Midnight Memories

s e v e n

"Something wicked this way comes." - William Shakespeare

By the time I finally got upstairs, Ash and Tori had already fallen asleep, and the house was dead silent. As quietly as possible, I wiped off my make up and put on pajamas before sitting down at the metal desk in the far side of my room and powering up my Mac Book.

I opened up safari and typed "Tripp Hartley" into Google, biting down on my thumbnail as the search results came up. I clicked on the first link, a Wikipedia article about him.

Tripton "Tripp" Greyer Hartley is an American criminal and alleged gangster. He was born on January 7th, 1992 in Miami, Florida. He is the son of Vernon Hartley, the victim of an infamously unsolved 2004 murder case. When his father was found stabbed after brutally beating his wife to death, Tripton was placed in foster care before spending three years in Juvenile Hall for armed robbery and attempted arson. Tripton is also thought to be an accomplice in several murders as a result of violent gang wars. He was released in 2010 and is now known to be living in New York City, allegedly a member of an international drug dealing ring lead by British drug lord Sloane Rooney. Tripton is also the brother of Ryder Austin Hartley, a notorious mobster currently wanted for the murders of prominent Miami social figures Diego Rivera and John Avery.

I felt a chill settle over my entire body. Ryder was an angel draped in white compared to his brother. No wonder we hadn't heard about Tripp, he'd served time before going underground, resurfacing in one of the largest and most popular cities on earth. He was dangerous, more dangerous than anything any of us had ever encountered before, including Ryder.

I had to warn Louis. No matter what was going on between the two of us, he at least deserved to know the information I had just discovered, so he could protect himself however he deemed fit. He was the only one I would mention it to, for now at least. Tripp had said himself that they had nothing planned just yet, so that meant there was no need to worry anyone. However, there was one thing that bothered me, and that was how Derrick had any association with Tripp. He had mentioned something about a costar, and I knew that the Hollywood scene was seedy, but it still rubbed me the wrong way.

I went up to the Wikipedia search box and typed in Derrick's name. If he wasn't going to tell me anything about himself, maybe the internet would. Derrick's article was considerably longer than Tripp's, so I clicked on "Early Life", hoping it would give me some information on his past.

Vanderbilt is notoriously private, however some information is known about his past. Born in London, England on April 24, 1989, Vanderbilt (then named Derrick George Hamilton) was placed in an orphanage until he was adopted at age 6 by real estate tycoon and shipping heir Frederick Vanderbilt and his wife, Willa Kennedy-Vanderbilt, who were unable to have any children of their own. Frederick is well known for his association with the Lilith S. Vanderbilt Organization, his grandmother's charity for orphaned children, and was in London on behalf of the organization when he was extremely impressed by a young Hamilton's prodigal piano skills. Hamilton was adopted by the Vanderbilts, who moved him to New York and placed him in the prestigious Aller Academy until he was old enough to attend the Juilliard School of the Arts, where he graduated from at the age of 15 in 2004. He then returned to England to study at Oxford University under a Rhodes Scholarship before recieving a degree at Harvard Law.

I could practically feel my jaw drop. Derrick was adopted? Well, that explained why he had a british accent. He had graduated high school at fifteen? That explained why he was 23 and had already accomplished everything he had. But why hadn't he thought to mention any of this to me?

I shut down my computer before turning off the light and climbing into bed. Everything that had come to light today was so overwhelming, it was making me lightheaded. It was an hour before I fell asleep, and even then it was restless, almost as bad as it had been in the weeks following the incident. By the time the next morning rolled around, a rainy, grey day, it felt as if I hadn't slept at all. 

I put on jeans, an olive green anorak, and Hunter wellingtons before heading into the kitchen. Tori was at the stove, dressed impeccably in matching Burberry rainboots and a trench coat with tights, flipping pancakes. Asher on the other hand was in holey, ratty sweatpants, and a Harvard Law t shirt that had a mysterious stain on the front. 

"Morning Stel." He said cheerfully. "I hope you're hungry, Tori's making chocolate chip, your favorite." 

I sat down on the bar stool next to him, pouring myself a cup of coffee. "I really appreciate it, but i'm not very hungry." 

"You must be exhausted. You were out late last night. Where were you?"

I sighed. "I was with Derrick."

Ash took a sharp intake of breath. "You've been spending a lot of time with him."

"We're friends." I said plainly, stirring sugar into my coffee.

"Stella, girls are never just friends with Derrick Vanderbilt. Don't forget he's one of my closest friends. I'm not just being overprotective, i'm warning you. He's not as perfect as he seems." Ash's face was more serious than I had ever seen it, but I still rolled my eyes.

"Easy there. I'm not looking to fall in love with anyone, it never seems to work out very well for me, does it? But," I stared down at my mug. "What's it with him and his past? I had to find out from Wikipedia that he was adopted." 

Ash bit his lip. "If he wanted you to know about his past, he'd tell you. But a word of advice: don't ask him about it. As far as he's concerned Derrick Hamilton never existed." 

I nodded. "I'll keep it in mind." 

"Pancakes are ready!" Tori announced. "Stella, how many would you like?" 

"Um, actually, I think that i'm going to head out. Don't worry Ash, i'm not going to see Derrick." I said to the look of protest on his face. 

"Should I put some away for later then?" Tori smiled, and I nodded.

"I should be back soon." I told the two of them, waving goodbye before heading towards the elevator. 

Tony had the weekends off, so the lobby was absolutely empty. I headed outside and hailed a cab, using the hood of my anorak to shield myself from the rain. Giving the address to the driver, I laid my head back in the seat, staring at the skyscrapers as they went by. Living here, it was so different. Miami was most certainly not a small town, but it was all I had ever known. Here I felt so small, so unimportant. I should feel safe, being so inconspicuous, but I had a inkling that "safe" was something I would never feel again.

When the taxi pulled up in front of my destination, I pulled two twenties out of my pocket, not even bothering to see how much the fair actually was. I had too much else on my mind. The rain had picked up during the drive accross town, and by the time I got to the door, I was soaked. 

"Name?" The doorman asked briskly.

"Stella, Stella Parker." I shivered.

"The socialite? Nice try." The doorman rolled his eyes. Wow, I hadn't put on any make up that morning, but I didn't think that I was unrecognizable. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my wallet, unzipping it and showing him my ID, smirking as I did so.

"My apologies Miss Parker!" He flushed. "Go right on in." 

My confidence even lower than it had been before, I walked into the building and towards the elevator, pressing P for penthouse once I was inside. Taking a deep breath, I tried to calm myself, but the soft ding indicating I had arrived on the top floor came much too soon. We had a lot to talk about, a lot of secrets that needed to be discussed, no matter how uncomfortable it may be to do so.

I knocked on the door, sticking my hands into my pockets while I waited for him to answer. After about thirty seconds, it finally swung open, revealing just the person I had came here to see. 

"Stella, what are you doing here?" He asked, obviously surprised to see me.

"You and I, we need to talk. About Tripp Hartley." I said, looking anxiously down at my feet.

His eyes widened, and I knew that I had hit a nerve.

I just hoped, for the sake of us all, it was the right one.