All That Glitters

All That Glitters

Ashley Quinn

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Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2012 Ashley Quinn

License Notes: 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 ebook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

ISBN: 0615696244

ISBN-13: 978-0615696249

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For my family, friends and the LGBTQ community.

Also for my amazingly supportive partner - You have the patience and kindness of a saint and the beauty of a Tahitian sunrise.

PROLOGUE

Michelle Murphy is the kind of girl that you never forget. I suppose you could say that I always loved her, before I even understood what it was to be completely in love with another person. I was intrigued from the first day I met her, at thirteen years old, and was never able to shake her since. Love is many things but it is hardly easy. That day marked the beginning of a journey for both of us, although we were far too young and innocent to realize it. When we were allowed to be the carefree children that we were, long before we understood the magnitude of our inexplicable chemistry, we were simply two young girls. We were enamored with one another from the start and always excited to spend hours each day playing on the beach or staying up all night watching scary movies in the basement.

The Saturday that I met her was an exceptionally hot July day. I still wasn't used to the omnipresent Florida sunlight that seeped into every corner and crevice. It beat down in unrelenting heat waves on my parents and the stocky movers, who ducked from patches of shade as they brought boxes into our new house.

Contrary to its sultry name, the tiny town of Coastal Breeze, Florida, was not anything to write home about. I still considered my home as what I'd heard many around me refer to as The Greatest City on Earth: New York City, New York.

A year earlier, my father had lost his position as a senior attorney at one of the city's top litigation firms when they were bought out by the other top litigation firm. My family's lifestyle had, until that point, been very comfortable. My mother stayed home with my brother and I attended a private Catholic school down the block. My younger brother Doug was born with a severe form of autism, but my father’s job allowed us some of the best healthcare in the city. Doug had the luxury of three different nurses that specialized in autism who rotated home visits with us.

Mom and Dad decided to start over when it became clear that the cost of living in New York City was too straining on our newly budgeted family. Between my school's tuition, our Manhattan townhouse and a whirlwind of private nurses, a housekeeper and a chauffeur, my parents decided to simplify. We left the energetic, dynamic city that I’d loved and the only home I’d ever known for a sleepy blue-collar town on the East Coast of Florida during the summer before my eighth grade year. I wasn't too happy about the move.

Coastal Breeze is not a town of luxurious Mediterranean mansions on the water, boutique hotels or showy yachts. Coastal Breeze is a small town of just over 20,000 hard-working people that take pride in their ranch-style homes and pick-up trucks. They enjoy tradition, football and family and the majority of people are happy in the simplicity of their day-to-day lives. Economic opportunities tend to be scarce and many that are raised here will also raise their own children here. Some might go away or disappear for a while, but they always come back. Known even locally as nothing more than a small surf town, Coastal Breeze's single redeeming quality in my thirteen-year old eyes was its lengthy beach dotted with hole-in-the-wall bars, cheap kitschy shops and sand-covered seafood shacks.

I sat at the bare breakfast bar in our new kitchen and twirled back and forth on one of the retro leather bar stools that my father had hoisted in from the big yellow truck in our driveway. It was our first full day as official Floridians, but all I could think about was how incredible the frosty air conditioning felt against the back of my neck.

Dougie, this sucks, I stated matter-of-factly to my younger brother. I mean, I know New York City can be sweltering in the summer, but it's nothing like this inescapable humidity.

He sat cross-legged on the linoleum floor below me and rested his chin in his palm. His worn teddy bear sat loyally in his lap.

This whole move thing better not hurt his progress I thought as I chewed my bottom lip in thought. As his one and only big sister, I don't think it's fair to move him to another state when he was doing so well with the nurses back home. He's only seven. What if the kids around here don't understand? What if he doesn't make any friends? My thoughts escalated at a mile a minute. Dad had said he was accepting an attorney position in nearby Daytona, but he didn't have to verbalize what I sensed: It was significantly less than what he had earned in Manhattan. The days of private nurses for Doug were gone.

My mother strode into the kitchen, a smile playing at her lips, and leaned over the breakfast bar. Alexis, honey, you look so serious. Why don’t you help your father unload some of your bedroom items? Perhaps you can get started with decorating and making it home for you.

I rolled my eyes and slumped forward. I let my long dark brown hair, curled at the tips from sleeping most of the way in the car, act as a curtain to shield my face. It doesn’t feel like home, Mom.

My family is going to be considered so strange and foreign in a place like this, between Mom's unmistakable accent and Doug I thought sadly. I was well on my way to a full-on pity party as my mother began speaking softly to Doug. Her slow and lilting tone quickly gave others notice that she was not born in America even though she hadn't actually lived in France since she was my own age.

At least no one can say my parents aren't exotic I thought ruefully. My dad is first generation Romanian-American and Jewish and Mom is still a French national...Oh, and Catholic. I still don't know how exactly that worked out, but I'm glad it did. I smiled to myself, thinking of the large portraits my mother had displayed proudly in the front hallway of our old home. No denying I was a funny-looking newborn.

I glanced in the tall mirror that the movers had temporarily placed against the other side of the breakfast bar. It was wrapped in layers of thick tape, but I could still make out pieces of my reflection. The thick, dark hair and rich, chocolate-colored brown eyes that my father proclaimed proudly I had inherited from him. The long eyelashes, deep dimples and lanky dancer's body that my mother grinned and said in a hushed whisper were from her family. I searched my distorted reflection wistfully in the polished glass.

I don't see any of that I thought grumpily as I folded my arms over my chest. They're just being nice. Aren't most parents supposed to think their children are the cutest and most beautiful?

My mother deftly picked my brother up and balanced him on her hip. She leaned in and kissed my forehead gently before ruffling my long hair reassuringly.

Alexis, I know that this is going to take some getting used to. It’s going to be very different for all of us, but it’s a fresh start. It is up to us to make the best of it. I know that this isn’t New York City, but we will always be able to go and visit. Grandma still lives in New York, right?

My mother chanced a hopeful smile. I got the feeling she was just as much trying to convince herself as she was me.

Besides, your father has a job at that new firm in Daytona, I will find a part-time position and we have our health and a roof over our heads. It is up to us to find the happiness in that. Just find a way to look at this in a positive light, Alexis.

I nodded and considered my mother’s words. It's not like I'll never go back to New York, we still have relatives there after all. And, if I really, really hate Florida, I could probably cry, scream, rebel and beg until my parents let me live with one of them I reasoned with my barely teenaged self. I knew New York so well, I was sure the city beat in rhythm with my heart. So far, Coastal Breeze is a big, fat bust but what can I do?

I guess it’ll be nice to have a bigger bedroom, I mumbled begrudgingly. The irony in the fact that we actually had a slightly larger home in Florida didn't escape my observant adolescent mind but I chose to keep that to myself.

My mother smiled, satisfied. See? Start thinking like that and you will see that this won’t be so bad. Besides, I thought we might get a dog. Your father and I spoke about it and we have the type of home for an animal now. Doug’s nurses thought having a pet around for him might help with his therapy.

My face lit up. A dog? I cried happily. Really, Mom? A dog? I can't wait! It'll be so much fun, I can take him for walks and teach him to do tricks...

My mother laughed at my excitement. And maybe now I can finally start taking you grocery shopping with me again.

She had stopped taking me to the store with her because I always had a tendency to wander down the pet aisle and think of new and innovative ways to hone my Why Alexis Should Get a Dog argument. My mother would shake her head firmly, mutter something about definitely being the daughter of an attorney and just as swiftly break the news that we didn’t have the time, house or environment for a pet.

Yes! You can! Because we'll need to get food, lots of food for a growing puppy, and toys! And a leash, a collar, maybe a sweater for when it gets cold...Oh, well, I guess it doesn't really get cold here, but maybe a funny t-shirt! I was so excited that I practically burst out of my seat and ignored the squeak of my fuzzy boots across the floor.

Where are you going? my mother called as Doug swiveled toward me. An interested smile played at his lips and I knew he would love having a dog just as much as I would.

Have to talk to Dad! I called back impatiently. I want to go over dog breeds and which ones I think would be best and why!

I heard my mother chuckling to herself as I raced out the front door. I careened around a corner and nearly ran straight into my father, whose arms were loaded with cardboard boxes.

Dad, Dad! I called as I peered around the boxes that blocked his face. Can we talk about dogs, Dad?

My father sighed from behind his boxes, but I could just catch the edge of his lips turning up in a smile as he side-stepped my thin frame.

Of course, Alexis, but it will have to wait. Today is a busy day, sweetheart. I’ll tell you what; you unpack your new bedroom and get it all set up. When you’re done with that, we can talk possible canine companions. Kapiche? my father asked patiently. Sweat rolled down his temples and dripped onto his starched white dress shirt, its sleeves already rolled up to his elbows.

Sighing in frustration, I trudged over to the truck. My dad always spoke to me like I was one of the adults, but I took my role as an equal member of the family very seriously. A small pile of cardboard boxes had been stacked near the bottom of the driveway. Each box had my name written across its side in glittery yellow Sharpie, my practiced cursive flourish claiming the pile as my own.

How can Dad possibly want me to focus on moving when Mom spilled the beans that we might finally be getting a dog? I thought as I felt a trickle of sweat slide down the back of my neck. Either way, he's not going to budge until I hold up my end of the deal and these boxes go inside.

I surveyed the stacks and tapped my foot impatiently. With my hands on my hips, I stepped around a wardrobe box and sighed. I wonder which of these is the lightest?

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Michelle Murphy was free…until dinner time, at least. She threw a glance over her shoulder toward her house as she rolled uncertainly down the driveway on her skateboard. The taped-together contraption that she had discovered one afternoon on the beach bent slightly beneath the weight of her left foot.

I wonder if Mom will remember to make anything or if I should go back and boil some pasta she thought, before dismissing the idea. Oh well. She wants to be alone right now. We'll figure it out. We always do.

Michelle's mother, Angela, wasn't a bad mother and the outgoing thirteen-year old would stress that defensively to anyone that tried to pry. Sure, things are hard for us, but they're hard for a lot of people. My mom is the only family that I have, after all. It's just her and I against the world, making the best of things even when the shittiest hands are dealt to us she thought, smiling because she remembered to keep the bad words in her head this time. Her guidance counselor had suggested a Swear Jar to Angela last year and Michelle hadn't heard the end of it from her mother since.

Angela had given birth to Michelle when she was only seventeen years old. Her dad, whoever he was, had cut and run after Angela confessed that she was pregnant. Michelle had never met the man and was pretty sure she didn’t want to.

What could I possibly have to say to him now? Hey, thanks for leaving my high school mother pregnant and alone? Thanks for never sending me a birthday card or Christmas present? Thanks a bunch for never being curious about the child you helped to create and thanks for never wanting to visit? Michelle skated faster and followed the crumbling sidewalk around a cul-de-sac. Her normally bright blue eyes narrowed as she tried to picture her father in her mind's eye. No, I got it. Thanks for leaving us no choice but to stay with Grandma and Grandpa on the other side of Coastal Breeze until Mom finally saved up enough money to move out. They just loved having a teenager and a baby in the house she thought sarcastically.

Although her grandparents still lived in Coastal Breeze, they didn’t see each other much. Angela always complained about their stiff religious beliefs. Michelle knew, even as an adolescent, that their first choice for their granddaughter had been adoption.

Angela wasn't even close to a suitable marrying age, after all, and she had been popular. She had grown from a child pageant champion to captain of the high school dance team. Every once in a while, Michelle would pull down her mother's old yearbooks, use her palm to wipe the layers of dust from their thick covers and page through them slowly. She would soak up every grainy detail of her beautiful mother in awe while thinking how different she looked today from the smiling, youthful face reflected on nearly every page of the high school time capsules. Michelle could tell that she had been popular not just with her peers, but with the Coastal Breeze boys too.

Actually she thought she's still really popular with the boys. So how come none of them are nice to her? She bent her knees, hunched slightly and gained some speed as she flew down the sidewalk.

Today had been another bad day for her mom with the boys. She had come home from work two whole hours early and dramatically dropped her faux designer purse in their tiny foyer. Michelle hadn't even had a chance to ask what was wrong before Angela fell onto the couch in a mess of tears. Michelle remained quiet and listened patiently as she explained that her newest boyfriend, a mechanic that Michelle had only met once, had left her for his ex-girlfriend.

You know, Michelle, Angela sniffed. I thought long and hard about our time together on my way home. The more I thought, the more I realized that he probably never even really stopped seeing his supposed ex-girlfriend.

Michelle sat cross-legged and searched her brain for something to make her mother feel even a little bit better. Want me to brush your hair?

Angela gave a slight nod and lapsed into silence as she glared at the ceiling. Michelle wanted to lick her thumb and swipe it beneath her mother's eyes to clean away the tear-dried mascara, just like Angela used to do when she would get dirt on her face. Instead, she picked up the hairbrush and softly began running it through her mother's dishwater-colored hair.

After a few moments, Angela spoke. Honey, will you be a sweetheart and get me a drink from the kitchen?

Michelle was eager to do something of assistance. She gently placed the brush on a side table, padded into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. Do you want a Coke? Or some milk?

Angela laughed despite herself. No, baby, I need something a little stronger than that. Do you see the cabinet next to the stove with the glass bottles in it? There’s one that has brown liquid and a picture of a pirate. Do you see that one?

Michelle wrinkled her nose at the many half-filled bottles that littered the cabinet. She finally picked out the right one, unscrewed the sticky cap and nearly gagged at the smell that came from the large bottle. Okay, I found it, Michelle called back as she stood and pinched her nose closed.

Good, Angela sniffled. Now pour a glass about one-third of the way full with the brown pirate stuff and then open a can of Coke and fill the rest of the glass with that.

Michelle obediently went about fixing her mother’s drink and noticed that the can of Coke was still about half-full. I can’t pour the rest of the soda in here, Mom. Should I throw it away? she asked as she trotted to her mother’s flattened form on the couch and handed her the glass.

Angela took a long swallow and smiled weakly at Michelle. Why don’t you just finish it up, sweetheart? Maybe play outside for a while, too. I’m not feeling very well and I think I’d like to just lay in the quiet for an hour or so, okay?

Michelle’s eyes widened. "But you never let me have soda before dinner!"

Angela sighed. Just this once, all right?

It's probably been almost an hour, right? Michelle wondered to herself. She jumped backwards and then forward again on her skateboard without losing her balance. One of these days, I'll be able to do really cool skateboarding tricks.

She swallowed the rest of the can in one long gulp and relished the sugary bubbles that filled her mouth. Crunching the empty red can in her left hand, she tossed it into a passing yard without bothering to check if anyone was home.

Michelle picked up more speed as she careened down a hill and grinned. The hot wind pushed her long blonde hair over her shoulders and off of her neck. The speed quickly propelled Michelle up a larger hill and she imagined herself skateboarding further than she ever had before.

Maybe I'll go all the way across town or even across the state she thought excitedly. Maybe I'll skateboard all the way to Hollywood and start my life totally over. I'll be a famous singer like Mom says I can with a voice like mine. We'll be rich and live in a huge house and every handsome, eligible and nice guy in California will be waiting on our driveway with flowers just hoping for a chance with my mom.

Michelle was so wrapped up in her fantasy that she didn’t realize how fast she was skateboarding as she zoomed down the hill. Her balance on the used board was shaky at best, but her eyes widened as she realized that was the least of her worries. The sidewalk at the end of the hill was blocked off by a tall stack of cardboard boxes with a name written on the sides in bright yellow glitter. A young girl was standing opposite the boxes with her arms crossed and a scowl on her face that told Michelle there were a thousand other places she'd rather be.

Watch out! she shouted as her legs began to shake uncontrollably. The skateboard rocketed down the end of the hill and Michelle let out a scream as she braced herself for the impact.

Alexis whirled around in surprise. The last thing Michelle remembered noticing before she slammed into a wall of cardboard was how pretty the mysterious newcomer was.

This is going to be one unforgettable way to make a first impression was the last thought that fired in her head.

CHAPTER 1

After Michelle came to, she blinked a few times beneath the hot sun. It burned directly into her eyes and made her feel disoriented and light-headed. She rolled over onto the asphalt driveway and felt a pair of gentle hands softly guide her into a seated position. The pretty girl looked concerned as she knelt in front of her.

Are you okay? she asked. Michelle could feel her wide, incredulous eyes sweeping her up and down, but decided she was far past being self-conscious at this point. She gingerly rubbed her knee.

Wha...Why is my leg wet and sticky? she mumbled.

Don’t touch it, the girl advised her. She gently moved her hand away from her knee. It’s all cut up. It could get infected.

I can’t believe I crashed into all of your boxes, Michelle commented miserably. How’s my board?

She followed the girl's dark eyes to the skateboard, bent nearly in half; a single wheel still spinning madly in the middle of the street.

The girl tried to smile. It might need some work.

Michelle slowly rose to her feet and leaned heavily on the mysterious stranger as she hopped on one foot. Theresa rushed out of the house.

My goodness, what happened? She cried. Are you both all right?

She… The girl started to explain, but faltered. Michelle caught her embarrassed sidelong glance and the slight blush that colored her cheeks. Sorry, I don't know your, uh...your...

Michelle, she supplied brightly.

"Michelle, the girl started again quickly. lost control of her skateboard and crashed into some of the boxes. I think her knee is messed up."

Theresa put her arm around Michelle’s shoulders and began leading her into the house. The girl followed so closely that Michelle could practically feel her right behind them.

Oh my goodness, that’s terrible. I hope it is not too painful for you, honey. We will take you inside and get it cleaned up, all right? Theresa went on.

Michelle sat in a kitchen stool and rested her leg across a chair as Theresa went to work on bandaging her knee. She could feel the girl's eyes on her from across the kitchen, where she stood silently with her head cocked to one side.

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Alexis observed Michelle as her mother gently patted her finished bandage. She's pretty, even though she practically killed me she thought wryly. But there's something more than that. It's kind of cool that she can sit here and laugh with my mom after doing a serious wipe-out just a few minutes ago.

Right, Alexis? Theresa spoke loudly as she and Michelle laughed and then looked at her expectantly.

Oh, crap. Alexis straightened and nodded. Right, yeah, she quickly agreed.

Michelle burst into laughter and covered her mouth with her hand. "Alexis, do you know what your mom just said?"

She looked between her mother and Michelle, who both seemed to be having a giggle at her expense. What? she asked.

"I said that you haven't even spent a full day in Florida yet and you already made up your mind that you hated it, Theresa replied with a smile in her eyes. Michelle, do you live around here?"

Michelle slowly flexed her leg and tested the tight bandage before nodding shyly. Up the street. With my mom.

That's great, honey. You feel free to come by anytime, okay? It would be terrific for Alexis to meet some new faces before school starts, Theresa smiled and gestured to her.

Alexis rolled her eyes as her mother turned back. Michelle caught it and giggled at her in response.

I should get going, she said and stood gingerly. I...My mom wanted me to help with dinner.

Theresa nodded. Alexis, be a dear and walk your new friend to the door. We will see you soon then, okay?

Michelle nodded and followed Alexis to the front door. Your mom is really nice.

Alexis smiled. Yeah, she's pretty cool. Most of the time.

As Michelle made her way down the driveway, Alexis found herself staring again. I wonder if all the girls in Florida look like her. All-American, girl next door, all long blonde hair, blue eyes and golden, sun-kissed skin. Geez, why am I still staring?

She shook her head before jogging down the driveway after her. I just really miss my friends back home. Hey Michelle!

Michelle turned slightly and grinned. What's up, stranger?

Do you want to hang out later this week? I might get a new dog, she offered. Her insides felt as though they lit up like one of the big neon signs in Times Square when Michelle's grin widened.

I love dogs! she replied excitedly. I live six houses down, across from the cul-de-sac. Come by sometime, okay?

Alexis stood still for a moment before turning back to the overturned boxes that littered the lawn. She was gone as quickly as she had crashed into her life but Coastal Breeze suddenly felt a little less hopeless after all.

CHAPTER 2

Michelle blinked and sat up from where she had slouched into a comfortable sleeping position in her first-class seat. The flight from Sydney back to Los Angeles was notoriously long and her muscles ached from hours without movement.

Her manager, a top-tier agent with William Morris, sat in the aisle seat next to her. Michelle stretched as much as the cramped space would allow and ignored the woolen blanket she had been dozing with as it fell to her lap. She adjusted her oversized black sunglasses, shielding her face from other curious on-lookers in the aircraft, and caught the attention of her travel companion.

Fantastic, you're awake, Austin Cole leaned over and spoke softly. Michelle couldn't help but note that his black suit still looked as crisp and pressed as when they had boarded the flight hours before. He pointed to the white-gold Rolex dangling confidently from his thin wrist. We're about one hour from landing. You know there will be paparazzi all over LAX so you may want to freshen up a bit. They're all anxious to get some new photos of you after having been on your first big tour this past year.

Michelle bit her lip to keep from groaning and suppressed the urge to pull the blanket over her face. I guess Austin is right. I've been everywhere in Europe, Asia and the South Pacific for the last year. It's been non-stop work. I can't believe it's all over for now. The last year has been a blur she thought.

She had stopped trying to distinguish between the various interviews and events and, instead, did as she was told. As long as a smile was pasted to her face and she had canned answers ready to all of the questions about her break-out hit pop album, she managed to get through each day much like the one before it.

Why can't we ever sneak out the back entrance? Why do we always have to sprint through the crowds of photographers? she asked grumpily as she crossed her arms.

Austin smiled and rolled his hazel eyes knowingly. I know it sucks, homegirl, he replied. But ultimately it's a good thing. When they stop caring about getting your picture is when we have other, bigger problems.

Michelle tried, but failed, to suppress her smile. I guess you have a point.

Austin