Chasing Stardust: A Novel By Erica Lucke Dean - 25

Panic in Detroit

“After all that, she just leaves?” I slam the diary shut with a loud sigh and shove it back into the tote tucked between my feet in the front seat of the Tesla. I don’t know why I’m so disappointed. What happened on my mother’s trip has nothing to do with me. But I can’t help but feel cheated. “My mom was a player.”

“What are you talking about?” A deep groove forms between Dash’s eyebrows.

“Mom and Ryan. They had this epic romance going, then she dips out the next morning without a backward glance. No explanation. She goes on to the next stop as if it . . . as if he never happened.”

Dash shifts in his seat, stealing glances at me while he drives. “Do you think maybe she knew it wasn’t realistic to expect more with a guy she literally just met?”

The parallels between Mom’s trip and ours hang between us like a thick fog.

“You’d think after having sex they would’ve at least exchanged phone numbers. I get this was before social media, but it’s not like they lived on different continents. And even if they did, they could’ve been pen pals!”

A wide smile takes over Dash’s features. “You wanna be pen pals?”

“Maybe?” I glance at his wrinkled shirt and rumpled hair, falling for him all over again. Our eyes lock, and I slip my fingers through his across the console. Saying goodbye to Dash once we’ve visited all of Mom’s stops will be one of the hardest things I’ll ever do.

“Maybe Ryan lacked a certain . . . finesse ?” He locks his gaze on mine and brushes his thumb across my wrist.

Heat climbs up my throat, pinking my cheeks as I replay every glorious moment from the night before. There was no lack of finesse on Dash’s part. In fact, he more than exceeded every expectation. Hours later, my bones are still jelly.

As I contemplate asking him to find somewhere secluded so we can pick up where we left off, a buzz from my bag drags me back to the present. With a wistful sigh, I dig out my phone and glance at the display before pressing it to my ear.

“Hey, Jeanie. How’s the leg?”

She lets out a loud snort. “Hurts like hell. And it’s screwing with my tan lines.” Leave it to my sister to be more worried about her tan than broken bones. “You should be riddled with guilt for ruining my summer.”

I roll my eyes, wishing she could see the gesture. “Did you really call to torment me again?”

“Actually, no.” She laughs. “The Cleveland police just called to say someone turned in your wallet.”

“No way.” My eyes widen, and I turn to Dash. “They found my wallet.”

“I know, right? I figured it was a lost cause. I mean, your money and your cards are long gone. They totally cleaned you out. But apparently your license and your library card were still inside. I can’t believe you actually filled out the stupid ID card that came with the wallet. That’s how they knew to call the house.”

“That’s what it’s there for.”

“If you say so.”

“Are they mailing it home?”

“That’s why I called. They said they could send it, or you could swing by the police station and pick it up. I checked your location on the app and saw you were a few hours away, so I figured I’d see if you wanted to grab it before they stick it in the mail.”

Ignoring the fact that my sister is openly stalking me across the country, I turn my attention to Dash. “They said I can pick it up.”

“Where?” He glances at our location on the display.

“Cleveland.”

He smiles. “It’s on the way.”

With my temple resting on the passenger window, and my wallet—and license—back where they belong, I count the mile markers as we fly down the highway.

Dash pulls his gaze from the road and quirks a brow. “Food or sleep?”

“What?”

“That look. Are you fantasizing about food or sleep?” Less than a week together and he already gets me better than Damian did after several years. And if the grin is any indication, he knows it.

As if answering for me, my stomach rumbles. Other than splitting a few stale graham crackers and half a chocolate bar that escaped the pee-bomb, we haven’t eaten since breakfast.

He chuckles. “Dinner it is.”

He takes the next exit and pulls into a diner that reminds me a lot of BB’s. All it needs is a giant guitar on the roof and it could be the same place.

Inside, the similarities end with the Formica counters and red vinyl stools. Instead of bright neon and rock and roll paraphernalia, the unadorned walls are covered in greasy stainless steel panels that are way overdue for a good cleaning.

The place is packed, so we grab the only two open seats at the counter.

“So what’s the plan?” Dash side-eyes me over the dirty menu. “After the last few stops, I’m almost afraid to ask what your mom has in store for us next.”

“Now that you mention it . . .” Smirking, I drag the diary out of my bag and flip to Mom’s entry for the Motor City.

A yellowed photo of Mom standing in the rain in front of a run-down old house with hundreds of brightly colored polka dots painted all over the worn white siding brings a smile to my lips as I skip ahead and read a snippet of the entry to him.

Before we even hit the city limits, Mom told me she had a surprise waiting for me in Detroit. She wouldn’t tell me what it was, but the familiar gleam in her eye has butterflies crashing around my insides like a bunch of drunks at a football game. I can only imagine the crazy plan she has percolating in her mad-scientist’s brain.

“Please don’t tell me your mom rappelled from a skyscraper or boosted a car.” Dash laughs, but the tremble in his voice gives his nerves away.

“Don’t be a baby,” I tease before picking up where I left off.

So much for my surprise. We got to Detroit smack in the middle of one of the coldest Julys on record. Cold and wet. It rained the entire time we were there. Most disappointing stop so far. At least we got to see the Fisher Theater and a few of the cool houses at the Heidelberg Project. Hopefully I don’t end up with pneumonia.

“Well, that’s disappointing.” I close Mom’s diary and shove it into my bag. “No grand theft auto, and they didn’t even jump from a single skyscraper.”

Dash lets out a sigh of relief.

“Don’t pack up your parachute quite yet.” I pluck another laminated menu from behind the napkin holder and skim the selections. “There’s always Chicago.”

He snorts. “Don’t even joke about spreading her ashes from the Sears Tower. I draw the line at Base jumping.”

Although beyond reckless and stupid, the thought had crossed my mind. “I make no promises.”

“You jump off a building, you go alone.” He drags his gaze back to the menu. “That’s all I’m saying.”

I grin. “Chicken.”

After stuffing ourselves with burgers and fries, Dash grabs the check before the waitress has a chance to set it down.

“I can pay for my own food.” I scowl at him. “I may not be rich, but I do have a little money, you know.”

“I know.” He brushes my hand as he slides his credit card onto the counter. “But I want to.”

A minute later, the waitress comes back and eyes the shiny plastic card. With a sour expression, she points to the sign above the register. “Cash. Only.”

Just after sundown, we stroll into the lobby of the Hotel Saint Regis, wearing the same clothes as yesterday—and reeking of campfire, sex, and the woods. The hair on the back of my neck prickles as dozens of eyes bore into my back, reminding me I don’t belong in the fancy establishment. But by the time I’d finished spreading Mom’s ashes at the park across from the Fisher Theater, it was too late to re-create her photo at the Heidelberg Project’s Dotty Wotty House, so Dash suggested we find a nice hotel for the night, and I willingly agreed.

With my head held high, I tuck my tote under my arm and follow Dash to the registration desk, pretending I’m not tracking dirt all over their pristine tile floors. He tosses a wink over his shoulder, and the glimmer in his eyes tells me sleeping isn’t all he has in mind. As long as I get a long, hot shower first, I’m all for that idea. Now that I’ve had a taste of him, all I want is more.

“Your card was declined.” The dark-haired woman behind the desk slides Dash’s card back across the polished stone counter.

“Declined?” Dash rocks back on his heels and rubs the back of his neck. “I’ve been traveling. Maybe the bank flagged my card.”

The desk clerk raises a finely chiseled eyebrow. She glances at each of us in turn, making her chin-length jet-black hair sway from side to side. “Would you like to try another card?”

Dash nods, glancing at me as he pulls a shiny black card from his wallet.

She snatches the plastic from his fingers and shoves it into the card reader.

Several seconds pass before she flashes a pinched smile. “Declined.”

“What?” Dash’s voice echoes through the lobby. “Not possible. Run it again.”

Lifting that thin eyebrow again in a silent challenge, she slides the card into the reader a second time and waits. “Declined.”

“Fine.” He huffs and pulls out his phone. “I’ll just book a room and pay for it online.”

“You’ll still need a valid credit card to check in.” The woman’s cold smile sends a chill down my spine.

Dash’s expression crumples as he turns to me. “I don’t understand what’s happening.”

“Maybe you should call the bank,” I whisper.

With a curt nod, Dash retrieves his card from the woman’s bony fingers and storms through the lobby.

My dirty sneakers slap against the marble as I chase after him, barely catching the words card and declined before the double glass doors close between us. By the time I reach him, he’s half a block away, pacing the sidewalk with his phone pressed to his ear and his fingers knotted in his tangled hair.

“How is that possible? Reopen them!” He comes to an abrupt halt and drops the hand from his hair. “What do you mean you can’t? Who reported them stolen? I don’t care what your system says, I didn’t—” His eyes widen, and his breath stills. “I’ll call back later.”

He disconnects the call and turns his back to me as he dials another number.

“You crossed a line this time,” he growls into the phone, his body trembling with suppressed rage. “You had no right! Those belong to me! I pay the bills, not you!” The vein in Dash’s neck pulses as he works to keep his emotions contained. “I told you, I made a promise!”

Dash stops pacing, and a dark laugh rolls up his throat.

My stomach plummets.

“No, Dad. I never promised you anything. I said I would consider your offer, but I needed time. You agreed to give me the summer.” His nostrils flare as he goes back to pacing. “The whole summer!”

The urge to go to him is so strong, and I grip my tote with both hands to keep from reaching out. Even arguing in hushed tones, his voice echoes through the night air as he lights into the person on the other end of the line.

“That’s extortion! You wouldn’t . . .” The color drains from Dash’s face, and he comes to an abrupt halt again just a few feet away. “That was a gift! Hello? Dad? Damn it!”

For half a second, I expect him to hurl his phone into the dark abyss. Instead, he pockets it and grabs my hand, pulling me down the sidewalk.

“Slow down!” My pulse skyrockets as I struggle to keep up, tripping over my feet every few steps. “Talk to me.”

“We need to hurry.” Dash picks up his pace, dragging me into the parking garage.

“Why?” My voice echoes through the dark space. “Dash, you’re scaring me. What’s going on?”

“Stop!” Dash’s panicked voice turns my blood cold. He drops my hand and runs toward a man standing at the back of a tow truck. “Please! You can’t do this!”

“Sorry, man.” The guy doesn’t bother to make eye contact as he finishes securing the Tesla to the flatbed. He double-checks the cables and climbs into the cab. “I’m just doin’ my job.”

Dash stands frozen on the concrete as the truck growls to life and slowly pulls away. I want to scream at him to do something, but I’m as paralyzed as he is. Once the taillights disappear around the corner, I notice our bags sitting in the empty parking spot like abandoned orphans.

“How could your father do that?” I release a juddering breath. “Does he realize he’s stranded us in downtown Detroit? At night?”

Dash turns to me, his face deathly pale in the eerie overhead light. With his hollow eyes shimmering, he reminds me of a lost child. “I don’t think he cares. As far as he’s concerned, he gave me fair warning, and I didn’t fall in line.”

“He told you he was going to have your car towed?” My voice comes out like vapor, dissipating into the shadows.

“Everything with him comes with strings. But I didn’t think he’d actually do it. So much for my graduation gift.” Leaning against the concrete wall, Dash deflates and slides all the way down until he’s sitting in the empty parking stall. After a long moment of silence, he gazes up at me, his expression anguished. “I’ll fix this, I promise.”

“How, Dash?” A wave of panic threatens to drown me. “How will you fix it?”

He lowers his eyes. “I don’t know yet.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper as guilt chases the fear in my veins. This is all my fault. If Dash hadn’t been helping me, this would never have happened.

“No.” He squeezes my hand, flashing a sad smile. “You have no reason to be sorry. This is my fault. I’m the one he’s angry with.”

“But if you weren’t here with me . . .” I swallow a sob.

I really am a magnet for disaster.

“Hey.” He pulls me down beside him until we’re hip to hip on the cool concrete. “There isn’t anywhere I’d rather be.”

I rest my head on his shoulder. “I heard you on the phone. This happened because of me. Because you promised—”

“Zoey, no.” Dash wraps me in a tight hug. “None of this is your fault. If you’d said no to my offer, I would’ve found another way to tag along on your adventure.”

“But what if your dad—”

“Does what? Has me evicted from my apartment? Even if that’s possible, I can’t do anything about it until I get back. And . . .” Dash scans the deserted parking garage. “At the moment, I’m more concerned about being swallowed by the bowels of Detroit if we don’t find a safe place to shelter for the night.”

I straighten my spine and tug my tote into my lap. “Hotels cost money, and we don’t have a single working card between us. You heard Cruella. Even if we booked and paid online, we’d still need a card to check in.”

“So we find a place that accepts cash.” Dash digs in his pocket and pulls out a stack of wrinkled bills. “I have twenty-seven dollars. What about you?”

I do a quick calculation in my head. “Maybe twenty. And a few more in loose change.”

“So, fifty?”

“About that. But there’s no way we’ll find a decent hotel for less than a hundred.”

“Sure we will.” Dash forces a smile. “You’ll see.”

“I doubt we could take an Uber across town for fifty, but if you say so.” I rest my head on his shoulder. “I wish Hicksville wasn’t so far away. The Betty should be ready by now.” Thinking of G-Lo’s car sparks a fresh idea, and I fish my phone from my pocket. “I’m gonna call my grandma. She offered to send me money the old-fashioned way. I think it’s time to take her up on that.”

Dash laughs. “Old-fashioned? Like mailing a check to the parking garage?”

“Western Union? MoneyGram?”

His blank stare speaks volumes.

“Come on.” I gape at him. “You’ve seriously never heard of MoneyGram? Where I’m from, there’s one in every Walmart and CVS—surely you’ve seen the big-ass sign in the window. And even small towns have Western Union kiosks at just about every grocery store. A big city like Detroit must have at least one location open late.”

“I’ve never been much of a Walmart or grocery store kind of guy.”

I roll my eyes. “Sounds like it’s time to check your privilege, Dash. Must be nice having rich parents.”

“Hold that thought.” Dash’s eyes light up, and he presses a quick kiss to my lips before jumping to his feet and pulling me to mine. “I need to make a quick phone call.”