An Illicit Pursuit Read Free

gape at the beautiful girl on the screen, unable to
believe my eyes. I run a quick review of my activities preceding
the movie to make sure my perception isn’t under the influence of
some kind of alcohol or drug. No alcohol, no drugs—I don’t do drugs
anyway, but I haven’t had even medical drugs that can influence
perception. Then, why am I seeing the sexy, blonde girl from
In-N-Out now acting as the previous winner of a show in this crappy
movie?
    Wait a minute! The girl from In-N-Out had a
guitar case on both occasions I saw her. The actress in the movie
has a guitar hanging down around her shoulder, as she’s speaking to
the show host. This is another common point for the two women,
besides the outrages similarity in their looks.
    “Hey.” Jack elbows me. “Is it just my
imagination, or is it really the girl we saw the other day? You
know the blonde whose number you tried to get.”
    “I’ve just been thinking the same,” I say,
rather loudly, making a few heads turn. “What are the odds?”
    “She didn’t strike me as a Hollywood
actress.”
    I start to say something but am stopped by
the next scene, where she begins singing with an exquisite,
provoking, and otherworldly voice. And I’m suddenly hit by all the
happy memories of my life, flooding over me like a wild wave on the
beach: the first day Nikki and Brendie came home from the hospital,
their first laughter, the news of my mother’s successful lung
transplantation, having my niece in my arms right after her birth,
the first car my father bought me, and the first drive I had with
all my sisters squeezed in it, and many more.
    I’m so mesmerized by her voice and the song
she’s singing that I’m unable to move my hands to erase the
shameful tears streaming down my face. The tears that are taking
away my manhood with them, but I don’t care. I have a list of fifty
best movies I love to death, but none of them brought me to tears
like this crappy, rotten disgrace of a movie. All thanks to the
girl whom I already set eyes on and now has no way to escape from
me.
    Yes, I’ll get her and make her mine, and
nothing can stand in my way.

CHAPTER 2 – PAT

    Early September in Los Angeles is a sheer
torture to behold. I’m soaked in my own sweat in spite of sitting
under the shade of this humongous oak tree. Wiping away the sweat
gathered on my forehead, I check my watch. Twelve fifteen. Zach, my
high-school sweetheart and current boyfriend, is fifteen minutes
late for our lunch date.
    “You’ll be late to your own funeral,” I once
told him.
    “Nobody is perfect; not even the chosen
ones,” he responded, laughing. His Jewish identity and my Catholic
upbringing are two of the few topics we tend to avoid. Except for
jokes, of course.
    My eyes scan the countless students, roaming
around the UCLA campus trying to locate Zach, but he’s not among
them. Instead, I spot a tall, masculine guy with wavy dark hair,
wearing a V-neck, white t-shirt, and blue jeans, which are hanging
loosely around his hips. The way he pushes the strands of hair off
his forehead and laughs is like an oasis in this extreme heat.
Which, nonetheless, doesn’t stop me from turning my gaze away from
him down to my guitar. I’m not usually the type who piques the
interest of such beautiful guys. Oh, and I almost forgot; I’m
taken, anyway. So, I pull my guitar to my lap and spread my fingers
on the strings, hoping I won’t get heat stroke, or at least if I
do, Zach will arrive in time to take me to the hospital.
    “Do you actually play that thing?” A velvety
tone pulls me away from my frustration. I look up to see none other
than the oasis guy, standing a few feet away from me, with a
disarming smile playing on his beautiful lips and his hands hanging
casually in the pockets of his jeans. His eyes are both mesmerizing
and exhilarating. His hair is a dark hue of brown, his skin dark
olive on his face and arms, lighter on the visible part of his
chest.
    I have to re-play his