A few hours have passed and we’re sitting lazily next to a fire. The sun has almost disappeared behind Rattlesnake Valley. Twilight is my favorite time of day, so I relax and take it in. This eccentric group of people in this setting reminds me of a B movie. The budget film is in black and white, save for the fire that remains a vivid red. In fact, the color of the fire is so vibrant it causes arbitrary things to pop in contrast with the black and white setting. There is a group across from me playing music—a red guitar glows, a patterned shirt shines red. Behind the band, a young lady dances, and her red rimmed glasses glow as well.

Then dusk is gone, and it’s night, and with it comes the demons. This film is a horror flick, of course, with young non-conformist types dancing around a fire. What monster is going to come from the shadows to interrupt their uninhibited joy? Could it be a madman wielding a chain saw, or maybe some vampires or zombies?

“What on earth is going on in your head?” Lael’s voice brings me back to earth, sweet and soft as she touches my arm.

“Nothing,” I answer, giving my head a shake.

I no longer have to dream up a villain for this movie—I’m in the moment and a real-life villain has presented itself.

Cocaine has taken over. The band is no longer playing, the girl with the red glasses isn’t dancing, and the focus has shifted.

Things continue to change around the fire. Everyone is talking to hear their own voice, rolling their jaws, twitching, and doing line after line. Usually there is an attempt to keep it hidden, but with this group of misfits it’s all hanging out. Someone spent a rather large amount of money on a rather large bag of coke, and it’s safe to say that person is Calvi, judging by the fact everyone seems to be his best friend all of a sudden. The intensity is growing and my patience is dwindling.

Lael and I sit in our chairs and fight off drug-induced conversations with random people that zero in on us. They all want us to do a line, they sincerely feel it’s in our best interest, and I have to swat them away like buzzards.

“Let’s get out of here,” I say to Lael.

“I don’t think you can call a taxi from here,” Lael says. She’s handling things slightly better than I am—her voice is playful and calm. Her ambivalence concerns me, especially now, and the thought of her on blast makes me cringe.

“Come on.” I get up and Lael follows. The crowd continues to grow—it’s a wonder where they’ve all come from considering we’re in such a remote location. I’ve also wondered the same thing about buzzards.

I lead Lael to Roar’s shed. The desert wind has worn the wood down and the building is at the end of its life. There are large double doors that open up to the driveway, and I swing them open to see what Roar has hidden away.

“What the hell is that?” Lael asks.

The thing in question is some kind of homemade dune buggy that’s taking up most of the realestate in the shed. It smells like rubber and gasoline, and looks like something a cartoon villain would drive. It’s much larger than the one the fellas were playing around with earlier.

“This will work,” I tell her.

“What do you mean, this will work?”

“This is our taxi. Hop in.”

I take the first step and climb in the driver’s side. There are two seatbelts and I quickly figure out how to strap myself into this death machine. Lael is close beside me trying to figure out her own. Obviously she hasn’t had much luck with them lately.

It’s not obvious how to start the engine, so I fumble for a while, but with some effort I’m able to wake the monster. It’s far louder than our loudest concert. When I give it gas I can feel it rumble in my chest. I’m actually concerned it might shake the old barn to the ground.

I look at Lael, who’s wearing some goggles that she found hanging in front of her. She appears like she’s having second thoughts. Fuck that, we’re doing this. I put it in gear and we tear out of the garage and down the driveway.

Roar yells at the top of his lungs in Norwegian, waving his arms and running behind us. I just smile and wave, pretending not to notice he doesn’t want me to ride off with his toy.

Growing up in the city, I missed out of this sort of thing, so as I tear down the desert road, I regress deep into an adolescent dream and spin the tires around every corner. I turn to Lael, expecting her to tell me to tone it down but she is fumbling with the stereo. This demon machine has more horsepower than any God-fearing man should ever want or need, and the wattage of the stereo system matches the arrogance of the engine. I’m not sure how Lael manages but the new Metallica album is blaring (does Roar have it in every vehicle he owns?), shaking the metal frame around us.

With the engine screaming, the music blaring, and Lael shouting for joy, this is damn near perfect. I can’t see her eyes because her goggles have a layer of dust on them, but the full moon lights her smile, a smile that makes me feel light and time stand still.

“Are we going to take this thing into town?” Lael shouts over the sound of the engine and music as the lights of the city approach.

I only answer with a devilish smile as I pull off the highway toward downtown Santa Fe. The new Metallica album is a long one and is still going strong as we roll into the center of town. We are getting honked at, yelled at, and maybe even laughed at. I know the moment we run into the police this will not end well.

I don’t take my time. When traffic comes to a crawl, I feel like a sitting duck so I drive over medians and sidewalks. Lael holds on to the metal frame as we bounce over the obstacles. I sense this machine is capable of much more abuse.

I see a place that looks like a bar. I don’t think there will be a ton of options and I know my luck will run out soon if I keep tearing around the city center on this insane-looking dune buggy, so I pull over and park, killing the motor and unbuckling my seatbelt.

“This place looks good,” I say. Actually, the place looks too classy for us, but here we are. We climb out of our stolen machine and walk onto the patio of the white table-clothed restaurant.

“Welcome. Would you like to dine inside or outside?” the kind-looking waiter asks, seeming to not notice that we’re covered in dust and Lael has goggles pushed back on her head, while our vehicle parked only meters away is totally illegal.

“Outside, please,” I answer, playing it cool while the buzz of the journey hums through my veins.

We sit on the patio facing the street. Our stolen vehicle is parked crooked and looks painfully out of place in contrast to the nice surroundings.

We order a bottle of champagne and two steaks. We get lucky with the restaurant because everything is perfect.

Lael is perfect. She’s become the focus of my attention since she picked me up from the airport all those weeks ago. I’m beginning to question why I’m so restrained with her, almost gentlemanly. That said, it’s been an unusual day and I’m emotionally drained, my defenses are down, and I’m vulnerable. While Lael is watching some people gathering around the dune buggy, I’m watching Lael.

Why am I fighting this? Is it her father? Certainly, if I had an open relationship with Ronald Ramsey’s daughter there would be consequences. I’m not sure it would be the complete end of my career, but Ronald would make good on his threat and try his best to ruin me. Even though I’m his cash cow, he would drop me if he thought I was trying to woo his daughter, the very person I’m supposed to protect.

Yet I’m not sure it’s Ronald who’s stopping me.

Lael is young. At first she seemed considerably younger because I could still see the kid I once knew, but since we’ve been spending time together I can’t say I see that kid anymore. I see an attractive young woman instead. She is, in fact, so beautiful and sweet that I’m concerned I’m the wrong guy for her. She’s a beautiful lake and I’m a barrel of oil floating around, harmless until opened. It’s not Ronald, it’s not that she’s considerably younger…it’s me.

There haven’t been that many women in my life, but they all have something in common. My mother gave me away, Miss Sugar practically sold me to Ronald, and then there’s Lindsay, who only wants to see me when I have a song in the top 40. It leaves me wondering, could it be me? Strip away my celebrity and fame—am I just a lost motherless loser with an oversized yellow t-shirt and shoes that are too big?

I drink the last of the champagne in my glass and feel myself going to a dark place.

“What’s on your mind?” Lael asks.

“You.”

“Good thoughts, I hope.”

The waiter comes with our late dinner and puts it on the table, breaking our conversation before it can get too deep. Lael raises her fork and I instinctively hit it with mine.

“Let’s eat,” I tell her.

“Damn, this is good stuff,” she says, savoring each bite with her eyes closed. Then, when she opens them, her attention goes to something over my shoulder.

“Umm, Brad,” she says warily.

“What?” I start to turn around to see where she’s looking.

“No!” she whispers harshly, leaning in. “Don’t look now, it’s the police, and they seem interested in our dune buggy.”

I fight the urge to look and try and hide the smile on my face. I do my best to enjoy my steak while noticing our legs are touching under the table. Lael, meanwhile, looks like someone who’s desperately trying to conceal their guilt. Shifting, twitching, and looking in every direction except where the police are apparently checking out our ride.

“Relax, it will be fine,” I assure her.

Then, one of the police officers focuses his attention on us, stepping close to the patio fence. He clears his throat. “Did you folks happen to see who parked this vehicle here?”

I’m about to say no, but Lael pipes up before I can say anything. Lael, in a horribly fake and untraceable accent says, “Do you mean that silly one there? I didn’t even notice it until now.”

Silence hangs in the air as both the cop and I turn our heads toward the wild looking dune buggy that has the attention of everyone within a hundred feet.

“You didn’t notice this vehicle until just now?” The cop questions.

“Oh, that one. Okay, yeah, I noticed that one. I thought you meant the one next to it, that Corolla there. No, yes, I noticed that one. Sure, yeah.” Lael’s strange accent sounds different than when she began.

I look at her in complete bewilderment.

“Where are you folks from?” the cop asks, sounding suspicious. I have to say I can’t blame the guy.

“Australia. My name is Mildred and this is my husband…Tom,” Lael replies in a very non-Australian accent.

“Sir, did you witness anything in regards to this vehicle?”

I clear my throat. “When Mildred was in the restroom I saw some teenagers park this vehicle here. I think they ran off in that direction. They seemed to be drinking.” I try to match her crazy accent which has me sounding like both an Englishman and a Jamaican. Maybe with a bit of Norwegian thrown in. I’ll blame Roar for that one.

“Could you describe them to me?”

“I’m afraid I cannot. They seemed pretty wild, and I didn’t want to get their attention so I did my best not to look at them.”

“Right,” the cop says after a few long beats, looking us over. “All right, well, enjoy your dinner, folks. I hope you enjoy your stay here in Santa Fe.” As wary as the cop seems, he thankfully puts his attention back on the dune buggy that is now being loaded onto a tow truck.

“What the hell was that?” I whisper to Lael. Her face is beet red and terrified. “Why the accent and fake names? Australia? That accent wasn’t even close.”

“I don’t know, I don’t know,” she says, and doesn’t blink as she downs a full glass of champagne.

“You’re nuts,” I say with a smile.

“I think I’m going to have a heart attack,” she says.

“You’re going to give me a heart attack,” I chide her.

“I must tell you now, I’m not a very good liar.”

“You don’t say,” I answer while laughing.

Lael covers her mouth, trying to hold back her laughter. “Oh my god, I don’t know. I got nervous.”

“Alright, Mildred. I’m taking you home.” I put some money on the table and we begin the short walk to our hotel. We walk arm-in-arm, breaking in and out of whatever accent Lael was performing earlier. Since it’s rare that I drink, I’m definitely feeling the effects of the champagne.

In our hotel, riding up the elevator, Lael hugs my arm as if it were her pillow. My concern about what is right or wrong concerning Lael are all but gone as I look down at her.

Her teal hair over the tanned skin of her shoulders is a beautiful sight. I want to press her against the wall and kiss her. I’m finally in the moment and it’s all I want, all I care about.

I don’t give in, but I do hold her close, and I know she can feel my affection.

The elevator door opens and we step into the hall.

“I’m this way,” I say, pointing down the hall.

“I’m this way.” Lael points in the opposite direction.

Neither of us turn to walk away. We stand in the hall in silence holding eye contact. I know I’m going to kiss her, but I take my time. I like the way she’s looking at me, and I can feel my lips curling into a smile. We haven’t touched yet, but something has already begun and there’s no turning back.

I reach out and hold both of her hands as she begins to run her fingers softly against my palms. I pull her in and she puts her hand on my chest. Our eyes are still locked on each other, and with every passing second the intensity increases.

I don’t have to make an effort; rather I submit to the gravity pulling me into her. I grab the back of her head. Her soft lips are open and we melt into each other. I’m becoming desperate to feel her skin on mine, our breaths are deepening, our hearts are racing, and our eyes are closed. Gently, I bite her bottom lip, and she responds by kissing me harder.

Ding.

The elevator door begins to open and we plummet back to reality. We take a step back from each other, trying not to make it obvious to Arnie who is standing there awkwardly with a pizza and a six-pack of beer.

“Don’t stay up too late now. Big day tomorrow, aye?” Arnie says, his eyes darting around as he shifts his shoulders. He’s clearly aware he interrupted something.

“Goodnight, Arnie,” I say as he passes by. “Goodnight, Lael” I say to her more forcefully so that Arnie takes note.

I take in a slow, deep breath, trying to settle down. Arnie is fumbling with his room key only steps away and I try not to look at him.

“Goodnight, Brad,” she says, one eyebrow raised. Arnie has the door open but he’s struggling with the pizza, six-pack, and the self-closing door.

Lael struts down the hallway, swishing her hips side to side like she’s performing a seductive dance. I watch her disappear around the corner—she never looks back.

Arnie’s door finally snaps shut, and I’m alone. I’ve been wondering what kissing her would be like since the audition when she surprised me with her force and commitment. I can still feel her lips on mine. I want nothing more than to knock on her door and pick up where we left off. Whatever is happening between Lael and I is something new to me, and the way she kissed me has left me high. The image of her face is burned into my brain. I can still feel her lips and her touch. Her smell is still in the air, and her energy is inside me, running through my veins and exploding in my heart. I walk back to my room with a smile on my face.

I feel weightless.