Ch6

So much for a fresh start, Brooks thought as he sat waiting at the bar of The Silver Spoon Nightclub. All it took was one call from U-Turn lead guitarist Avriel "Avi" Jordan, and he went running. What did that say about him? Did it mean he was weak, had no willpower, no real desire to change? Did it mean he had an actual problem? No way was he addicted to partying. He could stop any time he wanted, right? Right? Maybe he just wasn't ready.

But what would it take for him to finally give up that lifestyle for good? Winding up on some dirty bathroom floor from an overdose, like Philip Seymour Hoffman? That poor guy had been found dead with the needle still sticking out of his arm! No not him, not Brooks Kennedy. Hoffman was into the hard stuff. Brooks would never touch heroin. Everyone knew it was all downhill after that. Once you went that route it took over your life. No longer were you getting high for fun, you were getting high because you needed to, and that wasn't for him. He would stick to his tried-and-true favorites; alcohol, weed . .  . maybe a little E or blow if he was feeling especially adventurous. He was smart.

Brooks scanned the crowded club alive with the beat of Technopop, and gave an appreciative nod toward Selena Gomez as she sauntered past the bar wearing a short, sexy outfit and some very high heels. He had to admit, she was looking pretty damn good. Was she still dating Justin? Oh, who could keep track anymore? Surely not him. His eyes traveled leisurely over her voluptuous curves covered by a tight red dress and reluctantly decided it wasn't worth the trouble. Everyone knew Bieber had a bit of a temper when it came to his on-again-off-again girlfriend, and he wasn't about to get into with him over some silly bird. There were plenty of fish in the sea, and right now he was feeling ready for some action. To him, drinking and women went hand in hand, just like drinking and smoking did for others.

"Hey, dude! Here you are," Avi's deep voice boomed from behind, interrupting his thoughts. He slapped Brooks on the back and pulled up a bar-stool. "You been waitin' long?"

Brooks shook his head and took in his friend's haggard appearance. Bloodshot eyes and dirty brown hair curling up under a tight, gray beanie. No doubt still recovering from the night before. Avi shared similar vices as Brooks, although his recent experimentation with illegal substances was starting to border on alarming.

Brooks turned back to his drink. "You look like total shit, mate."

Avi sat down with a thump. "I know," he agreed, waving over the bartender. "I tried speed-balling last night. Dude, it was ridiculous! I didn't even know what was goin' on."

Brooks gave a superior huff before taking a deep swallow of Grey Goose, hold the ice. "Don't you think you're getting a bit carried away? You're starting to sound like a full-blown junkie."

"You're one to talk," Avi countered back indignantly. "What did you do last night?" He gave Brooks a knowing glare. "Or should I say who?"

"I was alone last night," Brooks replied tersely. As far as he could remember, anyway. Unless you counted Jonathon Walters' daughter--which he absolutely didn't.

Avi rolled his dark eyes in disbelief. "Alone my ass . . . "

"Brooksy-Baby," a female crooned loudly before he could shoot Avi a reply. He recognized the voice immediately and groaned to himself. Brooks turned in his bar-stool and watched warily as Ashton and Juliana, arms linked together tightly, made their way toward him. Great, just what he didn't need right now. He wasn't in the mood for the two of them. He needed a breather. Whenever The Three Musketeers got together, he wound up with lapses in his memory--and there had been a lot of that going on as of late.

"Avi." Ashton turned and nodded a curt acknowledgement at the guitarist.

Avi returned the greeting by lifting his chin in disdain. "Hmm. Looks like they're letting anyone into this place these days." The two had developed a mutual dislike toward one another over the years, and they didn't seem to care who knew.

Ashton turned up her nose in response and leaned into the bar, vying for the bartender's attention.

"What are you boys drinking?" Juliana questioned, squeezing in next to Ashton. "The next round's on me."

"I'll have a shot of Crown, and honey if you're buyin', make it a double," Avi replied, never one to pass up an opportunity. He took off his hat and tucked it into his back pocket, releasing a mass of stale, dark waves. "The same goes for my buddy here." He gave Brooks another slap on the back.

Ashton turned away in disgust. "Filthy, no-talent loser," she complained under her breath as she made her way to the opposite side of her friends.

"You need to learn how to express yourself, Ashton," Avi shot back, obviously annoyed by her unexpected appearance. "Tell me how you really feel." Ashton ignored him and placed their order with the bartender.

"I thought you two were heading to Lure tonight?" Brooks finally asked Juliana. It was that exact reason why he had chosen to meet up with his friend at The Silver Spoon.

"We decided to mix it up a bit, amigo," the Spanish beauty winked. "Nothing like a change in scenery to keep everyone on their toes. You don't mind, do you?"

Brooks gave her a shrug. "Why should I?"

"Just making sure," Juliana replied, eyeing him suspiciously. "You've been a bit of a bitch lately. I wouldn't want to cramp your style or anything."

Brooks decided the safest strategy to avoid impending drama would be to ignore the derogatory comment. He lifted the glass he was holding to his lips and swallowed down the remainder of his drink. Before he could even set down the empty mug, Ashton was handing him another round.

"Drink up, Brooksy, the night is young," the redhead singsonged, showing off perfect white teeth in a wide smile.

"Hey, I'm gonna do a line," Avi said suddenly, drinking down the double that had just been handed to him. He stood up and pushed away from the bar. "You comin'?"

Brooks sighed and nodded his head. There was only one way he was going to get through yet another night on the town, and it certainly wasn't sober.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Brianna Walters sat in her plush pink bedroom and sulked over the phone call that hadn't yet come. It was half past midnight and she was beginning to think he wouldn't call at all, even though he'd promised he would.

Who the hell did Brooks Kennedy think he was anyway? She had not given up her innocence only to be treated like some common-folk, boy-band groupie! Did he seriously not understand the enormous gift she had given him last night? A girl only lost her virginity once, he should consider himself lucky she'd finally chosen him to give it to. After all, she was four months away from turning legal, and there were not many seventeen-year-old virgins left in Hollywood, let alone beautiful, rich ones with mega-powerful fathers and extremely large bank accounts. No way was she going to be disrespected like that, Daddy had taught her better. Brianna Walters deserved the world handed to her on a silver platter, and whatever she wanted she always received.

There was only one thing she could do to remedy the situation and that was confront Brooks face to face. Maybe he had gotten held up with something and was not able to phone her? Maybe he had band practice, or some charity event he needed to attend. She was, after all, Hollywood royalty. He couldn't possibly dismiss her that quickly, could he?

Tomorrow's a new day, she thought optimistically. Tomorrow I'll go to see him and we'll get this all straightened out.

Brianna's new outlook left her feeling better. There had to be a reasonable explanation for Brooks' absence, and once he explained himself they would begin their new life together.

She was certain they would be on the same page.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Let's dance," Juliana stated, dragging a slightly stoned Ashton out onto the dance floor. The crowd parted for the two Hollywood starlets as the loud tunes of a One Direction remix blared from the over-sized speakers.

​The pair knew how to move to the music and unbeknownst to them, many admiring eyes gazed lustfully in their direction. In their own little world, they vibrated and swayed to the beat that filled the club, enjoying the stifling heat and dripping sweat that accompanied a night out dancing.

Ashton raised lean arms above her head and shimmied seductively, allowing her shirt to ride up and show off a well-toned midsection. Juliana watched with soulful eyes as her friend moved expertly around her. Even though they hadn't ordered another round, she accepted two drinks handed to her by a young barmaid who'd bravely ventured out onto the dance floor. Rarely did Juliana ever need to spend money from her own pocket when she partook in a night out, which was nearly every night these days. There was no shortage of generous admirers excited for the opportunity to buy her a drink or a meal . . . or whatever else she was in the market for. One of the many perks of being a celebrity.

She maneuvered up to Ashton and handed her the drink.

"You tryin' to get me drunk?" her friend slurred with a provocative wink.

Juliana just shrugged. "It's not from me." She took a sip from the glass and allowed herself to be swallowed up by the dance floor. There was nothing that made her feel more alive than losing herself to the beat of the music. The way the bass vibrated through her body made her feel like Queen of the world!

Sweat bathed over her as she melted into the crowd. Juliana closed her eyes to experience the full effect. The drinks and pills, the music and eager bodies moving together as one . . . Pure joy . . . Euphoria . . . It was almost orgasmic. Almost. Her body began to tingle as the overwhelming sensation took over.

Without warning, Ashton was by her side, grasping her arm. "I'm ready to go," her friend said, breathlessly.

Juliana didn't argue.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Claire was fast asleep in her comfortable king-size bed when a sudden movement awakened her. She reached out toward Miller, but found his spot next to her empty. Trying to adjust her eyes in the darkness, she was finally able to make out a figure standing next to the bed.

"Miller?" she called out quietly. "What are you doing?" She felt the indent of the bed as her boyfriend made his way around to her side and sat down next to her.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," Miller replied softly. He brought his fingers up to her cheek and gently pushed back her long, dark hair. Claire closed her eyes and leaned into his hand, enjoying the sense of security he always managed to provide. Her heart quickened slightly, responding to his gentle touch.

She opened her eyes and studied him closely as he settled in on the edge of the bed. "Are you having trouble sleeping again?"

Miller let out a slow sigh. "Yeah."

He didn't even need to mention that Runaway was on his mind, she could already tell. Claire was growing increasingly aware of the restless energy that radiated from him whenever his screenplay consumed his thoughts--which was every minute of every day anymore. He was so involved in writing his story that it seemed to control everything in his life, including the time he spent with her.

"I really hate to see you beat yourself up over this, Miller. It can't be healthy."

Miller leaned forward and rested his elbows on his thighs, cradling his head in his hands. He was quiet for a long moment before answering. "I'm sorry, I know it's hard to understand--it's hard for me to explain. This project has become so important to me. It's affected me in ways I never knew possible."

Claire waited for him to continue on, to at least try and explain how he felt, but he didn't offer her anymore. If he would just open up to her a little and try to include her in his struggles she would feel so much better about everything. Instead, his silence was beginning to drive a slight wedge between them. Claire wanted nothing more than to support his career the way he always supported her, but how could she do that when it felt like he was keeping her in the dark? Why couldn't he just share with her what was going on in his head? Why did he insist on suffering in silence?

Maybe she just needed to reassure him, let him know she was always ready to listen, no matter what he had to say . . .

"Do you want to talk about it?" she encouraged.

Miller pushed his hands through his hair. "No, I'm fine," he answered brusquely. He stood up from the bed and walked over to the large window that overlooked the manicured backyard with an in-ground swimming pool and the Pacific Ocean just beyond that.

Claire sat up and watched him carefully, not knowing how to respond. Miller was growing more tense and despondent by the day. It was so unlike him. She wanted to walk over and wrap her arms around his waist and promise everything would be okay. But she couldn't. She was afraid he might close up and push her away, and that would break her heart. She just wanted him to be like the old Miller, the one that was forever optimistic and carefree. How he was before Runaway came along, disrupting their perfect lives.

She had some very unexpected yet exciting news to share with him, but she didn't want to tell him while he was feeling so stressed. There was no way she wanted to risk having Miller feel like the baby that was growing inside of her would add to his burden. She would just have to wait until his work load lightened, then they could share together in the joy of the tiny life they had created. Getting pregnant right now was definitely not something they'd planned, but it had happened, and she knew without a shadow of a doubt that Miller would make a wonderful father. Claire couldn't have been happier.

And as soon as life calmed down a bit, she would tell him.

What exactly are Ashton and Juliana up to? Find out in Chapter 7!

Thank you for reading Fast Lane! If you liked this chapter please give it a vote/comment. Take a peek at the media section for a picture of Ashton Montgomery!

(Chapter 6 approx. 2,510 words)