Carter needs a buddy (besides fairweather Ridge) so I've reintroduced Danny the bartender (played by Keith Carlos) to the canvas. I don't think he ever actually shared a scene with Carter so I embellished a lot here lol I hope you like the results. Part C and the next one ("D is for Date") will be linked together. Happy reading!


C is for California

After Hurricane Quinn blows through his life, decimating everything in her path, Carter quietly contemplates leaving California. He thinks about throwing everything he can fit into a single bag, locking up his apartment, heading for the airport, hopping onto the first plane headed out of the country, and just disappearing.

Destination: unknown.

The idea of simply slipping away somewhere, leaving his troubles behind, starting over is almost too tempting.

xoxoxo

Sitting in his empty apartment night after night, nursing a lonely beer, longing for what can never be again, he thinks about what it would mean to actually put California in the rearview mirror. He would miss the friends he'd made in L.A. but he's burned so many bridges he doubted many people would care if he left town. And sure he'd miss eighty-degree winters, sandy beaches that stretched as far the eye could see, surfing in the Pacific, not to mention the career he'd worked damned hard to build for himself, but all that feels hollow anyway. It is pointless because he doesn't have anyone to share it with.

xoxoxo

One evening, he decides to skip town. He gets as far as the door with his passport and a carry-on bag but ends up chucking the stuff aside at the last moment. He can't go through with it. Something still tethers him to California though he can't and won't put a name to it.

xoxoxo

Facing the reality of another long, solitary evening at home, Carter decides a drive is in order. He cruises along the PCH in his convertible, top-down, P. Diddy playing on the radio. He ends up at the Bikini Bar, compelled by its hypnotic energy and impossibly bright lights.

The place is crowded, full of glistening, half-naked bodies; people gyrating to loud music and sipping tiki drinks with tiny straws.

Carter doesn't recognize any of the party-goers. He's the only guy there dressed in trousers and a polo shirt. He considers leaving but spots a familiar face. His friend Danny is waving wildly to him from behind the bar.

"Carter, man! Long time, no see!" the jovial bartender greets him.

The two men exchange a light fist bump. "It's been a minute, hasn't it?" Carter says.

"Sure has! What can I get you, my man?"

"Vodka, straight up."

Danny smirks at him. "Oh, so it's that kind of night, is it?"

Carter sinks onto a wicker bar stool. "You could say that."

Danny starts fixing his drinks. "Trouble in paradise with you and Zoe?"

Carter's eyes go wide. "Wait, Zoe and -" He shakes his head. "It has been a while, hasn't it?" He chuckles. The sound is hollow. "Zoe and I broke up a while ago."

"Your choice or hers?"

"Mine, but I honestly don't know who's to blame for the way things ended. Maybe her, probably me," Carter admits. "Things just got so insane at the end."

"I could buy that. She was a little kooky. Hot, for sure, but kooky," Danny laughs.

Carter shakes his head. "She was complicated, to say the least."

"Aren't they all?" Setting three shot glasses before Carter, Danny asks, "So if this isn't about Zoe, who's the lady twisting you in knots then?"

"Does there have to be a lady?" Grabbing the first glass, Carter downs the shot in one gulp. It burns like liquid fire going down. He pulls a face before reaching for the second drink.

"Oh yeah. When a man looks like you do right now, there's a woman involved. So who is she?"

Carter pictures Quinn's face in his mind's eyes. He sees her pink-hued cheeks the moment he drives into her, her full, kiss-bruised lips, her stormy blue eyes. He remembers how her well-manicured hands felt on his skin, remembers the pleasurable sting as her blood-red nails raked down his back.

Then, he pictures her face when she told him she was leaving - the expression of regret and the look of determination when she said she wouldn't change her mind. It was a sucker punch to the gut and he still hasn't recovered. Maybe he never will.

Snatching up the third glass, he mutters, "Keep 'em coming."

"Come on, brother. Talk to old Danny."

"You're younger than me."

"Not by much."

"Well, I'm still not drunk enough to tell you all the private details. Let's just say the woman in question was wrong for me in every way and yet nothing ever felt more right."

"Oh, ha-ha, I get it now. Those crazy California girls, huh? They know just what to do to wrap us guys around their little pinky fingers and then take us for a wild ride."

"She's from Vegas …"

"Oh, man. They're twice as crazy over there! It's all that desert air or something. Carter, listen. Women are crazy everywhere you go. It's in their DNA going all the way back to the stone age. They drive us wild and for some reason, we keep on coming back for more."

"No kidding."

"I figure one of these days though, our number's gotta come up the lucky winner with two of those girls."

"You think so?"

"I know so. Statistical probability." Carter snorts. "Okay, well. Here are points in our favor. We're good-looking - I mean, I am anyway," Danny laughs.

"Hah."

"We respect women, we treat 'em right, know how to show them a good time. We're solid guys, come from 'good stock' and all that. What's not to love? One day the right women are going to come along and recognize that you and I are the complete packages.

"There is one perfect woman out there for you, and one perfect woman for me," Danny concluded.

"Really? But I thought you said all women are crazy."

"Oh, they are, Carter. They are. Down to their bones, but our women... Well, at least they'll be crazy about us, you know, and that's what makes them perfect."

"What makes you so optimistic? I mean, that these women are out there just waiting for us to find them?"

"Well, I figure we have two options. We can just lay around all day feeling sorry for ourselves, getting fat on cheese and beer watching football, or we can go out there and open ourselves up to something new and see what happens. I know which option I choose."

"You think it's worth the effort to try again?"

Danny wipes his hands on a white towel. "Sure, but then again, I'm just a lowly bartender. What do I know?"