The Gig Pt2

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Given the kids weren't all too used to this house or their rooms, none of them had wanted to sleep in their own beds, so when London awoke the next morning, jetlagged in Great Britain, the first thing he saw was the curly top of Layla's hair in his face. His five-year-old was sleeping on his chest, a fist balled into the sleeveless shirt he'd been wearing. Beside him, tucked between him and Marbell, Ozzy and Benjamin were snoozing, Naomi in the same position as her sister upon Marbell's chest.

Turning over without waking anyone, London placed Layla down next to her little brother and kissed her hair, getting up then and grabbed a fresh pair of boxers. He stepped out into the hallway then, almost forgetting where the upstairs bathroom was. He took a moment to brush his teeth and washed off, pulling on his different black boxers, adjusted himself and went back to the bedroom. He smiled seeing his children sprawled across the big bed with Marbell, Benjamin's little hand resting on his father's forehead, Ozzy scrunched up beside Layla now, and Naomi had come awake just to turn over on Marbell and go back to sleep.

Today wasn't supposed to be as busy a day as tomorrow would. On the schedule he'd received, it was suggested that he attend a little "brunch" with the other model he would be working with, but, at the end of the day, that was his choice to make, and he was still undecided about it.

After dressing in jeans and a loose t-shirt, he also grabbed a coat from his half-unpacked luggage and threw it on. Snagging his phone from the bedside table as well, London went ahead downstairs. It was chilly in the house given the weather outside, but for a guy from Texas, anything below 70°F was a blessing. Having a humid/hot December was definitely a downside about living in the south.

Downstairs, London tucked the key to the flat in his coat's pocket and left. The sky was a bit grey overhead, clouds looking as though they wanted to litter snow about the streets, but they just blocked the bright shine of the sun.

Since there wasn't any food in the house for when everyone woke up, London decided to head to a Starbucks he'd seen last night. There was one at the end of the block. He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his coat and got a move on, but when his cell phone began to ring, he answered as he walked. "Yes, my king?" he said.

"Where'd you go?" Marbell asked.

"You just missed me," London said, "I'm picking up a little something for everyone. Are the kids awake?"

"Just Oz, I'm about to give him a bath."

"Okay, well, I'll be back in a couple minutes. I'm just going down the street. Do you want anything in particular?"

"No, whatever is fine."

"Okay, I'll see you when I get back. Love you."

As he walked, London suddenly wondered how Henry and Joyce were holding up. He'd have called, but with the time difference, he was sure they were fast asleep. As he walked up the long one-way street, he couldn't help thinking it was strange to be overseas. Not that he didn't like going to other countries, but he always felt widely out of place, and he certainly didn't much like when he went out and people heard his American accent. He always got a look. He didn't know what kind of look it was, but it was frequently given to him over here.

At the Starbucks, London entered the establishment and a bell chimed over him. It wasn't as busy at this time, since it seemed most of everyone was at work now. There were still a few people seated about, some waiting for their orders, and when he stepped up behind a girl who looked to be in her late teens, she glanced over her shoulder at him. Petite and blond, she wore a knee-high maroon dress with long black stockings, tall boots, a beanie atop her head and a scarf draped around her shoulders. She did a double take suddenly and gasped, taking a step away as she looked him over with surprise. "Oh, my god!" she said, her accent pitched, "You're London, I follow you Instagram. You're here for the shoots with Symone Rendal, right? She's been braggin' all over Twitter about it."

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