Chasing Stardust: A Novel By Erica Lucke Dean - 33

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.

“ Dash . . . ” I groan, my stomach twisting with dread. “We both know your dad isn’t gonna wait forever, so please get it over with and tell me when you have to go back.”

“See, that’s the thing.” His crooked grin turns into a full-blown smile. “I don’t.”

“I . . . I don’t understand.”

“Because you aren’t the only badass in your family.” Dash laughs. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you’re related to the Lola Stone. Her piece on the underground punk scene is literally the reason I started listening.”

“That’s great, but what does G-Lo have to do with a promise you made your dad?”

“Do you remember telling me she was running a background check on me?”

A light goes off in my head, and G-Lo’s cryptic comment about Dash’s parents comes back to me. “Yeah.”

“As it turns out, she knows my mom from way back in their early journalist days. And apparently, your grandma has some juicy dirt on my parents. She wouldn’t tell me what, but whatever it is, Dad doesn’t want it out there.”

My jaw drops. “G-Lo blackmailed your dad?”

“Yup. Like I said, your grandma’s badass.”

“She really is.” I laugh. “She must have something really good if she got your dad to let you out of that promise.”

“Without a doubt.” He shudders. “Remind me to never end up on her bad side.”

“You and me both.” I gaze out at the blue Pacific, remembering all the moments that brought me here. “You know, I’ve learned a lot about G-Lo on this trip. And a lot about my mom. But mostly, I’ve learned a lot about myself.”

He pulls our joined hands into his lap. “Oh yeah? What have you learned?”

“I used to think Mom and I were just alike. Before she got sick, I was fully prepared to go to college, get married, find a nice stable job and a minivan.”

“Really?” Dash cringes. “A minivan?”

I smack his shoulder and giggle. “Shut up and let me finish. I might look like my mom, and maybe I am like her in some ways, but there’s way more of my grandma in me than I ever realized.”

Dash strokes his thumb across my knuckles. “Are you saying I need to stay on your good side, too?”

“I’m saying, I jumped off a freaking train trestle! Me! And I outran a New York City cop, and snuck backstage at a concert, and waded through Buckingham Fountain.”

Dash’s eyebrows jump up at the last one. “Seriously?”

As I nod, I’m struck with a sudden WWGLD moment. What would G-Lo do? She certainly wouldn’t wait for a guy to make the first move. I inch closer to him on the bench. “I’ve done a lot of thrill seeking on this trip. I even risked my life a time or two. But the biggest thrill I’ve had since leaving home was meeting you.”

“Zoey, I—”

Without giving him a chance to finish his thought, or me a chance to chicken out, I grab both sides of his face and kiss him. The moment our lips touch, electricity crackles between us, and I know. This is where I’m meant to be. As soon as the shock wears off, Dash pulls my hands from his face, slides them around his neck, and we melt into each other.

God, I’ve missed this.

A chorus of loud whoops interrupt our moment, and we both turn toward the source.

“You go, girl!” Daisy screams from the park entrance.

“Friends of yours?” Dash rests his forehead on my shoulder as he catches his breath.

“Just some girls I know.” I wave at Daisy and the other Golden Girls as they wander down the pier toward their next adventure. Then I turn my focus back to Dash and his swollen lips. “So you know, I’d like to do a lot more of this as soon as I get some sleep.”

Dash’s slow smile sets my skin on fire. “Sleep is highly overrated.”

With my back pressed to Dash’s chest and his arms wrapped tightly around my middle, we sit on the beach waiting for the sun to sink into the ocean.

He rests his chin on the top of my head. “A deep cerulean blue.”

“The sky? The water? My eyes?”

“And sunny yellow.” His lips brush my ear, sending shivers through me. “With swirls of emerald green.”

I crane my neck, trying to catch a glimpse of his face over my shoulder. “What are you talking about?”

“The answer to your crayon question.” Dash leans around and peers into my eyes. “Blue like the sky on a clear summer day, because it represents peace and tranquility in my life. Yellow because it’s happy and fun, like sunny days and baby ducks.”

“Baby ducks, huh?”

He chuckles.

“And green?”

“Green signifies life, and growth, and vitality. And hope for the future.”

“I like that.”

He rests his cheek against mine, letting out a satisfied hum. “So you really waded into Buckingham Fountain to get a picture?”

“Sure did.”

“You do realize there’s a security system around the perimeter?”

“It’s not like I robbed a bank.”

He hugs me tighter. “So badass.”

“I know.” I beam. “I’m so much more like G-Lo than I ever imagined. And you know what? I’m totally fine with that. My grandma is a national treasure. But if I start dyeing my hair red and smoking Camels, you have my permission to kill me and bury me in the desert.”

“Deal.” Dash rests his chin on top of my head again and blows out a breath. “So I was thinking.”

“Dirty thoughts?”

He snorts a laugh. “Maybe later.”

“Too bad.”

“Pay attention.” He nips my ear. “Santa Monica wasn’t the last stop on the Ziggy Stardust tour.”

“It wasn’t?”

“Nope. That was only the halfway point. From here they went to San Francisco, Seattle, Portland, Phoenix . . .” He kisses a path down my neck as he rattles off the rest of the cities. “And once they were done in North America, they went back to the UK, ultimately finishing the tour in London in ’73.”

I spin around in his arms. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“If you think I’m saying we should see this thing all the way through, then yeah. I think we should finish what we started.”

“I don’t have anything else planned for the rest of my life.”

Dash pushes my hair away from my face and kisses me. “You do now.”