All I Want Is Everything

Flapping wings

I'm back
I'm back in the saddle again
I'm back
I'm back in the saddle again

Ridin' into town alone
By the light of the moon

Aerosmith, Back in the Saddle

"Hello," Becca said absently, curious about what her mom was making for dinner.

"Hey, Becs."

"ELLA!" Before anyone could say anything else, Mrs Barnes hipchecked her daughter out of the way and seized the receiver.

"My god, Ella, I've been worried sick about you. You just up and left, and I understand why, but we've been so concerned. I appreciate that you called Rebecca, but your call was hardly what I would call informative." Seeing that her mother had no intention of sharing the receiver, Becca scuttled into the family room and picked up the receiver there. "--you could have been stretching the truth so that Rebecca wouldn't worry and by extension us. What if there had been an emergency, young lady? Who would have helped you? You can't rely on that brother of yours--" Becca's head snapped around at the sound of the door opening, but it was just her father. He looked bemused as he surveyed the situation before coming over to his daughter. Becca covered the mouthpiece.

"It's Ella!" For the second time in five minutes, Becca lost control of a telephone receiver. She booked it upstairs for the final extension in the house in her parents' bedroom. She settled in the window seat overlooking the street and listened to her father's concerned questions join her mom sharing her feelings.

"--the important thing is that you're safe, Ella, although I wish you'd come back where we can help you," her dad said, on the verge of fretting.

"What do you have to say for yourself?" Mrs Barnes asked, finally. Becca imagined her friend looking trapped.

"I'm sorry?" Ella said after waiting a moment to make sure everyone had finished expressing  themselves for the moment. "I really am, Mr and Mrs Barnes. I'm sorry that you were worried."

"All right, Ella," Mr Barnes said as Mrs Barnes did an audible inhale. "Where are you now, what are you doing, and how can we help?"

"Well, I'm in Los Angeles."

"That explains why nobody's seen you," Becca said.

"Yes, I took the train. I needed to think and it gave me privacy as well as time."

"All right, I can understand that," Mrs Barnes said sternly. "Now where are you staying? Are you really safe? That city is just a cesspool of depravity."

"I'm staying at the Chateau Marmont. They're really good about protecting the privacy of their guests here."

"Isn't that where John Belushi died? What a tragedy that was," Mrs Barnes said.

"Yes, ma'am, it was. But that was in one of the bungalows. I'm up in the hotel proper, and I'm eating just fine. The restaurant here is good."

"All right then," Mrs Barnes said grudgingly.

"Why don't you summarize what you've been doing?" Becca suggested.

"Good idea," Mr Barnes said. "We'll hold our questions til the end."

"Well, I started making lists. The first call I made locally was to Pepper Potts, she works with Tony Stark, and she was really nice when we were shooting our videos with him. She gave me her card, so I took a chance and thought that she might be able to give me some general advice about establishing myself out here as a solo artist or be able to point me toward someone else." Mrs Barnes again drew breath.