Forever Blue (21 page)

     
In the midst of my distress, one thing came to mind: How long would Carter let his mother control him like a puppet? Could anything be worse than a full-grown man being manipulated by his own mother? I wasn’t sure what to think. If Carter didn’t stand up for himself and cut the cancer out of his life, his future was as dismal as it was potentially dangerous.

Chapter 10: A New Life

    
“Welcome to Backstage Pass Hollywood. I’m your host, Kevin Daly, bringing you the most up-to-date Hollywood gossip. Let’s go to Chelsea Aimes, who has late-breaking Hollywood news…”

    
“Thanks, Kevin. Well, in the last few years, he’s become a household name, and no stranger to Hollywood gossip. He’s been under the radar these last couple months, but every star has their shining moment, and tonight, Aiden Storm makes our front page Hollywood news.

It’s been reported by Celebrity magazine that Aiden Storm’s mother, Mary Storm, has been accused of a long-standing habit of embezzling money from the pop star since he first struck fame at fourteen-years-old. Aiden’s accountant, Reggie Parks, confronted Mary when he noticed discrepancies in Storm’s back taxes. Mary Storm is charged with stealing an estimated two million dollars over the
last decade—from her own son.
Storm’s publicist stated, ‘An investigation will be done on behalf of Aiden and his younger brother, Darren. We are also investigating what might be another possible long-term embezzlement that’s occurred since the beginning of Darren Storm’s career. Mary, Darren’s current manager, denies the allegations and says she is shocked that her own sons would accuse her of such a heinous crime. As of yet, Aiden has made no public statement on the matter, but keep watching Backstage Pass Hollywood for all the latest…”

***

    
Going back to school came as a blessing. The final project was due, and my personal issues
had
left me more than way behind. The last
day of class was nerve-racking, knowing twenty different agents were sitting
in the back of the room examining each of our portfolios.

    
Isabella stood up from her desk and said, “Last night, I reviewed your projects and got a really clear idea of who is ready to move forward and who needs to come back next year.  I will be having private individual meetings with each and every one of you to assess your strengths and weaknesses. I will be consulting with you in alphabetical order, starting with Trisha Adams.”

    
Regardless of how hard I worked, I knew I had no chance at becoming Isabella’s intern. I
had
missed so much school that I felt my project wasn’t up to par. On the other hand, I was hopeful that I might have a chance with one of the agencies. 

    
Amber Matson
came
out
an hour later
and called me in next. She motioned me to go inside for the meeting and my heart nearly pounded through my chest.

    
Isabella’s office was comparable to the size of a prison cell and just about as inviting. It was stuffy with no windows and cinderblock walls. She sat at an
old
nicked,
oak desk, and was barely visible from behind
her
leaning towers of paperwork. It was more probable that her office would be some fancy and glamorous place, but it was quite the opposite. 

    
“Please sit, Alexa,” she said.

    
I took a seat in a ratty plaid chair
with my heart still hammering.

    
“Alexa, how do you feel you did in my class?”

    
“Well—I feel I did well up until a
few
months
ago.”

    
“Interesting.” Isabella inspected my final project photos, which were neatly lined up across her desk. “You do realize how incredibly talented you are, correct? You probably have more natural talent than half the students in my class combined.”

    
“Well, I don’t know about that. I mean, I think I’m good, but not that good.”

    
“There’s no need to be modest. I knew from day one you had a gift, Alexa.” She continued to review my work. “These photographs from your final project are amazing. I’ve never seen anything like this from a first-time student.”

    
“Thank you.” I coughed to try and clear the lump forming in my throat. “I worked really hard on it.”

    
“I’ll be honest. There are five agents out there interested in meeting with you.”

    
“Five?”

     
“Yes, but I discouraged them.”

    
Once again, I
had
allowed my hopes to get too high. “What do you mean?”

    
“I discouraged them because I want you all to myself. I want you to work with me.”

    
I thought I was hearing things. “Pardon me?”

    
“I want you to be on my team,” she said, “as in, I want you for my intern.”

    
My face flushed when I asked, “Are you serious?”

    
“Yes, of course,” she said. “And it would be nice if you would accept my offer—or I could always ask another student.”

    
“No. Of course I accept.” I looked down at my clasped hands in wonder. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

    
Isabella rummaged through her desk and pulled out a thin folder. “We do need to talk about one thing.
It’s obvious that your life had been
turned upside down since your mother’s death. I need to know that if anything should happen in your life that alters your state of mind, you’ll let me know before you let it affect your job performance.”

    
My mind
was
practically
bouncing
off the drab walls. “This is an once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I would never think of blowing it or letting you down.”

   
“Fantastic. In that case, we are ready to proceed.” Isabella pulled out a document from a folder and slid it over to me. “I need you to sign a few forms before you leave.”

    
When
I glanced at that
legitimate binding contract, it
was as if all the grief I
had
experienced during
the past several
months suddenly evaporated into thin air like an answered prayer. With a shaky hand, I signed on the dotted line.

    
“I’ll be calling you to discuss further details,” she announced.

     For the first time in years, I walked out of that building feeling blessed.

***

     
I waited with great anticipation for Scotty to come home that evening
as the unpredictability of the day continued to unfold.
When he finally stumbled in the doorway,
I remained patient until he
was
settled in.

    
“Something amazing happened today,” I finally announced.

    
“Oh yeah?  I’m sure anything will beat the day I’ve had,” he replied, loosening his tie.

    
“You know today was my last day of class, right?”

    
“Oh! That’s right. Geez, how could I forget?” he said, snapping back into reality. “How did it go?” Scotty very well knew what today meant to me. He was obviously preoccupied with his own agenda.

    
“I got it, Scotty! I got it!”

    
“You got the paid internship? That’s great, honey. I said so from the beginning. I knew you could do it. You’re amazing.”

    
I fiddled with his tie and softly said, “Finally, something to look forward to.”

    
“I’m so proud of you, kid.” He kissed me on the forehead. “You know what? We should do something tonight.”

    
“Like what?” I asked, intrigued.

    
“Let’s go out and celebrate.”

    
“Oh babe, you don’t look like you’re up for a night out.”

    
“What kind of a boyfriend would I be if I didn’t celebrate this special occasion with the woman I love?”

    
“Are you sure? You look like you’ve had a long, hard day.”

    
Scotty sighed and looked tenderly into my eyes. “I had a client who looked at eight different properties and never made an offer on any of them, but I’m not going to let that get me down. Let me get cleaned up, and we’ll go.”

    
He came back shortly, looking refreshed in dark denim jeans and his favorite blue polo. Honestly, sometimes I felt too young to have such an incredible man in my life.

***

    
We decided to celebrate at the same place we shared our first
official
date.

    
As Scotty poured me my
third glass of Chardonnay, he
said, “We need to make a toast.” He held up his wine glass and smiled.
“To my beautiful Alexa. May all her dreams come true.”

    
“This is by far one of the best days of my life.” I gazed at Scotty’s through the flickering candlelight. “I wish for many more like this.”

    
“Well, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately, you know, about the future.”

    
I sensed where this conversation was headed and swallowed a lump in my throat even bigger than the one earlier in the day. “What about the future?” I asked with a slight squeak in my voice.

    
“I’ve never done this before,” he said, looking down into his glass of wine, “but I know what I feel for you is stronger than anything I’ve ever felt before.”

    
I knew what was coming, but I humored him anyway. The way he mumbled and stumbled over his words was the cutest thing ever.

    
“So, I’m not following. What are you trying to get at?” I asked.

     
“I want to take care of you, Alexa. There’s no one else I want to spend the rest of my life with, but you.”

    
“Is this what they call proposing?”

    
“I know I don’t have a ring.” Tiny beads of sweat glinted and stippled down his forehead. “I was planning this later down the road, but tonight just seems so perfect that I—”

    
“Yes!” I said, cutting him off.

    
“Yes?” he repeated. “You just said yes, right?”

     
“Yes!” I said, getting up and throwing myself into his arms.

***

    
I awoke in a jumble of covers with Scotty nuzzling at my neck. He
wrapped his
arms tightly around my waist and said,
“Good morning, Mrs. Soon-to-be-Scott-Logan.”

    
I
cut him off with a fierce kiss, and cuddled closer.
“Good morning.”

    
“I hate to do this, but I have to show a property in an hour, so I have to get up.”

    
“No. Stay in bed.
Call them and cancel,” I moaned as I latched
myself onto his arm.

    
“Sorry, kid. I wish I could, but this sale could be a big one.”

    
I lied
in bed while Scotty showered and changed. He came out of the bathroom a half an hour later, and
I watched him slip into his shoes. He never failed to blow me away with his handsomeness.

    
“You should stay home and relax.” He left a wet kiss on my forehead. “I’ll see you later. I better go, or I’ll be late.”

    
My cell phone rang
sometime after Scotty's five-minute departure.

    
“Alexa, this is Isabella. Listen, I have a project you might be interested in.”

    
“Already?”

    
“Well, it’s fairly easy. I thought I would pass it on to you as a starter. There is a fashion show going on at the Hollywood Hills mall. They are short one person. Can you be there in two hours?”

    
“Um—sure.”

    
“Wonderful. You’ll meet with the lead stylist, Sharon Finch, inside Nordstrom’s department store. Call me when you get there.” Her sigh of satisfaction ended with a brief click.

    
I dashed around the apartment
trying to pull myself together, and after thirty minutes, I was finally out the door. Some days I wished I lived anywhere but southern California. Driving to Los Angeles was always horrendous at nine in the morning.

    
Makeup artists, models, and fashion designers were bustling to and from when I walked into the chaotic department store.
I glanced at a heavyset girl who looked to be about my age
as I threaded through the crowd.
She
was applying
eye shadow to an anorexic-looking blonde model. I reluctantly made my way over, unsure if I should interrupt her.

    
“Sharon?”

    
“Yes?” she said, turning around to face me. “Can I help you?”

    
“I’m Alexa Moore. Uh—Isabella Bellini sent me.”

     
“Oh yes. I’m glad you could make it on such short notice. I have three models that need their makeup done immediately.” She said everything so quickly that I hoped I hadn’t missed anything. “The show starts at eleven. You want to be sure the girls are done at least a half hour before then.”

     
I felt good about things until she mentioned that I only had one measly hour.

    
As a rule in makeup artistry, I started by cleansing the model’s face. The first model had a beautiful olive complexion, so flawless it seemed like a pity to cover up her natural beauty. I took my time and applied blush, swiped brown and gold shadow on her eyelids, and dusted a shimmer against her cheeks.

    
Each of the girls whipped right out of their seat
with the quick gesture of Sharon’s hand,
and disappeared into the back of the department store.

    
The room was jam packed
at show time
with people of stature and sophistication. The models walked down the small makeshift runway—their luxurious attire
and bone-thin figures fascinating
me. Oohing and ahhing came from the photographers as their cameras flashed, and as for me,
I just sat back, drinking it all in.

***

    
Fatigue
was pouring
over me by the time I got home.
When I opened the door, I
discovered an apartment lit by candlelight and the dinner table set up for two.

    
“Hey, sweetie,” Scotty said as his mouth ardently met
mine. “Where have you been? I’ve been calling you all night.”

    
“When you left this morning, Isabella called and sent me on my first job.”

    
“Oh, kid, that’s great!” he said, embracing me tightly. “Congratulations.”