Forever Blue (8 page)

    
“You seem very close minded,” she mentioned.

    
“I am not.” To prove my point, I dug my fingers into the container and
pulled out a bite-sized piece of chicken that was
dripping in the red smelly sauce. “If I puke, it’s your fault.”
 

    
The smell literally made me want to gag. I closed my eyes, popped it into my mouth and chewed slowly.

    
“Well?” she asked, waiting for my reaction.

    
The flavor was tangy and not overwhelmingly spicy like I expected. I actually kind of liked it. “I’m still alive, right?” I said flatly.

    
Her eyebrows rose in delight. “Want more? I’ll share with you. Be sure to try some of the basmati rice at
the bottom…”

    
Thus was the beginning of the most unlikely friendship. While I struggled to pass math, sixteen-year-old Ruth Patel harbored dreams of going to law school—and not in that pie-in-the-sky kind of way either. She was already taking honors classes to prepare herself for a successful future. Ruth unlocked not only a completely new world of exotic cuisine, but also an alluring culture. Up to that point in my sheltered existence, nothing fazed me but my own provincial life.

***

    
Ruth came over
to my house
for a study session
a few weeks after we met.
“Can we watch MTV?” she asked. “I need a break.”

    
Mom appeared in the living room with a large bowl of popcorn and two glasses of lemonade on a serving tray. I could always count on my mother to go
June Cleaver
on me
whenever I had a guest over.

    
“Thanks, Mrs. Moore,” Ruth said as she graciously took
a handful of popcorn.

    
We settled on an MTV show called Total Request Live. TRL was a big deal to kids in
high school. It had to do with everyone’s sudden fascination with pop bands. The viewers determined the ranking of the video slots, and each day music artists competed for the number-one spot.
The show counted down videos
one by one
of mainly boy and tween girl pop bands.

   
The young, dark-haired host, Mason McFadden, stared directly into the camera as
it did a close-up on his face.
“Welcome back to TRL. As many of you already know, we have a brand new video premier today.”

    
The studio audience roared.

    
“The song, Stop Stepping on my Heart, has swept through the country, turning into an overnight success for this artist's first
number one
single. His album, Unstoppable, is highly anticipated and due to come out next month. But enough blabbing from me. Are you guys ready?”

    
The females screamed in pleasure.

    
“Then let’s check out the world premiere video of Aiden Storm’s hit single, Stop Stepping on my Heart.”

   
The screen cut to black
before the video premiered.
The start of the music video depicted an attractive girl with blonde hair
wearing
a red flowing dress as she walked across a garden in the rain. In the background, Aiden Storm
was singing, “I live my life for you, so how could you treat me the way you do? Baby, we are meant to be. I wish I could make you see.
So stop stepping on my heart. You’re ripping us apart…”

    
At first I thought I was dreaming. My eyes had to be playing tricks on me. The singer who showed up on my television screen looked identical to Carter. Only, he was a much more mature version. I assumed it was just a coincidence, but then I analyzed Aiden carefully. I felt dizzy, like I was on merry-go-round. Things around me started spinning. What I was witnessing was too bizarre to comprehend.
Yes, this teenager was my long lost friend, no doubt about it.
A physical transformation had taken place, knocking him out of his youthful awkwardness and into a heartthrob that had girls screaming his made-up name. He was somewhat muscular,
and
his hair
was a golden blond.
I
didn’t know how
to explain to Ruth that this teen sensation used to be my best friend.
I ran into my room
after the video ended
and rummaged through my desk. I managed to find one of the photos Mom took of Carter and I just before that fateful fourteenth birthday dinner date.  

    
“Okay, I have to tell you a secret.” I handed Ruth the photo. “I used to be friends with this guy—this Aiden Storm. He used to live on this street.”

    
Ruth inspected the picture scrupulously. “Is this fake?”

    
“Nope. It’s as real as it gets.” My heart beat crazily, like it would burst out of my chest.
 
“He moved away a couple years ago because he got a record deal.”

    
She stared at the picture again and said, “Don’t you keep in contact with him?”

    
“I used to write him letters, but he never wrote back. We just kinda—we lost touch, I guess.”

    
In the background, Mason mentioned something about Carter. “Please join us tomorrow at the same time. We’ll have Aiden Storm right here live on TRL, and you won’t want to miss it.” 

    
Any normal kid my age knew
the latest Top 40 hit or which band was currently all the rage, but I paid no attention.
I was usually
watching films or flipping through fashion magazines
in my free time,
analyzing different styles of makeup.
I was completely immersed in the world of cosmetology. Now that I met Ruth,
I was able to experiment on her, so she was sort of like my guinea pig.

    
Ruth and I rushed back to my house after school the next day and wasted no time flipping on MTV. Over a thousand people stood outside Times Square in New York City, screaming Carter’s new name. For the first time I witnessed signs that read:
I love you Aiden Storm, Aiden’s # 1, or Aiden, will you marry me?

    
“Now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for. He has a number-one hit single, and his album due out next month is projected to be the album of the year. Please give a big welcome for Mr. Aiden Storm,” Mason announced.

     
Carter came out from backstage, looking incredibly appealing in dark denim jeans and a white polo shirt.
He skidded down the aisle
with the microphone in hand, touching
the hands of the screaming girls in the audience. These girls
clutched their chests like they might faint or have a coronary when he smiled at them.

    
“Welcome, Aiden,” Mason said.

  
  “Thanks, man. I’m so glad to be here.”

    
Several girls in the front row stretched their arms out and tried to touch Carter. They squealed with giddiness in the process.

    
“All
right, so check it out. You’re seventeen-years-old. How does it feel to have all this success at such a young age?”

    
“All I can say is that I feel very blessed. God has given me a gift, and I’m not going to take it for granted.”

    
Mason glanced around at the audience. Anyone could easily see the chaos Carter
had
created amazed him. “So tell me about this new album coming out. Critics are already raving about it, especially since it’s your first studio album.”

    
“Well, the album is called, Unstoppable. It’s pretty much pop/rock. I wrote a lot of the songs with Dax Larkin. He worked with Whitney Milano on her last album, which was amazing.  I’ve actually been working on the album for the last two years, spent five months recording in Sweden. It comes out April 21, and what else can I say? I think everyone will like it. It’s a great album.”

    
The girls in the audience screamed even louder, and
Carter just laughed in response.

    
Mason shook his head in amazement. “I bet you’re
loving every minute of this, aren’t you?”

    
Carter shot him a sly smile and said, “Of course.”

    
“Okay, Aiden, there’s one thing everyone’s been dying to know. Do you have a girlfriend?”

    
For the first time, everyone went silent. Carter held the microphone close to his mouth and
instead of answering immediately; he
shifted his eyes back and forth mischievously. “Uh no. No, I do not have a girlfriend.”

  
“I think you just made a lot of women very happy, man,” Mason said.

    
Carter just shrugged and smiled playfully into the camera.

   
“Aiden, before you go, you’re going to sing something for us, right?”

    
“Yes. I’m going to perform my next single, ‘Just Keep on Loving Me’.”

    
Carter was on a small stage with a live band
after the commercial break.
The lights dimmed, and he began to sing to a fast-tempo beat.
“I think about you every day, and baby, you’re never that far away. Your love is like nothing I’ve ever had. When I’m with you, I know our love will never go bad. Baby, I don’t need another girl. Your love takes me to a higher place when I feel my heart begin to race. Baby, just keep on loving me.”

    
Not bad, I thought. The tune was harmonious, and the beat
was
like nothing I
had
ever heard. I not only fell in love with the song, but with his voice.

    
After that day, Carter’s face appeared on everything from teenybopper magazines to lunch boxes. I plastered my walls with his posters
from the ceiling to the floor. And let it be said that I intended to follow him throughout every step of his career.

Sharing is Caring

1992

    
My spirits brightened
as I approached my house after a long school day.
Carter was out on his driveway shooting hoops. Just the sight of him sent sensations through my body that
left me in a state of wonder. At the same time, it was kind of awkward—you know, like standing on a stage for the first time in front of a billion people you don’t know. Your knees start to wobble, and your heart pounds straight through your chest. I was unsure of exactly what to make of these new feelings. 

    
“Hey, Carter!” I called from my driveway.

    
He dashed across the street
with the ball tucked under one arm
and greeted me. “You’re home late.”

    
Carter
wore his usual blue-and-white basketball jersey shorts and
a
plain white shirt. He looked to be playing ball outside long before I got home. A ring of wetness surrounded his collar.

    
“I had to retake a math test. It took forever.”

    
“Well, do you want to play some ball?”

    
I never refused a good game of basketball with Carter. “Sure. Let me go put my stuff inside. I’ll be right back.”

    
I scampered into the house and tossed my backpack onto the couch. I was just about to make my way outside when Mom caught me.

    
“Where are you off to in such a hurry?” she asked.

    
She smelled heavenly, like freshly baked bread that just came out of the oven.

    
“Carter wants to play ball for a little bit.”

    
Mom smiled and brushed her wet hands against her apron. “That’s fine, but I don’t want you out too late. Dinner will be ready soon.”

    
“I won’t be out long,” I said impatiently.

    
Carter sat on the curb, twirling the ball in midair. “Ready?” he asked.

   
“Aren’t I always?” I responded with a smirk.

    
We stood facing each other in the middle of my driveway. The dribbling sound of the basketball discharged the silence. Carter slid to the right, attempting a block shot. I was too quick for him. I stole the ball in one foul swoop and made a drive to the basket as Carter trailed behind me. I released the ball and aimed for the basket, but it hit the backboard and missed. This screw-up gave Carter a defensive rebound, and we ended up where we started. It went back and forth like this for the next thirty minutes. Frustration brewed inside me and I was just about to call it a day, and then I heard Dad’s voice.

    
“Hey, what’cha kids up to?” Dad was still dressed in his forest-green Car Depot shirt and khaki slacks. This told me he
had
just arrived home.

    
“Just playing a game of ball,” I responded.

    
“Hello, Mr. Moore,” Carter said politely, reaching out to shake his hand.

    
Dad declined the handshake. He
instead
wrapped his arm around Carter’s shoulder and drew him in close. This was followed by a doting pat on the back. My father never withheld friendliness.

    
“Oh, son, we know each other well enough by now. Call me Martin.”

    
As much as I would have loved to chum around with my father all night, I was just a tad bit annoyed that he
had
interrupted us. “So what’s up, Dad?”

    
“Just checking on you.” He rubbed the top of my head, disheveling my hair. “From the looks of it, you two were sporting a good game.”

    
Carter rolled his eyes. “Hardly. We haven’t even scored a point yet.”

    
“Hmmm—” Dad smiled like a man who knew a thing or two about basketball. “Why don’t you let an old pro show you how it’s done?”

    
“Dad,” I said with a slight huff.

    
My father chuckled as though the situation was amusing. “Oh sorry. I think I’m embarrassing Alexa here.”

    
“She told me you taught her everything she knows. I’d really like to see you play,” Carter said.

    
I crossed my arms in irritation. “Um, we were kind of in the middle of something.”

    
“Oh, it’s okay.
I really shouldn’t,” Dad said with
his brown eyes wavering back at me.

    
“No, come on, Alexa. Don’t be such a poor sport.”

    
Carter tossed the ball to my dad. “We can all play. Two against one.”

    
“Oh yeah.
So whose team am I on?” I asked as I tapped
my foot against the pavement.

    
Carter’s
lips curved into a cunning smile. “Your dad and me against you.”

    
“What? That’s not fair,” I said with a pout.

    
Honestly, it had nothing to do with fairness. It was more about Dad stealing my thunder, particularly in front of someone I’d known only a few weeks. Carter was my friend, not his.
I announced
like a stubborn child
that I was no longer interested in playing ball. But did that stop the two of them from continuing
on
without me? Nope. I resided on the curb, fuming as I watched them in their own little world. As angry as I was, I had to admit that Dad emulated a pro out there. I always believed he had the stamina to be a professional basketball player.
Yes, he was that good. I’d seen pictures of him when he was younger.
He not only towered over his peers
back in the day,
but my father had a sleek, muscular build that put any athlete to shame. Not to mention, he was also the captain of the basketball team in high school. Dad was still as strong as an ox, but a sagging beer belly and not being able to go without a cigarette for more than an hour didn’t help much.