My Kind of Forever

by Heidi McLaughlin

  “And one day, it did. I woke up in pain and bleeding. My mother said that it was the best thing to happen to me. I thought she had been right until Sterling came back the next summer. I saw him from across the street and knew right there and then that he was the man I was going to marry. My father had passed not months before and there I was, waiting for my knight in shining armor.

  “We had a grand romance and he filled the void of my father passing. That summer, Sterling was the best man ever. He loved me and showered me with affection. We went to party after party, even though he hated them. They were beneath him with the drinking, drugs and sex, and he threatened to leave me if I didn’t stop going. I was in love, so I stopped accepting invitations. My friends, who had once loved him, couldn’t wait for him to leave. I thought they just misunderstood him. He thought Hollywood was going to corrupt me and ruin his image.

  “My mother thought he was ruining my career and we’d argue. She found him naked in my bed once and asked if we were being careful. He told her it was my responsibility to make sure a child wasn’t conceived. She was livid and forbade me from seeing him, but I didn’t stop.

  “When the summer was ending and he was about to leave, he asked me to go to New York with him and I said yes. I was foolish, angry with my mother and hurt that my father had died. Sterling was my savior.

  “I remember that night so clearly. It was pouring rain when he showed up at my house. My mother called the cops, and I made the decision right there and then. I was barely seventeen and being torn between my mother and this man that I was so in love with. I looked my mother in the face, told her I hated her and walked out.”

  Bianca opens her purse and takes out a tissue and dabs her eyes. Everything is silent around us, as if people have stopped to hear the story of Sterling and Bianca Westbury. Honestly, I’m shocked her story hasn’t been made into a movie yet.

  She clears her throat and continues. “Sterling knew I had money and was counting on us using that money. My father had left me everything when he died. Unfortunately, we had two problems: I wasn’t eighteen so I couldn’t get access to my trust and because my money was no longer in the bank he worked for, we couldn’t get it that way either. I came up with this grand plan that I would forge my mother’s name on a withdrawal slip and no one would be the wiser. Except she was because by the time we got to the bank the next morning, she had moved the trust to an undisclosed location. There was a note that the bank manager gave me letting me know I could have the funds when I turned eighteen and I presented myself, along with my mother, for withdrawal.

  “Sterling was beside himself with anger and told me that I was to never see my mother again. We got in the car and drove off, stopping in Vegas for a shotgun wedding, as the minister called it, even though I wasn’t pregnant. My face was plastered all over the entertainment section of the newspaper and by my eighteenth birthday I was nothing but a memory... a has-been. I’d never have a career in Hollywood again.”

  Bianca turns and looks at me with tears in her eyes.

  “After a few years of marriage, I realized I didn’t love Sterling like I should and wanted out. He wouldn’t allow it. He wanted a family, but I was faithful to my contraceptive at the time. One night, he caught me off guard and it would have been inappropriate for me to ask my husband to stop what he was doing so I could make sure a baby wasn’t created. When I told Sterling that I was pregnant and wanted to go home to tell my mother, to fix things with her before it was too late, he took away my independence. I had a nurse with me at all times because he was afraid I’d miscarry like I had before. I never had any privacy to do what I wanted.

  “I make no excuses for Sterling, only for myself. When Liam brought you home, I saw me in you. I saw a young girl with goals and dreams and her friends around her getting pregnant. I didn’t want that for my son. I was blinded by my own hatred for the things I’ve done in my life that I couldn’t see what was right in front of me. When you came to the house, pregnant and alone, I should’ve sought you out behind Sterling’s back, but I didn’t because I’m a coward. I’ve done you wrong, Josie, and I apologize.”

  Before I can get a word out, she’s walking away from me. I think about going after her, but my feet are cemented to the ground. I wipe away my own tears and let her words sink in. I have a feeling I’m the only one who knows her life story, and I think I need to know more.

  As soon as I hang up with Josie, I know I need to get away from everyone here. Being at Metro is pointless. We’re just sitting around shooting the shit about where we’ve been and wondering when we’ll be the next hour-long segment on VHI profiling our failing careers.

  Listening to Josie provide the play-by-play of Noah’s game really struck a chord with me. I should be there and the fact that Josie didn’t hound me about it tells me two things: I either have the best fucking wife in the world or she’s accepted the fact that this is our life. I know it’s a combination of the two and right now I’m feeling like I don’t deserve to be her husband.

  I walk the streets, not worrying whether anyone will see me. Aside from the images of Layla, nothing else has been in the press. I stop dead in my tracks when I think about those images. I’m a selfish prick for not telling Josie about them. She’s got too much on her plate right now – that’s the ridiculous excuse I’m going to use to justify my actions until I can grow a set and tell her. My hesitation is because I’m not prepared for her response. Telling her that the images don’t mean anything won’t be enough to keep her thoughts at bay. I know she trusts me, but she doesn’t trust Los Angeles. Not that I can blame her. This town is already trying to ruin our relationship.

  As soon as I turn the corner, I’m facing the Ducati dealership - the same one I bought from long before I left Los Angeles. Now, my motorcycle sits in my garage, coming out only occasionally. Standing here, I realize how much I miss riding my bike.

  “She’s a beauty, isn’t she?”

  A salesman appears to the side of me. He’s dressed in a suit and is eyeing my distressed jeans and designer shirt with strategic holes in it.

  “She is.” The thought occurs to me that I need an escape while I’m here and this just might be it. “Do you have rentals?”

  The salesman puts his hands in his pockets and pretends to ponder my question. I know they do, but he’s looking at me, wondering if I can afford to rent one of their bikes. He can’t tell that my shirt cost over a hundred bucks and my jeans twice that. He looks behind me, noticing that there isn’t a car parked in front of his store and is likely wondering how I got here.

  “So about that rental?”

  “Yeah, I mean if we have the loaners in stock, we can.” This is his way of brushing me off. We’ll go inside and he’ll sit behind his computer and type, likely sending a message to his manager, telling him that some bum wants to rent a Ducati. The manager will come out, pretending he doesn’t have an idea of why I’m here. It’s a game and I’ve played it before.

  He doesn’t say anything as we walk into the dealership. The smell of new rubber permeates through the air. These bikes have very few, if any, miles at all. It’s been so long since I’ve paid attention to what new bikes are coming out and I’m surprised by the difference in the new Scrambler. It’s all Ducati, but with a motor cross feel. The back roads of Beaumont would be like heaven on this bike.

  “She’s new, just came out. If you’re into just cruising along or know of any dirt roads, that’s the bike you want. However, she’s slow with only seventy-five horsepower.”

  The all black bike with yellow accents is easy on the eyes. I could definitely see teaching Noah how to ride something like this.

  “What’s the price?”

  “Oh, huh…” he scratches his head. “She’s just under ten thousand.”

  Ten thousand is nothing, but I didn’t plan on spending money on something so frivolous. I’m already worried about making sure the money I do have continues to grow even when the music stops. I could be faced with p
aying two college bills if either boy doesn’t receive a scholarship. I’m fully expecting Noah to receive one, but he could change his mind about sports and chose a different path.

  “I’ll take it,” I tell him without second-guessing myself. I know I don’t need it and I know that I’m contradicting every reasonable thought flooding my mind, but I’ll just have to add it to the list of things I need to tell Josie about. Fuck, if that list isn’t getting long.

  The salesman looks at me like I have two heads. I probably do. I pull out my wallet and hand him my credit card. He takes it, looking at the name and back at me.

  “I’ll just…” he points his thumb over his shoulder. He’s nervous and probably hoping that I don’t say anything about his poor sales technique to his manager.

  “I’ll need a helmet too, please.”

  “Right away, Mr. Page.”

  I can’t help but smile as he rushes to his cubicle. Others linger around, a few of them whispering. It’ll be exciting if someone comes up to ask for my autograph. It’ll make me feel like I matter again. I sit down on my bike, getting a feel for how she feels between my legs. She’s smaller and lighter than the one I have at home, but I have a feeling this one will be ridden more. I’ll even teach Josie how to ride it. This will be perfect for her.

  A flash gets my attention, and when I look up, I see one of the young saleswomen quickly typing on her phone as she turns away from me. My heart drops, knowing that my image is about to hit social media. I won’t have to tell Josie what I’m doing because this chick just did it for me.

  “Hey,” I call out, stopping her dead in her tracks. “What did you say when you posted my picture?”

  “I… I didn’t.”

  I roll my eyes and shake my head slightly. “Lying is very unbecoming and I do believe taking photos of your clients without their permission is against company policy, isn’t it?”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Page. I’ll remove it immediately,” she says as she walks away. The damage is done. She knows it and is probably at her desk crying. I’m faced with either telling her boss or letting it go. Today is not the day that I want to ruin anyone’s life, so she should be thankful. My picture is out there and there isn’t shit I can do about it. When I call to talk to Noah tonight, I’ll tell Josie that I had an impulse and bought a new motorcycle.

  Once the paperwork is printed and everything is signed, I’m pushing my new toy out of the showroom and onto the streets of LA. Slipping my helmet on, I turn her on, letting the bike idle while I get a feel for her. I can’t wait to see what she does on the road.

  It’s not long until I’m weaving my way through Mulholland Blvd. After being gone for a few years, I’d have thought things would’ve changed, but they haven’t. I slow down when I get to my grandma’s street. I haven’t been back here since I moved into the penthouse and I’m not sure why I am now. Shutting off the bike and removing my helmet, I look up at the big white house that I called home for a short time of my life.

  The black gate and fence that protected her from intruders still stands tall. Whoever is living here has been maintaining the landscaping that she loved so much. In fact, everything looks freshly painted. My heart swells with pride for my grandparents, knowing that the home they shared is being loved.

  “Can I help you?” A lady walking her dog stops next to me.

  “No, just looking at the house. I used to know the previous owner.”

  She looks at me with confusion written all over her face. “The lady that lived here died, but her family took over her estate.”

  She’s right, she did die... but now I’m confused. I run my hand over my hair and think back to when my grandmother died. I told Sam to sell it or donate it, but never followed up on it.

  “Do you know who owns it?”

  The lady shakes her head and offers a small smile. “West something or other. The family is never here but they make sure the house is well maintained. You’d think someone lives there.”

  “Don’t they?” I ask, even though I know the answer. The only person, other than me, who could stake a claim, is my mother and I’m not sure she even knows her mother died.

  “Not for ten years or more. I’ve lived next to this house for fifteen years. There was a young kid one time, but haven’t seen him since she passed away.” The neighbor looks at the house and sighs. “I’m sure if you were interested in buying, they’d sell. The County office will have the information.”

  She and her dog are down the street before I’m done processing everything. There’s no way I still own this house, but someone does. Someone has been taking care of this property all these years and I need to figure out who they are and why they’re doing it.

  When I arrive back at the club, the back alley is lined-up with cars. At best, there have been two or three back here at a time, but nowhere near a dozen or more. The benefit of having a bike is that you can park anywhere, squeezing into the smallest spots, even making your own. That’s what I end up doing, right by the back door.

  As soon as I’m inside, Harrison is pulling me into the green room. He looks pissed off, and that’s not a good thing. It takes a lot to piss him off.

  “Where the fuck have you been?”

  Oh yeah, he’s pissed.

  “I needed to get some fresh air.”

  Harrison pulls off his trademark beanie and runs his hand through his short hair. “Remember when Trixie asked if Sal sent us?”

  I nod, remembering well. Harrison and I had no idea who she was talking about.

  “Sal is Mr. Moreno, as in Sam’s father, as in majority owner of Moreno Entertainment.”

  I shake my head, disagreeing with him. “Nah, Sam’s dad is named Anthony, but he prefers to be called Moreno. It’s like he thinks he’s Madonna or some shit like that.”

  “No,” he says, with his head moving back and forth. “Salvador Anthony Moreno is his name and right now he’s out in the club with a shit load of fucking reporters. Trixie hired him to do some promo work for the fundraiser and he’s scheduled a press event.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah, apparently he and Trixie go way back and she’s always called him Sal. When he started his company, he started going by Anthony.”

  “Um… this isn’t good.”

  “No, it’s not. We haven’t done a legit interview since Sam was managing us and now that she’s not here to monitor questions, I’m afraid of what shit is going to be asked.”

  I start to pace, thinking about what we can do. “We don’t have to do it. We’re not under contract to perform so we’ll skip the interviews.”

  “You know, I thought about that as everyone was setting up,” he pauses and puts his hat back on. “But we need the press. We need to be in front of the people again.”

  I shake my head, not willing to put myself out there. “I can’t.”

  The door to the green room opens. Trixie steps in, looking like the Trixie of old. Her hair is jet black and her lips are painted crimson red. She looks like she’s about to shatter the dreams of every wannabe musician tonight.

  “I need you, Page.”

  “No can do, Trixie. Interviews are messy and we don’t have an agent or manager to ward off fucked up questions.”

  Trixie walks up to me with her hands on her hips. “I gave you a shot when you needed it and now I need you. I need people to see that it’s never too late to come home.”

  “I know that, it’s why I left LA.”

  “You may have left LA, but it didn’t leave you. You still depend on the industry to provide for you. I need you, Page. You came back to help, so do it. You owe me.” Her hands drop from her hips and her posture changes. She looks sad and broken. I shouldn’t fall for this, but I am. She’s right, I do owe her.

  “Fine, but if there’s a question we don’t want to answer, we’re saying no comment.”

  “I don’t give a shit if you flip them off, just go sit at the table and fucking smile. Make those reporters wet themselves for all
I care.”

  I watch Trixie leave, throwing her hands in the air and mumbling to herself. I look over at Harrison, who is stoic. “I guess we need to go out there.”

  “Yep,” he says as he walks toward the door. I follow in step, just like usual. This was something Sam had done for us, lined us up. She always said it was important that I was the last one to enter. Even though she’s gone, we’re still walking the same way.

  As soon as we’re visible to the reporters the clicking of shutters and bright lights of bulbs are going off like crazy. I’m instantly on edge, and as I sit down next to Layla, I realize I don’t want to be here. I’m also hit with the fact that for the first time in years, I miss Sam right now. When I look up, I quickly see Mr. Moreno, a.k.a. Sal, in the corner. He tips his glass to me as I fight the urge to flip him off.

  Every fiber of my being is telling me to chase after Bianca and ask for more. Not for another apology, but for more of her story. Maybe if she can explain her life to me, I can help Liam understand, even though I’m not sure I fully grasp everything she just told me. What I do know is Liam and I, as a couple, have been robbed of a relationship with Bianca. To me, Sterling is a lost cause. Even if he showed up full of apologies, I can’t see myself listening to him, let alone believing a word that comes out of his mouth.

  Since Liam and I started dating, I’ve been the outcast - someone who would never be good enough for their son. The photographic memories Liam and I share have always included my family or Katelyn’s and Mason’s. The Westburys were always absent from all of them. I don’t even know if his mother ever posed with him for a prom photo. My guess is she didn’t, especially knowing he was going with me.

  I head to work before more anger starts to set in. I can’t dwell on the past or change what has happened. I can only make a change for the future, if that’s what I want. I’m not sure it is though. How much effort do I put forth not knowing whether Bianca would return the gesture or not? Or whether she would be allowed to? We all know Sterling is controlling but Bianca came to my baby shower so either she’s sneaking out, or he’s just too old to care. Or maybe she’s had enough and is standing up to him. I have to admit I find the latter harder to believe.