Faded (Rock Star Trilogy) (18 page)

Not too long after we make it through security, they let the first class board.

“This is so weird,” I say, looking around the small space.

“Much different than what you’re used to.”

I nod. “Definitely. I thought first class would have more room.”

Stephan laughs. “You should see coach seating.”

Bob turns around in his seat. “This is awesome. I’ve never flown first class before.”

“Wait until we fly back on the private jet,” I tell him.

As people board the plane, a few people stop to take pictures of me. Bob forces them to leave and pulls a baseball cap out of his carry-on.

“What’s the big deal?” I ask.

“They could post the pictures online. Do you want paparazzi waiting at the Vegas airport for you?”

I take the baseball cap and put in on my head. “Good point.”
I turn to Stephan. “How long is our layover in Vegas?”

“One hour,” he answers.

“Maybe next time we can stop there and spend a few nights.”

“Why? Neither of us are 21, so it’d be boring.”

I give him an
‘are you serious’
look. “I’m a celebrity. I don’t need an ID.”

“Don’t the casinos get in trouble for you being there?”

I nod. “It’s worth the fines they have to pay to have me seen there. But most of the time, nothing is said.  Restaurants started serving me alcohol at fifteen.”

Stephan is about to respond when the captain’s voice comes through the speakers. I sit back in my seat and relax.

4:43
PM

Vegas, baby!

Once we land in Vegas, we have to walk
-run to the other side of the airport so we can board our flight to Los Angeles. It’s at this exact moment that I realize just how spoiled I really am. Being
normal
sucks.

“Your feet look like they hurt,” Stephan says, about halfway through our journey.

“They do. Next time we decide to use public transportation, remind me to wear flats.” I look down at my four-inch heels and sigh.

Finally, we make it to the correct terminal,
only to see a sign that says “FLIGHT CANCELED”.
What the fuck
? I walk up to the desk.

“Why is the flight canceled?” I ask.

Without looking up, the lady says, “Next available flight out isn’t until tomorrow morning. Go to the service desk to book the flight.”

I glare at her. “I am Scarlett Ryan, and I demand to know why the flight is canceled.”

The lady looks up at me, and quickly straightens her skirt. Her tone instantly changes. “I’m sorry, Miss Ryan. There was a problem with one of the engines on the plane. A bird got caught, and the plane had to make an emergency landing. Unfortunately, there are no other seats available on a flight to LA tonight. I’m sorry. But I can call a hotel for you if you like.”

“No thanks.” I turn to Stephan. “I’ll call Alec. He can get us a room for the night. His friend owns a hotel here.”

One hour later, Bob, Stephan and I are walking into The Palms in Las Vegas. We are staying in the penthouse suite. Stephan and I let the bellhop carry our luggage, but when he tries to take Bob’s bag, Bob just glares at him. The bellhop looks as though he is going to crap himself. Stephan and I both knuckle bump Bob as we make our way into the elevator.

“Maybe flying commercial isn’t so bad,” I tell them as we make our way into our room. I’ve stayed at a lot of nice hotels, and this one is definitely one of the nicer ones.

“If you weren’
t…
yo
u
…
it would suck.” Stephan laughs. “We would be sleeping at the airport, or on a bus right now, and our trip would be ruined. But you get us a freaking penthouse suite. This is incredible.”

When I called Alec, he offered to send a helicopter to come get me. I declined, saying a night in Vegas sounded perfect. I didn’t tell Stephan this.

“So what do you want to do?” I ask Stephan.

He looks excited. “I don’t know! We’re in Vegas! What do you propose we do?”

I think for a minute. Alec and I have been here twice a year since we met. Every year, on my birthday and his birthday, we come to Vegas. We’ve done a
lot
of crazy things, but my most memorable experience was singing karaoke with him at this tiny club. It’s not on the strip, so not many people know about it. We went in there and sang. Not one person recognized us.

“I have the perfect idea,” I say. “Get dressed. A nice pair of jeans and a polo, nothing too fancy.”

I run off to my room to get ready. I take a quick shower, curl my hair, and put on a simple outfit. I find a pair of short Daisy Duke shorts and a dark red top. I start to put on a pair of heels, but instead grab my red Tom
s…
Actually, they’re Bridgett’s. I stole them when I was packing, just in case. I smile at my reflection and come back into the sitting area of our suite.

“Where is Bob?” I ask Stephan.

“He’s napping. He said to wake him when we were ready to leave.”

I look at Stephan and whisper. “Let’s sneak awa
y…
”

“Do you really think that’s a good idea?”

“Let me ask you something.” I pause for dramatic effect. “Do
you
want to wake Bob up?”

He doesn’t have to think long. “No.”

“Do you want my 400 pound security guard tagging along with us your first time in Las Vegas?”

He shakes his head again.

I grab Stephan’s hand, and we run for it.

7:57 PM

Karaoke

“Karaoke?” Stephan questions when we walk inside.

“Trust me, after a couple of shots you will be dying to get up there.”

Stephan orders us both a shot of tequila. It’s the first time I’ve had alcohol in almost four months. I’
d say that this is a well-deserved night out. I lick the side of my hand and put salt on it, Stephan does the same.

“I propose a toast,” he says, h
olding up his glass. “Here is to new adventures, taking a chance, and having the night of our lives.”

Our shot glasses clink together. I lick the salt off my hand and down the shot. I chase it down with a lime. The alcohol burns all the way down to my stomach, and I remember I haven’t eaten.

“Maybe we should order som
e…
” Before I can say food, another shot glass is in front of me, and I forgot what I was going to say.

Thirty
minutes later, Stephan and I are singing a duet on stage.
Lucky
by Jason Mraz and Colbie Caillat never sounded so good, though that could definitely be the alcohol talking. Stephan doesn’t sound half bad though. I am pleasantly surprised.

I think about the words as we sing them. Stephan picked
out the song, and I’m trying hard not to read too much into it, but I can’t help it. My tipsy state of mind over-analyzes everything. The lyrics are so sweet, and they are exactly how I feel about him.

But a couple of shots later, I’m too drunk to think about what we sang.

“We should do another song.” I’m pretty sure my voice is slurred.

“Ok
ay.” Stephan agrees. He doesn’t seem nearly as drunk as I am. He picks the song again, and one more shot later we are singing
Marry You
by Bruno Mars. Hey — it’s Vegas. It’s fitting. Maybe a couple hears our song and decides to get married because of it.

The crowd is cheering us on, and I get into it. I start dancing around Stephan, and he is smiling at me, shaking his head. He’s never seen this side of me.

After our song is over, I do another shot. I know that I should stop, but the rational side of my brain is currently too intoxicated to care.

“I am really drunk,” I tell Stephan, and then start laughing for no reason.

“I am too,” he agrees. “We should probably stop before we do something stupid.”

“
We should get food!” I say, suddenly wanting pizza. “I know the
best
pizza place!”

“Good idea. We probably should have eaten before we
drank so much.”

We get up and leave the karaoke bar.
I realize just how wasted I am when I start walking. I trip over my own feet and nearly fall down. I lean on Stephan, who is also wobbly.

“You kno
w…
” I start out. “If we would have brought Bob, he could have carried us.”

“I don’t know about you, but I don’t want Bob to carry me.”

“I want somebody to carry me,” I start to whine. “The ground keeps moving, and I don’t want to fall.”

“I’ll carry you,” Stephan offers. “You’re so small, I bet I could carry you with one arm.” He trips, nearly bringing us both down. I laugh as we lean against a building for support.

“If you carried me, you would fall.”

“You know what I’ve
always
wanted to do?”

“What?” I ask.

“To play poker in Vegas,” he answers.

“Then let’s go!”

12:01
AM

Poker

I have lost count of the shots I’ve taken. The room has been spinning for the last
thirty minutes, and everything is hilarious. Stephan is actually good at poker, though I tell him it’s because I’m with him. I’m his “good luck charm”.

“I think I should stop playing,” Stephan tells me after playing for an hour.

“Why? You’re doing sooooo good!”

He blinks hard a few times. “Well, the table keeps moving.
We should probably go back to the hotel.”

“Good idea.”

He cashes out, and we head out of the casino. I’m not sure which way our hotel is, but right now I really don’t care.

“Hey, Scarlett?”

“Yea
h…
” My voice sounds unnaturally high. I sing just to hear myself. I’m fucking good.

“You know the song you
wrote for me?”

“
Duh
, I wrote it! Of course I know it.” I pout a little bit. “You didn’t like it.”

“I did like it. A lot. I thought that you didn’t love me.
You keep telling me that you won’t have sex with me 'cause we’re not in love.”

“I said that because
you
don’t love
me
,” I quickly clarify.

“But I d
o…
” He pauses. “I feel like I shouldn’t be saying this when I’ve drank this much, but I love you.”

“I thought you were waiting to tell your future bride. I thought it was something special you were going to say on your wedding day.” Why did I say that?

I love you, too
, would have sounded much better.

“Crap. I did say that, didn’t I?” Stephan frowns for a second, but then he smiles. “I’ve got an idea!”

Friday, November 7

12:08 PM

This cannot be happening.

My head is pounding, and the room is spinning. I try to open my eyes, but the light hurts so
much. My stomach suddenly feels queasy. Whatever is in my stomach wants out. I get up and run toward the nearest bathroom, which I’m not sure where that is.

Where am
I?

I don’t have time to
think about it. I find the bathroom and run toward the toilet. I barely make it before I vomit up any remnants of last night’s alcohol. Just as I think I’m almost done, more comes up.

How much did I drink last night?

After I finally stop puking my guts up, I walk to the bathroom sink and splash cold water on my face. It’s then that I notice I have a ring on my left hand. Upon closer inspection, I see that it is just a cheap plastic ring. I sigh in relief. For a second I thought I did something stupid, like get married. Even when I’m wasted out of my mind, I’m too smart to do something stupid like that.

What did I do last night?
I have no idea. I remember doing tequila shots and karaoke. I remember we were going to walk back to the hotel, but that is where things got fuzzy.We obviously didn’t make it back to the hote
l…
I think maybe we played poker, but I’m not sure. It feels like maybe poker was just a dream, because it’s all so fuzzy.

My head hurts from thinking. I decide that I will just have to ask Stephan. Certainly he remembers. Or at least I hope he does.

Somehow I find the strength to walk out of the bathroom. The room that we are in is definitely not the room we were staying in at The Palms. The room is small. There is a flat screen television sitting on a nightstand, and one king size bed. Stephan is currently passed out on that bed. The carpet is an ugly shade of green with patterns of pink and yellow swirled around. There is also half a bottle of vodka sitting on a table in the corner that I don’t remember buying.

I look down at myself. All of my clothes are on, and for that I am thankful. It means
that Stephan and I
didn’t
have sex. I didn’t want our first time to be when I’m drunk. I want to remember every second of heated passion.

I look around the room for my phone, but then I remember I left it at the hotel. I didn’t want Bob to wake up and call me. I didn’t want him to know where I was.
I just needed one normal night off with Stephan. Now, I’m kind of wishing that we had brought him with us. If we would’ve, maybe I wouldn’t have drunk so much.

Why do I get the feeling that I did something stupid? What if people took pictures? Ugh, I can already see the headlines.
Scarlett is out of control. Scarlett refuses rehab. Fame is too much for Scarlett to handle.
Why did I allow myself to drink so much?

I just want my head to stop pounding
.

I climb onto the bed beside Stephan, just as he starts to wake up. His eyes are glassy, and I’m pretty sur
e he’s still a little bit drunk. Maybe I am too.

“How much did I drink last night?” I ask him.

“Inside voice,” he whispers back, and then massages his forehead. “I have never drank so much alcohol in my life.”

I have, but I’ll just keep that bit of information to myself. I’m disappointed in myself. I thought I could do a couple shots and not get shit
-faced. I was wrong. I obviously have no self-control. And worst of all, Stephan saw me like that. I never wanted him to see that side of me.

“Do you remembe
r last night?” I whisper to him. I’m hoping that he remembers more than I do, which is basically
nothing
.

“Somewhat.
We did karaoke, played poke
r…
an
d…
an
d…
” He pauses. “It’s a little fuzzy, but I thin
k…
Oh my Go
d…
”

“What?” I’m scared to ask.
If I did something stupid, it could ruin my career. And just when I was finally getting everything I wanted.

“I think we got married.”

I laugh, because what he is saying
has
to be a joke. And maybe I’m still drunk too. I would never laugh at that under normal circumstances, because it’s
not funny.
Maybe he’s saying that, because I did something really stupid, and I’ll be so relieved that we aren’t married that it will seem less horrible in perspective. “Yeah, right. I’m hung over and now is not the time to joke. What really happened?”

“I’m not joking,” he quickly says. “
It’s coming back to me now. I remembe
r…
After poker I told you that I love you, and then you said something like I was supposed to say it on our wedding day, or somethin
g…
And I agreed with you. We had to fix it. And then I remember going to the chapel, and I bought you a plastic ring.”

I hold up my left hand. “This plastic ring?”

He nods.

My stomach feels sick again.

“I remember paying the Elvis impersonator, and I remember saying our vows.” Stephan runs his hands through his hair. “Scarlett,
we are married
.”

This
cannot be happening.

“Are you absolutely positive? Maybe we just said our vows and didn’t get the actual license.”

Stephan rolls over and grabs a paper off the nightstand and hands it to me. It’s our marriage license issued by the state of Nevada. Both of our signatures are on it. Which makes it very real.

“So we’re married,” I say.

“We are.”

“What are we going to do about it? Do you think that people know?” I am wishing that I had my phone with me so I could check out some gossip blogs.

Stephan thinks for a moment. “I don’t think anybody knows, Scarlett. But I definitely don’t think we should tell anybody. My mom would have a heart attack if she knew.”

“I don’t want to tell Stacy either. Or Bridgett. Or Alec. Ugh, or Anna! They are all going to be so disappointed in us.” I turn to Stephan. “Do you think we should get it annulled?”

“Before we even have time to consummate our marriage?”

I laugh. Even through the severity of our situation, Stephan finds a way to cheer me u
p…
even if it only last for a few seconds.

“
I think we should just stay married and not tell anybody. Then in like five years, when we’re actually old enough to be married, we have a big wedding,” he answers.

“But I’m only
nineteen, and you’re eighteen. We are
way
too
young
to be married.”

“That’s why we won’t tell anybody,” he says, like it’s going to be the easiest thing in the world to hide.

For the first time, I smile. “Are we really doing this?”

“Yes, we are really doing this, Mrs. Montgomery.”

Oh my God.

I’m married.

The End.

Look for Hated, Book 3, coming SOON!