Carmela + Amos

Chapter 18 - Carmela

Dear Diary,

                   It was our last night in Las Vegas, and the venue was sold out, despite it being a Sunday. The sea of people illuminated with neon glow sticks around their arms and necks while swaying and singing to the music as each band played their set. A Ferris wheel spun nearby, the lights flickering to the beat of drums and guitar riffs. Smoke from the fog machines filled the navy sky, spreading electric energy as I stood backstage bobbing to the rhythm. Rodrigo was off somewhere, probably snorting coke up his nose with Dave, but I tried not to care while taking sips of champagne with Melody. The cool sensation of the fizzy bubbles and the bass thumping in my chest made me so distracted I almost overlooked Ben at my side until Melody nudged me.

"Hey," I shouted over the music, a smile instantly blooming across my face as his green eyes admired me.

"Hey." He smiled back. "Wanna get out of here?"

"What?"

"Let me take you somewhere."

"But don't you guys perform after this band?" I crooked my brows.

"That gives us thirty minutes. So, what do you say?"

"Go for it, babe!" Melody nudged me. "I'll cover for you if your hubby comes around."

"I don't even know where he is."

"He's with Dave and Alex," Ben replied. "Which means—"

"He has a needle shoved in his vein," I finished and darted my gaze but could already feel the tears accumulating. The more Rodrigo's layers peeled back, the more horrific they became. What would I find out next?

"Fuck him!" Ben said and took my hand. "Let's escape for a bit. I'll get your mind off his shenanigans."

"Go!" Melody urged. "Go have fun." 

"Where to?"

"Everywhere." He beamed and tugged me through the backstage crowd and down a creaky flight of metal steps.

The outdoor arena made it so easy to disappear from watchful eyes. We ran between rows of tiny food shacks, dodging people as they ordered hot dogs and soda. The buttery popcorn's aroma clung to my curly hair as the wind blew through it, and every few feet, Ben would glance back at me, his hand squeezing mine, grinning. I was his, and he was mine, in our little bubble where only we mattered. After a few minutes, his pace slowed, his eyes searching the signs until we stopped in front of a cotton candy hut. He pulled me inside, slamming the door behind us, and pushed me against the nearest wall.

"We can't be in here!" I gasped.

"The machines broke down. I heard them talking about it earlier, and they didn't even bother to lock up before leaving. Tisk tisk." He smirked.

"But what if they come back?"

"Carmela, it's ok. As long as you're with me, everything will be alright."

"But, Ben—" He silenced me by crashing his mouth onto mine.

One simple move, one sweet kiss, and my anxiety faded along with the distant thump of the concert.

The night I found Rodrigo doing heroin, Ben took me to his room, and we held each other like spoons on the bed—me as the little spoon curled in the protection of his arms. Nothing and no one could ever hurt me when Ben was around.

With him, I was safe.

With him, I felt like me again—happy and confident instead of lost and scared.

As we stood in the cotton candy hut, I wanted to feel so much more, so I trailed my fingers down his abdomen to his zipper. Ben chuckled, pulling away from our kiss, but he gleamed down at me.