It Goes On Read online

  It Goes On

  Ashley Claudy

  Contents

  It Goes On

  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

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Thank You

  A note to the reader

  About the Author

  Also by Ashley Claudy

  It Goes On

  Kate's just moved for the 13th time, and she's only 20.

  She just met a father she knew nothing about.

  And her mother is a liar.

  That about sums up why she got mind numbing, forget-your-name drunk, but her reckless attempt to forget reality has backfired.

  Now, her one night stand refuses to be contained to one night, and his connection to her new family has made him impossible to avoid. His cocky swagger is hard to resist, but Kate tries to do just that. Especially since getting involved with him would pull her into a love triangle, with very little love.

  Kate isn't looking for love; she needs friends. Not that she's going to make any. She doesn't trust anyone in her new, fast world of wealth, privilege, and lies.

  And she should be wary. She's only skimmed the surface of the secrets surrounding her.

  Copyright © 2016 by Ashley Claudy

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover by R.B.A. Designs. Edited by Maraki Author Services.

  Created with Vellum

  To the readers. Thank You.

  In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: it goes on.

  Robert Frost

  Chapter One

  Every goodbye brings a new hello

  Mark hugged me close, his low, broken cries vibrating against me. I attempted to stand from our seated position on the edge of his bed, but he awkwardly moved with me, keeping his arms wrapped around my waist.

  Painfully aware that I was not crying, I tried to conjure up some tears before stepping out of his embrace. It didn’t work. Instead, I hung my head low and stared at an LSU sweater crumpled on the floor.

  What was wrong with me? I should be sad, but all I wanted to do was leave. Leave his bedroom. Leave Mark’s tears. Just leave.

  “Don’t worry, we’ll still talk to each other,” I reassured, raising my phone to prove my point.

  “But I’ll miss this.” He slipped his arms around me once more, dipping his head towards mine.

  Damn, this goodbye was taking forever.

  Taking control, I grabbed the sides of his face and kissed him hard and fast. The moment our tongues touched, I pushed away, out of his reach.

  “I’ve got to go.” I couldn’t stand the way he studied me with narrowed, red-rimmed eyes as he pushed back his wavy blonde hair in frustration or maybe it was confusion. “My mom’s waiting on me to help load the car.” It was true enough, and I was happy for the excuse to leave his room.

  He followed me down the narrow stairs. The weight of guilt for my lack of emotions and patience pressed on my chest with every thump of his heavy footsteps.

  At the front door, I turned towards him and softly breathed, “I’m sorry.” For my lack of emotion, for leaving you so suddenly, for not caring that we’re breaking up, for walking into your life to begin with. The list of apologies could go on and on.

  “Wait.” Mark stopped me. His eyes didn’t hold their usual warmth as he scanned me, like he was finally seeing me for the first time. “We never really had a chance of working, did we? Even if you weren’t moving away?”

  All I could do was shrug. Then I turned and walked out of his house, immediately suffocating in the Georgia humidity.

  I could hardly breathe, but once I passed the corner of his street, out of view, I started running. I couldn’t stop myself, the urge was overwhelming. The agitation and anger coursing through my muscles, pulling on them till they felt like they’d snap, needed a release. So, in my shorts and flip-flops, I ran the entire six blocks back to my apartment

  Perhaps the feeling wasn’t anger at all, but jealousy. Jealousy that he could be so open with his emotions—That he could feel such emotions.

  “Kate, did you return the key to the leasing office?” My mom asked as she shut the trunk of our black SUV and wiped her hands on her skinny, destroyed denim jeans.

  “Yes, we’re all ready to go, lady. Now get your butt in the car,” I hollered out the passenger side window, squinting my eyes against the rising sun.

  “Where are your sunglasses? You’ll get wrinkles if you keep squinting like that.”

  I laughed at her accusatory tone and fell back against my seat as she positioned herself behind the steering wheel. When she turned to face me, I pulled my sunglasses from the visor and made a show of putting them on.

  “Two thousand miles till destination, are you ready, chickadee?” she sing-songed while turning on our GPS. Her smile lit up her face as she eased the Hyundai out of the parking lot.

  People were always surprised when they found out she was my mom. At thirty-eight, she looked more like my sister. Our faces were the same, long and slender with skinny noses and pointy chins. But where she had thick, straight, shoulder length, white-blonde hair, I had long, dark, wavy hair that was currently rebelling against the humidity. I flipped open the visor mirror and tied my unruly locks back into a quick, messy bun, which resulted in a huff from Mom.

  “Promise me you will wear your hair down more often in California.” She reached over to place an escaped strand of hair behind my ear.

  “Promise me you’ll stop fussing over how I look in California.” My retort earned me an eye roll, and I laughed despite myself. I knew I didn’t stand a chance of winning this argument.

  I took a deep breath as we turned off our street, suppressing a pang of anxiety. It wasn’t that I’d miss this place, I just didn’t want to keep doing this anymore.

  This was our thirteenth move, and I wanted it to be my last. We’d lived in twelve different cities all along the east coast, but as twenty years old, I had no excuse to keep traveling around the country with my mom. I was determined to make this move different, and not just because we were switching coasts. I’d make this next place my home, and I hoped Mom would, too.

  “Three days in this car; I hope we make it,” Mom interrupted my thoughts.

  I tried to shift my seat back, slamming against it as I held the lever, but it wouldn’t budge against the boxes packed behind it. Everything we owned was jammed in the back of the SUV, which was sad since most people needed a U-Haul for this purpose.

  Two days ago, I’d returned from work to find boxes covering our tiny living room and no furniture. With manic energy that rivaled a honey bee, Mom had whipped out of the one bedroom and explained that as a graduation gift we were moving somewhere new, somewhere I always wanted to go.

  I wasn’t shocked.

  We’d lived in that small apartment for two years, our longest place of residence since I was five, and Mom had only casually dated a few guy
s. After her last relationship ended, she began declaring all the men in this town were assholes—as if men who lived elsewhere were different. I knew she was just waiting for me to finish my physical therapy assistant certification before we moved again. The destination was a surprise though. She claimed to choose LA because two pictures on my vision board were of the city and because my cousin Lexi would be there.

  My vision board was a cork board where I tacked up whatever caught my attention, mostly quotes. The two pictures of LA were not intentional. It was the quotes superimposed in front of the pictures I liked. But, in typical fashion, my mom ignored that detail since it didn’t fit with her agenda.

  Either way, LA seemed to be as good a choice as any, with the added benefit of Lexi living there. She’s my closest friend and the only family I knew. Her parents lived there too, but Lexi’s mom, Cynthia, and my mom, Carly, were not close. They had grown up in separate foster homes and, as far as I could tell, only communicated by the perfunctory holiday cards. Lexi and I had somehow managed to form a friendship and stayed in contact through texts, phone calls, and social media.

  I wasn’t naïve enough to buy that the move was for me though. I knew that people, especially my mom, looked out for themselves first.

  “We should be there by Wednesday if we stick to the schedule.” She handed me a folded stack of directions, and I placed them in the glove box. “We have to be there by Thursday at the latest. I have my first day of work.”

  It was in fifth grade, our fourth move, that I stopped caring. Tears and tantrums had accompanied our previous moves, when I still had a child’s view that moving was equivalent to my world ending and thought I’d never find friends like the ones I had. But I soon realized that the fighting and grieving didn’t change a thing. And those friendships proved weak over the distance. I eventually stopped caring about forming new ones. I learned to accept my mom’s whims and make the best of the situation.

  So, I slipped off my sandals and settled in for the long drive while Drift Away played on the stereo. It was another sticky hot day, but inside the air-conditioned car, I could enjoy the beauty of the morning glow. Orange and red wispy clouds striped a pink sky.

  Somewhere in Texas, my phone vibrated in the center console. Picking it up, I saw a message from Mark.

  I wanted to tell you first. I’m going to dinner with Rachel tonight. Don’t be mad.

  What? I frowned at my phone, trying to process thoughts that hit me all at once. I had to reread the message several times. And it still stumped me.

  I had gone to Mark’s the same day Mom surprised me with the move. He was shocked and upset. I couldn’t hold that against him; I wasn’t shocked only because I knew from experience that my mom always moved suddenly. ‘Quick goodbyes with no time to change your mind’ was her motto. Granted, he seemed to realize we would have never have worked, I still couldn’t grasp that he was going to take Rachel out. Rachel? She was supposed to have been my “best friend”—her words, not mine. They’d spent the day with me yesterday, helping me pack.

  After a few clearing breaths, I deleted the message. Then I deleted their phone numbers. I set the phone down with a sigh of relief. They’d done me a favor. Now I could let go of the guilt I’d felt for being so cold. I was done with them.

  I’d mistakenly thought I could force feelings with him. So, I gave him my virginity, simply because it seemed like the next step. We’d been dating for five months, and I’d just turned twenty. The only twenty-year-old virgin I knew. But more than that, I wanted to feel something. I’d misguidedly thought that having sex would spark those feelings. Wasn’t I always warned that a girl never got over her first? I’d wanted that to be true—even if it came with pain and heartache. I should have known I was beyond broken, and not so easily fixed.

  I never really connected with them and didn’t care to fight for relationships we barely had. A part of me knew it was my fault anyways. I never let them know the real me. I’d been Kate, the smart, focused, contained, country girl. That was my Georgia persona, one of many I’d worn in the last ten years. The only similarity between all of them was that I was always contained. California would be different. I would be just Kate. Me. Whoever that was.

  ~Carly~

  They would be in Los Angeles within a couple of hours. Not for the first time, Carly wondered if she was making the right choice. She stared at Kate as she slept in the passenger seat. Her daughter was a beautiful woman now, but Carly could still see glimpses of that adorable baby she’d been, especially while she slept.

  She tried to reassure herself that this was for Kate. But in the back of her mind, a small voice whispered harshly that it wasn’t, she was being the selfish bitch she’d always been. Carly shook her head as if to deny the unwanted voice.

  She took out her phone and texted him.

  We will be arriving by 4 pm today. See u tomorrow.

  A couple of seconds later, his reply vibrated her phone.

  Reservations are made at The Beverly Windsor for the week under your name.

  This will be good for Kate. Carly kept repeating that thought, hoping it was true.

  Chapter Two

  Life begins at the end of your comfort zone.

  Neale Donald Walsch

  “We can’t afford to stay here. What—Are you crazy?” I asked, exasperated, as Mom pulled around to the front of an obviously expensive hotel. Written above the entrance in a modest script was The Beverly Windsor. The hotel was an H-shaped sandstone building with many bay windows and balconies; it took up quite a large chunk of real estate in the middle of the city. It looked like a castle—and way out of our price range.

  “I used one of those social coupon sites and got a really good deal. We’re staying here for the week.” She smiled at me, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

  Before I could respond, two men from the hotel opened our doors and welcomed us.

  “May we unload your vehicle, madam?” one of the bellhops asked.

  Mom handed over the keys in consent and both men began unloading our “luggage”. They were utterly professional as they loaded our dilapidated boxes onto the dolly.

  I couldn’t help but laugh at the situation. We definitely did not look like the typical hotel guests I assumed this place received. After three days on the road, Mom and I were a little rough around the edges and practically wearing pajamas. That combined with the boxes, shock, and exhaustion, I lost it.

  Mom glared at me. “Kate, do stop snorting,” she reprimanded.

  That only made me laugh harder.

  “I will go check us in, stay here for a moment.” She gave me one last warning look before she marched into the lobby with unabashed confidence.

  I grabbed the magazine I was reading out of the SUV and gaped at my surroundings. The hotel had tall ceilings and a rich interior of golds and creams with red furniture spotting the lobby.

  I was out of my element and wondered just how different LA would be.

  Within minutes we were in our room on the eighth floor, and Mom handed over a generous tip. I gave her a meaningful look, but she waved it off.

  “I’m the mom here, Kate. Let me worry about the money. Now enjoy the view.”

  There were two separate bedrooms with a large common room in-between. It was all cream and whites with dashes of blue.

  Exhausted from days on the road, I went straight to my bed and crashed. Snuggled in the lightweight cotton comforter, I pushed my reservations about money out of my head and slept.

  The next morning, I woke to bright sunshine filling my room and my phone ringing. Laying in my cocoon of sheets, pillows, and comforter, I don’t think I’d ever been so comfortable in my life. I reluctantly hopped out of bed to answer the ringing that wouldn’t stop.

  Please don’t let it be Mark. I didn’t want to hear his excuses this morning. I exhaled the breath I was holding when I saw the screen lit up with my cousin Lexi’s name.

  “Bitch, where are you?” Her voice blared in my
ear before I could even speak. “Are you in town? I want to pick you up for lunch.”

  I cut her off, “I’m here, just getting up now. What time do you want to go?” I glanced at the alarm clock, shocked that it was already one pm.

  “Get up, get ready, I’ll come pick you up in, like, thirty minutes. Where you at?” Lexi demanded.

  “We’re at some swanky hotel in Beverly hills.” Unable to recall the name, I checked the nightstand table, but it wasn’t there. I shuffled over to the mahogany desk in the room and saw a notepad with the name printed on it. “The Beverly Windsor.”

  “Are you fuckin’ serious? I’m leaving now; I’ll call you when I get there,” she squealed and hung up the phone.

  It was impossible not to smile as my excitement built. I’d finally get to see Lexi in person. Since we were Facebook friends and video chatted, I knew what to expect, tall and wildly beautiful.

  Stretching, I walked into the sitting room, drawn by the smell of coffee. Mom was on the couch with her feet curled under her, sipping from an oversized mug, watching the weather channel. Today would be eighty and sunny, and I looked forward to the dry heat. My hair would be much more compliant with low humidity.

  “Lexi’s on her way. What time do you have to go to work?”

  She’d been looking at me, but at my words, her eyes shifted away, and she chewed on her lip.

  “What’s wrong?” Was it that Lexi was coming or was this about work? I felt a chill at the thought of her not working, especially considering the hotel bill we were sure to receive, coupon or not.

  “Nothing for you to worry about, sweetie, I just got it wrong. I’m not actually starting work till tomorrow.” Mom shined her best smile at me and patted the seat next to her in invitation.