Life is never fair; each thread of its tapestry contains difficult decisions, regretful relationships, and hope-stealing twists. Each thread hangs over us like a sword of Damocles and poses a risk to the frail fabric of existence. Nevertheless, we make an effort to make sense of the chaotic web of fate and create purpose. Currently, I find myself on the verge of making another such decision that would drag me deeper into the darkness, where secrets coil like snakes and power is sought after like a forbidden fruit.
The weight of my decision settles upon me, a heavy crown atop a wary brow. I don't pity myself, nor my twin siblings Jess and Ian, for the burdens we bear. "I must make the best of whatever time I have left," I murmur, a mantra to resolve firm against the uncertainty that shadows my every step.
As the sun's golden rays cast a warm embrace over Chicago, I reread my email to be sure I hadn't missed any details of the anonymous tip of Amber Keith's arrival.
After a turbulent divorce from mysterious Japanese politician Uchida Light, country music sensation Amber Keith is getting ready for her comeback concert. The truth of their formerly private existence turned public spectacle would be an exclusive scoop for my column, and the world cries for it.
Today, I must become a chameleon, fading into the foggy forest of admirers. "A fan, not a paparazzi," I whisper, the words as if it were a protective ward against my own eagerness. I hunt through the wardrobe and toss out a few selections; a calculated blend of black lace, distressed jeans, a loose white blouse, and a pair of distressed black pants. I've pulled back my raven hair in a ponytail as a wink to secrecy. Even a messy bun is too professional for a disguise.
The camouflage is complete.
My shaky fingers dance over my cheeks as I add some colors back to them while practicing my script that promises Amber an exclusive column that will spill the tea of the year, if not the decade. I move my color placement to the arch of my lips and sheer nude lipstick.
"I need mere moments with Amber, and I shall conjure one of the most tantalizing gossips of the age," I refresh my mind.
I sneak into Jess's room while holding a half-eaten hamburger that I grabbed from the fridge. My concern grows as her bed sits empty and wrinkle-less, knowing all too well her tendency for late-night studies.
"Munching on another expired delicacy, I see," Jess laughs from the corner of her room, her voice rusty but tinged with a playful reprimand.
"Up early, aren't you?" I respond, curling my lips in a smug grin.
"Don't tell me you want to drop us off on our first day at high school!", the fear in her voice gave me the impression to be a little assertive.
"Touché."
Jess's teasing voice pierces the air, the words sharp as a dagger coated in honey. She always materialized a vision of sweetness harboring a wicked tongue.
Being on my feet never proved to be this tiring before. Maybe because I just finished my 3rd chemo session and luckily, the physical attributes of the treatment are still not visible. I take a quick visit to the kitchen to grab some coffee when I find Ian in his signature disheveled hair and baggy pants.
"Same old milk and cereal," he sighs, the monotony of breakfast a testament to his minimalistic routine-driven existence.
"At least it'll make you taller," Jess chimes in, her fingers ruffling Ian's hair.
I prod their daily ritual—a dance of subdued disorder and cozy affection. They might be twins, but Jess and Ian are the embodiment of contrast. They are yin and yang, dichotomous souls tangled in shared bloodlines — Jess, the studious bookworm, and Ian, the spirited troublemaker. Yet, a shared chestnut hair is a fragile thread that binds us, a semblance of the Forbs family.
Minutes later, I steer the car toward their school, shushing Jess's queries about my secretive errand and waving off Ian's mock protests about my overprotectiveness.
The coffee shop awaits just a few blocks from the school, its familiarity soothing as Sam with two Americanos and his ever so fixated doubts wait for me, blended in his signature spot on the roadside.
Sam is a unification of seriousness and quiet wit. He gets to fine-tunning the camera settings and recorders within my bag.
"A high-profile celebrity with an added dose of controversy—meeting Amber Keith won't be a walk in the park," he mutters, his gaze flickering to the possible danger beyond our devices, Kate.
Sam always puts on a serious face during work. Even if he didn't, he wouldn't still look funny. In my humble opinion, a 6-foot-tall, averagely fit man with wide shoulders, tidy brown hair, and black round glasses- isn't really a funny-looking type.
He is the HOT-NERD of the office.
He always gets offered tea or coffee and other amenities by hot girls. And he is "polite" enough to receive and run from further mishaps. I offer a confident retort, my resolve unwavering as I drive. Our next stop is the airport.
Time flows faster as Sam and I keep our positions in utter silence. Yeah, we do make a good team. He is calm. I am dramatic. He is easy to give up on things. I am stubborn as a fish. One hour stretches to two, blending into each other, a symphony of patience and tension, our unspoken synchrony whispers of the years we've weathered together.
"Something's wrong," Sam voices the doubt that tugs at my own thoughts. An hour has already passed since Amber Keith's anticipated arrival from Phoenix, a delay that sparks unease. "Are you sure it's gate 5? Others are gathered near Gate 2."
Celebrities have a tendency to change their thoughts at any time. However, I was confident that Amber would deceive the reporters with some kind of distraction and leave through the back gate. This may also explain the neatly parked black vans.
Before I can share my well-thought-out answer, Sam's phone intrudes the ringing of an urgency.
"It's Katie," Sam prompts, anxiety tightening its grip on our already not-so-planned process.
The panic in our silence is louder than ever.
"Well..." I gesture for him to pick up the call quickly. We don't want Katie to suspect anything is out of the ordinary.
Sam puts the call on speaker- "Where on earth are you guys? I called Rose four times and she isn't picking up."
"Ah..well… we…"
"Anyway, I don't care what you're doing- just get to the airport ASAP. Amber Keith announced she landed and is holding a press conference in 15 minutes."
"Alright. On my way," Sam quickly got his things ready.
"I'm staying," I insist knowing he would try to persuade me.
Sam's unwavering gaze tried to make me think twice. But here it was, a voice in me so determined to stay.
"Alright. I have no time to convince you otherwise. I will text you if something happens," Sam shortly joined the others waiting at the press conference.
Time passes, reality distorts, the boundaries between patience and doubt blurring, until a convoy emerges from the shadows—a black SUV and a wave of heightened secrecy.
"Press conference, my foot," I smirk as Amber Keith's orchestrated charade unravels before my eyes.
Without a preamble, I tail the well-arranged convoy, guided by my instincts and desperation. The road stretches before me as I start weaving a story for approaching the huge star.
Illinois slips away, its grasp weakening as the horizon widens. I barrel through the green road without another soul, oblivious to the miles unraveling beneath me.
"Am I going too far?" I question, my voice an echo in the wind only witnessed by the lightly volumed radio.
Twilight's embrace descends, the sky morphing into an inky canvas of cloudless darkness. The wind is restless and relentless, carrying a faint smell of fresh grass and wet barks.
"Even the weather is not cooperating," I muse, a bittersweet sentiment echoing in the solitude as the thunders roared at the very direction I was heading.
Before long, I navigate the bustling streets of Minneapolis. I had a hunch this might be where we'd finally halt, but Amber's entourage pressed on, leaving the city's lights behind. We venture further west, a journey that leads us into the embrace of towering forests. The roads wind through nature's sanctuary, flanked by majestic trees that whisper secrets to the night breeze.
As we venture deeper into the enigmatic night, hushed tranquility blankets the surroundings, occasionally interrupted by the symphony of wind caressing leaves and branches. The roads themselves seem to hold their breath, carrying us through this mystic realm. The digital numbers on the clock inch closer to midnight, and an unexplainable tension coils around me, like a silken thread of anticipation. My pulse quickens, and a flurry of emotions dances within me. My stomach is aflutter, a chorus of restless butterflies fluttering against the confines of my being. Their wings beat in rhythmic chaos, an unspoken yearning for something unknown, a promise of secrets waiting to unfurl in the heart of the night.
"Crimson moon otherwise known as a blood moon in full bloom tonight," a voice from the radio brings me back to reality.
It was supposed to be a tricky gig but what's with this sudden overnight trip? My eyes wandered off to the sky a few times until my sight locked on the unusually red moon ruling the empty sky. A shiver courses through me, tendrils of unease intertwining with curiosity. Where will this journey lead me to?
"Sometimes, I can't believe the crazy things I get myself into. I mean, seriously, who on earth thought it was a brilliant idea, to tail an SUV leaving the airport? And for six excruciating hours!" I scold myself, my frustration bubbling over my head.
Six hours of driving straight had brought me to this point, and there was no turning back now. No telling if Amber Keith had any pit stops planned on her way to the heavens or wherever she was headed.
Breaking through my whirlwind of self-criticism, my phone suddenly sprang to life with Sam's call.
"Hello?" I answer eagerly, attempting to sit up straighter in my seat.
"Hey, where are you?" Sam's voice is urgent, a reflection of his concern.
"What's wrong? Did something happen?" I inquired, my heart racing at the hint of urgency in his tone.
"Well, it turns out the press conference was a total sham. Amber didn't show up, and they just canceled it," Sam filled me in.
I couldn't help but smirk to myself. My intuition had been right, but I didn't want to come off as too self-assured.
"Oh, what a shame!," I reply, feigning casualness despite the triumphant swelling inside me.
"So, where are you now? Back where we started?" Sam's curiosity was palpable.
"Sort of," I hesitated, my mind racing to explain my spontaneous decision. "I may or may not be following a certain black SUV. My hunch is that Amber used the press conference as a distraction and sneaked out the back entrance."
I could practically feel Sam's skeptical expression on the other end of the line. "Okay, but where exactly are you now?"
I glanced at my phone, only to be greeted by the dreaded low battery warning. "Of all times for my phone to die," I muttered under my breath. "Hold on, let me find a charger."
My moment of despair was interrupted by Sam's voice, his concern apparent. "Rose, are you there? What happened?"
I took a deep breath, trying to quell my irritation. "My phone is about to die on me right? Just my luck."
Sam's sigh of exasperation was almost audible. "Okay, take a deep breath. Can you remember the last landmark or road sign you saw?"
I closed my eyes, racking my brain for any recognizable details. "I... I think I passed a marker for Becky's Dine-In not too long ago."
"Got it. I'll head your way. Just stay put in Becky's Dine-In, alright?"
"Thanks, Sam. Sorry for all this mess," I admitted sheepishly.
He chuckled softly. "It wouldn't be a Rise adventure without a bit of chaos. Hang tight, I'll be there soon."
As if the universe had a knack for timing, my phone's screen went black, leaving me in stunned disbelief. "Oh, come on! Seriously, universe?" I exclaimed, my frustration boiling over.
I press on through the unknown, fueled by a whirlwind of doubts and countless scenarios swirling in my mind. The forest gives way to my determination as I navigate its shadows.
Yearning for a connection beyond the confines of my thoughts, I fumble with the radio, hoping for news to anchor me. Yet, apprehension lurks—what if this unfamiliar territory hides more than just nature's secrets?
*Hiss...Hiss
Guided by the radio's static, I latch onto a local news channel, a fleeting bridge to the world beyond my windshield. "Tonight, we bear witness to the breathtaking splendor of the blood moon," a voice declares. My gaze sweeps around, my senses immersed in the ebony scenario.
But then it happens—right before me, a vision materializes. The blood moon looms, an enigmatic enchanter brushing the edges of the horizon. Its curves are vivid, a melange of red and sour orange that beckons with a familiarity that I have seen before.
I struggle to stay awake, my mind teetering on the edge of sleep's embrace. "Must be exhaustion," I whisper, my voice a fragile thread between consciousness and dreams.
I look up at Amber's SUV and note a minor slowdown in its pace. As Amber's car slows down, my eyes land on a welcoming sign that reads "Becky's Dine-In". My heart is pounding with anticipation as I drive past, trying not to look suspicious.
Amber's pace falters, my instincts sensing a moment of opportunity. A few moments later, I take a bold turn and direct myself back to Becky's Dine-In. After refueling the tank, I glance toward the entrance and spot two of Amber's vigilant bodyguards stationed there.
The diner is tucked away in the center of Little Falls, providing the ideal setting for a covert meeting. As the air begins to grow chilly, I unconsciously rub my shoulder in an attempt to feel better. The diner's interior yawns in front of me, a blank page waiting for mystery. I realize that loneliness and secrecy go hand in hand, and Becky's Dine-In wears its seclusion like a layered warm sweater on a snowy night.
As I enter the dine-in, my eyes scan the room as I search for an inconspicuous spot to settle in. Amber's presence becomes apparent as I spot her seated in a corner booth, accompanied by her manager, Riley, and flanked by two more watchful bodyguards. Opting for a seat at a safe distance from the entourage, I take a moment to collect myself. As I settle into my chosen spot, a middle-aged woman with an abundance of wild, curly hair and a friendly, albeit slightly disheveled appearance, approaches me.
"Ready to order?" she asks in a tired yet good-natured tone. Glancing at the menu briefly, I decide on my choice. "I'll have the Hamburger with fries, please."
"Unha! Anything else?" Her voice carries a touch of weariness, resembling that of a person running on low social batteries.
"Actually, could I also get a charger for my phone?" I inquire politely, presenting my phone to her. She points me toward a corner near the counter, her expression a mix of vague distraction and sleepy helpfulness.
With my eyes feeling slightly unfocused, my legs wobbly from the long six-hour drive, and my thoughts filled with second-guessing, I contemplate the series of events that have led me to this moment.