Seeking out a dog-eared page, she is drawn in by a two-page spread showcasing the McKinley High Homecoming court, particularly the Queen. Her dress was a bold royal blue. Her usual long, dark mane was swept in an up-do with random strands of curly-q’s that framed the shape of her face. In that moment she was beautiful. The sparkle of the tiara matched the twinkle in her eyes on that day and from that day forward, Taylor Brunelle, was now a full-fledged star, no longer in the making.
Lights flickered and flashed from every direction. Her name was called over a hundred times as she glided down the red carpet in her designer dress and matching designer heels. Not one strand of hair was out of place and her makeup was a subtle work of perfection.
Flanked by the latest Hollywood heartthrob, she posed and smiled over a hundred times more.
“Taylor Brunelle!” A reporter shouted out above the throngs of screaming fans and potential stalkers. “Taylor, do you have a moment to answer a
question or two?”
Her publicist motioned for her to continue walking down the carpet, but never one to follow the rules, she stopped for the female reporter on her own volition.
“Diana Glazer for channel seven news. How are you?”
The reporter shoves the microphone in Taylor’s face and before she could open her mouth, the reporter retracts the microphone and continues to speak at a rapid-fire pace.
“You look fabulous! You have your ten-year high school reunion coming up. Will you be attending? How long has it been since you’ve seen your high school sweetheart? I heard he’s recently been released? Did you know anything about this?”
Taylor could barely squeeze out an answer within the barrage of questions the invasive reporter was spewing off. Her body was physically there in the present, but her mind wandered off to the past and everyone could see it in her eyes.
Gripping the steering wheel as if her life depended on it. She drove fast and erratic. Various scenarios trampled through her mind and each one played out badly. She tried to maintain her focus on the road. Periodically glancing over at the passenger’s seat with question marks in her eyes. Blood was everywhere. Smeared on his hands. Splattered on his face. Stained on his clothes.
Her high-pitched screams of, “oh my God” fell on deaf ears. The sound of his heartbeat was too loud to hear anything, even the shrill screams of the police siren that followed closely behind them. Once she finally noticed she pulled over to the side of the road.
“Tay, you have to calm down,” the man in the passenger’s seat told her in a low voice.
She stopped the car. Moments later a bright light bounced off the side view mirror of the driver’s side. A repetitive knock at her window signaled her to roll it down. There he stood, hidden behind a pair of mirror lens Aviator shades. Popping his gum with every chew, sounding like the slow tick of a time bomb seconds away from exploding.
Taylor tried her hardest to swallow down all the fear and confusion she was experiencing. She cleared her throat, “Yes officer.”
“You realize you were speeding?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Can you explain why you’re in such a hurry?”
She bit her lip and lowered her head, unsure of what to say, what not to say, and where exactly to begin.
The cop directed his flashlight towards her hands that were still tightly gripping the steering wheel. He noticed the smeared blood on her hands that she received after profusely patting down the passenger. Making sure the blood hadn’t come from him. She realized the cop was staring and vigorously rubbed her hands together trying to make the blood disappear.
The cop then directed his flashlight over to the passenger’s seat. He looked over at his partner still seated in the squad car and motioned for him to come over.
“I’m going to need you both to step out of the vehicle,” the officer bellows sternly.
All around her, lights from cameras and cell phones continued to flicker and flash.
“Care to comment?” The reporter pushed.
Taylor was in a daze. Her name being called out in unison by fans and onlookers brought her back to the present.
Her publicist rushes up and practically drags her away by the hand.
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