Ch7

The two friends drove the shiny, white Bentley through the arched, rust-colored gates, down the quarter mile long driveway and into the vast Holmby Hills estate. They hurried out of the car and fumbled up the stairs of the lavish home; arms and lips entwined. In their haste, they pressed against the carved Mahogany doors, their locked embrace growing more passionate.

"What about the security cameras?" Juliana asked breathlessly when the two finally came up for air.

Ashton pushed her wild auburn curls away from her face and pulled up the key-less entry app on her phone. "Don't worry--I'll take care of it."

Within minutes, the girls were tangled together once again. They made their way across the crystallized marble floor of the foyer and into the spacious living room where they preceded to collapse onto a contemporary leather sofa.

"Where's Constance?" Juliana questioned as she pulled the soft blue silk of her friend's shirt over her head.

"How should I know? Probably fast asleep. She's my maid, not my mother! She doesn't wait up for me."

Juliana reluctantly pulled away and stood. Slowly, she stepped out of her black halter dress, revealing nothing underneath. "I know that, I just don't want to get caught, amiga." She reached for Ashton's hands and pulled her up from the soft confines of the cream-colored suede. Together, they removed the remainder of their clothing and settled back down into the inviting cushions of the couch. "Then all of your running around with Marrtin Lucci would be in vain," she griped, finding it difficult to keep the spite from her tone. It was no secret that Juliana didn't appreciate Ashton's efforts to keep their affair carefully concealed, and she found it especially irritating that her friend had decided to get involved in a platonic friendship with the up-and-coming actor, even if it was only for publicity purposes. As far as Juliana was concerned, Ashton was putting entirely too much effort into throwing everyone off their track. Who cared if the world found out they were involved? Was it really that bad?

However, Juliana understood the real reason why Ashton was so intent on keeping their relationship a secret, even if Ashton didn't yet realize it herself.

Underneath the redhead's impetuous exterior, lurked a fragile and vulnerable woman. Her whole life she'd been tirelessly seeking the approval of her selfish, egotistical mother, but Juliana feared her friend would never win that elusive, maternal blessing. Ashton had worked like a dog to make a career for herself. The empire she had been building since childhood long surpassed her mother's own net worth, something Juliana was convinced evoked jealousy in the cold-hearted Ms. Montgomery. How could the woman who had given birth to Ashton feel that kind of envy? How could she be so frigid, turning away her only child as though she were some worthless, arch rival? Sure, Juliana had known problems with her own mother in the past, but this was different. She'd never once doubted her parents love, even though they had misguidedly used her as a cash cow for their economically-challenged family. As twisted as it was, their need for Juliana to succeed came out of pure necessity.

Ashton's situation was different. From what Juliana could piece together, the mother and daughter had been in an unspoken competition since the day Ashton was born, even though her friend didn't see it that way. Marilyn Montgomery had never planned on having a family, she was too involved with her theater career to find the need in that. When she had unexpectedly gotten pregnant with her daughter, the seed of resentment had been planted. Growing up, Ashton was raised by a flurry of nannies and had never really known her workaholic mother, and the identity of her father had never been revealed. Ashton tried desperately over the years to please the intolerant actress, and she still made strives to this day. Sadly, her efforts were always lost.

But something good had come out of the futile trials and tribulations. A relationship had blossomed, one Juliana had never seen coming.

It was a typical sunny afternoon when Juliana had accidentally stumbled across a heartbroken Ashton after she paid an unexpected visit to her home. Her friend had made yet another attempt to contact her mother, hoping to share with her the news of a successful venture involving her new company, RedHead Productions. But her mom had turned her away once again, not caring at all what she had to say. When the maid let Juliana in, she'd eventually found Ashton crumpled in the master bedroom, an empty bottle Xanax by her side. She rushed to her friend's side, ice-cold fear consuming her. What had Ashton done?

Giving in to her devastation, the goal had indeed been to deplete the bottle of prescription medication, but when Ashton retrieved the container from the bathroom cabinet, it had been empty. Broken, Ashton finally released her insecurities to Juliana, revealing the loneliness and despair that had plagued her ever since she could remember. The unfulfilled need for love from an uncaring mother who never paid her the time of day.

As Juliana gently soothed her best friend, the comforting embrace slowly turned into something more, something neither one of them had seen coming.

That was almost seven months ago, and the new facet of their relationship continued to evolve. What had started out as means to an end, was spinning into something different, something unexpected--at least for Juliana. She was experiencing feelings and sensations she never had in the past, and not just because Ashton was a female. So soft and sexy, so unlike the usual muscle-bound man she took to bed. What Juliana was feeling was love. Not love for her best friend, but love for her partner, her soul mate. And that scared the shit out of her.

"You looked amazing tonight," Ashton whispered feverishly, her soft lips moving over Juliana's neck and up toward her ear. She tangled her hands in glossy, jet hair making each move with ease. She knew exactly how and where to touch.

The Spanish beauty responded with a content sigh, releasing her worries and surrendering to the moment.

Neither one took notice of The Young Woman, tiptoeing in the landscape outside the windows, snapping pictures with her faithful camera.

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

Miller drove his SUV through the darkened city streets, debating his next move.

He had tucked Claire back into bed and kissed her goodnight for the second time, waiting patiently for her to drift off. Guilt twisted within him. He knew she was worried, but he was also aware that no amount of reassuring would appease his girlfriend's anxiety, she would still harbor an unhealthy amount of concern. There was no way he could share with her what he had been up to. Absolutely not. He could just imagine her pained expression if he confided that he'd been wandering around the dirty downtown streets, conversing with drug addicts and making friends with people who sold their bodies--and their souls--for a few measly bucks. Claire, in all her angelic splendor, would surely drop dead on the spot.

Once he confirmed she was fast asleep Miller was out the door. He had not consciously planned his destination when he left their home in the early morning hours, but he quickly realized where he would end up. His Range Rover followed the now familiar roads that lead to the seediest part of town.

Marie.

She'd been playing though his mind a lot. Pulling into a fast food restaurant, Miller grabbed a to-go order to share with the young girl. He knew she'd  be hungry, it wasn't always easy to find a square meal when you lived on the streets, and would appreciate the gesture. He just wished there was something more he could do for her. But what? She was a good kid, becoming a little street-wise for someone so young, but given the circumstances that was probably for the best. It wouldn't do to be too naive when you had to fend for yourself and your livelihood every single day. Last week he had tried once again to convince her into seeking help from a local shelter, but she had stubbornly refused, confiding that the last time she'd sought solace in such an establishment she had been robbed of what little belongings she'd managed to collect.

There must be some way he could help her! There had to be a way for him to make her life better, give her a fighting chance and real hope for a better future. He was no dummy. Miller knew it would only be a matter of time before the young teenager found herself pregnant, addicted to hard drugs, or selling her body as a feeble means to survive. He wouldn't let himself think beyond that. The thought of something more ominous happening to Marie was unthinkable.

His intense desire to get the safe retreat up and running washed over him. It would be very different than the other shelters around town. He would make sure of it. It would be a safe place for young runaways to go to rehabilitate and find the help they needed to straighten out their lives. They'd be able to find education, employment, a permanent roof over their heads, whatever they needed to make it on their own.

Miller couldn't wait until he could put his plan into action, he just prayed it happened sooner than later.

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

Avi and Brooks left The Silver Spoon with three long-haired, big-bosomed females in tow. They each claimed their respective vehicles and made their way toward Brooks' house in Beverly Hills.

The girls weren't complete strangers--that would be just plain stupid--and if nothing else, Brooks was not a stupid man. The group ran in similar social circles, hobnobbing at the same parties, receiving invitations to the same social events. He played it smart. He knew better than to invite total strangers into his home. It wasn't every night Brooks Kennedy offered to host an intimate gathering, and tonight was proving to be one that would not soon be forgotten.

This has to be the last time, he swore silently under his breath as he made a sharp turn into the hidden drive leading up to his house. He'd had enough drinks and uppers at the bar to last a normal person a whole weekend, and now with this new adventure underway there was bound to be more of the same. Eventually his body would give out on him if he wasn't careful. He knew that. How many Hollywood fairy-tales ended up with a dead rock star? He wouldn't become a statistic, he couldn't. He had a family to support.

As the collection of high-priced vehicles pulled up to his house, the five-some entered the premises with thoughts of reaching paradise on their minds. Miller didn't believe in hired help so he let the group into his vast estate himself, pristine from the lack of life taking place there.

The small party raided the fully stocked bar and empty refrigerator, comfortably making themselves at home.

Brooks surveyed the scene cautiously . . . the privileged group of pleasure-seekers ready for whatever mayhem the night had to offer. He leaned back into the cushions of the overstuffed chair and watched warily. Drinks and joints were passed around freely and pieces of clothing were casually discarded from various bodies. He began to feel dizzy and sick to his stomach, not because of the partying he'd already participated in but because of the disgust his lifestyle was starting to cause.

Avi sat half naked on the edge of the couch, summoning one of the bleached-blondes. "Come here," he said, reaching toward the girl. His voice was smooth and thick, and Brooks realized with sudden dismay that wasn't the only thing. He watched silently as his friend lifted the girl's shirt and began licking her bare skin, moving his tongue toward her bellybutton. The blonde lifted her shirt over her head and pulled it off, letting it fall to the floor, oblivious to the company they had surrounding them.

He'd had it. For real this time. This shit had to end. Was this what rock bottom felt like? Brooks didn't know and he didn't care. All he knew was that he'd finally had enough.

No one even noticed him leave the house.

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

Miller found Marie exactly where he knew he would, hanging out at MacArthur Park--the place she called home after dark.

"Mike!" she said when she saw him approaching, surprise thick in her voice. "I've never seen you out this way." She rose from the graffiti-covered picnic table she was sitting at with a couple other girls and made her way to him.  "You lookin' to score, or somethin'?"

"Nope. Just taking in the sites," he replied, looking around. The park was dark and dirty, litter and shopping carts strewn about. There was no way, under any other circumstance, would he ever be caught dead in the gang-infested wasteland. "So, this is where you live, huh?" he asked, trying to keep the concern from his voice.

Marie glanced over her shoulder and gestured grandly with her arm. "Yep. This is home." She looked back at him and her face suddenly fell, as though she were able to read his mind. "It's not so bad," she said quickly. "You get used to it. Come on, I want to show you something."  She tugged excitedly on his jacket and led him to a path that ran alongside a large pond.

They hurried past a stumbling man dressed in purple from head to toe who carried on and on about something underneath his breath. "That's The Purple Prophet," Marie explained with a smile.

"Why is he called The Purple Prophet?" Miller asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

"Listen . . ." was all she said, and they began to slow their pace.

Miller tried in vain to make out what he at first thought were nonsensical words spewing from the homeless man's lips, but he soon found that the words fit together perfectly, making sense.

"Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God."

"He's quoting the Bible?" Miller whispered back in bewilderment.

Marie nodded her head emphatically, dirty brown curls moving over her shoulders. "Some say he knows the whole Book by heart. Everyday he wanders the park reciting the words from memory. I heard that once he finally reaches the end, he starts the whole thing all over again." Marie looked back at him with awestruck eyes. "Crazy, huh?"

All Miller could do was nod in agreement as they continued to follow the dimly lit path.

Without warning, Marie brought a dirty finger to her lips, signaling the need for silence. She grabbed onto his arm and veered off the path, tiptoeing toward the slope that led to the large pond. Miller looked around in astonishment. Before them were hordes upon hordes of ducks, scattered together along the water, sleeping. There were big ducks and little ducks in an assortment of colors.

He glanced sideways at Marie and found her watching them with a small smile on her face. In that moment, she reminded him very much of the child she still was, and the fierce need to protect her washed over him once again.

"Isn't it incredible?" she asked after a long moment. "These ducks are always here. People come to the pond every day to feed them. I love to watch," she murmured quietly.

"That's a lot of ducks," was all Miller could think to say. Marie constantly amazed him. One minute she would seem street tough and grown-up, the next minute she would appear so childlike, looking in wonder at the world around her. "Hey, I have something for you," he said, remembering the bag safely tucked  in the inside pocket of his hoodie.

He guided her to a nearby bench and they sat down. "I thought you might be hungry," he continued, pulling out the luke-warm hamburger and fries.

Marie regarded him skeptically. "Where did you get it?"

Miller rolled his eyes. "Some out-of-town tourists on a mission to save the world gave it to me. They really packed the bag full, I couldn't eat anymore."

She giggled in response, believing him, and accepted the meal. She opened the bag immediately and began to devour the hamburger. "You know, Mike, you've been nothing but a good-luck charm for me since the first day I met you," she observed. "I'm really glad you're around." She turned to him with a grateful grin on her young face.

Miller returned her smile with a guilty one of his own. "So am I, Marie. So am I."

Will Brianna confront Brooks? Find out in Chapter 8!

Thank you for reading Fast Lane! If you like this story, please remember to vote/comment and share!! Take a peek at the media section for a picture of Avi! Fun Fact: The guy's name really is Avi . . . Avi Kaplan. He's a singer in a band called Pentatonix.

(Chapter 7 approx. 2,883 words)