Bash
By Briana Gaitan
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.
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Copyright © 2014 by Briana Gaitan
Cover design © Briana Gaitan.
First Edition, 2014
This is a work of fiction.
All characters appearing in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons living or dead are purely coincidental.
To: The depressed, hurt, or lonely. Fight for your happy ending.
Warning This is a prequel short story to The Last Thing. Though it can be read as a standalone, it may ruin parts of The Last Thing. I highly suggest first reading The Last Thing on Amazon. HERE
Plagued by past mistakes in both love and life, Quinn Bardot is in a bad place. With nowhere else to turn, she escapes to LA clinging to the promise of a fresh start.
Chase Crowley is known for being selfish and unbelievably persistent. All he's ever wanted is to become a successful actor. But now that he is about to have it all, he finds that something is still missing. Money and fame isn't what he expected.
After a fervent encounter, the two of them are thrown into a situation that neither is prepared for. Can Quinn extinguish her fears and let Chase in? Can Chase learn to put someone else's needs before his own?
The Last Thing is a novel all about love, Hollywood, and accepting what life throws at you even if it is the last thing you want.
Author’s note: Writing Bash was difficult, only because he had such a unique style. He has this manic love for Quinn, but also he is dealing with a lot of issues that others can relate to. When writing a short story, every part is important. We don’t have time to explore everything, so each scene has to have a special meaning. Come explore the last 12 hours of Bash’s life. I hope you will find a special meaning in each chapter. I also used the formatting to make it feel, for lack of a better word, poetic. Happy Reading!.
Bash’s Playlist
Each part has a song, listen HERE while you read.
Bash
I’m dead. It’s a strange feeling, a bizarre realization, but I’ve never been in less pain. The death I wished for only hours ago has come to pass. I am oddly at peace, but ashamed. I’m not alone. Her body lies beside mine. She isn’t aware. I sit up and stare at her. Her eyes are still, yet a faint light radiates from her. It flickers in and out. She’s fighting for life.
I’m distracted.
Overjoyed.
No more football practices or hours of weight training. No more lectures from my father and everyone constantly telling me “the whole town is counting on you, son.”
It’s over.
Really over.
As I sit on the bank of the riverbed, I remember the girl who lays lifeless among the leaves and the dirt with her wet hair stuck to the side of her face.
I remember.
“Please don’t be dead.” I reach out to check her pulse, but my hand goes right through her small body. Right through her heart.
I never meant to hurt her, but the entire night is slipping away from my mind. Little grains of sand that I desperately try and hold within my grasp, but they find the cracks and slip through my fingers. When I think of Quinn, there is only emptiness. I once loved her, care for her, but I can’t feel that emotion anymore. It’s dead. I’m dead inside. So this is the afterlife? To roam the earth aimlessly?
“Wake up, Quinn. Wake up. Wake up!” I’m yelling at her, hoping that she can somehow hear me. Sticky, wet blood pools on the leaves around her head. So much blood. Too much blood. No one is out driving this late at night. No one will see her lying here, dying. I can’t let that happen. The only reason she’s hurt is because I had to go and screw things up like I always do. I had to get drunk and threaten to kill myself, all over losing some stupid football game.
No, she wasn’t going to die tonight. Not while I was around. For once in my life, I will save her. I look up at the old rusty bridge, the one that the car had flipped off of, and I find myself instantly at the top of it.
How in the world did I get up here?
I don’t know how I plan on saving her, but I need to get someone who is alive. Two large headlights appear in the distance, and as they speed toward me at forty-five miles per hour, I wave my hands in the air.
“Hey, stop! Somebody stop!” They aren’t slowing. I move out of the way at the last second, and the car drives past as if they hadn’t seen me.
They didn’t see me, of course. I bet they would have driven right through me.
I glance over the edge of the bridge. “Don’t die on me, Quinn.”
Two more lights appear in the distance.
This is pointless. Bash, don’t give up on her now!
“STOP!” The small car is heading right for me, not slowing.
“PLEASE STOP!” I scream louder this time. A wave of static energy flows through the air, causing a tree branch to fall. The rotted wood lands on the side of the bridge, beside a pile of twisted metal from the car bumper. I allow myself to breath
Do I even need oxygen now?
The car swerves and pulls off to the side of the road.
Thank God. He stopped. He will take care of her. A man, who looks to be in his mid-thirties, steps out of the car with a flashlight.
“What the—” he points the light around the bridge and shines it at the wreckage.
“Over here!” I call out. I run to the side of the bridge and turn my eyes toward Quinn. Her light is fading. It’s hard watching her mangled body, but I have to save her. I need to save her, and I’m doing a terrible job. I throw my hands in the air and yell again. “Over here, dude!”
He takes his time walking along the bridge, but panics when he picks up some of the wreckage. His eyes search the darkness.
“Anyone out there?” the man yells out. “Anyone need help?”
“Down there!” I point off the bridge toward the water. Why do I keep talking? He can’t hear me or see me. The man points his flashlight off the side of the bridge and scans the riverbank.
Please save her.
Please save her.
Please save her.
I’m not sure if I’m praying or wishing. Maybe I’m praying to a God that I abandoned years ago Whatever I’m doing, it is my last hope.
“Holy crap! It’s a girl! Caroline, call the cops there’s a girl down there!”
I watch a shadowed figure jump out of the car. A pregnant lady with blonde hair.
“Jim, what’s wrong?”
“Call 911 quick, there’s a girl down there,” he says before running to the edge of the bridge to climb down.
He sees her.
He can save her.
He can save her.
She’ll be okay.
I begin to fade.
Chapter One
12 hours earlier
I set my helmet inside of my locker before slamming it as hard as I can.
“Dammit!” My voice echoes through the empty locker room. It taunts me, telling me how much I screwed up. Just outside, my parents and three thousand fans stand with disappointment on their faces. We’d lost the first game of the season, and all because I couldn’t get my head in the game.
“Bash?”
I sigh before turning around. I already know who the voice belongs to. Tawny the school reporter. She’s been looking for ways to bring me down since my freshman year.
“Ever
yone is waiting outside for you.” she says with a smirk on her face.
“How did you get in here?” I try to push past her small body, but she uses her shoulder to push back.
“I said everyone is waiting for you.”
“I bet you’re happy, huh? My first game as starting quarterback, and I kept dropping the ball.”
“I bet your mind was somewhere else.”
“What ya getting at?”
“Nothing. Can I just get a statement?” She sighs and starts tapping her foot. “My editor is insistent that we still play up how wonderfully you played tonight.”
Everyone always sucks up to me. “Fine, what do you want?”
“Is it true you’re on the verge of losing your football scholarship due to your grades?”
My jaw tightens. How does she know about that? “That’s none of your business, Tawny.”
“Okay, then what about the team’s drug scandal.”
I choose my words carefully. “What do you know about that?”
“I know that your wide receiver, Ben Marco, was caught selling drugs on campus. I know that all the players were tested before the game.”
Words can’t even describe how angry I am. My throat closes up; my fists curl up at my side, my pulse races. How dare she come in here with her pompous holier than thou attitude and ask me questions she has no idea about. I want to hit her, hit someone, hit something.
“Get the hell out!” I point towards the door before making a dent in one of the lockers with my fist. “Get out NOW!”
“Thought that would be your reaction.” She laughs and walks toward the exit. I shake my right hand a bit, nothing is broken, but the pain radiates up from my knuckles. They’ve taken worse. There’s only one person who can make me feel better, and she lives hours away. She isn’t here because she’s working on a makeup design for a movie. I pull out my phone and press the speed dial. She’s the only one who calms me down when I feel like this.
“Hey Bash, How did your game go?”
My heartbeat speeds up, I hate to disappoint her, but there is no other way around it.
“We lost, I kept screwing up. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” I don’t tell her the rest. I don’t want to worry her.
“Honey, I’m so sorry. You’ve worked so hard for that position. Everything okay?”
“I dunno.”
When I don’t say anything else, she starts humming. I hear the strokes of her paintbrush hitting a canvas, I can only imagine that she is twirling her hair, no doubt specks of paint cover her hands and face.
“Ask me about my project.” she says. I don’t want to talk about her project; I want her to do what she always does. Tell me it will be okay and give me advice.
“Tell me about your project.” My voice is flat, unenthusiastic. I sit down on the wooden bench and wait for her to answer.
“I molded a latex mask yesterday, some crazy creature that turns into whatever you’re afraid of.”
I chuckle slightly, “Isn’t that already a creature from Harry Potter?”
“No! This is completely different.”
“Do you have to think of something funny to defeat it?”
“Shut. Up!”
A chuckle erupted from between my lips; she always knows what to say to distract me. I hear someone calling my name. I wish I could move away, change my name, and disappear.
“I gotta go face the demons,” I tell her. “Wish you were here, love ya.”
“You’ll do fine, Bash. I love you. See you this weekend? Meet me half way?”
“Yes, babe.” She’s moving to Atlanta next week, I live in Knoxville. It’s a long drive only manageable by meeting in Chattanooga.
“Can we go to the aquarium?”
“Yes, Quinn.” I hang up feeling better, but not completely. She didn’t tell me it would be all right. If only I could convince myself, it would be all right.
I slip my phone inside my gym bag and walk towards the bright lights of the outdoor stadium. This was supposed to be my year. After working towards first string my entire freshman year, I was now the star quarterback of the Ravens. I had exactly what my parent’s wanted for me. A scholarship, community respect, and my team. I was about to lose it all.
Chapter Two
10 hours earlier
“What happened out there?” My father is angry; his eyes crinkle up like mine when he’s mad. I can barely see through the slits right now and it scares me. People say I’m the spitting image of my father. We have the same blonde hair, blue eyes, and tall build. Typical homegrown southerners. But we are as different as night and day. As the son of a politician, I’m given unrealistic expectations. Expectations that I can never live up to.
“I was distracted,” I tell him.
“It’s Quinn ain’t it?” my mother pipes in. “You’re distracted because of that girl.”
“Don’t bring Quinn into this, Mom.” We’ve had this fight dozens of times before. As a high school girlfriend, she was fine, but now all of a sudden she isn’t good enough to stand by my side.
“Does she know about Raquel? Have you told her yet?”
“Don’t talk about her like that!” I take a step toward my mother, but she doesn’t cower. Even though I’m over six feet tall, and she barely hits my chest, she has southern sass written all over her. She pokes me with one of her long bony fingers.
“Don’t you back talk your mother, young man.”
My father steps in between us, giving me time to take a deep breath and relax.
“Listen here, Sabastian Crown. You will get your act together and win next week’s game. Your mother and I are not going to drive two hours every weekend just to see an embarrassment to our town and family. Have I made myself clear?”
Crystal.
“Yes, sir.” I want to tell him to go screw himself, but I can’t. When they find out about the drugs and when I’m suspended from the team, they’ll never forgive me. They won’t care about why I need the drugs, they’ll only care that it hurts their precious reputation.
My parent’s turn around and we get inside of their Jaguar. We have a dinner date with Raquel and her family at the club. Then they will go home utterly disappointed in me. Little do they know that this is just the tip of the iceberg.
They don’t care about what I want. Maybe if I died, they would care. That would show them. I feel for my pocketknife in my back pocket. No, it would be too easy. I’m half tempted to slit my wrists right there beside the car.
Chapter Three
8 hours earlier
My mind is numb.
My body is numb.
My heart is numb.
It’s the best feeling in the world. If only the blonde next to me wasn’t so annoying.
“You ready?” she sniffs before wiping her nose clean of any evidence. She leans across me and puts her silver compact in the glove box. I nod my head and take another shot of the clear liquid in the bottle. Vodka, my best friend these days. She lingers across me and runs her hand up my leg.
“Bash?”
“Yes?”
“Are you gonna break up with her this week?”
I hesitate. “Raquel, I don’t think you understand what it’s like to be in love. It isn’t that easy.”
“I don’t know what love is?” She throws her hands across her heart and looks at me like I just shot her in the chest. I may as well of. “This obsession you have with that nobody Quinn is unhealthy. I’m here, she’s not.”
I slam my hand on the grey dashboard, making her cringe against her seat. “Dammit Raquel, I said no!”
“Fine, be that way. But you better believe this, we’re one and the same. I’m the only one who can understand what you’re going through. My parents put just as much pressure on me as yours do you. But I happen to know that your parents love me.”
She doesn’t understand. She only thinks she does. It’s delusion that convinces her that we belong together. Deep inside, she still wants to please her par
ents.
“That’s because they don’t know about your expensive Cocaine addiction.”
“It’s not like I’m a junkie or anything.”
I take a good look at her; she’s everything my parents want for me. Pretty, good genes, and on her way to inheriting the family business. Her family comes from old money, her great-grandfather invented some condiment or something, I can’t remember the name, and her mother is one of those charity do-gooders. Our parents are best friends and belong to the same country club.
There’s only one problem, Raquel is a drug addict.
“I can’t do this anymore,” she wines. “I have to tell Quinn. This isn’t right. I mean, we cheered together in high school. I feel so guilty.”
No. No. No. No.
I can’t lose Quinn too. Without thinking, my hands fly out and wrap around her neck. I squeeze her soft skin beneath my strong hands and imagine every bone in her neck breaking. If she can’t talk, she can’t tell Quinn anything, ever. All I can hear and feel is the anger bubbling up inside me. This is her fault. My parent’s fault. Everyone’s fault for pushing me too damn hard. Her fingers are up around mine, desperately trying to pry my grip off her throat.
“Bash—” she chokes out. He eyes are wide, my hands are numb.
What am I doing? What have they done to me?
I release my grip and jump out of the car. Refusing to look behind me. Refusing to acknowledge what just happened. Raquel is coughing; she’ll be all right though.
Chapter Four
Six hours earlier
I’ve released every emotion tonight, yet I can’t seem to release this pressure from inside my head. I have nothing to stand on. Nothing to stand for. My existence is worthless. In less than 24 hours, I will lose everything that I care about. A cheerleader passes by with a drink in hand; I snatch it out from her between her fingers and swallow it in one gulp.
“Bash! Why’d you do that? The drink line is like ten minutes long!”
I give her a lopsided grin. “Sorry, sweetheart. Why don’t you go get us two more drinks, huh?”
Bash (Hollywood Timelines #2) Page 1
