by J. L. Brooks
Locked away in my closet was a small shoebox full of laminates and glow sticks, photos and flyers-all poor remnants of an era that transcended understanding, yet nearly twenty years later the passion continued to run deep.
The styles and faces may change yet the underground does not, it will always continue to operate outside of the mainstream. There will be those that understand it and nurture creativity, pushing art to the limits, as well as those who merely see it as entertainment or a passing trend. It has a way of forming bonds thicker than blood, and lasting a life time. An empire composed of dreams and grit; we carved our own paths. A safe haven, a home, it was always more than just the music, dancing or graffiti. When you can battle just as effectively with a microphone as with your fist, civil society should take notes. Where you come from is not nearly as important as where you are going, and in my world the underdog stands a chance at being somebody. This is what I remember, and what I will take with me to the grave.
And then there was Hayden, my partner in crime and first true love. I would have followed him to the ends of the universe, yet that was not our destiny. His dreams were bigger than the plans we made, and little did I know that I had my own road to travel. Our morning came and it was time to move on. Tucked away in the same little shoebox was a picture of us, before the hurt and disappointment, broken dreams and broken hearts. As an old woman I will not look back on my life and think of what I had lost, but what I had gained and the good fortune that shined upon me to bear witness to history being made.
When the lights came on and the party was over my day was just beginning. I got to bring the DJ home and wait for it to happen all over again. Freshly showered and snuggled between the sheets, he was not a celebrity I placed on a pedestal, but a man on the brink of greatness. Ascension does not come easily, for if it did, we would all know the cost of soaring above the clouds. Look at the birds of the air, for there are few. Flight requires leaving the ground, taking the chance that when you step off of the edge the wind will carry you. Fame is no different than flight, and in order to fly he had to let go.
It is hard to fathom how that changes people, yet it does. Their reward is horizons we will never see, new lands and exotic strangers. Adventure awakens the senses creating a hunger unlike any other. I tried not to allow my bitterness of his departure dictate my journey; however it was impossible to deny it wouldn’t alter the course I would take to my place in the heavens. I watched as others grew resentful when my own gift flourished and witnessed firsthand the measures others will take to gain from your light. Looking back I could feel the conflict of leaving what was familiar for what was possible, consciously weighing out which regret to carry.
Innovation requires a great deal of risk and accepting that failure may be the outcome.
I was raised with chance in my veins and the Flats at my feet. Slinging drugs and buying wax did not make us stupid, it made us street prodigies. We knew what people wanted and catered to the masses. When those are the cards you are handed in life, you play them the best that you can. I left the game when Hayden left me. Believing I couldn’t keep up without him, I faded into the crowd.
However it was only a matter of time before the siren's call lured me back. Promising to once again to propel me up to where I belonged. I did not need Hayden to fulfill my role because I wasn’t returning to the game, I was coming home.”
Reading the last paragraph, I looked up to gauge the faces of those who came to listen. The room roared with applause, causing me to choke back a sob. With no time to waste, the hands began to rise for the Q&A. Immediately, the questions pried about my relationship with Hunter, and if Hayden was based off of him. My response was the same. “It is true, I cannot deny it, thus the internet proves me a liar, Mr. Michaels and I are childhood friends. However this is a work of fiction, not a memoir.”
Realizing that the topic would not be explored any further, the inquiries moved on to questions related to the book and future projects. Over an hour passed before the line formed to have copies of the book signed. It never failed to amaze me how patient readers were willing to be just for a few moments of time. I hardly considered myself anyone worth wanting to meet, yet greeted each fan warmly, thanking them for coming.
My hand started cramping by time the last few individuals stepped in front of the table. With sore cheeks and a tight neck, I battled through to the very end. Laughing while the book store was taking down the banners, I was packing up my satchel when Hillary tapped on my shoulder.
“Um, boss, there’s one more,” she said coyly.
Turning around, my grip on the bag was lost and spilled the contents to the ground. Sitting in the back row was Hunter, wearing a black wool military jacket and holding a bouquet of roses with a small red box tied with a white bow. Standing up and walking towards us slowly, he nodded to Hillary before handing me the flowers. In his hands was also a book which he set on the table so he could help pick up the papers and markers that cluttered around my feet. Unable to move, I felt my body tremble in fear.
Noticing my discomfort, Hillary picked up the book and a marker, placing it in front of me.
“Miss Keaton, we must hurry or you will be late for dinner. I don’t mean to rush but they are waiting on us.”
Turning to Hunter, she offered an apology while pulling on her coat and bringing mine over. Still holding the book, I looked up gratefully and asked her to wait a few moments. Wearily she offered to stay, yet I shook my head to assure her I would be okay. Watching as she descended the staircase, a group of fans pointed at Hunter excitedly while snapping more photos. Overhearing them, Hillary grew tense and encouraged them to respect our privacy.
“What are you doing here?” I asked quietly.
“I had something to give you. I wasn’t sure if I would have the chance again.”
Furiously, I glared at the box and flowers before ripping open the front cover of the book. I scribbled my name across the first page and shot it across the table into his hands.
“I don’t want anything from you.” I sneered through clenched teeth. I couldn’t believe he had the nerve to show up here. Perhaps he felt as though my arrival in Colorado violated the same principals and it was revenge.
“Lila, please,” he pleaded.
A small pang tightened in my chest yet quickly passed. Meeting Grant had strengthened my resolve and shown me how sweet life could be. Almost as if this was a test of will, Hunter no longer had the pull over me he once did. Feeling the venom dissipate, I stood and pulled my coat on.
“There’s nothing left to say. If there was, you wouldn’t have waited so long to tell me.”
Clenching his jaw, I watched his eyes redden and well up. Shaking as he held the box, he waited for me to take it. For as furious as he made me, the desolation in his eyes was heart wrenching.
“Please Lila. Just take this. I will never bother you again.”
Timidly I took the small box from his grasp and watched as he turned and bolted out of the store. Hillary rushed up immediately wide eyed and panicked.
“What was that about?”
Unsure of how to respond, I shrugged and tucked the box in my satchel and grabbed the flowers. After thanking the store managers, I stepped into the town car and asked to be taken to my hotel. I was no longer hungry and wanted nothing more than to get the hell out of New York. Calling Grant immediately, I began to scream into the phone while trying to explain what had just happened.
“Calm down baby, it’s okay. What did he give you that was so important?”
Ripping the box from my bag, I yanked the white ribbon off and lifted the top layer of tissue paper away. Unable to see the items in the dark car, I turned on the light. Holding the phone in the crook of my neck, I opened the card sitting on top of a smaller package. Inside the cream colored paper was scrawled a simple message:
Part of your story is missing
Unsure of what he meant, I ripped through the second package and felt the stiff paper poke my h
ands through the lace. Pulling it from the box, my heart stopped and a blood curdling scream rushed out of my throat so loud that the driver slammed on the brakes, throwing the car into the middle of the intersection. I was unable to stop my phone from flying out my hands as metal collided with glass. Clenched in my fists were the panties from my night in Vegas, along with photos detailing every moment.
Feeling the warm crimson ooze down my face, I struggled to get out of the car while growing dizzier by the moment. Resting my head against the seat, I felt the cool gust of air as the other door opened. Strong arms pulled me out and held me close, wrapping me in a jacket as I stumbled away from the wreckage. Hearing the sirens in the distance, I curled into the stranger's arms. Before slipping into the darkness, I heard a familiar voice call to me from across the void.
“I got you.”
Although I type the words, it is impossible for me to write a book alone. So many hands and minds have gone into these pages; I hope I remember them all. If not, there is a nifty little space above just for you.
First I want to thank Jodie Stipetich for encouraging me to write this story, and laugh with me at how stubborn I was to even begin. I love your face. Ellie, Virginia, Hillz and Courtney Love N Books-Wow, where the fuck do I start? Your impact on my life in such a short time is nothing less than amazing. I have never met a group of ladies who work together so brilliantly. I am blessed by your friendship and honored to be a part of your circle. Donna Sabino, Erin Knaus, and Melanie Hazard-you have been with me since the beginning and your unwavering support and belief in my writing keeps me going through the doubt. You are so very special to me; I cannot wait for what is to come! Denise Tung- Thank you for believing in me and giving me the opportunities you have. Whatever you need, I got you! Nic Farrell-I am so proud of where you are, and cannot wait to see where you are headed. You mean the world to me.
Heather O’Nutz-McHenry-I am grateful for after so long of knowing each other we took the leap and became colleagues. Your eye for design is brilliant, you read me so well, and tolerate me even better. MHM Photography baby! Tami Norman at Integrity Formatting-I am thrilled we get to work together, thank you for taking such good care of me. Sandy (Saint) Rizzotto DiPiazza-The world should take note, if you want to be classy yet an unmovable force, look no further. I cannot tell you what you mean to me, but I know you know, so it’s all good. Ti Amo. Michael Gleason-my sanity coach. You have been my anchor when the world spins too fast, the voice that encourages me forward when I want to quit, and the motivation to do squats for a nice ass. Everyone needs some one like you! Lisa Sax, my forever partner in crime. Through trials and tribulations, I know you would walk through hell with me. Ditto girl. Becky Bilby, Kim Kretzer and Linda Fultz-From the very first word I typed, you have cheered me on, I couldn’t do this with out you! Sara Celi, Keelie Chatfield, Tammy Meyer-Hanson, and all of the friends I have made this past year. You make my life so much better, and remind me why I do this in the first place. You are amazing! And last but never least, my Creator, for letting my light shine in the darkest of places, and using it to guide others through the storm.
JL Brooks is a former columnist turned novelist. What started as a bet changed her entire course in life. With a passion for adventure, she believes everyone has a story to tell. Chances are she will try to convince you to tell yours.
Follow JL at:
Twitter: @Authorjlbrooks
Facebook: www.facebook.com/authorjlbrooks
Email: [email protected]
Table of Contents
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1- The Great Escape
Chapter 2- On the Table
Chapter 3- Against the Tide
Chapter 4- New Eyes
Chapter 5- The Fall
Chapter 6- Awakening
Chapter 7- Hear No Evil
Chapter 8- Electric
Chapter 9- Coming Down
Chapter 10- Need
Chapter 11- No Place like Home
Chapter 12- Punch Love
Chapter 13- Empty Bed
Chapter 14- Into the Furnace
Chapter 15- Counting Sheep
Chapter 16- Passage
Chapter 17- Rapid Change
Chapter 18- Summer Love
Chapter 19- Dusty Shoes
Chapter 20- Wrong Side of the Bed
Chapter 21- Desert Blues
Chapter 22- Stolen Dance
Chapter 23- What Happens In Vegas
Chapter 24- Rising from the Ashes
Chapter 25- The Great Unknown
Chapter 26- And the Dust Settles
Chapter 27- Sanctum
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
About the Author
