1989: a story of two misfit kids from mid-west america making it big in the big apple. and in the true sense of the american dream they find themselves in a life of sex, money, drugs, and a little rock n roll too.
warnings: adult content, mature rea...
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November 1992
Echo's birthday arrived. While Alma had stressed out multiple times over the phone and in person on what to do for her birthday prior to coming to New York, Bill finally suggested that they should just buy her cake and do something nice for themselves instead. She wouldn't remember her first birthday. At first, Alma felt that sounded shitty, that maybe it would be selfish of them but rather than stress she agreed.
He booked a night in a park view suite at the Ritz-Carlton for them. It was very nice and Echo was standing on the perch of the large secure windows looking out to the square of the green trees of Central Park encompassed between the gray buildings. It was raining and cold that day and Echo liked to trace the droplets that would scatter down the windows. Alma had her arms out as a precaution as Echo walked along by herself so excited that she finally began to walk on her own confidently. Bill picked up the camera Alma had left on the coffee table and took a picture of them. Alma turned her head when she heard the camera shutter.
"I can't believe she just started walking last night," she laughed while Bill smiled to himself.
Later they sang happy birthday to their daughter who clapped along happily and giggled at the coffee table they all sat around. Taking out his trusty gold zippo lighter, Bill lit the one candle on the small round strawberry cake they bought her and helped her blow it out. He caught her little hand before she could smash it in the cake and laughed, kissing the back of it.
"Eh, maybe let her? It's her birthday," Alma shrugged.
Bill smiled excitedly to watch his daughter ravage the cake. They even partook using their hands to scoop up little pieces of cake before it had all gone to mush. Though when Echo reached her hand out to offer the mush they obliged her and took a tiny nibble. Alma quickly grabbed her camera to take a picture of Echo with her face full of frosting inside such a luxurious hotel room.
~~~
They were back home in Manhattan. Their time spent together as a family had relatively gone without any problems or inconveniences. Bill's pager would hardly beep and the phone calls to the house were minimal. Mostly he would call Bianca after hours just to ask how the night went. It had been the longest he'd ever been away from the club. He hated to admit that the break felt nice, working was all he did day in and day out for years. He liked the busyness, the spectacle, the loud music and the raucous voices, the smell of cheap perfume and even cheaper liquor, the red lights and the disco ball refracting light on every surface it touched, and the money.
Now Bill laid awake in bed at an odd hour of the night scratching at the waistband of his black boxer briefs. Alma was next to him fast asleep and lightly snoring. She was wearing a cropped tank top and panties splayed out on her side of the bed, her foot the only thing still touching his leg. She always did that, they would sleep close but in their sleep would separate due to their bodies overheating but she always had her foot or hand still somewhere on his body reaching out. Bill tried to settle a bit more comfortably in bed but still ended up on his back again. He sighed deeply and closed his eyes.
