Graham knew the tabloids exaggerated—shouldn’t he be defending him?
“Hey, I can only spin so much. You’re out there fighting with paparazzi and driving recklessly, acting like you don’t have a care in the world. Then you show up with this dark, depressing manuscript—”
“ You said it was good!” Tommy paced across the room, throwing his arms in the air in frustration. “You told me to shop it around—”
“I didn’t think you were going to take me seriously, man.” It was like a sudden emptiness flooded through Tommy. He stopped dead in his tracks, staring blankly in front of him.
He was so fed up with everything this life had to offer. He was sick of his so-called friends walking all over him, using him for nothing more than a paycheck. He was sick of feeling so uninspired.
How had things gotten this way? He remembered a moment that seemed like eons ago when he’d been so filled with hope.
Her eyes danced into his view, then—such a warm brown, so inviting and comforting, revealing to him her optimism for the future. She’d had faith in him—known that he would make it.
She’d always believed in him—his Penny Lane.
Tommy remembered how she would smile and roll her eyes any time he called her that.
The memory of Penelope Lang was one he could never forget, even if he wanted to. He knew—he’d tried.
Suddenly he was struck with an overwhelming desire. It passed through him in waves, growing stronger with every passing surge and washing away the anger.
“I have to get out of here,” Tommy heard his own voice as if from some far away place, his mind already crossing the distance. He felt his feet carrying him forward, moving through the large, lifeless home as if on autopilot.
There had been an emptiness inside him, growing deeper and deeper every day. And he’d been trying so hard to fill the void—to find something to make it stop. He’d tried everything.
Well, almost everything.
He knew that Graham was following behind him, calling out to him, but he didn’t care. He had to leave. He had to get away from all of this—it was suffocating him.
Memories of a time similar to this danced through his mind. He’d just moved for what seemed like the millionth time. His father had been berating him—as usual. Telling him he was worthless—that he would never amount to anything. To his father, the Colonel, Tommy was nothing more than dead weight.
He remembered the way the walls had closed in on him. His chest had tightened, his vision blurred. He’d darted out of the house and kicked his dirt bike to life, speeding off down the street. There was nowhere to go, though—he hadn’t known a soul, and he knew he couldn’t make it on his own yet.
So he wandered aimlessly, letting his bike guide him toward whatever destiny had planned out for him.
And then he saw her.
Penelope Lang was a beautiful girl—he’d seen that right from the start. Tommy had never told her, but he hadn’t accidentally wandered into the movie rental store, looking for a job.
What had initially brought him there was her. He’d caught just the briefest glimpse of her long, fair brown hair, her soft coloring, her bright smile. She had been walking down the street, making her way to work, lost in her own thoughts. He’d become mesmerized in just a matter of seconds.
He could still remember the way everything seemed to melt away the moment their eyes met. He walked into the store, coming up with the excuse of looking for a job at the last minute— really, all he’d wanted was to meet her. He’d never expected anything would come of it.
But it had.
By now, Tommy was putting his helmet on, no longer paying any attention to the people who were coming to watch him leave. The motorcycle beneath him roared loudly as he brought her to life and he closed his eyes, letting the memory of Penny wash over him once
Michelle Pace, Andrea Randall