Frank exited the trailer only moments later and watched Travis with his massive arms crossed against his chest.
"You be sure to drive safe now," he called out cheerfully as Travis's car sped out of the driveway.
Amber listened to Travis's tires squealing on the pavement and grinned. She was grateful to have someone like Frank looking after her. There were times when she wondered what would have happened to her if she hadn't become friends with Hannah. Hannah's parents treated her like their own daughter.
Amber couldn't even remember her own father. Of course she hadn't laid eyes on him since she was a baby. Her mother hadn't even kept a photograph of the man. He was just another man in her long string of lovers. When he got sent to jail for selling drugs, Amber's mother moved on to the next man. Amber didn't even know if he was still serving time or if he had simply disappeared or even died.
"Looks like you can stay here after all," Frank said, putting his large hand gently on her shoulder. "Your mother admitted that she made a mistake. She now realizes what a piece of crap Travis was."
Amber felt her mouth gape open. She couldn't imagine her mother admitting something like that at all. But then again, Frank could be very persuasive. She wondered what he could have possibly said to scare her mother into submission. Frank was also known for his intolerance to violence against women.
"Of course, you know you're welcome to spend the night anyway," Frank added, his voice soft and fatherly.
"I've got all my school project stuff here," Amber said, smiling up at him. "But thanks. I know I can always count on you guys."
"Absolutely!" Frank said, his voice quivering. "If that creep had put one finger on you, I'm not sure what I would have done. You know how Lucy and I think of you as a second daughter."
"I know," Amber said, grinning to lighten the mood. "And you'll be pleased to know that I used several good moves tonight!"
"That's my girl!" Frank said.
Then he sighed. "I just wish you didn't have to use those moves at all."
Amber yawned.
"Sorry, but I really need to get to sleep," she said apologetically.
Frank immediately stood and turned.
"Then I'll be getting on home before Lucy gets worried. Remember to lock that door," he added as he climbed back into his pickup truck.
Amber waved and wearily climbed the steps. In spite of the adrenaline rush earlier, she was now simply bone tired. After locking the door, she crept through the living room. The television was turned off and, miraculously, the beer cans had disappeared. Her mother's room was quiet.
Amber shut the door to her bedroom door and locked the bolt. Then she kicked off her sneakers and crashed onto her bed. She pulled the covers over her, closed her eyes, and fell into an exhausted sleep.
♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠
2:00 A.M., Thornton Town Center, Monroe Rehabilitation Clinic
Hunter Webb looked up from the front desk. A girl stumbled through the front door and fled immediately to the restroom. Moving quickly, Hunter hurried to the lobby window. He was just in time to see tail lights disappearing from the driveway. A drop off. That wasn't a good sign.
The Monroe Rehabilitation Clinic was an adolescent center where teens could come to battle their addictions. However, it sometimes served as an impromptu place to dump overdose victims. Scared teens frequently dropped off their friends there when a night of dabbling in drugs turned ugly.
"Caleb, can you alert Dr. Kendall?" he asked his best friend who was helping man the phones that evening.
"Way ahead of you, dude," Caleb responded.
Hunter walked back to his seat and sank down. He hoped the girl was merely in the restroom puking up alcohol. But he had a sinking feeling that this was going to be one of those bad nights.
A few minutes later, the girl reappeared and wobbled toward the front desk.
"Hey, don't you guys go to Thornton High?"
In other circumstances, the girl standing in front of the desk might have appeared attractive. She had wavy blonde hair, tight fitting jeans that showed off a curvy ass, a thin waist, and ample breasts that strained at her thin sweater. As it was, however, she swayed from side to side, sweating profusely. Her eyes were glazed and dilated.
Hunter bolted from his chair but Caleb got to her first, easing her onto the floor.
"Party a little too hard tonight, sweetie?" he asked, smiling down at her.
Even in her sickened state, the girl reacted to Caleb's charm and good looks. Maybe she was also impressed with his bulging biceps.
"Party would have been a lot nicer with you around," the girl said, trying to smile. Her voice was starting to slur.
On a normal day, if pressed, Hunter might have admitted to being the slightest bit jealous of his best friend's build. On the other hand, he had no desire to bench press every day like Caleb did. He would rather paint for hours on end. Of course, tonight was the wrong time to be comparing himself to his best friend. He shoved aside the inappropriate random thoughts and concentrated on the girl.
"Was it ice?" he asked in gentle voice, using one of the local teenage terms for crystal meth.
The girl's eyes darted around as though she was afraid to answer.
"It's okay to tell us," Hunter said, leaning low to stare directly into her eyes.
Caleb might have his muscles, but Hunter had been told that he had sexy eyes by more than a few girls. Tonight seemed like a good opportunity to take advantage of them.
The girl swung her head toward him and visibly softened as she stared at him.
"Crank? Maybe just a little," she said. "I'm not hooked or anything," she tried to insist, as though wanting his approval.
Her eyes twitched right just before her whole body began convulsing on the floor.
Hunter slid his hands under her head to keep it from banging against the hard floor. However, he was relieved when Dr. Kendall burst into the lobby seconds later.
"An ambulance is on the way," she said, kneeling and gently replacing Hunter's hands with her own.
"Is there anything else we can do?" Hunter asked, freaked out by the girls flailing arms and legs.
This was the second overdose Hunter had seen since he had started volunteering with Caleb the summer before. The second time was no less frightening than the first had been. Hopefully, this girl would live to fight off her drug addiction. Even with Dr. Kendall performing emergency CPR, the last guy had died of cardiac arrest before the paramedics could arrive.
"Right now, I just want to make sure she doesn't get a head injury while the seizure lasts," Dr. Kendall said. "Were you able to get any intake information before the seizure?"
"She admitted to taking crystal meth but that was all we had time to ask her," Caleb said, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet.
"Did she have a purse with her?" Dr. Kendall asked.
"I'm not sure," Hunter said, trying to remember if the girl had been carrying one when she went into the restroom. "I can check the ladies' room."
"Good idea," Dr. Kendall said. "It would be nice to be able to contact her parents."
Hunter bolted for the restroom with Caleb hard on his heels. After knocking loudly, they burst into the room and started checking the stalls.
"Got it!" Caleb announced and hurriedly dug inside until he found a wallet.
Flipping it open, he found a driver's license just as a siren began wailing down the street. Hunter spotted the name and address ran to the front desk computer. Within a couple of minutes he had a phone number and was calling the girl's parents.
Fortunately, they had been trained to make these sorts of calls. He advised the frantic parents that the seizure had stopped, that a doctor was at their daughter's side, and that they should drive directly to the hospital. He also asked for the names of friends she had been with that night so that doctors could figure out how much of the drug she might have taken. By the end of the conversation, he was happy to relate that the paramedics had just arrived.<
br />
Nearly an hour later, at three o'clock in the morning, Dr. Kendall insisted that the boys go home.
"I promise that I'll let you know what happens," she said. "But I don't want you sticking around any longer."
Hunter looked at Caleb and shrugged his shoulders. There was no way that he was simply going straight home and going to bed. He felt wired and couldn't stop thinking about the way the girl's body had convulsed on the floor. She looked peaceful now, her blonde hair fanned around her head. She couldn't have been more than sixteen or seventeen tops.
The two boys walked out to the parking lot and climbed into Hunter's recent birthday present, a silver, restored 1995 Porsche. Usually, just looking at the car put him in a good mood. Tonight however, an expensive car seemed unimportant in the scheme of things.
Hunter slid into the driver's seat and started the engine. He lowered the windows, needing to feel cold air on his face.
"Is the gym still open?" he asked, turning to Caleb.
"I was hoping you were going to suggest that," Caleb said. "I know I can't sleep right now."
Caleb was supposed to be staying at Hunter's house that evening so only one phone call to Hunter's parents needed to be made. As usual, they were understanding and even offered to come and pick the boys up later if needed. After arriving at the gym, Hunter realized he didn't have a change of clothes.
"No problem, dude," Caleb said, patting his duffel bag. "Mom just laundered my workout stuff for the week. You can borrow something."
Hunter looked around at the few people working out, wondering what drove them to choose such insane hours. They all knew Caleb, though, greeting him by name.
Hunter stepped up to the nearest treadmill and started running. While his feet pounded the moving belt, he watched Caleb taking out his own stress on the dumb bells, working up a heavy sweat.
A half hour later, Hunter had switched to a stationary bike. He was just getting up for a water break when his phone buzzed.
Dr. Kendall: Patient stable. If you are still awake, please get some rest.
Hunter trotted over to Caleb.
"She's in stable condition," he said. "Let's get a shower and head home. I'm sure my parents won't go to bed until we get back."
Caleb closed his eyes and heaved a sigh of relief. "Thank God!"
Hunter wasn't sure how he felt about God. But he sent up a quick word of thanks toward heaven anyway.
♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠
2:50 P.M., Monday, Dawson High School
Amber Holloway squeezed out a glob of crimson acrylic paint onto her plastic palette. She added a tinier squirt of yellow and starting mixing with her fingers. She didn't care that most of the students around her were already packing up for the day, laughing and talking about the great parties they had attended over the weekend.
That life simply wasn't one that she could relate to. But here in the open art room, Amber felt relaxed and happy for the first time since the previous Friday when she had last worked on her painting. For Amber, weekends were for working, catching up on homework, and studying. She got far more sleep during the week, even when she stayed up late to complete assignments.
The times she lived for were the precious hours spent huddled over drawings or paintings. Her art teacher happily let her work early in the mornings before school officially started. In evenings, Amber stayed until the janitors chased her out so that they could clean and lock the doors.
"Aren't you coming, Amber?" Hannah asked, her work area already cleared away.
"What?" Amber looked up, blinking as though she had been dreaming.
When she was in the middle of a project, it was if the rest of her crappy life simply melted away.
"I thought we were going shopping at the mall," Hannah said, tapping her foot impatiently.
Her eyes were glued to the classroom clock as it slowly ticked closer to the dismissal bell.
Amber grinned wryly. "Saving every penny for college doesn't let me do anything but drool at all the clothes I can't have."
Hannah popped a piece of gum in her mouth.
"Ugh! I'm so sick of hearing about college. But that reminds me. I have a paper due tomorrow. If you aren't going shopping, then you can edit it for me."
Amber groaned. When Hannah said "edit", she really meant take a rough outline and write the entire paper.
"Seriously, Hannah? I asked you for the rough draft a week ago. I told you that I have a paper due tomorrow as well."
Hannah frowned. "I can't believe you won't help me when Dad got rid of that loser guy this weekend."
Amber's eyes darted around the classroom.
"Hey, keep your voice down," she pleaded, noticing the one cute boy in the whole class staring curiously in their direction.
"And I didn't say that I wouldn't help you," she grumbled. "I just hate when you give me stuff last minute."
Hannah smiled triumphantly. She pulled a notebook from her backpack and ripped out two pages.
"See, it just needs your finishing touches," she said, shoving the pages at Amber as the bell rang. "You can drop it by my house later this evening. Remember. It has to be typed."
Amber watched her best friend hurry out of the class with the rest of the students. Then she looked down at the scribbled pages. Hannah had basically handed her two pages of rough notes without any works cited. To complete the paper, Amber would need to put in at least an hour of research before she even began writing the actual report.
She wanted to crumple the pages and deposit them in the nearest wastebasket. But Hannah was right and she knew it. She needed Hannah's friendship. Without Frank and Lucy to watch her back, what would happen to her?
Hannah didn't leave her in the lurch like this one purpose, right? Everyone knew the girl was simply a bit scatter-brained. Without Amber bugging her to turn in papers and assignments, she would probably be failing her classes. Hannah was certainly smart enough to do the work. She just had a full schedule that included a full social life.
Sighing, Amber stuffed the papers into her own backpack and then returned her attention to her painting. At least for the next couple of hours, she wasn't going to let anything ruin her enjoyment of painting.
♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠
2:50 P.M., Thornton High School
Hunter stood at an easel sketching furiously. He stopped only when he heard the bell ring. He had promised to drop Caleb off at work right after school.
As he started to leave the room, he heard several girls in the corner giggling. Sneaking a quick look around, he saw that he was alone with them.
"Is it true?" one of the girls asked, laughing as she approached.
"Is what true?" Hunter asked pleasantly, plastering a smile on his face.
"That Bethany got you to go down on her?" another girl said, and then started laughing. "She says you have a special talent. Said she's going to get an extra special charm for her bracelet just for you."
"Maybe. Maybe not," Hunter said, smiling at each girl individually until each blushed in turn.
He slung his backpack across one shoulder and started walking out the door. Then he stopped and casually turned back around. He winked.
"Maybe one of you will find out in person," he said. "If you're lucky."
Turning back around, he sauntered down the hallway.
"Oh my God! I can't believe he just said that!" one of the girls exclaimed.
"He is really hot," another whispered.
"Do you think Bethany was telling the truth?"
"I'd be willing to test the theory," another said.
The whole group erupted into giggles.
Hunter kept walking until he couldn't hear them anymore. He didn't mind Bethany dumping him after one sexual encounter. But he was angry that she treated him like a conquest and then bragged about it.
Why was it that every girl he met ended up trying to hurt him? A few weeks earlier, there was Jillian Swanson, a girl in his art class. He thought he had found someone who understood wh
at made him tick. But then he found out that she was simply trying to get a prom date after her boyfriend dumped her. As for the art, she was taking it because she thought it would be an easy "A."
His senior year should have been a happy time. But Hunter was wondering if he was simply destined to have a lousy year when it came to girls.
♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠
8:20 P.M., Friday night, Town of Dawson, local burger joint
Amber slammed her money drawer shut and twisted to her left, nearly knocking over one of her fellow employees. She had hoped that Ethan Spencer would get assigned to help her out in the drive-thru. Instead, her manager had saddled her with one of the slowest employees of all. Randy was a nice guy. But he was painfully slow, carefully measuring each cup with the exact amount of ice before carefully sitting each cup beneath the drink dispenser.
Randy was supposed to be her runner, but by the time he finished making the drinks for one order, she had already collected the money and packaged the order herself. While the extra work made the night fly by, she was already getting tired only three hours into her shift. Business wouldn't slow for at least another hour. This burger joint was a gold mine for the owner because there were only two fast food joints in the whole town.
Normally, Amber wouldn't have minded as much. But to make things worse, they were short handed tonight and she hadn't been allowed a dinner break. If she didn't eat soon, her low blood sugar was going to trigger a blackout. Every chance she got, Amber squatted down in the grill section gulped down a few swallows of sugary soda. For now, it was keeping her dizziness at bay.
"Randy, I know what the video says about filling the drink cups to the proper mark," she finally snapped. "But we have a huge line right now. I can't wait forever for those drinks."
"I'll go faster," Randy said, looking anxious.
Amber felt like a bitch, but the next time she saw Mitch, she complained.
"Seriously, Mitch," she said. "There's just Randy and me in there and I'm having to do most of the work because he's so slow."
Sketches of Desire: Prequel to the Art Models Club Series Page 2
