I open the door and smell that incredibly masculine scent I’ve already come to associate with Carson. He looks amazing in jeans and a leather jacket. His dark brown hair is just slightly damp so he must have showered and changed just for me.
“Wow, Carson, you look…” Hot? Gorgeous? Like some kind of sex god? “Really nice. Thanks for picking me up.”
“I’m glad you agreed to come out with me, Brielle. You look really beautiful. These are for you.”
He hands me a small bouquet of daisies tied with a thin blue ribbon. There are guys who still bring flowers? Maybe it happens more than I think; my experience with the opposite sex being as pathetically limited as it is.
“Thank you, Carson. I’ll take these with us so I can look at them. Let me grab my jacket.” Really, I have to take the flowers with us just in case, for some reason, Hank comes home early. I hope Carson isn’t too upset when I “forget” them somewhere tonight.
Carson heads for the passenger side of the car and opens the door for me. As I get inside the same blue Lexus he had last week, I ask “No Lucy tonight?”
“No, it’s just us. I hope that’s okay.”
“It’s fine. I was kind of out of it when we met but she seemed like a lot of fun.”
He laughed, a sound that makes the butterflies party just a little harder. “You have no idea.”
As he gets in and starts the engine, I can’t stand it any longer. “So, I have to know why someone like you is here in Marshall. You can imagine that it isn’t every day a major TV star just happens to show his face in town.”
“I guess not, although I’d prefer you don’t think of me as ‘someone like me.’ I got a lot of that after Stonewall and I’ve spent some time trying to just be Carson.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean any…”
“It’s fine, really. I just want you to know I’m a regular person. I even took some time off and tried to kind of disappear for a while. I’m actually here because I’m going back to work. We’ve had some movie offers recently, and my dad, who is also my manager, has been on me a lot lately to get back “in the game”. He decided I had to stop saying no to everyone and pick a project. The one I chose is an independent film being made near Philadelphia. I loved the script immediately and the director is a great guy, so I’m happy with my decision. I did draw the line, though, at staying at some fancy hotel and being catered to all the time. When I’m not on the set, it’s my own time. During the week, I live in my trailer on set. It’s small, but it’s comfortable and it’s quiet. Every weekend, I come up here to Marshall. I found a bed and breakfast with an owner who agreed to be discreet and I’ve been staying here every chance I get. Lucy was my concession to having a ‘staff’ around. The producers threw a fit at the thought I might be driving myself up here in the snow. She drops me off every Friday and picks me up every Sunday. I like things simple. And Lucy is fun to have around, so it’s not all that bad.”
Even with the smile on his face, I notice a darkness in his voice at the mention of his dad. I remember him saying they don’t have an easy relationship. Not wanting to talk about fathers tonight, I move on. “So, you must be staying at Mrs. Hanley’s B&B, then? She’s a nice lady. I used to wait for the bus at her house in elementary school. She always had fresh muffins for her guests and would give me one with a glass of milk while I waited. She’d send an extra one along with me if they were chocolate chip.”
“Yeah, I really like her. She still makes the muffins. It was blueberry this morning.”
“Blueberry is good, but seriously, just wait until you try the chocolate chip,” I laugh. Talking with Carson is so much easier than I thought it would be. The butterflies are still dancing but it has more to do with my proximity to this incredibly attractive man than with worrying about the conversation.
“Mrs. Hanley said the food at Amarillo is really good. Are you hungry? Do you like Mexican?”
“Sure. The Riveras own Amarillo and they make a great chimichanga. I went to school with their daughter Maria. She always loved the color yellow, so her parents chose the name Amarillo just for her.”
“This really is a small town, isn’t it? Is there anyone you don’t know?” He smiles at me with those perfect white teeth and I melt just a little bit more.
“Nope. I know pretty much everyone. I don’t see very many people these days, though. I spend a lot of time at home. Pretty much all of it, actually. When I was younger, though, things were different. My mom used to teach at the high school. Thanks to her job, she knew most of the families in town.”
“She doesn’t teach there anymore?”
“She died when I was fourteen. Cancer,” I add without being asked.
“I’m so sorry.”
We are saved from any awkwardness by arriving at Amarillo. Carson parks the car and comes around to open my door. He puts his hand on the small of my back to guide me into the restaurant, his handprint searing into my flesh. The white hot heat shooting through me from this simple touch is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.
Maria works as a hostess here, but she must be off tonight. I say a quick prayer of thanks because I know she would recognize Carson. I got away with last week’s fiasco, but someone recognizing him tonight would be disastrous. It would be all over the school by Monday and it wouldn’t be long before Hank heard something. I guess I didn’t really think this through. I glance around again, but there is still no sign of Maria. I mentally curse myself for ever agreeing to this and try to think of a good excuse to go home early. My thoughts are interrupted when an older lady with graying hair steps up to the hostess stand. She picks up two menus and leads us into the dining room. I talk myself out of making a run for it and try to relax. When Carson asks for a table in a quiet corner, the lady looks directly at him and my heart starts racing. She shows no sign of recognition, though, and I breathe a little easier. Thank God. It’s about time my fairy godmother started looking out for me. I might just get away with this, after all.
We sit down and each of us orders an unsweetened iced tea. The hostess takes off to get our drinks after promising that our server “will be with us shortly”. Carson now turns to focus his attention on me. Caught up in the spell of his blue gaze, it takes me a minute to realize he has said something.
“I’m sorry, what?” I blush.
“I just asked what you think you will order.”
“I’m going to get the chorizo-topped chicken with a side of rice.”
“That sounds good. I think I’m going to get the chimichangas you mentioned earlier.”
A waitress I don’t recognize comes over with our drinks and takes down our order. Saying another quick thank you prayer, I relax into the cushion of my seat. “Thanks so much for taking me out this evening, Carson.”
“I told you I wanted to spend more time with you. I’m just happy you gave me the chance. I kept thinking about you all last week. That probably sounds crazy, but it’s true. Finally, I decided I had to see you again. It isn’t fair that you know so much more about me than I do about you.”
OHMYGOD. Can he tell? Does he know I am one of those tabloid-reading fans? Sure, I know his birthday is September 23rd and his favorite episode of Stonewall Academy was the 1920s flashback episode, but it’s not like I’m some crazy stalker. Wait. He didn’t even know I recognized him until this afternoon. “What is it I know about you?” I ask, just managing to squeak out the words.
“You know I don’t wear contacts,” he laughs. “You at least got to ask me a question. I didn’t even get your name!”
Satisfied that he isn’t about to serve me with a restraining order or anything, I giggle at the silliness of my fog-induced question. “I may have been a little out of it when I last ‘interviewed’ you so it doesn’t really count,” I protest, tossing my balled-up straw wrapper in his direction.
“Fair is fair, Miss Douglas. I get to ask you a question now. So, when is your birthday, what’s your middle name, what’s your favorite color and do
you prefer ice cream or whipped cream on your pie?”
“I’m not sure you get the concept of fair,” I giggle again. “Just because you ask me a bunch of questions all in one breath doesn’t mean it counts as a single question! But, since they’re easy, I’ll tell you. January 8th, Violet, after my mother’s mother, medium blue, like in pictures of the ocean, and ice cream. Always ice cream.”
“Brielle Violet. Beautiful, like you.”
I flush and look down at the table. “You’ve probably heard this before, but you’re not so bad to look at, either.”
“I guess I have, but that’s the first time I’ve heard it from you,” he tells me with that light laugh I’m coming to love. It’s probably my lack of dating experience but I find everything he says and does absolutely charming. I’m attracted to him in the basest of ways, which I am not used to, but the butterflies are long gone. He’s right when he says he’s just another person and even though I know this whole thing is way too complicated to ever go anywhere, I’m really glad I’m here with him right now.
Our food arrives and we both dig in. He tries a bite of mine and pays me back with a bite of his. He tells me more about the movie he’s working on and some funny anecdotes from his time on Stonewall Academy. I stick to the light subjects, like school, college applications, and my taste in music. He doesn’t mention my dad or his again and neither do I. We both finish everything on our plates and ask for the bill. He pays for the meal and thanks our waitress with a generous tip. I try to pitch in, but he waves me off, telling me it’s his treat. As we’re leaving the restaurant, I feel a bit like Cinderella, knowing the clock will strike soon and I will have to go back to reality. It might not be midnight just yet, but I think I’ve pushed my luck enough for one night. I really don’t want to head home already, but I can’t take the chance that Hank will come back and find that I’ve gone out somewhere.
As Carson starts the car, I thank him again for tonight. If he wasn’t a famous star and I didn’t have the Devil for a dad, I could maybe even see us going somewhere. I’m so attracted to him; his looks, his personality, everything. Incredibly, he seems to feel the same way about me. I end up staying pretty quiet on the drive back to my house. I just don’t know what to say now. Anything bad will spoil this most perfect of evenings, and anything good will keep me hoping that there can be more of this. The looks that passed back and forth between us at dinner tell me that we’d both love nothing more than to get our hands on each other. I want nothing more than to ask him to come inside with me. No, I wouldn’t sleep with him tonight, but I’m way overdue for my first makeout session. As quickly as the thoughts enter my mind, I push them out again. I can’t risk spoiling this night with my first clumsy attempt at intimacy. Not to mention what Hank would do if he came home and found me with a guy in the house. The only question there is which one of us he would kill first.
We pull in the driveway and I open my door immediately. I’m afraid it will get too awkward if we sit here and talk for a while. I need to get in the house and safely in bed as if I never left. I make a mental note to turn the music on in case Hank did call the house tonight. I also need to get all traces of this mascara off my eyes and put a couple dishes in the strainer so it looks like I ate dinner here at home. Hank may be a drunk, but he’s also an ex-cop and he notices everything.
Carson takes my hand as we walk up to the porch. I’m almost positive he can hear my heartbeat right now and feel the pulse in my hand. The simplest of touches from this guy and I feel like a completely different person. Like a sexy, carefree woman who has somehow managed to snag the attention of this man. One who should, by all rights, be way out of her league. But instead of longing glances and glimpses of my cleavage, I’m giving him the ripe view of my now-trembling hands searching for the keys I know I will find somewhere in the bottom of my bag. The butterflies are back in full force at this moment.
I finally locate the keys and manage to unlock the door as Carson says, “Brielle?” My breath hitches at the heated tone he uses on the syllables of my name and I know for sure he feels the way I do. I turn to him and his mouth is on mine before I can answer him, my heart stopping for an instant before picking up its hammering rhythm. His lips are hot and soft against mine and I know this isn’t the kiss of a seventh grade game; it’s a grown man kissing a grown woman he finds attractive. It’s so much better than anything I’ve ever imagined. Carson pulls me in and deepens the kiss, my mouth opening to his as his tongue wages a war with my own. I can no longer think and I lose myself in the sensations that are making their way from my lips to the core of my body. I can feel a moist heat growing between my legs and I know I have to stop this. Now.
“Carson, I…” I’m not sure what I was going to say but nothing comes out as I break away from him and try to remember why this can’t happen.
“Brielle, I want to see you again. I know it’s complicated but I can’t just let this go. I don’t think you want to let go, either.”
“Of course I don’t. You’re like this perfect version of everything I’ve always wanted. Unfortunately, you’re just another entry on the list of things I want but can’t have. Complicated doesn’t begin to describe things. I have to focus on school and get out of here. I can’t have distractions! As much as I want to, I can’t be in any kind of relationship. Not that I’m assuming you want a relationship. I’m only saying…”
“I want a relationship, a friendship, something more, whatever I can have with you. I’ve just never met anyone quite like you. It’s like a light turned on inside of me when I saw you. When I talk to you, I know that you see me. You see the person I am.”
“I do see you, Carson. I see what you are. You are a celebrity. You are Carson Malone, for Christ’s sake. You can have any girl you want and for some reason you’re standing here telling me you want me. I should be seriously questioning your mental state right now, but I feel it, too. I just can’t be anything to anyone. My plan is to keep my head down and get out of here as fast as I can after graduation. I can’t lose sight of that and end up serving Hank’s drinks at a bar for the rest of my life. I appreciate this night you gave me and the way you kissed me is something I’ll never forget, but this is the end of it.”
“Brielle, you’re not being fair. You said yourself you feel it, too.”
“Don’t talk to me about fair! Don’t you think I lost my faith in ‘fair’ a long time ago? Life is what it is, Carson. It isn’t fairy tales and rainbows. It isn’t A-List stars who show up out of the blue to take me to a happy ever after. It’s following a plan and keeping myself safe. You can’t seriously think there is a future here? How does that work? I wait around for you while you shoot your movie and then what? You head back to Hollywood-land to the likes of Madeline Young and all the other girls like her, and in the meantime I’ve lost my chance at scholarships and jobs to support myself. While I appreciate the dinner, I will not let myself get caught up in some fantasy, no matter how fucking hot that kiss was, and I suggest you don’t, either. Don’t kid yourself. You can’t have a relationship with a girl who is not only from the wrong side of the tracks but from the wrong side of life. Go back to Hollywood, Carson.”
He opens his mouth to speak and I’m instantly ashamed of my little tirade. My life is not his fault. I can’t look back at him as I hurry inside, slamming the door. I don’t know why I felt the need to be so awful to him. He’s been nothing but nice to me since we met. I was feeling sorry for myself and I took it out on him. No way is he coming back after all that. I guess it’s for the best. Better to cut things off completely than hold out any hope. I may not be able to forget this ever happened, but all it can ever be is the memory of the night I had a date with Hollywood.
Carson
As the door shuts in my face, I’m still trying to process what just happened. I can’t explain it, but there is something about this girl that strikes a chord within me. I am seriously attracted to her, to everything I know about her so far, and I’m not willing t
o simply accept that this can’t happen. Even if she did just go completely crazy on me. The full-on hardness in my pants brought on by that kiss slowly subsided during her meltdown and I’m pretty sure I can comfortably walk back to the car at this point. There is something electric between us, something I want the chance to explore. I want to stay here, pound on this door until she lets me in and I can convince her to give this, us, a try. But I won’t. I get the impression that she has built her life around an intense fear of her father, and, judging by my one encounter with him, it’s not without reason. I’d never forgive myself if he hurt her over my coming back for her.
I’m still shaking my head as I back down the driveway. Brielle’s flowers are sitting on the passenger seat, silently mocking me. Seeing them here makes me wonder if she planned to shut me out from the beginning.
Some of what she said was true; there are girls who line up at red carpet events to scream my name and girls who tweet my every move. A wink at any one of them would have them in my bed without any effort. There are actresses and singers who get my lifestyle that would be on set tomorrow with one text from me. But I don’t want any part of all that. Those girls all want Carson Malone, celebrity. It’s an empty pleasure when a girl will do whatever I want just because of my name. It’s why I disappeared after that damned TV show went off the air. I loved the job and I loved the people, but I hated the fake friendships it offered. The false face I was forced to put on every time I stepped out the door. It got so bad that I couldn’t leave my apartment without being mobbed by fans and photographers, all wanting a piece of me. If I gave away a piece to every person who asked for one, there would be nothing left.
To Hell and Back Page 3