Rider Of The Storm - HITTER

Jan 16, 2010 12:50


Author: kitty69lover 
Rating: G
Category: comedy
Characters: Gerard Pique, other FCB footballers, (see tags)
Length: hitter
Originally posted on: 11.09.2009
Summary: one tries to catch while the other tries to not get caught.
Disclaimer: I do not own Gerard Pique or his family, or any of the other footballers mentioned in my story. This is just fiction, not the reality.
Authors Notes: inspired by 1983 movie Risky Bussines - starring Tom Cruise, the title is taken from a Doors song.


She was driving like the storm. And truth be told, Lucinda Storm was exactly what her surname said: a tempest of a woman.

She was driving her Ford Shelby Cobra
furiously, in the dark night. Her destination: Barcelona. Her purpose: catching her fiancee cheating on her.

She changed gears again and her car overtook a Mercedes.

***

A series of loud beeps woke Gerard Pique from his inebriated sleep. He slid his hand over the blond sleeping next to him on the right and reached for his cell phone that was on the night stand. The message was from Sergio Ramos.

He stared at the time displayed on the small screen, it was 02:46. Why would Sergio text him at that hour. He pressed show message. It was short, but enough to send shivers down Gerard's spine. He shot up in bed, and he repeated the two words Sergio had typed in: Storm approaching.

“Storm approaching.” he said, louder. “STORM approaching.” a bit louder. “STORM APPROACHING!” he yelled, waking up both the blond and the other woman sharing his gigantic bed.

“Gerard, hunny? What is it?” the brunette, who's name escaped him, asked.

“Storm is coming back.”

“Storm?” she blinked twice.

“His fiancee!” the blond shouted!

The three jumped out of bed and started panicking.

***

Everyone called her by her family name. In fact, very few people even knew she had a name, a feminine, sweet name. She preferred it though, she hated 'Lucinda'. But she had to wonder if she had managed to turn the name into a moniker or had the name turned her into a very hard to control herself woman.

Like a few hours ago, when she yelled at Barajas Airport, at that incompetent and pathetic excuse of a human being that refused to sell her a ticket. She refused to believe there weren't any available places, she would've even taken a detoured flight, one that had a stop or two.

But the man and then every goddamn worker in that disgusting airport had insisted there were no more seats. This was why she was driving the 623 km from Madrid to Barcelona. But in the end, nothing was going to stop her from catching Gerard with his mistress.

She knew very well how he was like, that he was a chronic cheater and that nothing she did would keep him faithful. She knew that once out of her sight, he'd recontact old flames or even pull new women. She loved him and she had promised herself to not let go of him until she had cold, had evidence of his infidelities.

But now, now she was sure she'll catch him. And it would all be over, all the bittersweet agony of having him as a fiance would finally end.

***

Gerard ran though the house, trying to wake up every guest. He needed everyone out of the house and to get cleaning and arranging things as soon as possible, because Storm was coming and even if those girls had only slept in this bed, and by his side, absolutely no-one in this world, or the next, would believe nothing had happened.

He had had his share of easy women, flings, one night stands, he had cheated on girlfriends, but once he had met Storm, everything had changed. She tamed him and he felt awesome to be hers. He loved her.

Yet, he also loved parties, which is what she hated. She was agitated enough to not need dozens of people swarming in her house. And when she went to Madrid to promote her new adventure novel, he knew it was his chance.

And even if he had planned a small party, with just a few FCB friends, as always, it had gotten out of control.

And now that most of the guests had left, he stood on the front steps of the staircase leading to the upper floors together with Sergi, Bojan, Zlatan the blonde - Angela, and the brunette who's name he still didn't remember and took in the sight of the devastated living room.

The hardwood was scratched in various places, covered in a thin coat of whatever every guests had spilled out of their glasses and plates.

There was food on the floor, paella laid in puddles here and there. There was food on the walls, and in particular a few beer stains.

The glass coffee table had a surface crack halving it perfectly.

Two chairs were broken.

The fishtank had bits of food in it and someone had watered one of Storm's plants with what Gerard hoped was beer...

“OK guys. Bojan, you're in charge of the floor. Clean it, then polish it. The parquet wax is under the kitchen sink. Zlatan, there's paint in the garage. The beer and food strains must go. Sergi you have to go to Sara Blu and get us a table identical to this one. Angela and....”

“Zina.” the brunette said.

“..and Zina, you go to the Furniture Warehouse and buy replacement chairs. They must be identical. And I shall take care of the fish tank.”

“Gerard....buying stuff won't be easy at 3 in the morning.” Zlatan commented.

“We're footballers. There will be a way. Now chop chop!!”

And with that, the boys and girls scurried to their assignments.

***

She was tired and upset, she needed sleep, but she kept on driving. She had met Gerard almost one year ago, and his charm and dashing good looks had made her fall for him. She had been warned, of his particular behaviour with women, but she decided to show everyone what she was made of. She was going to have this man and make him hers.

And now, she was going back to Barcelona, driving with almost 200 km per hour just so their relationship could end. Just so she could finally be defeated.

But what was better: to continue to live in a lie, pretend he never did anything behind her back, or pull the plug on the whole thing, walking out with her head up, dignity intact?

She knew very well that if not now, it would happen sooner or later, and she didn't want to be the dumped one.

It was the perfect time now, the perfect moment to end it with him. At her adventure book reading session she had overheard a conversation between Sergio Ramos - who had been brought by his girlfriend, of course, that man had never even opened a book in his entire life, nevermind read it, and another man she didn't know about the massive party in Barcelona.

With the guilty way Ramos had looked at her, she knew exactly who's party he was talking about. And she had to crash it, she had to expose her fiancee as the bastard, cheater that he was.

Even if that meant becoming single again.

***

Gerard had put all the fish in bowls, tall glasses, various pots and pans and he had finally emptied the tank. He managed to clean all the bits of food and now was refilling it with water.

Bojan had swept and mopped the floor and was now trying his best to polish it with a piece of cloth and the can of wax. The surface being as large as it was, he wasn't making too much progress.

Zlatan had painted the walls before realising that he first should've wiped the dirt with a wet cloth. Because without doing that, the walls didn't look even, the fresh paint obviously looked like a patch, so he was now painting the whole wall, in large strokes.

Sergi had called Sara Blu, the table was going to be delivered in under an hour. He had called the store manager and had explained the situation. They obliged the request.

However, as much as Angela and Zina tried, no-one from the Furniture Warehouse answered their phones.

“Gerard, what do we do!” Sergi yelled at him, hanging up with Zina.

“I dunno. Anyone has any ideas? What time is it?”

“It's almost 4.”

“How long do you think she might still take?”

“Maybe an hour and a half? Maybe less. Depends how fast she's driving.”

“Damn.”

“Replace all the chairs with similar ones, from Ikea.” Zlatan said.

He stepped back from the wall and admired his work.

“Great idea! Buy the plant too, while at it!” he said, realising he had forgotten of the unfortunate plant.

“I'll call Angie and Zina. We'll meet at Ikea.” Sergi said, grabbing his car keys and rushing out of the house.

Gerard began to put the fish back into the tank. He wiped his sweat off his forehead and promised he'll never throw any more secret parties.

Zlatan picked all the chairs, including the broken ones and loaded them into his car. He then took the plant as well.

“Hey, there's still another wall to go!” Gerard yelled after him.

“Someone has to take care of the debris!” he shouted back, driving off.

Gerard being done with the fish, he pondered if he should help Bojan with the floor or try painting the other wall. He decided for the latter.

***

She was about an hour from Barcelona. Was this trip worth it, or would it only enhance her reputation of a controlling and possessive woman? In the beginning, she loved the idea of being feared, but when everyone stopped talking when she entered a crowded room, it was no longer funny.

If Gerard had thrown a party while she was gone, why should that mean he cheated on her? But then again, she knew very well what kind of people - well, women - came to his parties, and she was sure that none of them would hesitate in seducing him.

She wanted to stop, so she could put a jacket on, as it was getting chilly, but she didn't want to lose momentum. She knew that once she stopped, even if it was in the middle of nowhere, she'd second guess her intuition, her determination would flee her.

She had to end this, once and for all. If it was nothing, not even a party, that Ramos would pay, dearly. And if it was something, at least she'd know the truth and she could decide what to do about it.

***

Zlatan was back from his chair dumping, Bojan was done with the floor, Gerard had almost finished the wall when the girls and Sergi returned with lots of Ikea packages and a new plant.

Angela took over the paint brush as the men all gathered to assemble the chairs. Even with the diagrams, it wasn't all that easy and after 30 minutes, they still had one left.

Also, the Sara Blu delivery van had not dropped the coffee table.

Gerard began to panic and began calling them.

“It is an emergency!!!!!!!!!! Don't you understand!!!” he yelled in this cell.

“Sir, we do, but the boys left ages ago. Maybe they got lost!”

“Give me their phone numbers!”

After much debating, Gerard obtained one number and he dialed it. The men had gone to the wrong address, but fortunately it wasn't too far. Gerard promised them a handsome tip and they agreed to drive like the wind.

***

Lucinda was driving like the wind. She could see the outskirts of the city, but she still had to cross it to get home. It would take another half an hour to get to the front door. She began to doubt she'd still find him with a woman in bed, after all, he was almost a professional cheater and knew how and when to get rid of the 'evidence'.

But she had come a long way, and the mere idea of quitting when she was so close made her feel ill. She had to know, even the ugly, saddening truth. She wasn't very sure how much that would help though. She loved him and even if she had suspected shenanigans before, he had always gotten to forgive him. He had always told her that she was the only woman in his life, that he would never cheat on her...and she had believed him

She was torn. And she needed coffee.

***

The delivery van stopped in front of the Pique residence at 05:01. Gerard and Zlatan emerged from the house and helped the two workers load the table in.

The girls helped unwrap it and set it as before. The chairs were done. The walls looked as good as an amateur paint-job could make them look. The floor was perfect.

They were dead tired and the girls crashed on the sofa, while Zlatan took the rest of the paint back in the garage.

“We did it.” Bojan patted Gerard on the back.

“Yes. But...something is not right...Oh, right, you must leave. Leave, now!!!”

He pulled the girls up, ignoring their moans and protests and gave them their shoes, called Sergi from the bathroom and finally, all of them were out the door.

It was 05:13 when he realised he should be in pyjamas. He ran upstairs, climbing 3 steps at once, stripped and put on his sleeping clothes. He went back downstairs, supposedly to get himself a glass of water.

It was 05:16 when he heard a car screech to a halt in front of the house. In a few seconds, the key turned in the lock - and he praised the heavens for not forgetting to lock it after Bo, Sergi and the girls had left only a few minutes ago - and the door crashed open.

Lucinda stormed inside, looking like a madwoman. She saw her boyfriend in Pjs, looking like he had barely woken up, a glass of water in his hand, half carried to the mouth to drink.

“Honey?” he said, faking a perfect surprise.

“OH Gerard....” she felt like the biggest fool.

She had no idea what to say.

“I missed you...I drove all night....to get to you....Madrid was awful...” and she threw herself in his arms, sobbing in the middle of a nervous breakdown.

Gerard hugged her tightly, smiling ear to ear. Then the door leading to the garage opened slowly, and Zlatan entered.

Gerard froze and covered Lucinda's head with his hand, hoping that she won't see his teammate. Before anything bad could happen, Zlatan saw them and retreated slowly, back where he had come from. His own car was in the garage.

Gerard breathed in relief.

“I missed you too. I'm glad you're home early.” he said scooping her in his arms and carrying her up the stairs to the bedroom.

rating: non-explicit, gerard pique, fic: hitter, original female character(s), het, sergi busquets, original male characters(s), bojan krkic, sergio ramos, zlatan ibrahimovic, type: comedy

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