33 Lady Stardust
Lady Stardust
With Damian finally out of my life, I search for Dash’s trail, but it’s gone ice cold.
After searching the pier from one end to the other and coming up empty, I give up.
He’s gone. Just like my hopes. Too tired to imagine what G-Lo would do, I wander to an empty bench.
The second I sit, the dam breaks and tears of frustration spill down my cheeks.
I drop my head into my hands and let them fall.
Suck it up, Zoey. This trip was never about a guy.
“I know, but ...” I really like this one.
Bone-weary exhaustion finally catches up to me, and I slump against the back of the bench to stare out at the ocean.
If I’m being honest with myself, I don’t just like Dash, I more than like him.
It’s way too soon to say the L word, but it wouldn’t take much for me to get there.
And for at least a little while, I thought maybe he felt something for me, too.
He saw me at my worst and didn’t run away.
A bitter laugh catches in my throat, turning into a sob on the way out.
“He didn’t run away until he saw me with Damian.” I choke out the words, certain I’ll never see him again. And it’s all my fault for pushing him away to begin with. For not letting him explain when he begged me for a chance.
The old bench creaks as someone sits at the opposite end.
Straightening my spine, I focus my gaze on the ocean, using my shoulder to dry my tears. The last thing I want is a total stranger asking a slew of invasive personal questions I’m not prepared to answer.
The person beside me clears their throat. “Did you know Bowie recorded a live album in Santa Monica?”
My breath catches, and I jerk my head toward the sound, gaping at the familiar profile.
At least a hundred relevant questions float through my brain, but I can’t get a single one to come to the surface. “I had no idea.”
Picking at a funnel cake without eating it, Dash nods but doesn’t look at me.
“ Live in Santa Monica ’72 . But plot twist .
..” He leans in and lowers his voice. “ Bowie didn’t actually record it.
It was a bootleg recording that wasn’t released until more than twenty years later.
And then rereleased in 2008.” He shrugs and leans back against the bench again.
“True story. A fun bit of local trivia I picked up.”
Shock ... confusion ... elation ... the conflicting emotions swirl inside my head like goldfish. I have no idea how he found me. The only thing I’m sure of is that he didn’t use his stupid phone to track me. “I thought I’d never see you again.”
Dash turns to me, wonder reflecting in his mismatched eyes. “Are you kidding?” He bumps me with his shoulder. “You and me? We’re like pee and carrots.”
A semihysterical laugh bursts from my throat as a combination of exhaustion and relief turns my stomach inside out. The same question I’d asked Damian pushes its way past my lips. “Seriously, Dash. What are you doing here?”
“Come on, Zo, where else would you go to spread your mom’s ashes?”
“But ...” I fumble for words that never come.
Dash picks up my hand and inspects my split knuckles. “Nice right cross, by the way. Does it hurt?”
“A little.” Not nearly as much as thinking I’d lost you again. I gently extract my throbbing hand from his and rest it in my lap.
“I wanted to rush in and defend your honor, but I figured the badass who fought off a bear with a cup of pee could take care of herself.” He shrugs, his gaze focused on the ocean. “Guess I was right.”
“Yeah, I think he finally got the hint.” Fighting the urge to lean into him, I glance at the rippling waves and then back to his face. “How’d you know I’d be on the pier today? Now? ”
“Oh.” He flushes to the tips of his ears, and his gaze drops to the mangled funnel cake in his lap. “Your G-Lo sort of told me.”
The second her name crosses his lips, it hits me. “The pictures. I texted her from your phone.”
He nods but still doesn’t make eye contact.
“She sort of told you how to find me?”
Dash flashes a sheepish grin. “She basically drew me a map. But I gotta tell ya, you’re a hard woman to track down. I was so sure you’d be at the tribute concert in Flagstaff, but—”
“You were there?” My mouth drops open as shock turns to vindication, and I do an internal fist pump. “I knew I saw you in the audience. I was backstage, but I got kicked out trying to get down to the floor. I waited for like an hour, and you never came out so I figured I’d hallucinated you.”
Dash relaxes against the back of the bench and scrubs a hand over his face, laughing.
“What’s so funny?”
“While you were outside waiting, I searched inside until the roadies started packing up.”
“That figures.” With a wry laugh, I reach over and pull off a piece of his funnel cake, shoving it between my lips.
I chew slowly, trying to decide how to bring up the proverbial elephant in the room.
We can’t move on until I know ... “Dash, what happened? Back in Detroit. You swore you didn’t have anything to do with the reporters, but after making your mysterious phone call, you came back and said you’d sold your soul—”
“I did. But not like you think.” He turns toward me, pinning me with his stare. “I called my dad.”
“After he took everything from you? Why?”
Dash rakes a hand through his hair. “Because I didn’t know what else to do. I told him I’d come back, but I’d need two weeks and he’d have to give back the damn car.”
“So, if you didn’t tell them, how’d the reporters know where we’d be?”
Dash leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. “I swear to God, I didn’t sell you out. But in the end, I guess it’s still my fault.”
“What happened?” My fingers itch to take his hand, but I resist the urge.
“I was so pissed when Dad had the car towed and reported my cards stolen, I called Mom. She said she’d send a car to pick me up, but if I wanted her help, she wanted your story in return.”
“That’s ...” What kind of mother does that?
“I told her to forget it, but I guess I’d already given her everything she needed. She took what I said in confidence and sold us out. I’m so sorry, Zoey.”
“And you really had no idea?” I hold my breath, waiting for him to confirm what my heart already knows.
His gaze collides with mine. “Not a clue. Not until we got there, and I saw the media swarming. I thought if I could just get you out of there and explain ...” He blows out a breath. “But by then it was too late. Everything had snowballed.”
I search his eyes for any hint of a lie. When I don’t find one, I lean into him and rest my head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry I doubted you.”
He takes my hand and slips his fingers through mine. “Under those circumstances, I probably wouldn’t have believed me, either.”
“I still don’t understand what happened to the pictures. They never showed up online or in Tattle Tale . It’s like it never happened.”
“That was Dad, too.” Dash heaves out a breath, and a shudder rolls through him. “But he wasn’t going to tackle a problem that big without certain assurances .”
I lift my head and meet his gaze. “What did he do?”
“He got an injunction.” Dash shrugs, but his stony expression tells me there’s more to the story.
I’m almost afraid to ask. “At what cost?”
“I had to agree to come work for him. Give up my dreams for his.”
Fiery rage floods my veins, and I jump to my feet. “But you ... you despise what he does. You hate everything your father stands for!”
“I do.” His curt nod says far more than his words.
“So why would you agree to something like that?”
Dash wraps his fingers around my wrist and tugs me back down beside him. “Because it was the only way to stop those pictures from getting out. To stop your story from going public.”
“ Dash . . . ”
“No, Zoey. Don’t.” He squeezes my hand and rests his forehead against mine, bringing his lips closer than they’ve been in days. “Do you know why I wanted to go with you on your trip?”
I swallow hard and shake my head.
“It wasn’t because you’re tenacious and beautiful.” He cups my cheek in his palm. “Or because I couldn’t stand the thought of you walking out that door and never seeing you again.”
I raise an eyebrow.
He smiles. “It’s true. But you were also driving across the country for a chance to be closer to your mom, and I was doing the same thing to get as far away from my parents as I possibly could. You remember asking me what I’ve been writing on napkins?”
I nod.
“I submitted my first freelance article the summer before senior year. I never expected anyone would pick it up, let alone pay me for it. But I’ve been getting paid to write ever since.”
“How—”
“I use a pen name. You’re the first person I’ve told.”
“Why keep it a secret?”
“My dad won’t hesitate to sabotage anything that isn’t what he wants me to do, and this is the first thing in my life that’s been all mine.
No strings attached. He’s never once asked me what I wanted to do with my life, because he doesn’t care.
And my mom? She used to be a real journalist. Used to write about things that matter.
Not anymore. And when it came right down to it, she sold out her own son for a story. ”
“That isn’t your fault.”
“Maybe not directly, but I’m the one who put you in that position to begin with. Zoey, I want to do something with my life I can be proud of. And up till now, I haven’t. I should’ve never told my mom—”
“You couldn’t have known she’d use it against you.” Thoughts of his mother betraying him are all that keep me from kissing him.
“I should have.” A dark chuckle rolls out of him like distant thunder. “That’s who she is.”
The realization that we’re on borrowed time hits me square in the chest. “If you promised your dad you’d go back, why are you here and not there?”
“You didn’t really think I’d pass up a trip to the beach, did you?” He winks.