I’m keeping track of your cuts, and you only have a couple left before the teacher drops you out of the course. Here’s a copy of the notes for the last two times you didn’t come in,” the blonde said sternly, handing him a bundle of photocopies.

Julian gave a sultry chuckle, and leaned forward to catch Stephanie’s stubborn chin on his nimble fingers, making the girl blush becomingly. “I appreciate your concern, Steph,” he said, rolling her name on his tongue huskily. “Thank you for the notes. I’ll try to read them, but honestly, I’ll probably sleep through them.”

“But you can’t, Julian! We have an exam in two weeks. You have to take care of your grades!”

“Oh, shush, Stephie, don’t be so austere. We know Julian’s an artist, and he spends his nights singing beautiful music,” Elaine, the redhead, berated, coyly snaking a hand around Julian’s bicep, stroking his skin lightly with her manicured fingers. “Besides, haven’t you heard? Professor Griffin is on a sick leave. He had a heart attack the other day. We have a new chemistry professor. I don’t remember his name, but I heard he was pretty young, a genius of sorts.”

A slight commotion made the trio turn to the front, where a group of students had gathered near the door, laughing at something on the floor. Julian, feeling too washed out to bother looking, simply sat back as the two girls stood up for a look.

“Hahahah! Nice entrance, dork!”

“Who the hell is this loser anyway?”

“He’s probably a transferee from the other class.”

“Hey, are you okay?”

“Aww, how cute!”

The mixed reactions amused Juno; the guys were picking on the newcomer, while the girls were cooing on him. So the new kid was a good-looking dork, Juno inferred with some interest, slipping down to a more comfortable position on his seat and leaning his head on an upturned arm. How strange, though, that a new student would transfer to the class two months down the semester. Julian closed his eyes and decided to catch a few more minutes of sleep.

The newcomer was beginning to stand up with the aid of his enamored female classmates. A bit wobbly, he made his way to the teacher’s desk, his books, laptop, and pens clutched in maladroit arms. The giggles finally subsided as the students went back their usually ways, chatting about and hanging around, but the newcomer simply stood there, slightly disoriented, his white shirt rumpled and his horn-rimmed glasses askew. As the noise rose to a crescendo, the new kid became ignored, and nobody noticed the way he purposely arranged his things on the desk and turned to the white board behind the desk to scribble a long name. The class fell into an astounded as the young man finally turned around and cleared his throat, and said in a chirpy voice, “Good morning, class! My name is Dr. Seth Macintosh, and I shall be filling in for Professor Griffin while he recovers from his illness. Ah... can everyone please return to their seats?”

A stunned silence commenced. Julian drowsily snapped from his nap, annoyed that the teacher had finally come in. His heavy-eyed gaze fell to the front of the classroom, and his jaw dropped. The teacher was a very young man with an astoundingly pretty face, wild platinum blonde curls, sky blue eyes, and the slender body of an adolescent. He was also damn familiar. Julian groaned loudly, burying his face in his hands. It was the twerp he had found in the trash last night!

“Give us a break, man,” one of the guys hooted. “That prank is old news.”

“Yeah, get off there before the real professor comes in.”

Seth blinked in perplexity, scratching his head. “But I am the real professor. The science and engineering department told me to fill in while your professor is on leave. This is my first teaching job.”

The class fell into another hush. Finally, another student, a rather cocky honor student, impudently challenged, “If you’re us telling the truth, what are your credentials? Where and when did you graduate, and with what degree? Most of all, how old are you? You look like you’re still in high school.”

“Well, I’m twenty-three years old. I graduated from MIT three years ago with a double major in molecular biology and computer engineering. I received my PhD in biochemistry from Harvard last year, and I will finish my PhD in nuclear physics next year. Since I’m still studying, I suppose you guys are correct in mistaking me for a student.” He gave a sheepish smile, and fumbled with his gray tie, ignorant of the students’ looks of shock and amazement. “I was told about this job on short notice. I would have to apologize because I have not seen Professor Griffin’s lesson plans yet, so I have no idea where you are in your lesson. So, have you spliced DNA helixes yet?”

“Sliced what?” a student from the back echoed dumbly. “Somebody please remind him that this is an introductory natural science elective, and that we’re not chemistry majors?”

“He’s twenty-three?!” Stephanie squeaked. “But he looks so much younger than we are.”

“He looks like an angel,” Elaine cooed. “And his credentials are impressive. He must be a prodigy. So many majors and doctorates at such a young age, and those adorable blue eyes…”

A young man in front raised his hand. “Sir, our last class ended with chapter eleven. He said that since we finished the lessons earlier than planned, he was giving us the next two weeks off so we can work on our research paper.”

“What research paper?” Stephanie whispered to Elaine, elegantly plucked brows furrowed. “We haven’t finished the lesson yet, and we have no research paper assigned for this class!”

“Shush! Just ride along!” Elaine whispered, smiling slyly. “Let’s see if Stephenson can bluff this one through.”

“Elaine, this isn’t right. Unlike some of you, I actually enjoy this class.”

Elaine cast a critical eye over the semi-stunned class. “Did you say ’some’? It seems you’re the minority. Besides, most of the students enrolled in this class are drama majors. Do you actually think they give a damn about chemistry? We’re here because it’s required in the curriculum.”

“I second that,” Juno added in a drowsy voice. “And I’m not even a drama major.”

“Really?” Seth exclaimed, glancing at the textbook. “Chapter eight? That is pretty advanced. Professor Griffin must be pretty quick to have finished half of the lesson for the semester in just two months of classes. Um, okay. No classes for the next two weeks to work on the research project.”

Stephanie’s bright blue eyes nearly bulged. “Now look what you all did. We have to submit a research project! We haven’t even learned much yet; how can we start on a project?!”

“We won’t,” Elaine said with a mischievous smile. “By the time the semester ends, our old teacher would already have returned. Prof. Macintosh will the take the fall entirely for not teaching properly.”

Stephanie gasped in outrage. Juno couldn’t help but chuckle.

“And Professor Griffin also dismisses us thirty minutes before the bell rings,” another student piped in, smirking.

“Oh, okay.” Seth glanced at his watch in consternation. “So… does that mean I have to dismiss the class now?”

Majority of the class gave a loud, resounding “yes!” while shooting warning glances at the few conscientious, serious students lest they contested and told the truth. The persecuted science majors simply squirmed in their seats, glancing at each other helplessly.

“Oh. So… Class dismissed, I suppose,” Seth announced uncertainly, rather disappointed that his first day on the job ended so early.

Julian smirked. Well, at least the teacher was a totally insipid pushover, which should make this class easier. Julian stood up and grabbed his bag, intending to escape before Professor Macintosh spotted him and caused a discomfiting scenario. He did not think his classmates would react well if they knew their teacher had slept over at his place, even if it was just downstairs.

It was going to be a very awkward semester…

- - -

Boston was not the ideal place for a person who appreciated warm sunshine and sandy beaches. For some cursed reason, the area was always haunted by cold gusts of wind and the sky perpetually blanketed by dismal clouds. On late November mornings like on that particular Wednesday, it usually gets even worse. The autumn chill bit into the skin and seeped into the bones, and not even walls and windows could keep the cold out.

With a disgruntled sigh, Fray raised his arm and began to wipe the filmy moisture that had accumulated on one of his bar windows. He had just wiped the damn windows thirty minutes ago, and here he was again, bundled up in his colorful array of knitted sweaters and scarves with his rag in hand. For the fifteenth time, he asked himself why he left sunshiny Florida to live in that oversized igloo.

Oh, he remembered now; he was supposed to study. Fray had received an art scholarship from Harvard. But sometime along the way, his funds dried out, and the free tuition had not covered books, easels, and living expenses. There wasn’t much choice for a young man but to drop the dream, and wait for another chance at finishing the degree. In the mean time, he would work and gather enough money for tuition. But years had come and gone, and although through hard work and some luck he had acquired his own bar, the cash flow had barely been enough to keep the nubile business afloat.

The window pane grew clearer with every circular swipe of his rag, until eventually a lone brown sedan parked along 23rd Street was in view. Fray beamed with pride as he peered out. His bar may be old and rickety, but with zealous neatness bordering on obsessive-compulsiveness, he’d managed to keep it so spanking clean that it could pass for a decent restaurant if one would just ignore the peeling paint and the leaky ceiling.

The old bell by the door chimed an off-key tinkle, and Fray’s head shot up, surprised that a customer had wandered in so early. He usually opens at around six or seven, just in time to catch the students coming out of their classes, and until then he keeps the tables and the chair tucked away. Neatly folding the rag and slipping it into his apron pouch, he stood up and wandered to the young woman that had just come in.

The customer was not a familiar face. In fact, she seemed completely out of place in the university area. The young woman, who Fray surmised was in her very early twenties, could not possibly have passed for a student; she looked more like an overworked secretary. She was Asian, and her dark black hair was pulled into a severe club-shaped bun at the base of her nape. Her drab brown suite seemed a size to large for her willowy frame, effectively covering any possible feminine curves she might have. The Spartan attire did not even sport any accessory except for an unsightly black belt bag slung low on her waist. Her face, which could have been pretty, was much too devoid of make-up and natural color to be considered attractive.

“Can I get you anything, lady?” Fray asked, wiping both hands on his apron. “I’m sorry for the mess, but we usually set up later for the evening crowd. That’s when the band starts playing and the cook comes in. So I’m afraid all I can offer you is a cup of coffee or a beer.”

The woman nearly jumped, startled, and stuttered, “Uhm, oh no, thank you, I’m just here to… I mean I’m looking for…”

The woman was an absolute basket case, Fray noted with amusement. He pulled a chair stacked upside down on a table, righted it, and motioned for her to sit. “Julian Midou?”

Again, the mousy lady was startled, her chinky eyes darting about nervously as she took the offered seat. “H-how did you know?”

“Every girl beyond puberty who enters through those doors are usually here to, ah, how did Julian put it? ‘To drool over his state of undress.’ Or was it, ‘to bask in his presence’?”

The woman looked surprised. “Oh. Why?”

It was Fray’s turn to look astonished. It was a rare occasion to find a female bar customer who was unfamiliar with Julian’s notorious reputation. Perhaps the woman only heard about Julian’s performance from a friend, Fray thought. The bartender shuffled behind the bar, took one of his tetra packed coffee cartons, and proceeded to pour the liquid into a glass. With the lady’s nerves, it would probably cause a nervous breakdown, but he had nothing else to offer. He doubted the prim woman drank beer. He served the glass, and winked. “Oh, you’ll see. Just keep your eyes peeled open, and try not to drool.”

“Drool?”

Fray only chuckled. She was terribly naïve for her age. “You’re a unique one, lady. What’s your name”

“Uhm… I’m not allowed to disclose classified information…”

“I’m not asking for your bank account number, silly woman,” Fray retorted with a bemused smile. “I can’t exactly keep calling you ‘lady’. Do you have a name or what?”

She seemed reluctant to say anything about herself for some odd reason, but after a couple of minutes of awkward deliberation, she finally whispered nervously, “Naomi.”

- - -

The rest of the day passed too slowly for Julian. Sophomore subjects were not difficult, but they were boring. Most of the time, he found himself dozing off in the middle of the lectures. Sometimes he amused himself by flirting with a delectable young lady while her boyfriend looked on in jealousy. Most of the guys in his classes already hated his guts anyway, for the simple fact that almost every female in the vicinity had her eyes on him, including several teachers. When the day finally became too tedious, he invited a girl to cut Classical Literature class with him for a make-out session at her dorm room.

At last, it was time to go back home, if one could call Umberto’s that. But it was the nearest thing to a home, especially since the house he grew up in was on the other side of the globe, nestled behind the busy docks of Taiwan. He’d spent the better part of his childhood with his uncle’s family. Damn, he missed his dysfunctional family, but since his uncle and aunt had died, his foster siblings had scattered off. Kira was off at Yale, and his younger sister Suu had been cooped up in a boarding school somewhere in Switzerland for almost two years now. Come to think of it, he had not seen the two since that fatal incident at the manor. He was almost certain he would not recognize the girl Suu had grown into if he ever saw her in the near future. All he remembered was that she such a sweet child, and both he and Kira doted on her like a goddess. Ah, he missed those halcyon days where they all live normal lives protected by the cloak of naiveté, before Kira became a callous cold-blooded killer and Suu had to be sent away because it was no longer safe. And he… well, he was diving headlong to self-destruction.

Distracted by gloomy musings, the walk home passed unnoticed. He had not even realized he was home until he had pushed the glass-paned door emblazoned with “Umberto’s” in peeling yellow paint, prompting the familiar tinkle of an off-tune bell he had long loathed. Knowing Fray would already be setting up the tables at that time, Julian hollered loudly, tongue in cheek, “Honey, I’m home.”

…And came face to face with a plain-looking Asian woman, standing erectly before the bar area, nervously wringing her hands against her dowdy khaki blazer. Fray’s voice blasted from behind the bar even just as it faintly registered to Julian who the unexpected visitor was.

“About time you came back, honey,” Fray greeted sardonically as he wiped a glass clean. “This lady’s been waiting here all day.”

A silent curse tumbled off Julian’s lips, while the woman could only stare.

“Who the hell…”

“Mr. Julian Midou,” the woman finally managed with a flustered bow, a bright red blush staining her pale cheeks. “I… I… I’m Naomi Misato, ID code UVII-R-48101. I’m your… your new bodyguard.”

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March 11, 2005; to be continued…

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Author’s Note:

I don’t know Harvard’s curriculum, but as far as I know all college courses require units in natural science, literature, and calculus regardless of your major. The classroom scene was derived from my old classes. Yes, I’ve had genius professors who could also be incredibly dumb and gullible. New ones are especially easy to push around. It’s shameful, considering my university was supposed to be one of the best in the country, but even ‘smart’ students have horns, you know?

You guys are probably not interested about what’s happening in my life now, but I had just finished college. Graduation is just around the corner. I still haven’t decided if I’ll go on to studying law (already got accepted at UP law school) or work immediately, but you can just be sure that before I pursue any of the two options, I’ll try to finish as much of FT and Unsung as I can.

As always, any kind of review is appreciated. Personally, I found this chapter rather boring, but maybe that’s just because the first chapter was more scandalous. But I want to know what you think. settles down with a cup of coffee and waits for reviews