by V. F. Mason
I went to my desk and picked up pencils and paper to make my drawings, and hoped to God I would have some fresh, new ideas.
Otherwise, the trip would be all for nothing.
“Screw calories!” Becky announced to the waiter, and he smiled while his gaze lingered a bit on her.
There was a lot to look at.
She was a typical American beauty: tall, fit, leggy, with lightly tanned skin, and long blonde hair that looked like the finest silk. Her face, with her ocean-blue eyes, made her one of the most gorgeous girls I had ever seen. High cheekbones, petite nose, and full lips, which usually were painted red. Her nails were done in purple to complement the white knee-length dress she wore with purple high heels, which made her legs seem longer, and she knew how to rock them.
We gave our orders and listened to the nice music while waiting for the food.
“So, what’s the story?”
My brows furrowed. “What story?”
“Well, the story we are going to tell everyone about where you’re going. I don’t think you want them to know the truth.” Yeah, she was right about that. No one cared much about each other’s problems, but they did love to gossip.
“Just say I needed to leave to meet relatives, family stuff. No one will question it anyway. You know how it is.” Finally, the food arrived, my grilled salmon—I gave up meat, but not seafood—and her pasta. It smelled heavenly. My mouth watered; I couldn’t wait to taste it. I picked up my fork and was about to take my first bite, when her guilty voice stopped me.
“True. Listen, sorry about earlier. You can do whatever you want.”
I raised my eyes to her, surprised. Becky wanted to talk about it after all. “So… you have a thing for Jason?”
She looked down at her pasta, absently digging into it with the fork, and got quiet. She exhaled a heavy breath, and gave up all pretense of eating. “I do. I mean, you know, we’ve known him since kindergarten, and I’ve just had a crush on him since then, I guess. Not that he ever noticed me.”
I stared at her, a bit stunned, because, well, I never expected to hear that. We'd been in the same group of friends since we were five, and not once did I notice her treating or looking at him differently. Though I vaguely remembered moments where she couldn’t stand to be in the same room while he was kissing or fooling around with other girls.
Shit.
“I didn’t know. You never told me. If you had, I would have never started anything with him.” And it was the truth. I would never betray my friend like that.
“It doesn’t matter, Serena. I just didn’t want you to think I had some grudge against you.” There was something else she wasn’t telling me, but I didn’t want to push it.
After we were done eating, we decided to go walk around Times Square and take pictures. We laughed and hugged each other and made stupid faces at the camera. Some people looked at us as though we were crazy, but we didn’t care. We knew the whole summer separation would be a bitch and took all the time we had to enjoy each other. Finally, it was late and she had an early Zumba class, which she attended religiously, and I had my morning flight to catch.
“Take care, babe, and write like all the time’’ With a final wave from her car, she disappeared into the traffic of New York. I watched the road for several minutes, wondering how the hell I would survive there without her. Becky could make a lot of things seem better when she was near.
Entering the penthouse, my nose registered the familiar smell of well-done steak in the air and heard the noise of glasses being clinked. I glanced briefly in the direction of the dining room, which had a big table filled with food. My dad was deep in conversation with Alice, holding her hand gently. Anger rushed through me, making me grit my teeth and clench my fists. This wasn’t her place, and she shouldn’t be part of this dinner. I didn’t want to spend one more second watching it.
My feet were already at the stairs to my room when I heard a soft voice behind me.
“Serena.”
I turned around, and there she stood, wearing a khaki dress with flats, her face without makeup and hair in a ponytail. She seemed almost normal, and when she was without the whole armor of modeling around her, I felt bad and ashamed for being rude to her.
Just for a second.
“I’m tired and really want to go to bed now.” Dealing with this, her, right before moving to the ranch—I just couldn’t.
“Maybe you would like to join me and your father in the living room for a glass of wine?” She gave me a tentative smile with hope in her eyes.
“No thanks.” She flinched at my cold tone.
Good. Why couldn’t she just back off and stop trying to be my friend? She didn’t look dumb, but she sure as hell acted like it.
“We haven’t done that for a long time, and after today’s incident, I thought—”
“Well, we’ll not be doing it for a long time in the future, either. As you know, I’m leaving.” She looked down at her folded hands, a grim expression replacing the cheerful one she had earlier.
Alice wanted me out of the picture to have more time with Dad, and her plan had worked. She shouldn’t have bothered, really, because I would have left for the summer anyway. I didn’t enjoy seeing her in the house my mom chose and loved. Dad hadn’t remodeled or changed anything since she died, and he never would, because Mom was the love of his life. The only reason Alice was there was because my mom was no longer in the picture.
“Serena, I'm really sorry it came to this after today’s incident—”
I raised my hand to stop her. “I don’t care.” She took a step back, as though I’d slapped her. “Look, I really don't want to hear how sorry you are about something that is not your business to begin with. Me and Dad? We’re family, and this is between family. And what the hell are you still doing here anyway?”
She never stayed the night. Our driver, Jonathan, took her home every time she was done doing whatever the hell she was doing with Dad. Her eyes darkened in pain, but I ignored it, because that would mean I had to feel sorry for her, and right then, all I wanted was to feel sorry for myself.
“Serena!” Both of us shuddered at my dad’s harsh voice. “Apologize to Alice, now!”
I looked at them both—she on the verge of tears and he with disappointment and regret in his eyes—and, suddenly, it all got too much to handle.
“No. Why should I?” It wasn’t as if I insulted her or anything, just stated the facts.
“No, it’s okay. There is no need to make her—” Alice started, but my dad interrupted.
“Apologize, or else—”
“Dad, you are already sending me away to God-knows-where to work for some dude I’ve never met in my life. I think your threats aren't so scary anymore.” Not bothering to wait for his reply, I dashed upstairs holding my tears at bay before locking the door behind me. Taking out my mom’s framed picture from the nightstand, I hugged it close to my chest and wished for the thousandth time in the last three years for her to be here and give me hell for hurting a completely innocent woman and acting like a selfish, spoiled brat to my dad. But she wasn’t here, and she never would be again.
Flash!
The bright light blinded me for a second, and before I could recover from it, another flash erupted. My hands covered my face as I quickly picked up my drawing kit and ran in the direction of the car where my driver, John, had already opened the door with a worried expression on his face.
Flash!
Flash!
Flash!
“Serena!”
“Are you painting for your mom?”
“Is it hard to come here?” they all shouted behind me, and I couldn't take it for one more second. After I jumped into the limo, the door shut swiftly, leaving me in the numbing darkness and silence. Breathing heavily, I grabbed the bottle of water from the car fridge and took a huge gulp. The cooling sensation spread through me. My hands shook from my emotions, causing some of the water to spill on my white T-shirt. Tears rapid
ly slid down my cheeks.
It all became unbearable, slowly driving me insane with each passing day.
The press hadn’t given me any peace since my mom died; every opportunity they got, they tried to snap pictures and make me talk with them. All those photos of me in the papers and magazines, either in tears or sitting by my mother’s grave, they turned my grief into a circus. I didn't know how to deal with the pain that consumed me. The reason I came was to draw. I hadn’t been able to touch the canvas since the funeral, but nothing helped. Every time I tried, Mommy came to mind and my hands couldn’t paint one single stroke.
Emotional outbursts, the press, tears, emptiness inside me.
I couldn't live like that anymore.
I had to change.
I had to create another Serena who didn't care about a single thing and preferred to party all night. I had to wipe out the old Serena, the one who shared every aspect of her life with her mom. Memories threatened to destroy me and I was desperately trying to survive. Taking a deep breath, I wiped my cheeks and dialed Becky’s number. She’d know what to do.
Serena
The next morning, no one was at the table during breakfast, but it wasn’t surprising. Dad could be harsh when he didn’t like my behavior, so no one was crying when I left. I was given tickets and money—some in cash. There was even a paper with my so-called backstory. According to it, I was Serena Dane, college student who needed extra cash because her family wasn’t wealthy. And it did say I studied in New York. Hilarious if you ask me.
Downstairs, Jonathan took my suitcase and put it in the car. Checking my bag one last time for all the documents, I put my sunglasses on and went outside. I was wearing skinny jeans, a white T-shirt, a scarf, and simple ballerinas, and had my wild hair in an easy ponytail that somehow gave it an elegant look. The soft breeze on my cheeks was calming and soothing.
The car was parked right by the sidewalk. I was about to slip inside, when a hand grabbed my arm and turned me around to face Dad. Did I really think he would let me leave without saying goodbye?
“Come here, baby girl.” He hugged me, and my eyes closed as I enjoyed the much-needed feeling of safety. His arms were strong and embraced me like a big bear hugging his cub. “For the record, I’m still angry with you for yesterday and think you should apologize.” Keeping my mouth shut seemed like the best option. He continued after a beat. “I know you think I’m punishing you and all this seems unfair, but, baby girl, I think you really need this to have a better perspective on life. Carter will pick you up.”
Hawk was out of town and two men were supposed to help me settle in, though they didn’t know the truth about me. Dad squeezed me one last time and then nudged me toward the car, and I quickly got inside.
“Hope you’ll enjoy your stay, Miss Serena,” Jonathan said softly, making me smile. He had been with us since I was a kid and always tried to cheer me up if my mood was low. Jonathan was like a big grandpa. Taking a candy from his jacket pocket, he handed it to me; it was sort of tradition. Whenever I was sad, he made sure to have candies stashed without my parents knowing. “Always find good in any situation, okay, missy?”
I nodded and squeezed his arm for a second, enjoying one more person who brought stability to my life. “Thanks, Jonathan. I’ll bring you a souvenir from Texas.”
He chuckled and winked in the rearview mirror. “Just bring yourself, in one piece, okay?” Considering I was going to be on a ranch, his request didn’t seem funny at all.
“I’ll try.”
Ten hours later, I was freaking exhausted from all the travel. My body ached, my eyes hurt, my clothes were sticking to my body, I felt dirty, and I desperately wanted a shower It turned out the town had a small airport, so I had to board a tiny plane with a private pilot who was waiting for me in Houston. Since he had an awful hangover, his son was the one who was piloting the plane, and he was so skittish and nervous I seriously thought the end had come. Then it seemed they needed more oil, and we made an unexpected stop, where I had a bad sandwich, which made me sick to my stomach, and finally we arrived at another airport.
The view of the city was unexpected—or rather, the fact it was nothing but a big desert.
“Make sure to call us again, miss, once you want to go back,” said Elliot, the pilot who was partying last night, if his breath was anything to go by.
“Yeah, right,” I muttered, exiting the plane. My eyes wandered around for some cowboy-looking guys, but there was no one. The airport was busy; several planes had passengers waiting for them. But there was no one with a name placard. A girl could use a hint.
“So am I supposed to shout like a lunatic for this guy?” I muttered to myself.
“No need. I wouldn’t want you to embarrass me.”
I glanced over my shoulder in the direction of the amused voice, and my eyes landed on an old guy with gray hair and eyes, medium height, and wearing cowboy clothes. He looked friendly enough, so I smiled. Plus, it was a good thing to be polite to older people. I couldn’t act out with them.
“Hello, I’m Serena.”
He nodded and took my luggage, which I gladly gave to him. The old man already had points from me for being kind and considerate. “Carter. Quite a heavy bag you have here.”
Heavy? How exactly did women travel here if he considered the one small bag—in my opinion—heavy?
When we went to the parking lot, I was greeted with intense heat. Fanning myself with my hand brought no relief. Well, I should have known better and checked the weather before I decided what to wear. Shorts would have been more appropriate; my jeans were killing me, and my body produced more sweat than I believed was possible. No need for any cardio, women just had to walk several minutes in the Texas heat, and those damn calories would burn themselves.
Carter stopped near an old truck that had seen better days—and by that, I mean like thirty years ago. Rusted doors, scratches all over the hood, and dirty, with dust attached to the mirror. Underneath it all, though, it had an artistic approach to design with orange flames spreading down the entire side, as if a dragon had breathed the fire. Plus, different symbols were scattered around the edges, arousing my curiosity about their meaning.
I could admit it had class. As an artist, I could appreciate that. Quickly, I took a photo of it and climbed inside. All the leather was old, but it looked nice. The smell of cinnamon filled the interior. I saw an interesting round object inside that looked like some ancient totem. Curious, I touched it and discovered it was made of fine wood, and the design was amazing. Every small detail was well thought out. Shaped in the form of a wolf ready to attack, and each of his teeth were carved with care. It was almost as if someone captured the wolf’s expression while looking at him.
As Carter opened the door and climbed inside, my eyes studied him as I tried to measure his character. He was relaxed and fresh, and while I was sweating like a pig, he seemed cool and comfortable. Maybe, after some time, the heat didn’t affect people as much around here.
“It’s beautiful,” I said, pointing at the wolf figure.
He started the engine and looked around the road before opening his window, which meant air conditioning was out of the question. I did the same with mine and could feel dust flying in my face, which was annoying, but it was either that or the heat. The breeze won.
“Yeah.” Well, he clearly wasn’t a talkative one, but I couldn’t sit in silence.
“Does it mean anything?”
“It’s a Native American symbol for protection.”
That was my guess, too. Last night, after Becky told me they had ancestors on reservations, I did some research. “So, are you from the tribe?” He didn’t look like one, but maybe he was of mixed race.
“Nope. Hawk is.”
“So he made it?” I wanted to know the artist, too. I loved exquisite work, and I wouldn’t mind having something like that. It would be a nice souvenir for the folks at home.
“Nope.” His one-syllable answers were fre
aking frustrating. I had to drag every word from him. Was it a bad choice to try to have a conversation or what? I didn’t think I was being offensive, or it was wrong of me to be interested.
“So… is the ranch far away?” The view ahead held nothing but the road and sand on either side, but I still used the opportunity to snap a picture. Just how far away was the ranch from the town?
“One-hour drive to Moonlight Rose, and two hours to Rising Star.” Which meant the ranch was an hour away from the town, and if I had no car—and I didn’t think I could have rented one, since I was supposed to be a struggling student—I would be stuck on the ranch all the freaking time. Just great.
Since Carter continued to be silent and didn’t even turn on the radio, I took out my headphones and clicked on my favorite song, “Shine” by Collective Soul. When I was nervous or felt out of place, it always managed to calm me down. Maybe it was like that, because my mom used to sing it to me as a lullaby and later on showed me how to play it on the guitar.
She was gone, and nothing could fix that. People say at some point you stop grieving, and maybe that’s true, but I hadn’t yet. Everyone had moved on, even Dad with Alice. However, I couldn’t. I missed my beautiful mom, the society darling, Isabelle Devlin.
Dad and Mom met in college, at Harvard, where Mom got a scholarship because she was valedictorian of her high school class. She was from a foster home, so she had no money or family, and whatever she had, she worked hard for. Dad used to say, the moment he saw her, he fell in love.
After a year of being in a relationship, he introduced her to my grandparents, who instantly liked and accepted her. I always wondered why, because those were the same people who never said hello to people who worked for them—that was how snobby they were. At the age of twenty-five, my parents married, and two years later, they had me. Mom worked with charities and programs to help kids who were less fortunate, as she once was. And she spent a lot of time with me.
