Forever Blue (14 page)

    
In my family, it was routine to eat every meal together at the table. We never sat in the front of the television with a frozen dinner or grabbed something quick and ran out the door. Meal time was family time.

    
“So, Carter—Alexa tells me you have some new auditions coming up?” Mom said as she passed me the tray of garlic bread. That evening she wore a yellow cotton sun dress, and her hair was pulled back in two brown barrettes.

    
“Two big ones,” I interjected proudly.

    
Carter twirled pasta noodles around his fork, took a bite, and swallowed it down before he replied, “My mom set up a soda commercial and a small part in a new kids’ television show.”

    
“How do these auditions work, Carter?” As though in deep thought, Dad took a small sip of his red wine and pondered. “You just show up?”

    
“Oh no,” Carter replied. “I have an agent who finds me the auditions. He works everything out with my mom.”

    
“Carter’s mom makes him go to every audition, even if he doesn’t really want to go,” I stated flatly.

    
Mom winced in confusion. “Well, that doesn’t seem very fair now, does it?”

    
“Son, do you actually like going to these auditions, or do you feel forced?” Dad asked with concern.

    
Carter shrugged. “I do what I have to do,” he said softly. “It’s really all up to my mom, not me.”

    
“But you enjoy what you do, right?” Mom helped herself to more spaghetti and added some to my empty plate. “Alexa, you need to eat more. Since when did you become so dainty?”

    
Carter pushed the food around on his plate and twirled the long noodles in the tines of his fork. “Most of the time, I enjoy it,” he said moments later.

    
Dad half-smiled and replied, “Well, then that’s all that matters.”

    
I knew Carter well enough to know he was holding back more than he let on. For one thing, he hated being called away for auditions when he was in the middle of hanging out with me. He complained to me more than once about how he never had any time to see his friends. Mary never gave Carter any leeway when it came to his social life.  No matter how much Carter kicked and screamed about not wanting to go, she dragged him to those darned auditions anyway. Clearly, she did it more for herself than for her son. At least that was
the impression I got.

    
“Carter said the best auditions are the ones where he gets to sing,” I said, taking a mouthful of broccoli.

     
“Ah, so you like to sing?” Dad asked.

    
Mom’s small, delicate mouth nearly dropped in astonishment. “Well, this is quite a surprise. We must hear you sometime, yes?”

    
I felt uneasy about my parents peppering Carter with all these questions, but instead made the most of it.

    
“He’s really good,” I chimed in.

    
Carter brightened and said, “Sure. I can sing anything.”

    
Knock…knock…knock…knock…knock…

    
Whoever repeatedly banged on our front door did so with some kind of urgency.

    
“Are we expecting someone?” Dad asked Mom.

    
“Not that I know of.” Mom rose from the table. “I’ll get it.”

    
“Honey, it’s dinner time. Come on—”

    
“Martin, please. It could be important. I can’t just ignore it.”

    
I glanced at Carter and could have sworn that I saw the color drain from his face. It was as if he expected the Grim Reaper to be knocking for him.

    
I
ignored
the gut-wrenching feeling in the pit of my stomach and
asked, “Dad, could you pass the salad please?”

    
I heard that irrefutable deep-throated voice coming from the doorway moments later,
  
“Where is my son?”

    
Mom came back to the table with a flustered
expression;
her forehead was lined with worry. “Carter, your mother is looking for you.”

    
Carter dropped his fork onto his plate with a loud clank and trekked from the table, undeniably panic stricken.

    
I wasn’t about to let my best friend take a tongue lashing alone. I rose from my chair, intending to join him.

   
“No,” Dad said, placing an unyielding hand on my arm. “You stay here.”

   
I couldn’t just sit there and do nothing. As his best friend, it was my responsibility to stick up for him. I was the one who invited him for dinner in the first place. “Um, I’m done eating. Can I take my plate to the kitchen?”

    
“That’s fine,” Dad agreed. “You go and come right back, you hear me?”

    
Mom sat back down at the table and said, “We mean it, Alexa. No meddling.”

    
“Okay, okay. I get it.”

    
I did take my plate to the kitchen sink, but of course that was not my only intention. I had a good view of the front door while I was in there. Mary hadn’t come inside the house. She stood outside in the doorway dressed in cut-off denim shorts and a thin pink cotton shirt.
She had just got out of the shower from the looks of it.
Her bleach-blonde hair was
wet and completely slicked back, and
I
didn’t detect a trace of makeup on her face.
She looked so much older without it, like an old woman on the verge of skin cancer.

     
I watched Mary rip into her son as I hid behind the kitchen wall.

    
“What in hell do you think you’re doing?” Mary scolded in a slight whisper.

    
Carter exhaled deeply. “I’m just having dinner, Mom. It’s no big deal.”

    
“No big deal?” Mary crossed her arms in apparent disgust.  “Hmm. How convenient that you forgot about your ten-o’clock audition tonight.”

    
“But, Mom, it’s only eight, and I—” 

    
“I don’t give a shit what time it is. You are well aware that I expect you to prepare well in advance.”

    
Carter looked down sheepishly. The submissive son was back. “I know, but Mom, I’ve been practicing my lines all week. It’s gonna be fine.”

    
“I’ve heard enough excuses for one night. Get your things—NOW,” Mary commanded.
  
“You’re coming home this minute.”

    
“But I haven’t even finished eating yet,” Carter retorted. “It would be just—just rude.”

    
“Eating? We are planning your future here, and you’re worried about eating?” Mary threw her hands up in defeat. “Boy, sometimes I don’t even know why I bother with you.”

    
“Mom, please. Can I just stay a few more minutes?”

    
“You’re coming home now. And you damn well know how I feel about you hanging around
that
girl.”

    
“Alexa—”

    
I jumped at the sound of Mom’s voice. She stood in the middle of the kitchen with her arms crossed. A stern look
was
spread across her face.

    
“Oh, sorry. I was coming right back, I swear.” I avoided eye contact with her as I shuffled back to the dinner table.

    
Carter reappeared in the dining room at that same moment. He didn’t say a word, although, he looked like he might break into tears if he tried to speak. He grabbed his jacket that was draped over the chair and slipped into it.

    
“You okay, son?” Dad asked. His concern was evident.

    
Carter simply nodded in response.

    
“You’ve gotta go?” I cut in, already knowing the answer.

     
He evaded my stare. I could sense his humiliation from a mile away. “Yeah, I have to go,” he finally managed to mumble.

    
“Honey, would you like me to pack up your dinner so you can take it to go?” Mom asked.

    
“No thank you,” Carter said. “But thank you for inviting me tonight.”

    
There had to be something I could do. The misery in the poor boy’s eyes shot a razor-sharp pang of guilt straight through my heart. I ignored my parents’ warnings. I dashed from the table, and rushed to the front door, but I was too late. That cruel woman shot me an incredulous glare as she
tightened her hand around Carter’s arm and yanked him across the street like a ragdoll.

    
I watched the scene before me, feeling
completely helpless. One thought did cross my mind: If I was older—like an adult—I would have ran across the street, grabbed Carter, gotten into my car, and drove off into the night. I would have taken that best friend of mine as far away as we could. Only I wasn’t old enough to do any of that. All I could do was stand there and glare at Mary with all the hate I could muster.

Chapter
8:

Light at the End
of the Tunnel

    
Aiden Storm had only the vaguest recollection of what went down during the party in his penthouse suite. Now that everyone left, he warily surveyed the living room and
stumbled upon mounds of scattered beer bottles and red plastic cups. Of course, he had grown accustomed to this type of wild and somewhat reckless lifestyle. Nothing was better than making millions during the day and partying it up all night. Although, Aiden was fully aware that his
good fortune came with a price, and that price consisted of everyone wanting to be in his business. 

   
People outside the entertainment industry were unsympathetic to his gripes about being
unable to keep a private life.
Most of the public thought that if he couldn’t take the heat, he should get out of the kitchen. Aiden tried to ignore such hurtful comments as best he could. No matter what he did, people were always going to judge him, but Christ, enough was enough. He hoped that maybe one of these days he’d be able to walk out of his hotel room without those bastard paparazzi hounding him. They routinely staked him out and attacked him with the flash of their cameras. His attempt at being discreet was useless. The animals always knew who he was with and who he was dating. That was one of the reasons why Whitney Milano broke up with him. The cheating rumors got so intense that Whitney believed the gossip herself. Aiden swore up and down that he never cheated on her, but she refused to believe him.

    
The night Whitney called it quits—she threw the latest tabloid magazine down at Aiden and screeched, “This is insane. Look what they’re saying now!” She crossed her pencil-thin arms in irritation and pointed at the magazine. “Jessica
Mason? Really? How could you—with her? Eww!”

    
Aiden read the headline:
Aiden Storm Kicks Whitney Milano to the Curb while Pop Star Newcomer Jessica Mason Parks at His Front Door.

    
An awkward silence settled between them. Whitney stared at Aiden harshly as she waited for answers. “What the hell?” she finally asked.

    
“Baby, you know this is all tabloid bullshit. Those damn piranhas just need rumors to sell.”

    
“Rumors? Really? Then why do they have pictures of her with you at a club?” she asked, brushing a loose strand of honey-amber hair out of her face.

    
The girl was undeniably one of the most gorgeous girls he’d ever dated. She had a rock-hard body from her five-day-a-week workouts with her personal trainer to the stars. Her face was as flawless as fine china. At eighteen, she was barely old enough to vote, but with the right makeup and wardrobe, she could easily turn into a twenty-five-year-old sexpot within minutes. Most guys would have killed to be in Aiden’s position.

    
“I don’t know. I guess we just happened to be there at the same time. It was nothing.”

   
“Nothing? That’s what you said about the last two girls.”

   
“It’s nothing but sick rumors.”

    
“I’m sorry, Aiden. I can’t do this anymore. I just can’t.”

   
“What? Baby, come on! Don’t be like this,” Aiden pleaded as he went to hold her.

   
“No. Aiden. It’s over.”

   
A terrible sinking feeling came over Aiden as he watched Whitney grab her purse and barge out the door. For the second time in his life, he felt sheer panic over a breakup.
His heart ached for months
when he left his first love at fourteen. Whitney had at least helped fill that void for the last couple of years.
For that, if for no other reason, she meant everything to him. When she walked out
on him, Whitney took
a
part of his heart with her. Once it was clear to Aiden that she wasn’t coming back, he slowly let himself get over her—with the help of a chain of numerous girls who came in and out of his life.

    
The penthouse doorbell rang several times. Aiden opened the door  with his mind swimming.
It took him a few seconds to register what he was seeing. Three scantily clad, gorgeous blonde women stood outside his doorway.

    
The sexiest of the three, a blue-eyed blonde, jumped up and down excitedly. Her gigantic enhanced breasts bounced beneath a snug and skimpy fabric that attempted to hold her bosom in place. “Oh my God! Aiden, we are so sorry for bothering you.”

    
The more petite blonde, dressed in a cropped pink tube top that flaunted her perfectly toned stomach, giggled like a schoolgirl, but said nothing.

   
“We totally snuck up here,” said the third blonde, the least attractive of the three, although she was still a knockout by most standards. She had a killer tan and thick, long hair that Aiden just wanted to run his fingers through.

    
“It’s cool. Why don’t you ladies come on in?” he said, unable to resist. They sauntered into his room, swaying their hips back and forth. Aiden couldn’t stop himself from staring.
 
“Would you lovely ladies like a drink?” he offered, still feeling extremely woozy.

    
“Totally,” they all said at once.

    
Aiden went to the wet bar and brought back three ice-cold beers. The four of them took a seat on the black leather couch and sipped their drinks. Aiden looked all three girls up and down, prepared for any possibility. There were thoughts going through his mind and things happening in the lower regions of his body that he could not deny. He was, after all, a guy.