Faded (Rock Star Trilogy)

by Mercy Amare

  “I propose a toast,” he says, holding up his glass. “Here is to new adventures, taking a chance, and having the night of our lives.”

  Our shot glasses clink together. I lick the salt off my hand and down the shot. I chase it down with a lime. The alcohol burns all the way down to my stomach, and I remember I haven’t eaten.

  “Maybe we should order some…” Before I can say food, another shot glass is in front of me, and I forgot what I was going to say.

  Thirty minutes later, Stephan and I are singing a duet on stage. Lucky by Jason Mraz and Colbie Caillat never sounded so good, though that could definitely be the alcohol talking. Stephan doesn’t sound half bad though. I am pleasantly surprised.

  I think about the words as we sing them. Stephan picked out the song, and I’m trying hard not to read too much into it, but I can’t help it. My tipsy state of mind over-analyzes everything. The lyrics are so sweet, and they are exactly how I feel about him.

  But a couple of shots later, I’m too drunk to think about what we sang.

  “We should do another song.” I’m pretty sure my voice is slurred.

  “Okay.” Stephan agrees. He doesn’t seem nearly as drunk as I am. He picks the song again, and one more shot later we are singing Marry You by Bruno Mars. Hey — it’s Vegas. It’s fitting. Maybe a couple hears our song and decides to get married because of it.

  The crowd is cheering us on, and I get into it. I start dancing around Stephan, and he is smiling at me, shaking his head. He’s never seen this side of me.

  After our song is over, I do another shot. I know that I should stop, but the rational side of my brain is currently too intoxicated to care.

  “I am really drunk,” I tell Stephan, and then start laughing for no reason.

  “I am too,” he agrees. “We should probably stop before we do something stupid.”

  “We should get food!” I say, suddenly wanting pizza. “I know the best pizza place!”

  “Good idea. We probably should have eaten before we drank so much.”

  We get up and leave the karaoke bar. I realize just how wasted I am when I start walking. I trip over my own feet and nearly fall down. I lean on Stephan, who is also wobbly.

  “You know…” I start out. “If we would have brought Bob, he could have carried us.”

  “I don’t know about you, but I don’t want Bob to carry me.”

  “I want somebody to carry me,” I start to whine. “The ground keeps moving, and I don’t want to fall.”

  “I’ll carry you,” Stephan offers. “You’re so small, I bet I could carry you with one arm.” He trips, nearly bringing us both down. I laugh as we lean against a building for support.

  “If you carried me, you would fall.”

  “You know what I’ve always wanted to do?”

  “What?” I ask.

  “To play poker in Vegas,” he answers.

  “Then let’s go!”

  12:01 AM

  Poker

  I have lost count of the shots I’ve taken. The room has been spinning for the last thirty minutes, and everything is hilarious. Stephan is actually good at poker, though I tell him it’s because I’m with him. I’m his “good luck charm”.

  “I think I should stop playing,” Stephan tells me after playing for an hour.

  “Why? You’re doing sooooo good!”

  He blinks hard a few times. “Well, the table keeps moving. We should probably go back to the hotel.”

  “Good idea.”

  He cashes out, and we head out of the casino. I’m not sure which way our hotel is, but right now I really don’t care.

  “Hey, Scarlett?”

  “Yeah…” My voice sounds unnaturally high. I sing just to hear myself. I’m fucking good.

  “You know the song you wrote for me?”

  “Duh, I wrote it! Of course I know it.” I pout a little bit. “You didn’t like it.”

  “I did like it. A lot. I thought that you didn’t love me. You keep telling me that you won’t have sex with me 'cause we’re not in love.”

  “I said that because you don’t love me,” I quickly clarify.

  “But I do…” He pauses. “I feel like I shouldn’t be saying this when I’ve drank this much, but I love you.”

  “I thought you were waiting to tell your future bride. I thought it was something special you were going to say on your wedding day.” Why did I say that?

  I love you, too, would have sounded much better.

  “Crap. I did say that, didn’t I?” Stephan frowns for a second, but then he smiles. “I’ve got an idea!”

  Friday, November 7

  12:08 PM

  This cannot be happening.

  My head is pounding, and the room is spinning. I try to open my eyes, but the light hurts so much. My stomach suddenly feels queasy. Whatever is in my stomach wants out. I get up and run toward the nearest bathroom, which I’m not sure where that is.

  Where am I?

  I don’t have time to think about it. I find the bathroom and run toward the toilet. I barely make it before I vomit up any remnants of last night’s alcohol. Just as I think I’m almost done, more comes up.

  How much did I drink last night?

  After I finally stop puking my guts up, I walk to the bathroom sink and splash cold water on my face. It’s then that I notice I have a ring on my left hand. Upon closer inspection, I see that it is just a cheap plastic ring. I sigh in relief. For a second I thought I did something stupid, like get married. Even when I’m wasted out of my mind, I’m too smart to do something stupid like that.

  What did I do last night? I have no idea. I remember doing tequila shots and karaoke. I remember we were going to walk back to the hotel, but that is where things got fuzzy.We obviously didn’t make it back to the hotel… I think maybe we played poker, but I’m not sure. It feels like maybe poker was just a dream, because it’s all so fuzzy.

  My head hurts from thinking. I decide that I will just have to ask Stephan. Certainly he remembers. Or at least I hope he does.

  Somehow I find the strength to walk out of the bathroom. The room that we are in is definitely not the room we were staying in at The Palms. The room is small. There is a flat screen television sitting on a nightstand, and one king size bed. Stephan is currently passed out on that bed. The carpet is an ugly shade of green with patterns of pink and yellow swirled around. There is also half a bottle of vodka sitting on a table in the corner that I don’t remember buying.

  I look down at myself. All of my clothes are on, and for that I am thankful. It means that Stephan and I didn’t have sex. I didn’t want our first time to be when I’m drunk. I want to remember every second of heated passion.

  I look around the room for my phone, but then I remember I left it at the hotel. I didn’t want Bob to wake up and call me. I didn’t want him to know where I was. I just needed one normal night off with Stephan. Now, I’m kind of wishing that we had brought him with us. If we would’ve, maybe I wouldn’t have drunk so much.

  Why do I get the feeling that I did something stupid? What if people took pictures? Ugh, I can already see the headlines. Scarlett is out of control. Scarlett refuses rehab. Fame is too much for Scarlett to handle. Why did I allow myself to drink so much?

  I just want my head to stop pounding.

  I climb onto the bed beside Stephan, just as he starts to wake up. His eyes are glassy, and I’m pretty sure he’s still a little bit drunk. Maybe I am too.

  “How much did I drink last night?” I ask him.

  “Inside voice,” he whispers back, and then massages his forehead. “I have never drank so much alcohol in my life.”

  I have, but I’ll just keep that bit of information to myself. I’m disappointed in myself. I thought I could do a couple shots and not get shit-faced. I was wrong. I obviously have no self-control. And worst of all, Stephan saw me like that. I never wanted him to see that side of me.

  “Do you remember last night?” I whisper to him. I’m
hoping that he remembers more than I do, which is basically nothing.

  “Somewhat. We did karaoke, played poker… and…and…” He pauses. “It’s a little fuzzy, but I think… Oh my God…”

  “What?” I’m scared to ask. If I did something stupid, it could ruin my career. And just when I was finally getting everything I wanted.

  “I think we got married.”

  I laugh, because what he is saying has to be a joke. And maybe I’m still drunk too. I would never laugh at that under normal circumstances, because it’s not funny. Maybe he’s saying that, because I did something really stupid, and I’ll be so relieved that we aren’t married that it will seem less horrible in perspective. “Yeah, right. I’m hung over and now is not the time to joke. What really happened?”

  “I’m not joking,” he quickly says. “It’s coming back to me now. I remember… After poker I told you that I love you, and then you said something like I was supposed to say it on our wedding day, or something… And I agreed with you. We had to fix it. And then I remember going to the chapel, and I bought you a plastic ring.”

  I hold up my left hand. “This plastic ring?”

  He nods.

  My stomach feels sick again.

  “I remember paying the Elvis impersonator, and I remember saying our vows.” Stephan runs his hands through his hair. “Scarlett, we are married.”

  This cannot be happening.

  “Are you absolutely positive? Maybe we just said our vows and didn’t get the actual license.”

  Stephan rolls over and grabs a paper off the nightstand and hands it to me. It’s our marriage license issued by the state of Nevada. Both of our signatures are on it. Which makes it very real.

  “So we’re married,” I say.

  “We are.”

  “What are we going to do about it? Do you think that people know?” I am wishing that I had my phone with me so I could check out some gossip blogs.

  Stephan thinks for a moment. “I don’t think anybody knows, Scarlett. But I definitely don’t think we should tell anybody. My mom would have a heart attack if she knew.”

  “I don’t want to tell Stacy either. Or Bridgett. Or Alec. Ugh, or Anna! They are all going to be so disappointed in us.” I turn to Stephan. “Do you think we should get it annulled?”

  “Before we even have time to consummate our marriage?”

  I laugh. Even through the severity of our situation, Stephan finds a way to cheer me up… even if it only last for a few seconds.

  “I think we should just stay married and not tell anybody. Then in like five years, when we’re actually old enough to be married, we have a big wedding,” he answers.

  “But I’m only nineteen, and you’re eighteen. We are way too young to be married.”

  “That’s why we won’t tell anybody,” he says, like it’s going to be the easiest thing in the world to hide.

  For the first time, I smile. “Are we really doing this?”

  “Yes, we are really doing this, Mrs. Montgomery.”

  Oh my God.

  I’m married.

  The End.

  Look for Hated, Book 3, coming SOON!

  Find me online:

  http://www.mercyamare.com

  Also, be sure to join the Jaded Discussion Group! Here we can talk about the book without spoiling it for others: https://www.facebook.com/groups/334305963357955/

  Check out my other books:

  You Got Me

  A NA romance about new beginnings and finding love when you least expect it.

  Don't Tell

  A YA novella about love, forgiveness, and hope.

  Acknowledgments

  TESS WATSON – you are the BESTEST best friend ever. Seriously this book is finished right now because you threatened me with physical violence. Thank you for the tight deadline, and for everything! I heart you. Seriously.

  My editor/cover designer, Laura Heritage, you are a Godsend. Thank you for all of your hard work. You are AMAZING! And THANK YOU, Rachel Van Dyken, for introducing us!

  My husband, my best friend, my supporter — Shane, I love you. Thank you for believing in me, always.

  To all the bloggers out there for taking the time to read and review my book, WOW, you guys rock. Words can never tell you how much I appreciate you!

  And last… thank YOU, the awesome person reading my book. Thank you for buying this… Your support means the world to me.

  xoxo,

  Mercy Amare