CHAPTER I

Rinoa stared out the window and watched the congested traffic inch slowly along the boulevard. Yellow streetlights, neon signs, and the luxurious moon, all of them were glowing together. To Rinoa, it seemed as if their light had coalesced into one enchanting aura – an aura which hung over Deling City, defying the darkness of the night. Below her, faceless men and women rushed along the sidewalk with their lovers and their friends. They were attending the show of course. It seemed as though half of Deling would be attending. She was the new "it girl", the new aged Heartilly with a vintage flare that had taken the club scene by storm, and now stood on the precipice of stardom.

Six months ago she had given him an ultimatum. She was leaving for Galbadia whether he liked it or not, but it was up to him if he wanted to join her. There was a part of her, a large part of her in fact, which honestly believed that he wouldn't follow her. Balamb Garden had offered them the largest living space they had for employees, with a small kitchenette and bathroom, and space for a double bed (something that was strictly against Garden policy inside dorms). They did all of this for Squall because of his great achievements and contributions as a SeeD. But the cramped space did nothing to change Rinoa's opinion of Garden. The arguments often started over trivial bullshit, but they always ended with Rinoa begging Squall to leave with her and go somewhere...anywhere. It was a lot to ask a man who had built his entire life around Garden. The place was his only home – his only family. In mid August (just before his 21 birthday) she'd left a note on Squall's desk and disappeared on a train to Deling City. Irvine had started up a small recording studio there with a few of his old buddies and acquaintances from years before. The two of them had become good friends while at garden together. Almost everyday in the Quad he'd jam on the guitar and Rinoa would sing or play along with her keyboard, just fucking around and having fun. He had always pushed her to sing at the clubs in Balamb, but Rinoa simply laughed it off, saying that she wasn't as good as her mother.

"No, you're better," he said one day with a smirk.

She'd stayed at a shit-hole hotel for a few weeks, while working on her album. Many of the songs had already been written at Garden, but they needed to be refined and polished before they could be professionally recorded at the studio. The album would have a vintage sound, inspired by the musicians and actors of her mother's generation. Rinoa respected the people of that time period for their elegance, and good taste. Her goal was to create a new image for herself which married the trends of her generation with those of the past.

Irvine had introduced her to some people in the industry and did his best to sell others on her talent – but it was really her last name: Heartilly, that grabbed the attention of executives and producers who were looking to make a quick buck or two. Before long Rinoa had signed a small deal with Anacondaur Records. Part of her didn't know what she was doing, pretending to be the next Julia. Her mother had told her not to be a performer when she was a little girl, because it would only leave her feeling sad and alone. As far as Rinoa was concerned, she already felt that way. What else was there to lose?

He'd showed up at her hotel room door in early October with a duffel bag and a cigarette between his lips. There had been no phone call before hand, in fact, she'd had no contact with him since the day she left. The way he looked at her in the doorway suggested that he had recently been crying. The icy grey eyes which she so adored, had appeared glossy and slightly red. Moreover, he wore a solemn expression on his face which Rinoa interpreted as a look of deep regret, and perhaps fear? Was it even possible for him to feel fear?

"Y'know, smoking's no good for you Squall."

Both of them lingered in the doorway after she had spoken. Squall leaned against the door frame and finished the rest of his cigarette before violently tossing it to the ground. He rubbed at the small amount of stubble on his face and then returned his icy eyes to her brown ones.

"You're one to talk," he smirked. "I only started because of you."

"Well I didn't force you," replied Rinoa with a sad smile, "all I said was that it suits your bad boy image."

"Exactly. And I seem to recall you saying that I could have been a magazine model for some tobacco company...because I'm just that sexy, right?" Squall devilishly smirked and turned his head to look at the passing cars, shifting the weight of the duffel bag on his back.

"Come in," Rinoa said solemnly. He did.

That night they laughed about the squalid state of her hotel room. Squall of course joking that Balamb's dormitories looked like a five star resort in comparison. But deep down he knew what it was that separated the two places, what it was that made the 66th Street Motel far more beautiful to her than anything that the Garden could offer. It was freedom. The freedom to walk out of your door at 3am, or to smoke a cigarette without the fear of being fined. The freedom to sleep beside your girlfriend at night, and to fuck her without reproach from others. Squall had never lived life outside the rules and limitations of the Garden, that is, not until Rinoa came along and turned his rigid little world upon its head. He would not let her walk out of his life in the manner that she had. He could not let her. Not after everything they had been through.

That night they made love on the ugly brass bed, both of them screaming and laughing in wild unison. The neighbour had banged on the wall several times in a vain attempt to shut them up, but this had only caused Squall and Rinoa to scream even louder – for the simple fact that they now could.

From the window Rinoa saw his black SUV pull into the hotel parking lot. Shit, had she really wasted that much time? She looked over at the digital clock beside the bed and saw that it read 7:34 –the show started in just under half an hour and Rinoa was still wasn't ready. Her nerves were really getting the better of her tonight as was evident by her chain-smoking. She lit another cigarette and slid over to the vanity to do her makeup, quickly applying a few eyeshadows and face powders, but taking her time on the eyeliner which was always the main focus of her vintage look. Her raven black hair, which she kept in loose waves, had grown out over the years and now extended down the length of her back. She liked it much better this way. Squall had not come in yet which was strange. Rinoa thought that maybe he had gone straight to the bar thinking he was late for the show. That must have been it. They had been staying at the Galbadia Hotel for the past couple of months while their new home was being renovated. It had been just over three years now that they had spent in Deling City, and Squall had managed to land a great job overseeing part of the operation of Galbadia Garden, as well as working as a military consultant for the Galbadian Army. The truth was that Galbadia had wanted Squall to work with them for many years, especially after his success in eliminating Sorceress Edea as a threat. They paid him royally as well, and Squall had absolutely no inclination of returning to Balamb Garden now.

Rinoa yanked open the bottom drawer of the vanity and began rifling through its contents. A curling iron, a hair dryer, some old bottles of perfume that she refused to throw away (despite the fact she never wore them), a bag of hair ties and pins, all of these things stood in the way of what she was really after. She pulled out the small metal tin from the bottom of the drawer and tore off its lid. Inside was about a gram of white powder, the remnants of what she had purchased from Irvine a week ago. Pure as the driven snow was this cocaine, well worth the high price. Also in the tin were a couple of playing cards – the Queen of Hearts and the King of Spades – used for cutting the cocaine into lines. Rinoa of course used the Queen and Squall the King card on the rare occasion that he did a line with her. Squall trusted that Rinoa would be responsible in her use of it, and she had been up until this point. But tonight, she desperately needed something to calm her anxiety or she wasn't going to be able to perform. Dumping the remaining amount onto the vanity, she began cutting it up into four equal lines.

She snorted the first one eagerly, and began singing to herself as she put on her red silk dress:

My old man is a bad man,

but I can't deny the way he holds my hand and he grabs me,

he has me by my heart.

He doesn't mind I have a Las Vegas past;

he doesn't mind I have an L.A. crass way about me.

He loves me

with every beat of his cocaine heart.

She grabbed her lilac perfume (Squall's favourite) and spritzed it several times across her body – then she did the second line of coke.

Swimming pool glimmering, darling,

white bikini off with my red nail polish.

Watch me in the swimming pool, bright blue ripples,

you sittin', sippin', on your black crystal, oh yeah

She slipped on her bracelet fiddled with her earrings and then did another line.

Light of my life,

fire of my loins,

be a good baby, do what I want.

Light of my life,

fire of my loins,

give me them gold coins, give me them coins.

In ecstasy, Rinoa slunk back in her chair letting the high consume her. If she had bothered to read the clock beside the bed, she would have saw that it was 8:25, nearly half an hour after she was scheduled to perform. Perhaps it would not have mattered anyway – it was good to be fashionably late. They would wait because she was Julia Heartilly's daughter, and they would love her because she was Julia Heartilly's daughter. She brought her self to the vanity again, smiling at the gorgeous figure inside that glass frame. She did her fourth and final line. Then she traced a finger along the vanity-top picking up the last remaining granules of sweet cocaine, and licked them off with pleasure before leaving the hotel room.

Now I'm off to the races,

cases of Bacardi chasers,

chasin' me all over town

'cause he knows I'm wasted,

facin' time again at Riker's Island

and I won't get out

because I'm crazy, baby.

I need you to come here and save me.

I'm your little scarlet starlet, singin' in the garden.

Kiss me on my open mouth,

ready for you