Forever Blue (25 page)

     
“But it's only a week away, Carter, and I—”

    
Carter bit into his ice cream nervously and said, “It doesn’t matter. Nothing will change between us.”

    
“Nothing is going to change?” I repeated, slightly annoyed. “You’re moving across the county, and we’re only fourteen.”

    
“I told you, I'm going to write and call.” He kicked a rock,  and
I watched it skip into the bushes beside the street.

    
“You're going to become
famous and forget all about me—”

    
“Man, you worry too much.”

    
“I worry too much? Well, if I worry too much...”

    
I
suddenly
felt something cold and wet all over my face. It took me a minute to realize that Carter
had
smashed my ice cream cone in my face.

    
“Maybe that will shut you up, you worry wart,” he said with a hearty laugh.

    
I wiped away the stickiness with my hands and said goodheartedly, “You little jerk. I'm gonna get you.”

    
Carter took off and I chased after him. I
was wondering
how he’d like that pink goo all over his own face.
The smartass tossed his ice cream cone into the bushes
as he ran down the sidewalk.
I was able to catch him by grabbing the back of his shirt. He turned around with a somewhat irritated expression on his face. He then
seized my hand and pulled me in close. His face was suddenly so close to mine that I could feel his warm breath on
my cheek. My heart beat wildly
with blood rushing in torrents to my brain. Before I could blink, his lips
were
pressed up against mine. I couldn’t deny it—it felt just right, like the feeling you get when you finish the last
piece of a puzzle. His soft and delicate lips sent a supple warmth surging through my body.
When he stepped back,
I was left breathless, as though I just ran a marathon. The only thing buzzing around in my mind at
that
moment was the fact that Carter Storm had just kissed me.

     
“Sorry—” he apologized as he stared at the ground.

    
“Sorry? For what?” A smile graced my face, and a giggle escaped my throat. “I...I liked it.”

    
He lit up like a front porch light. “You did?”

    
I looked at him shyly. “Maybe we could do it again sometime.”

    
Carter slipped his hand into mine and entwined my fingers with his. “Hmm…maybe.”

    
I savored that moment like a piece of perfectly ripe fruit. When it came to my happiness with Carter, it was short lived. Something or someone was always there to disrupt it. Case in point, we never had a chance to have another moment like that day at the ice cream parlor.
We came home to find Mary scouring the streets for Carter like a hungry hound.
All hell broke loose
the moment she caught us together, and yes, once again Mary threatened me to the fullest extent. Carter got the brunt of it
as usual. From that day forward, the only time I saw him was at school. Something inside me died with each passing moment without him. My heart broke with every tick of the clock toward the time of his departure from my life.

Chapter 12: Viva Las Vegas

    
In the thin light of dawn, Aiden Storm drove down Wilshire Boulevard in Los Angeles. Feeling slightly unsteady, he kept his hands gripped tightly to the steering wheel of his SUV. His focus became a struggle along the blurry, almost unrecognizable road. 
When
Aiden’s mind wandered back to the party
had
just left,
his vehicle swerved into the left-hand lane. Someone on the road honked in response. Aiden wasted no time rolling down the window and yelling, “Fuck you!” All he really wanted to do was get to his brother's house safely and avoid any more confrontations, but it was too late. A police siren sounded behind him. Aiden had no choice but to pull over. He glanced at the tailgating squad car from his rearview mirror and reluctantly pulled over to
the side of the road.
Aiden
fearfully
awaited the police officer to approach him.

    
A young male cop tapped on the driver’s-side window. Aiden rolled it down, the frosty night air numbing
his face.

    
“Can I help you, Officer?”

    
“Driver's license and registration please.” The officer aimed his flashlight in Aiden's face.
  
“And hurry up. I don’t have all night, Mr. Hollywood.”

   
Aiden had to keep his hand from shaking
as he pulled out his information from the console. After a shared silence, the officer retrieved his registration and strolled back to the squad car. This gave Aiden just enough of a chance to crank the window back up and doze off for a few moments.

    
Just then, the
thick-necked officer returned from out of nowhere. “Mr. Storm, can you step out of the vehicle please?” the officer asked with a crisp tone of disapproval.

    
Aiden got out and stood motionless.

   
“Do you object to a sobriety test?”

    
“No, of course not,” Aiden answered.

    
Another police car pulled up to the scene.

    
“Follow my finger,” said the officer.

    
Aiden managed to shift his eyes up and down and side to side.

    
“How much have you had to drink tonight, Mr. Storm?”

    
“Maybe one or two.” Aiden caught a glimpse of the other officer searching his SUV.

    
“Walk in a straight line for me please.”

    
Aiden
swallowed down his annoyance and walked along the curb.
“Look, Officer, this is all a misunderstanding. I'm on special medication, and sometimes it makes me drowsy.”

    
“Oh? So you've been drinking
and driving
while heavily medicated?
Do you know that's against the law?”

    
“Yes, but I took my medicine hours ago.”

    
“Tom, we have a situation here,” said cop number two as he stood in front of Aiden’s vehicle.

    
The first
officer walked over to the SUV, and after several minutes, he came back with a satisfied look on his face. “Mr. Storm, it seems Officer Meadows has discovered marijuana and unprescribed medication in the back of your vehicle.”

    
Fuck, Aiden thought. That Saturday Aiden went out with a couple of
his friends for boys’ night.
It appeared that none of them
had
thought to clean up the evidence from their wild evening.

    
“I don’t know how that got there. It's not mine.”

    
The first officer smirked. “Mr. Storm, you are under arrest for the possession of narcotics and driving under the influence.”

    
As Aiden was being handcuffed, he
protested, “Hey, man, this is insane! I'm not drunk. I told you those drugs aren’t mine.”

     The officer ignored Aiden’s banter, having heard all the excuses in the book during his time working the beat,
and escorted him to the patrol car.
A
handful of people across the street took pictures
while all this was going down
and
were videotaping
the scene.

    
Aiden arrived at the local police station that early morning—booked and charged with driving under the influence and illegal drug possession.

***

    
Ruth picked me up at the house before sunrise
the morning of our big trip to Vegas.
The miles just seemed to trickle on by
during the drive, and for the first two hours of our journey, I inadvertently dozed on and off.

    
“Hey sleepyhead,” Ruth said cheerfully.

    
Hovering in the half-world between sleep and restlessness, I opened my eyes to the rays of early-morning light. “Are we there yet?” I asked like an impatient toddler on her way to Disney World.

    
“Nope. Two and a half hours to go. Normally it takes four to five hours from Orange County, depending on traffic.”

    
We were both famished. Ruth made an exit off the I-15 freeway, and pulled up to a restaurant called Peggy Sue's Diner in the city of Victorville. We entered the small rundown eatery that barely
had begun
to draw in a sparse breakfast crowd. The hostess led us to a booth next to a window looking out toward the desert road.

    
“So what time is the benefit?” Ruth asked as she sipped on a cup of coffee.

    
“I have to be there at nine tomorrow night to find out who I am working on. It doesn't actually start until eleven though. Things usually need to be ready pretty early in case there are any snafus.”

    
“So what am I supposed to do while you’re rubbing elbows with all those celebrities? Sit in the hotel room raiding the mini-fridge?”

    
“No, silly. You're coming with me. You think I'd leave you behind?”

    
“I don't know. Maybe I'm not cool enough to hang out in your crowd anymore,” she teased.

    
“Whatever,” I responded with a roll of my eyes.

    
“So your boss really paid
for the whole trip?” Ruth asked. “I can’t believe it.”

    
“I have proof.”  I unzipped my purse and pulled out the white envelope, revealing the stack of cash. “Check this out.”

    
“Alexa! Put that away,” Ruth said with a gasp.

    
I looked around and noticed a bunch of truckers and a red-headed heavyset waitress looking back at me strangely. I quickly stuffed the envelope back in my purse, aware of the risk I was taking.

    
“How much is that?” Ruth whispered.

    
“$2,000,” I whispered back.

    
“You better be careful with that. That’s a lot of cash to be carrying around.”

    
A
dry heat surrounded us
when we stepped outside the diner an hour later.
By the time we
were back on the freeway, I was feeling
antsy. It wasn’t long before we were in Barstow—a desolate, often unnoticed city consisting of nothing but miles of dirt, truck stops, and abandoned shacks. I counted down the miles as we passed the green signs that read: Las Vegas 100 mil.

    
After two sweaty hours, Ruth announced, “Hey, this means we're halfway. Look.”

    
I glanced out the window. A large cowboy-inspired structure with a sign that read, Buffalo Bills, was situated right beside one of the largest rollercoasters I’d ever seen. On the southbound side of the freeway was a row of small hotels. The anticipation of what was around the corner began to take effect.

    
The big moment finally arrived
a little after ten thirty that morning—we approached the most beautiful sign I’d seen all day: Welcome to Las Vegas.
When we reached the Las Vegas
strip,
I took in the sights around me. There were rows of stunning exotic hotels and buildings. LCD screens flashed information about upcoming shows. Taxi after taxi displayed advertisements with half-naked men and women.

    
We drove down the congested streets, steering clear of the tourists who mobbed the sidewalks like a plague. At our final destination, The Bellagio, my mouth nearly dropped to the floor.
It had elaborate fountains featuring
a ballet of water and lights set to music.

    
We found a parking spot, grabbed our bags, and headed toward the lobby.  If the front of the hotel was mesmerizing, it was nothing compared to what I was about to see next. We ventured inside one of the world’s most luxurious
hotels—my breath
taken away by the sight of thousands of colorful hand-blown glass flowers covering the ceiling. I glanced around at the hotel guests waiting in line to check in, and
could hardly wait to see what the room was going to look like.

    
We didn’t have to wait until three in the afternoon to check in
due to my privileged circumstances.
As we made our way to the elevators, we passed row after row of slot machines and dealer tables. The scent of stale cigarettes and pricey Cuban cigars floated past my nose, making
me desperately want to experience gambling for the first time. We decided to go to our suite and settle in before we started throwing our money away.

    
The two-bedroom suite was twice the size of Scotty’s old apartment. The place flaunted Bellagio-themed art décor, Italian marbled
bathrooms each with their own small flat-screen televisions, and a separate dining area. As promised, Isabella
had
made good on her word.

I threw my luggage down and let myself fall onto the deluxe king-sized bed. “This is unbelievable.”

    
“Your boss hooked you up,” Ruth said. “Must be nice.”

    
“Yeah, she's good to me.” I quickly shot up from the bed and asked, “So what do you want to do first?”

    
“I'm exhausted from all the driving. I need to get some rest if we’re going to hang out later.”

    
I decided against taking a nap and instead went into the living room. The scenic view from the patio window distracted me. Our suite overlooked the entire Las Vegas strip. I could have spent all day standing out outside and watching
the
nonstop city goers and tourists. The strip glistened in a multitude of colorful lights and flashing neon signs. I watched ritzy vehicles and limousines pass by. The sound of honking and revved-up motor engines was like music to my ears.

     
I stepped back inside the suite
an hour later
and went to wake up Ruth. I was ready to do some sinning in Sin City.

    
“Ruth,” I whispered from her doorway. “Ruth, wake up.”

    
“Huh?” she mumbled.

    
“Get up. You're not supposed to sleep your life away in Vegas.”

    
Ruth came out of the bedroom in a daze, along with her hair sprouting in all directions.
She pulled
back
her long black mane into a neat ponytail and made her way to the wet bar for a bottle of water.

   
“Hungry?” I asked.

    
“Yeah. We haven't eaten anything since breakfast.”

     
I turned my attention to the courtesy guide lying on the desk. I flipped through it and asked, “Fine dining or causal?”

    
“Let's do something fun,” Ruth suggested.

    
I made a reservation at an elegant Mediterranean restaurant called, Michael Mina, located right inside the hotel. I would never have eaten at a pricey restaurant like that one
under normal circumstances. It
was a rare treat, considering that our drinks alone were more than I ever thought possible.