I was here to support Chase on his big day, and nothing could have kept me away. I’d spent all day fixing my hair and makeup flawlessly; Chase even had a gown custom made to fit me. Ginger had shown up separately, and stood for pictures nearby. I gave her an excited smile as she strutted over with Barrett on her arm.
“Isn’t this exciting? Chase’s big day.” Ginger gushed.
“Congrats, man.” Barrett gave Chase a hardy slap on the back.
“Thanks.”
“Word is you’re up for possible Oscar nominations,” Ginger said.
Chase shrugged. “I don’t wanna jinx it, but it would be awesome.”
Barrett put a hand out on my stomach, almost making Chase lash out.
“You’re getting big, Quinn. Any day now.” He winked at me with a knowing grin.
“We still have another month.”
Ginger grabbed Barrett’s arm. “You’re so lucky. I can’t wait to have kids.”
Barrett scoffed. “Ginger, we aren’t ever having kids together.”
Ginger only rolled her eyes. “Come on; let’s get through this press line.”
After they walked off, Chase squeezed my hand for reassurance. He waved at a few other co-stars who showed up for moral support. Tucker came with some random girl, and Harlow showed up with her father.
“You’re the most stunning woman here,” he whispered into my ear. We walked hand in hand up the red carpet. It was amazing how all my anxiety had disappeared. I used to feel so trapped in large crowds, but today I felt normal. I was normal.
Chloe stood a few feet ahead of us with some bulky tool on her arm. It was no secret that she and Chase didn’t get along, even though the studios made it seem like they were friends again. We ignored her, and she did the same. Chase was on my arm now, and that was all that mattered.
“Who did you bring tonight?” a girl with a microphone asked. She had dark hair, a skimpy dress, and looked like she could use a sandwich.
Chase pulled me close and beamed proudly.
“This is my girlfriend, Quinn.”
The reporter put the microphone in my face.
“Nice to meet you, Quinn. How far along are you, Quinn? Any plans on getting married?”
I had prepared for the questions. Taking a deep breath, I put my hand on my stomach, which stuck out under my tight-fitting black sequined gown.
“I am due in early spring.” I kept my answers simple, as Rhea had trained me. Don’t give too much away.
“And any plans to pop the question?” she asked Chase. Man, she was not letting this go.
“One day…” he teased, but my head shot up to look at him. We had never discussed marriage. Silly, I know, but it had never come up.
“How did you two meet?”
We both glimpsed at each other and gave a secret smile. No one needed to know the truth.
“A party.”
“Is it true that Ginger Teague is your cousin?”
“She is my cousin and best friend.” That wasn’t so hard. The butterflies in my stomach began to act up.
Chase answered a few more questions about the movie before we moved on.
“I’m so proud of you.” I gave him a light kiss on the cheek, carefully so that I didn’t leave a mark from my red lipstick.
He walked behind me and pulled me close. He leaned in and I could feel his hot breath on the back of my neck.
“I meant it.”
“Meant what?” I tried to turn around to look at him, but he stopped me with his hands.
“When she asked if I we were gonna to get married. I’m going to marry you, Quinn Bardot. Not today, but sometime soon. I’m going to ask you, and it’s going to be awesome. Remember that.”
Thank you for reading The Last Thing. If you liked this book, please take a moment to leave a review online! Feel free to contact me with any questions! I love hearing from my readers.
www.bookswithbree.com
Want to find out more about the happily ever after of Quinn and Chase? Read Ginger’s story in The One Thing coming in 2015.
When everything around me collapsed, he was the one thing that kept me together.
Keep reading for an exclusive sneak peek of the first chapter!
The Last Thing Playlist
(Find the Spotify playlist at my website)
Quinn’s songs
Amsterdam by Imagine Dragons
What Sarah Said by Deathcab for Cutie
Stolen by Dashboard Confessional
Blue by A Perfect Circle
Now the One you once Loved is Leaving by Lydia
Get Home by Bastillle
Young Blood by The Naked and Famous
One More Day by Lydia
Chase’s songs
All The Lights by The Cinema
She’s On My Arm Now by The Cinema
House of Gold by Twenty one Pilots
The Exit by Lydia
She Looks So Perfect by 5 Seconds Of Summer
Crooked Teeth by Death Cab For Cutie
Lego House by Ed Sheeran
Come A Little Closer by Cage The Elephant
West Coast by Coconut Records
Acknowledgements
This is the first book that I’ve published on my own and although I wanted to pull my hair out and curl up in the corner and cry at times; it has been the greatest adventure. A year ago, I set out to write a book about love and loss. The Last Thing deals with issues such as suicide, abusive relationships, premarital sex, and divorce. Issues that, sadly, many new adults have to deal with, but are much too young to handle. I wanted to create characters that were perfectly flawed. I decided to bare my soul as a creative outlet and share them with the world. Life sucks. Bad things happen to good people and sometimes it isn't your fault. Other people's mistakes become your problem and sometimes things get better, sometimes they don't. Quinn deserved her happy ending, and so does everyone who reads it. So many people helped in the creation of this book. I will start from the beginning, and if I left anyone out, I am truly sorry. I’d like to thank my husband and kids who dealt with a messy house and hours of being ignored so that I could write. All my family and friends who encouraged and bought the Ethereal Underground series. You have inspired me to write more. Brooke Kennedy, for being a great writing partner and always encouraging me. My beta readers who helped me develop the story to what it is today: Ashley, Lena, Nikki, Tessa, Jenna. The bloggers who participated in the cover reveal and book tour. I am truly grateful for your dedication! Ali, who helped me incorporate Spanish phrases into the book. Jen, who edited The Last Thing for me. A huge thank you to my Official Blog Sponsor: The Chiq Blog and Official Advocates: Obsessed by Books and Julie Juicy Book Blog and Review, and Within Pages. You guys are so awesome!
About The Author
Briana Gaitan grew up in the South, but calls herself a geek at heart. She is a blogger,author,and fangirl who loves Star Wars, Star Trek, and Jewelry (bet you never thought you'd hear those three things in a sentence together) For fun, she loves watching any show on the SyFy channel, relaxing with her family, reading, and listening to indie music (sometimes all at the same time). Briana loves to write stories where there are no limits to the imagination. She is the co-author of the best-selling Ethereal Underground series and author of the highly anticipated upcoming Hollywood Timelines Series. Find out more about her book at www.bookswithbree.com
Don’t forget to check out her other books!
www.etherealunderground.com
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The One Thing
Ginger
I pull off one of my green high heels before rubbing the back of my ankle. There is definitely going to be a blister there tomorrow. Wincing slightly, I put the shoe back on my foot and continue to walk uphill towards my destination. The chilly wind engulfs my small body, but I can’t feel it because I’ve already worked up a sweat. Ten more blocks, I only have ten more bloc
ks to go. I trudge on, putting one foot in front of the other, careful not to trip on the old, cracked sidewalk. Almost there, Ginger. This thought inspires me to keep marching forward. I’m late, but I’ve walked much too far to turn back now. I was supposed to meet with the casting director, but my GPS gave me the wrong directions. After paying over thirty dollars to park, and asking the attendant if I was in the right place, I soon figured out that I wasn’t anywhere near my intended destination. Not even close. With my purse in hand, I hurry through the dirty streets, one eye on the lookout for muggers. I didn’t have the cash to park anywhere else, and I’ll be damned if I walk past that parking attendant again. It’s embarrassing enough that I had to ask for directions. Stupid pride. It’s the story of my life though. When people see me, they automatically assume I’m a ditz. People continuously try to take advantage of me, and most of the time they succeed. But not today.
A bus speeds past me with curious faces peering out of the window. I am tempted to hop on, but who knows what type of infection diseases I might catch. Better to be safe than sorry!
After another block or so, I stop and pull a hair tie out of my bag. I twist my long copper hair up into a high bun. My makeup has rubbed off, and my short dress has inched dangerously up my thighs, but I keep my head up and my eyes locked forward. Who was I kidding? They won’t hire me anyway. After two years in show business, I haven’t gotten anything more than low-budget commercials and a supporting role on a cheesy soap opera. I drop my head and bite my lip so that I can suck back a sob. This has to be the worst fuckin’ day ever. I lean back against the brick wall to catch my breath and regain my composure.
“What’s a pretty young thing like you doing out here all alone?” a voice says from beside me. Looking up, I blink against the bright sun to try and find the source.
“Over here.” I spin around to see a guy, a little older than myself, sitting on the stoop of an old auditorium. My eyes graze his shaggy, dark blonde hair that falls over his face and his strong, square jaw, and his dimple in his left cheek. His eyes are a kind, clear blue engulfed in dark lashes. As if on instinct, I flash him a flirty grin. Man, this guy is gorgeous.
“Just taking a leisurely stroll,” I comment. I note the cigarette in his hand and wrinkle my nose a bit. After noticing my displeasure, he quickly smashes the butt under his old converse. Converse? No, no, no. I quickly talk myself down. This guy isn’t cute, he’s grungy. He’s—and I’m—he isn’t my style at all. I tend to go for more classic, metro-sexual men. Armani suits, expensive cars, slicked back hair. That’s what turns me on; not grungy smokers with tattoos all up his arm. From what I can see of his, they look quite impressive. A flash of something large on his right bicep catches my eye, but I can’t make it out. I don’t want to get caught staring, and his face isn’t any safer to look at so I look up at the bright sky instead. The urge to walk away consumes me, but I need another moment to catch my breath. He stands up and walks closer, making my heart pound against my chest. Oh, shit. I stare straight ahead at his old gray tee shirt and black jeans that hugged his lean body. He stops right in front of me and rests an arm on the wall behind me to support himself.
“You look really lost. Need some help?”
God, that sexy voice. Heat begins to pool between my legs. No, this isn’t safe. He’s a stranger! I straighten up and look into his face, that beautiful face.
“I’m not lost. Would you kindly back off?” I snap.
Men don’t randomly offer to help women. They always have ulterior motives. They always expect something in return. He backs up with his hands out in front of him in surrender. His face is sincere, honest. Like I even know what that looks like.
“Easy now, I didn’t mean to scare you. I was only trying to offer you some local hospitality.”
I sigh in exasperation and pull my phone out to check the time.
“Thanks, but no thanks. I’m late to an appointment, like it even matters now. I won’t get the job anyway.”
“Their loss.” He shrugs while giving me a wide smirk that made my body tingle. Stop that! He’s just like all the other men. He will use me and throw me away with a broken heart.
“Are you okay?”
I’m scowling at him, and though I’m tempted to smile, I refuse. Attraction or no attraction, I’m about to let him know how I felt.
“I’m fine, thanks for asking. You can go back to…whatever it was you were doing.”
He laughs, but doesn’t take the hint to leave. “I’m just taking a smoke break between sets. We’re doing a sound check for a show tonight. Hey, you should come check us out.” He motioned toward the building beside us, an ancient looking place. Great, he’s a musician. They’re even worse than actors. I raise an eyebrow at him, but don’t say a word.
“Doesn’t like music, dually noted.” He laughs again. So intoxicating. His voice isn’t suave or deep, he definitely sings with a wide range, kind of like Ben Gibbard. That’s right; I like music. In fact, I love music and Death Cab for Cutie is one of my favorite bands. I just don’t like the reputation that proceeds musicians. I open my mouth to protest. I don’t need to explain myself to this guy.
“Thanks for the neighborly concern.” I roll my eyes and wait for him to go back inside, but instead we both awkwardly stand there daring the other to walk away first. With a crooked grin plastered on his face, he digs into his back pocket to pull out another cigarette. After a minute, I give up, push myself off from the wall, and turn my back to him.
“Have a good one!” he calls out from behind me.
“Fuck you,” I mumble as I strut away. I throw my purse over my shoulder and curse myself as a smile appears on my lips. My feet scream in agony with each step, but I refuse to turn around.
Well, that was until I got about two blocks down the road. Only then did I allow myself to stop and peek over my shoulder. Pretending to take in my surroundings, I peer back at him. Through the distance, I can see that he is standing in the same spot on the sidewalk. His eyes are still locked on me, I think. From far away, his hair appears darker, making him seem more mysterious. When he raises his hand to wave, I quickly turn around. My pale skin heats in excitement. I haven’t been this worked up over a man in a long time, not since I first began dating Barrett. I should feel bad for getting so turned on by another guy, but I’m not. Barrett treats me like shit. Ergo, I don’t care.
The crosswalk flashes for me to go, so I take one last look behind me where my mystery guy stood. Disappointment fills me; his spot is now empty. He must have gone inside. Nashville is a big city, and I’m only visiting for one more day before I return to LA. It’s unlikely that I will ever see him again.
I sit in my hotel suite putting my diamond earrings on and reapplying my red lipstick. I lean over to look at the digital clock on the night table. It’s only seven, but I have this horrid feeling that the night is going to last forever. A few old girlfriends are driving in from my hometown to grab drinks, but I can’t muster the energy to move my feet. After soaking in a hot bath, and using a whole box of Band-Aids on my blisters, I’m ready to go pretend to have fun. The girls from high school are all social climbing, name-dropping, selfish, using money to get whatever they wanted types. When they’d mistreated my cousin, Quinn, after an accident involving her boyfriend that was when I “lost” the girls’ numbers. Quinn had been my best friend growing up, and when I moved to LA, I abandoned her for what I thought was a better life. I still feel guilty for leaving her so suddenly, but I couldn’t stay in that town. It was suffocating. Nonetheless, after they saw my twitter status stating my interviews in Nashville, they insisted on driving the three hours to visit. I fluff my thick, red hair and let it fall along my back. It contrasts nicely with the white scoop neck blouse and jeans. I step into a pair of comfy flats and grab my purse before walking out the door. I hesitate as reach the lobby. I’m half-tempted to walk out the front door and walk to that old auditorium where my cute, mystery guy said he’d be playing tonight, but I decid
e against it. Sticking with my plan seems safer. Drinks with the girls, then I’ll get in bed early and catch up on some much needed sleep. The vibration of my phone calls out to me, picking it up, I read a message from my agent.
The director passed. He said you are too wholesome looking.
I slam my phone back onto my bed. What did ‘wholesome looking’ mean? It’s probably a nice way of calling me fat, even though I’m far from it. I used to think that being an actress was everything I’d ever wanted, but lately the lack of privacy and scrutiny almost changed my mind. It’s unlikely that I’ll ever get a starring role. I’m destined to be type casted in the soap opera genre. I spin around and walk straight for the hotel bar. I need a drink, and fast.
Two hours later, I find myself alone and drowning my sorrows in a shot of tequila. Drinks with the girls had gone…smoothly. I smiled and nodded while they gushed about their new lives, jobs, and babies. Everyone commented on how lucky I was to be rich and famous, but all I want is someone to love me, just like they all had. I’m halfway to a pity party. Just my tequila and me. I wave at the bartender to pour me another shot. He shakes his brown head.
“Aren’t you ready to go too? Your friends have all gone.”
He is not going to cut me off!
“One more,” I plead. I look up at him and bat my dark lashes. It’s a move that works with all the guys. His face turns red but he pours one last shot to which I promptly throw back. I’m not drunk yet, my tolerance for alcohol is high, but I am lonely. It’s nice to pretend that the bottle is my best friend, but I always end up feeling like shit in the morning. Looking at my phone, I contemplate pressing speed dial. Against my better judgment, I call Barrett. Drunk-dialing is never a good sign, but I need to hear his voice. I need to know that he is behaving while I’m gone. After over two years of dating, he still hasn’t quite managed to stop breaking my heart. When the phone goes to voicemail, I bite my bottom lip to stop myself from screaming. For being a girl who supposedly has it all, I sure feel alone in the world. My friends are fake, my boyfriend can’t keep his dick in his pants, and even my career is going downhill. If I don’t do something quick, I’ll end up broke and alone. Standing up, I motion for the bartender to put all the drinks on my tab. I stumble towards the hotel lobby. It’s a long walk to the auditorium, but I can’t drive drunk. Maybe he’ll cheer me up. For the second time today, I hightail it to the streets of Nashville, but this time in better footwear.
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