“When the summer was ending and he was about to leave, he asked me to go to New York with him and I said yes. I was foolish, angry with my mother and hurt that my father had died. Sterling was my savior.
“I remember that night so clearly. It was pouring rain when he showed up at my house. My mother called the cops, and I made the decision right there and then. I was barely seventeen and being torn between my mother and this man that I was so in love with. I looked my mother in the face, told her I hated her and walked out.”
Bianca opens her purse and takes out a tissue and dabs her eyes. Everything is silent around us, as if people have stopped to hear the story of Sterling and Bianca Westbury. Honestly, I’m shocked her story hasn’t been made into a movie yet.
She clears her throat and continues. “Sterling knew I had money and was counting on us using that money. My father had left me everything when he died. Unfortunately, we had two problems: I wasn’t eighteen so I couldn’t get access to my trust and because my money was no longer in the bank he worked for, we couldn’t get it that way either. I came up with this grand plan that I would forge my mother’s name on a withdrawal slip and no one would be the wiser. Except she was because by the time we got to the bank the next morning, she had moved the trust to an undisclosed location. There was a note that the bank manager gave me letting me know I could have the funds when I turned eighteen and I presented myself, along with my mother, for withdrawal.
“Sterling was beside himself with anger and told me that I was to never see my mother again. We got in the car and drove off, stopping in Vegas for a shotgun wedding, as the minister called it, even though I wasn’t pregnant. My face was plastered all over the entertainment section of the newspaper and by my eighteenth birthday I was nothing but a memory... a has-been. I’d never have a career in Hollywood again.”
Bianca turns and looks at me with tears in her eyes.
“After a few years of marriage, I realized I didn’t love Sterling like I should and wanted out. He wouldn’t allow it. He wanted a family, but I was faithful to my contraceptive at the time. One night, he caught me off guard and it would have been inappropriate for me to ask my husband to stop what he was doing so I could make sure a baby wasn’t created. When I told Sterling that I was pregnant and wanted to go home to tell my mother, to fix things with her before it was too late, he took away my independence. I had a nurse with me at all times because he was afraid I’d miscarry like I had before. I never had any privacy to do what I wanted.
“I make no excuses for Sterling, only for myself. When Liam brought you home, I saw me in you. I saw a young girl with goals and dreams and her friends around her getting pregnant. I didn’t want that for my son. I was blinded by my own hatred for the things I’ve done in my life that I couldn’t see what was right in front of me. When you came to the house, pregnant and alone, I should’ve sought you out behind Sterling’s back, but I didn’t because I’m a coward. I’ve done you wrong, Josie, and I apologize.”
Before I can get a word out, she’s walking away from me. I think about going after her, but my feet are cemented to the ground. I wipe away my own tears and let her words sink in. I have a feeling I’m the only one who knows her life story, and I think I need to know more.
As soon as I hang up with Josie, I know I need to get away from everyone here. Being at Metro is pointless. We’re just sitting around shooting the shit about where we’ve been and wondering when we’ll be the next hour-long segment on VHI profiling our failing careers.
Listening to Josie provide the play-by-play of Noah’s game really struck a chord with me. I should be there and the fact that Josie didn’t hound me about it tells me two things: I either have the best fucking wife in the world or she’s accepted the fact that this is our life. I know it’s a combination of the two and right now I’m feeling like I don’t deserve to be her husband.
I walk the streets, not worrying whether anyone will see me. Aside from the images of Layla, nothing else has been in the press. I stop dead in my tracks when I think about those images. I’m a selfish prick for not telling Josie about them. She’s got too much on her plate right now – that’s the ridiculous excuse I’m going to use to justify my actions until I can grow a set and tell her. My hesitation is because I’m not prepared for her response. Telling her that the images don’t mean anything won’t be enough to keep her thoughts at bay. I know she trusts me, but she doesn’t trust Los Angeles. Not that I can blame her. This town is already trying to ruin our relationship.
As soon as I turn the corner, I’m facing the Ducati dealership - the same one I bought from long before I left Los Angeles. Now, my motorcycle sits in my garage, coming out only occasionally. Standing here, I realize how much I miss riding my bike.
“She’s a beauty, isn’t she?”
A salesman appears to the side of me. He’s dressed in a suit and is eyeing my distressed jeans and designer shirt with strategic holes in it.
“She is.” The thought occurs to me that I need an escape while I’m here and this just might be it. “Do you have rentals?”
The salesman puts his hands in his pockets and pretends to ponder my question. I know they do, but he’s looking at me, wondering if I can afford to rent one of their bikes. He can’t tell that my shirt cost over a hundred bucks and my jeans twice that. He looks behind me, noticing that there isn’t a car parked in front of his store and is likely wondering how I got here.
“So about that rental?”
“Yeah, I mean if we have the loaners in stock, we can.” This is his way of brushing me off. We’ll go inside and he’ll sit behind his computer and type, likely sending a message to his manager, telling him that some bum wants to rent a Ducati. The manager will come out, pretending he doesn’t have an idea of why I’m here. It’s a game and I’ve played it before.
He doesn’t say anything as we walk into the dealership. The smell of new rubber permeates through the air. These bikes have very few, if any, miles at all. It’s been so long since I’ve paid attention to what new bikes are coming out and I’m surprised by the difference in the new Scrambler. It’s all Ducati, but with a motor cross feel. The back roads of Beaumont would be like heaven on this bike.
“She’s new, just came out. If you’re into just cruising along or know of any dirt roads, that’s the bike you want. However, she’s slow with only seventy-five horsepower.”
The all black bike with yellow accents is easy on the eyes. I could definitely see teaching Noah how to ride something like this.
“What’s the price?”
“Oh, huh…” he scratches his head. “She’s just under ten thousand.”
Ten thousand is nothing, but I didn’t plan on spending money on something so frivolous. I’m already worried about making sure the money I do have continues to grow even when the music stops. I could be faced with p
aying two college bills if either boy doesn’t receive a scholarship. I’m fully expecting Noah to receive one, but he could change his mind about sports and chose a different path.
“I’ll take it,” I tell him without second-guessing myself. I know I don’t need it and I know that I’m contradicting every reasonable thought flooding my mind, but I’ll just have to add it to the list of things I need to tell Josie about. Fuck, if that list isn’t getting long.
The salesman looks at me like I have two heads. I probably do. I pull out my wallet and hand him my credit card. He takes it, looking at the name and back at me.
“I’ll just…” he points his thumb over his shoulder. He’s nervous and probably hoping that I don’t say anything about his poor sales technique to his manager.
“I’ll need a helmet too, please.”