Benny Everhart was never meant to stand alone.
At thirty-five, she's a veteran of the industry with a voice that once helped define a generation. Raised on the coast of Maine alongside four childhood friends, Benny came up fast with NorthSide Bound...
Benny's home. Studio City Hills- Fryman Canyon Area Los Angeles, California 3 Days later....
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Benny's POV
The day finally came.
I stood outside, leaning against the front fender of my black 2009 Volkswagen BlueSport Concept as Amelia turned into the driveway.
I wore a dark brown leather jacket over a black shirt, fitted black pants, and matching boots. My hands rested in my pockets, one ankle crossed over the other while I waited beneath the trees.
Her Audi moved quietly up the driveway before pulling in beside me.
I'd bought the house in 2018, tucked into the hills near Fryman Canyon. It sat against the hillside with a black exterior, sharp roofline, and massive glass panels reflecting the trees and sky.
At night, the light from inside warmed all that dark glass and steel. From certain angles, you could see straight through the main floor.
The property was far enough into the hills to give me some quiet but close enough to reach most of the city in fifteen minutes without traffic.
My black 2013 Ferrari 458 Italia was backed into the driveway, freshly rebuilt after spending years off the road. My truck and all three Harleys were lined up inside the garage.
Amelia parked and climbed out with several grocery bags in her arms. She made it two steps before noticing the Ferrari.
Her mouth dropped open. "Oh my God. Is that your old Ferrari? You finally fixed it?"
"Yeah." I pushed away from the Volkswagen and nodded toward the Ferrari. "I pulled it out so you could see it."
Amelia walked closer, still staring. "Benny, this thing used to look like it got dragged out of a lake."
"It wasn't that bad."
"You had a tarp over half of it."
"The window leaked."
"The door was sitting in your garage."
"I knew where it was."
Amelia laughed and shook her head. "It looks fucking good."
"Runs even better."
She wore a black leather jacket, ripped jeans, and a flannel tied around her waist. More punk show than dinner.
I liked when she dressed like that. It reminded me of the early band days, before stylists and press photos.
Amelia lifted the grocery bags. "Now that you're done showing off, you gonna help me or keep standing there trying to look cool?"
