Forcing Gravity

  Forcing Gravity

  By Monica Alexander

  ISBN: 978-1-3013-3262-5

  Copyright 2012 by Monica Alexander

  Cover image: Copyright 2012 by Monica Alexander

  This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or personals, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All Rights Reserved

  No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the author.

  The information in this book is distributed as an “as is” basis, without warranty. Although every precaution has been taken in the preparation of this work, neither the author nor the publisher shall have any liability to any person or entity with respect to any loss or damage caused or alleged to be caused directly or indirectly by the information contained in this book.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  About the Author

  Playlist

  -1-

  A dog in a stroller. A dog in a freakin’ stroller!

  Unbelievable.

  I sighed.

  Welcome to L.A.

  But I guess, for me, since I was starting college at USC in a month, it was welcome home. Kind of a scary thought.

  L.A. had really only been home to me for the first three years of my life, but I’d been going back there each summer as part of my parents’ custody arrangement, and it wasn’t one of my favorite places on the planet.

  And I think I’d actually tuned out all of the things I’d come to hate about it when I decided to go to college at USC. But when I’d gotten accepted, I’d been back home in Florida for six months, so I’d forgotten all the little things that usually got to me by the end of each summer. Add that to the fact my dad had been over-the-top excited that I’d gotten into his alma matter and had started rehashing the good old days when he’d gone to school there, and I sort of got excited along with him and decided to go.

  But when I’d made that decision, I hadn’t exactly thought about the fact that USC was in L.A. And I kind of hated L.A.

  Okay, so yeah, it was kind of a fun town, and the weather didn’t suck, and my mother and sister lived there, but L.A. in general was just such a scene. And I hated scenes. I’d lived outside of Miami for most of my life, so I was used to the flamboyant characters who frequented the streets of South Beach, but L.A. was a whole different beast. Whenever I’d visited, I always felt like I was on-stage at all times and usually felt completely out of place. It was exhausting after a while.

  And I’d tuned out that feeling of exhaustion until I landed in the land of plastic surgery and spray tans and ridiculous modes of transportations for pets, but the reminders hit me square in the face as I walked through LAX taking in my surroundings. Since it was an airport, there were plenty of normal people, but the subtle reminders of where I was were there.

  Stifling a giggle at a woman tottering toward her gate in five inch platform heels and wearing a fury vest in the middle of August, I fished in my backpack for the key my mother had sent me the day before. I finally found it buried in the bottom of the front pocket under copious amounts of gum wrappers, loose change and about nine lip glosses. Yanking the note written in her scrawling handwriting from the key chain, I unfolded it to read it once more.

  Welcome to L.A., sweetheart! I can’t wait to see you. Dinner is at eight. There are new dresses in your closet – any one of them will be just perfect. Enjoy your present. It’s parked on Level 3, Aisle B. Drive safe. See you soon! Love, Mom

  I sighed again, fearful I’d be doing it a lot more in the near future. My mother meant well, but she literally had no concept of what it meant to be a good mother. She was too selfish for that. She had every delusion that sending me the key to a brand new BMW and having her assistant park it at the airport was just as acceptable as actually coming to pick me up herself.

  Now don’t get me wrong, I was excited to have a new car, but come on – your daughter arrives in a new city, where granted, she was born and spent every summer since she was three after her dad got smart and moved her to Florida after he divorced her crazy-ass mother, but a foreign city nonetheless, and you don’t even have the decency to meet her at the airport! What is that?!

  I guess it could be worse. I could be cabbing it out to her ginormous house out in the Pacific Palisades. At least I’d be driving in style.

  Sighing one more time and vowing to try not to do it again, I made my way out into the California sunshine, dragging my one rolling suitcase behind me and trying to keep my surfboard balanced under my arm. Everything else I was planning to bring to college had been shipped to my mom’s house the week before and would be waiting for me when I arrived. But there were certain things I couldn’t live without, and my board was one of them.

  I had one month until school started, and I’d be staying with my mom until then. Since I was moving to L.A. for college, I’d been able to talk her into letting me stay home in Ft. Lauderdale for June and July, instead of coming for the whole summer. She’d agreed, but only after I convinced her that she’d see me plenty during the school year since I’d be living so close by. In reality I knew we probably wouldn’t get together that much. She was busy with her own life, but she didn’t think of that, and I used it to my advantage.

  Getting to the parking garage was slow-going, and I knew I shouldn’t have flown with my board, but I couldn’t stomach not having it with me. I surfed almost every day, so shipping it wasn’t an option. Grateful the elevator was empty when I got in, because I was seriously in danger of taking someone out if I wasn’t careful, I set my board down on its end and leaned back against the glass wall. As the elevator rose up to the third floor, I scooped my blond curls up on top of my head in a messy bun and tried to think of the positives things about living in L.A.

  I’d had to leave all my friends behind. Oh wait, that was a negative. Think positive, Logan, come on. There has to be something good about this move. Yeah, okay so being close to the Pacific Ocean was a definite plus – the surfing would be amazing. Then there was my little half-sister Skylar. She was kind of a spoiled brat at times, but we’d gotten close over the past few years as we’d bonded over how crazy our mom was most of the time. We talked on the phone regularly, and living in L.A., I knew I’d get to spend more time with her, which was cool.

  And then there was USC. I’d been hearing about the university my entire life, and I don’t think I’d ever seen my dad as proud as he was the day I showed him my acceptance letter. I’d originally planned to go to the University of Florida, but my dad really wanted me to go to USC, so I was going. And I was pretty psyched about my pending collegiate experience. I just needed to get through the next thirty day
s and I’d be golden.

  The elevator stopped on the third floor, and I lifted my board back under my arm before gripping the handle of my suitcase again. I began my slow journey, balancing my load and looking for Aisle B. When I found it, I started to walk, hoping there wouldn’t be another red BMW convertible in the aisle that I would mistakenly try to open. That could be potentially embarrassing.

  Then I looked up and smiled, and all my fear and loathing and dread simply faded away.

  I actually spotted him before I spotted the car and just about dropped my load to rush forward and hug him. There, leaning against my new car with his tanned arms folded across his broad chest, sun-bleached hair falling to his chin and blue eyes sparkling, was my best friend, Ethan Lewis, the best good thing about my move to L.A. A wide grin spread across my face as I dropped everything, no longer able to hold back, and ran to him.

  “I can’t believe you’re here!” I shrieked, jumping into his arms.

  I buried my head in his neck, inhaling his comforting scent, a mix of surf wax and fresh air and something uniquely Ethan that always reminded me of my childhood.

  “Tell me you did not just drop your board on the concrete, Logan,” he chastised, hugging me back and squeezing just tight enough that I could still breathe, but just barely. When I pulled back, he looked at me appraisingly. “You look good, babe.”

  I grinned. “You don’t look so shabby yourself,” I teased, poking him in his taught stomach.

  It had been almost a year since Ethan and I had last seen each other, and it seemed he’d filled out even more in that time. Of course I knew that since I’d paid attention whenever he uploaded new pictures to Facebook. He was usually flanked by beautiful women, but sometimes there were individual shots of him surfing or after a competition, shirtless and tan and beautiful. Ethan was a California surfer boy through and through and had competed at an amateur level for several years which attributed to his rockin’ bod.

  We’d actually been surfing together since we were seven and our moms put us, along with Ethan’s older brother Garrett, in lessons soon after the Lewis’ had moved in next door to my mom. I wasn’t nearly as good as Ethan and Garrett, especially since most of my surfing had been limited to the smaller waves off the coast of Florida for most of my life, but I could keep up with them when I had to.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked, as Ethan helped round up my discarded bags, and I picked up my surfboard, hoping I hadn’t damaged it. It was in a travel case, so it was probably fine, but it was also a going off to college gift from my dad, so I’d be pissed if anything had happened to it. He’d had it custom designed and had just given it to me a few days before I’d left. I’d only ridden it twice.

  “You told me you were driving home alone, so I figured I’d show up to welcome you. Welcome.” He grinned, quite proud of himself for his act of chivalry.

  “E, how did you get here?” I asked, as I fiddled with the convertible top, trying to figure out how it went down. My board wasn’t fitting in the car any other way.

  “Garrett dropped me off,” he said, and I tried to hide the panic I felt all of a sudden.

  “Oh,” I said, working my ass off to maintain my composure. “Is he still here?”

  Ethan shook his head. “No, he had to fly up to Vancouver for some indie film he’s shooting. It’s supposed to premiere at Sundance next year or some shit. So he conveniently dropped me off at your kick-ass new car so I could surprise you.”

  He grinned again. I loved Ethan’s smile. He was so happy all the time, and his wide, bright smile always had a way of cheering me up no matter how shitty I was feeling.

  “Well that sucks,” I said, acting how I knew Ethan would expect me to act upon hearing that I’d missed seeing one of my oldest friends. “I wish I could have said hi to him.”

  “He said to say hi to you,” Ethan said, settling into the passenger seat next to me after we’d gotten everything loaded.

  “Oh, well, hi back.”

  God, I was so nervous. I’d just seen Garrett two weeks before when he’d been in Miami. He was an actor – a pretty popular actor as of late – and he’d been there filming scenes for a new movie he was in, so we’d hung out a few times. Ethan knew that, but I didn’t think he knew the full story of what had happened the last night Garrett was in town, and I wasn’t telling him. From what I could tell, Garrett hadn’t spilled anything to him either, and I was grateful for that. There’d been an ‘incident’, and I was hoping to keep it solely between Garrett and me.

  “You’ll see him in three weeks when he’s back in town,” Ethan said. “What? Are you missing your boyfriend already?”

  “Ha, ha,” I said, elbowing him, as he fiddled with his iPod, setting it up to work with the car’s stereo system. I’d have to have him show me how to use it later. “He’s not my boyfriend, dumbass.”

  “Celerity Weekly says otherwise.”

  “Yeah, well, Celebrity Weekly needs to check their facts.”

  Garrett’s popularity as a teen heartthrob had followed him to Miami, and the paparazzi had been all over us when they saw us hanging out together. I was actually labeled as Garrett Lewis’s new girlfriend for a few weeks, which was awesome. Yeah, not really.

  I was honestly a little sick of hearing about my recent fifteen minutes as a pseudo-celebrity. Ethan knew this, so thankfully he didn’t tease me about it any further.

  Instead, he went back to his iPod, and before I knew it, Californication by Red Hot Chili Peppers was emanating from the undeniable kick-ass sound system. At least my mom had gotten me every upgrade available. The car was pretty sweet.

  I raised my eyebrow at Ethan at his choice of music, as I drove out of the garage, and he grinned again.

  “Welcome to Cali, baby,” he said, sliding on his Ray Bans and leaning back against the seat, tilting his face toward the sky to let the bright sun warm his cheeks.

  -2-

  No one was home when I walked into my mom’s house, and I stood there for a few moments in sheer disbelief. It was bad enough that she hadn’t met me at the airport, but for her to be gone when I got home was ridiculous. She knew what time my flight was arriving.

  Her housekeeper, Mrs. Grable, informed me that she was out shopping with my little sister and she’d be home in time for dinner. I guess I should have taken her note literally. I’d see her at eight.

  Needing to speak to someone who actually appreciated my existence, and who I knew would answer the phone, I called my dad.

  “Hey Daddy,” I said as cheerfully as I could. Of course my dad knew me and my moods better than anyone, so he could tell I was upset.

  “Hey Lo,” he said, and my heart squeezed at the sound of his voice. I missed him already. “How was the flight?”

  “Long and tiring, but Ethan met me at the airport, so that was a plus,” I said, trying to keep things as light as possible, as I stepped into the elevator with my suitcase.

  I usually thought having an elevator in one’s home was absurd, but in this case, with the alternative being hiking up three flights with my bags and surfboard, I opted for one of the indulgences that having a filthy rich mother afforded me.

  My dad chuckled. “How is Ethan Lewis these days?”

  He’d always liked Ethan. They’d only met once when Ethan had come to visit me in Florida, but he liked to surf and he was a USC fan, so to my dad, he was a keeper.

  “He’s Ethan,” I said. “He’s still a heartbreaker who refuses to settle down with a girl, even though they’re all drooling over him constantly, and he could have any girl he wants. Oh, and he’s taller than the last time I saw him.”

  When I reached my room, I noticed that my mom had redecorated it yet again. It seemed like every summer I came back my room was different. No matter, I was only staying there for a month, so what did I care. I noticed my college boxes had been neatly stacked in the corner of the room. My mom had offered to have Mrs. Grable unpack them and put them away, but I’d been insistent I’
d take care of it when I arrived. I wasn’t used to other people doing things for me.

  “Well that’s good. I wouldn’t want you towering over your boyfriend.”

  “Daddy!” I said, exasperated with him. He was under some delusion that Ethan and I were going to get together now that we were both living in the same city. It wasn’t going to happen. “We’re not like that, and you know it.”

  “We’ll see,” he muttered. “Just for good measure, you tell him that if he in any way damages my little girl’s heart, I’ll have his head.”

  “Okay, I’ll be sure to pass on the message,” I said, rolling my eyes.

  I walked out onto my balcony that overlooked the infinity pool and the ocean a few hundred yards away. At least I had a great view, and the waves looked spectacular. Maybe I could talk Ethan into going surfing when he got back from the gym. He’d headed there as soon as I’d dropped him off at his house.

  “So I picked up Celebrity Weekly today while I was at the grocery store,” my dad said, not so subtly changing the subject

  “Oh yeah?”

  I’d seen that week’s issue, and for the first time in a month, I hadn’t been on the cover, but I also hadn’t flipped inside to see what small blurb they might have printed about me and my so-called relationship with Garrett. It was possible I’d earned a mention yet again. Apparently ‘dating’ a full-fledged celebrity made me newsworthy.

  The paparazzi first started to think something was going on when they saw Garrett and me surfing together in Ft. Lauderdale. We hadn’t seen anyone around, so we thought we were safe, but apparently they’d tailed us and had snapped several pictures of us hanging out in the ocean.

  That first week we’d only made one of the smaller boxes on the front of the magazine, but they continued to follow us around Miami, taking pictures of what they thought were intimate moments. The next week’s issue showcased a picture of us on the cover with our heads close together at dinner, and then several additional shots inside the magazine of Garrett coming to my house to pick me up, us eating out on South Beach, and doing other mundane things like surfing and shopping and waiting in line to see a movie. But it also featured the piece de resistance – side by side pictures of Garrett and me out at a club and then me leaving his hotel the next morning in the same clothes I’d worn the night before. Oops.