by Ivy Harper
Stepping outside, I took in a deep inhale of fresh air, the nausea abating. Walking along the street, I briskly made my way to the bus stop.
I’d texted Leonard to pick me up from here to ensure Aaron wasn’t following me. I had to hurry and get back to Tak. Stopping at the end of the street, the loud riff of a guitar flowed into a melody and a gruff voice floated out from the radio of a car that had stopped across from me.
I lifted my hand, brushing a tear away. The familiar song filled my head and heart as it had done all those years ago. My mind filled with his voice, wrenching emotions out of me as my mind returned to the past.
The smell of despair surrounded me, no matter how I tried to escape from my living nightmare, I couldn’t. The window to my room was open and the white curtains swayed in the wind. I lay in bed as I’d done every day over those few months.
The sound of the TV was a low hum in the background. As the IV attached to my arm continued pumping me full of whatever was supposed to be keeping me sane. At least that’s what my father said when the doctor had set it up, that it would help.
The door opened as the maid entered with cleaning supplies. Walking over to my window, she closed it and turned to me.
“This morning Mr. Bennington said he’d have Abrams take you out to the garden. Won’t that be nice?” she asked.
And as usual I didn’t respond, keeping my eyes firmly on the window.
“Well, I think it would be nice,” she said, walking over to my bedside to gather the food that had been placed on the side table. She released a sigh, seeing that I hadn’t eaten much. “Miss, you have to start eating. At this point, you’re going to start wasting away.”
And wouldn’t that make that bastard called my father happy. Since he’d placed me in this room, I’d slowly started drowning in the sea of dark thoughts in my mind. Becoming more and more comfortable with the idea of floating away into nothingness.
She turned to walk away, and a loud guitar rift filled the room followed by a husky croon.
Darkness spirals around me, taking me from the light, I’ve found comfort in crying out. But nobody can hear me. Can someone save me? Can someone take me out of the dark?
My maid quickly set the tray of food down and scrambled for her back pocket and muttered loudly. “Shit, I forgot to turn my phone on silent.”
The haunting words rang loudly in my head, drawing me out of the thick fog. Weakly, I pushed up and asked.
“Who is that?”
As if startled, she whipped around and looked at me. “What?”
I swallowed, my mouth feeling weird from months of not talking. “Who was that singing?”
Still looking confused, she answered, “It’s “Mother’s Lament” from a band that just recently released its first single. They’re called Rejected One. The lead singer is a freshman in college. And he already has a pretty good-sized fan base. I think his name is Tak something,” She added excitedly.
Then, as if catching herself she asked, “Miss, are you feeling better?”
I didn’t answer her, instead my mind was occupied with finding out more about Tak and his music. I wanted to know about the person who understood the despair I was currently experiencing.
I smiled at the memory just as a familiar car pulled up. Leonard stepped out of the car and opened the door for me. Getting up, I walked over and got in. The door shut and I waited for him to get in and pull off before I spoke up.
“Take me to Cerion Studio but drop me at the corner.”
“Yes, Ms. Ryland,” Leonard said. “I placed two contracts in the back for you to review.”
I released an exasperated smile, reached for the folders, and picked them up. I briefly wondered how Tak was doing so far. Since a few days ago when we kissed, he has tittered between teasing me about it or acting like it didn’t happen.
My heart kicked up as I remembered the kiss. I ruthlessly squashed down those feelings and thoughts. I couldn’t allow myself to feel anything but admiration and loyalty to Tak.
I couldn’t pretend we were the same people who’d gone to Bridge Lake High. I wasn’t the awkward nerd anymore and he wasn’t the weird kid next door. We’d grown up and changed, for better or worse. I’d see this as destinies gift and repay him for saving me.
Chapter 24
Say Hello
Tak
* * *
Jazz entered my dressing room, but her usual air of determination was gone, replaced with a gloominess that perplexed me. She seemed lost in thought as she walked over to Chelsea who stood in the corner tapping away on her cell phone. I couldn’t focus on what they were saying as the makeup artist kept chattering around my head to the stylist who arranged my costumes on the hanger on the opposite side of the room.
“It looks like you two didn’t have a meeting about this earlier. It also looks like you enjoy talking about work around your client’s head. I wonder if your boss knows how unprofessional you are?”
They both sucked in a breath before they lowered their heads and continued their jobs in silence. Pleased, I turned my attention to Jazz’s reflection in the mirror. She still hadn’t looked my way.
Irritated, I spoke up. “My bodyguard doesn’t seem to remember who her boss is. It’s not like I’m the reason she’s able to work or anything.”
She glanced at me and pursed her lips. “I wasn’t ignoring you, I just wanted to thank Chelsea for covering for me.”
“You don’t have to thank her. She’s paid to do it.”
Jazz’s brow creased and she looked like she wanted to argue, but Chelsea set a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t mind him, he’s being a brat because he didn’t get his daily dose of sugar.”
I glared at Chelsea. I’d been enjoying myself. Why was she so set on ruining my fun?
“Don’t you need to talk to Clint about the set?”
“Nope, I’m all yours,” Chelsea said.
Pulling my face away from the makeup artist, I stood up, brushing off her attempts to continue powdering my face.
“I think it’s time to switch out managers,” I said, avoiding the finicky stylist’s hands.
Chelsea walked over to my side and gave me a long look. “No one wants to work with you except for me.”
I ignored what she said and walked over to Jazz. “I’m waiting.”
“Waiting for what?” she inquired, not meeting my gaze.
I flicked her chin. She looked up at me indignantly. “For you to say hello.”
She snorted. “Fine, hello, Tak.”
I smiled. “Good girl.”
Her eyes glinted in warning, but I was too pleased to say anything. The door to the dressing room opened and one of Clint’s assistants told us the set was ready. Hearing this, I left Jazz’s side and headed out with Chelsea into the hall to make our way to the set.
Feeling Chelsea’s eyes cut into the side of my face, I finally asked, “What?”
“You know, I don’t want to believe it, but did something happen between you and Jazz?”
“Yes, I fucked her silly,” I answered.
She pursed her lips and glanced behind us at the few people who were moving here and there.
“Watch it, I don’t want to have to clean up another scandal.”
“Then don’t ask, if you don’t want a scandalous answer.” I gave her a jeering smile.
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t shit me. She’s not even your type.”
“And what makes you think I have a type? A pussy is a pussy.”
Chelsea gave me a look. “You say that, but I can tell you what your type usually looks like. From their blonde hair to their long legs, every single one of them were so similar I thought they were quintuplets.”
I looked away. “Tell me how you really feel,” I said. “And before you go running to Kole. Nothing happened between us.”
She made a humming sound. “For now, I won’t, but don’t forget getting too close to your bodyguard will make things harder for her and not you.”
<
br /> “And who said I didn’t want to make things hard for her?”
“You’re really fucked up,” she said, right before we entered the set area.
I wouldn’t deny it. A part of me wanted to see just how far I could push Jazz before she snapped. The night she’d driven my car toward another, without a bit of fear, was seared into my mind.
Something about her eagerness reminded me a bit of myself. The person I’d been before Skittles had shown me not everyone wanted something in repayment for a good deed.
Though I couldn’t say if Skittle saving me then had actually done anything good for the world. As I walked over to Clint, who directed the lighting crew while adjusting his camera, I decided I would think about it later. It was time to get to work.
Jazz
* * *
I didn’t leave the dressing room until I’d managed to tamp down my temper. Every time Tak said good girl, I wanted to punch him, but he was my charge, so I held back. Quickly leaving the dressing room, I followed the masculine shouts coming from the set.
Entering the studio area, I could see everyone’s eyes were focused on the two men who were moving around in front of the all-white backdrop. Stopping next to one of the crew, I overheard them speaking to another person.
“I’m surprised Tak’s able to keep up with Clint. Usually, Tak would be frustrated and ready to stomp out.”
Hearing this, I focused my attention on the white backdrop. The one I assumed to be Clint knelt, his hands steady as he continued to take pictures of Tak, who moved here and there. Tak’s energy not once diminishing as he moved from pose to pose under Clint’s harsh direction. Standing up to change his position, Clint then checked the picture on his camera.
“Good, once more.”
I couldn’t help my fascination with how amazing Tak looked with the small pearls of sweat that sparkled on his exposed arms and forehead. I had to give it to the stylist. Tak looked like a fallen angel. I could almost believe at any moment his back would sprout feathery wings and he’d attack Clint for being so arrogant as to demand Tak pose for him.
By this point, I had completely forgotten about Aaron. I moved closer while at the same time the stagehands moved a large gothic themed throne on the set. Tak tossed his large body down into it, breathing heavily as the crew rushed forward and patted at his skin and offered him water. His eyes were on Clint, who stood behind the screen looking over the pictures.
I bit my lip. Sweaty-looking Tak was a delicious Tak.
“I think we got enough for this outfit, we’ll change and have you take pictures on the throne next,” Clint said as he finally looked back at Tak and smirked. “You’re really giving me a run for my money.”
“Of course, I’m the star,” Tak said, rising.
His clothes were changed right there. I flushed as more and more of his lightly tanned skin was exposed. My cheeks were hot, and I was caught between turning around or boldly watching.
I decided to watch, he owed me for playing chicken for him. This was a perfect repayment. Again, I felt like I could die right then and there.
“Bring the female model in,” Clint said to a person standing with a walkie-talkie near the exit.
I tensed at that. A female model? I couldn’t be jealous.
It went against the rules of a number one fan. It wasn’t healthy to feel jealousy for a professional who was only doing their job.
“Melissa’s here,” someone announced.
I turned around, eager to see who the model was and felt my stomach sink. She was pretty in a distraught damsel sort of way. I was nothing like the girl who daintily walked in, drawing the eyes of all the males working in the studio.
Lithe and graceful, they had given her a silvery wig and dressed her in a diaphanous white gown. I wanted to scream. She was the perfect contrast to Tak’s dark god look. And damn me, if I wasn’t planning then and there to buy the poster and three copies of the magazine when it came out.
This was the pits, but the wound was healed when I remembered I was the only person to see this live. Crushing my feelings of jealousy and annoyance at the tinkling laughter she released at a compliment from Clint, I looked away and spotted something off.
The light right above Tak swayed. I shifted as the swaying grew more violent. It was going to fall.
The minute the thought came, the light released, and I ran. I ignored the petrified screams from the women who’d been helping Tak change near the chair and the shout from Clint as I slammed into Tak’s body, taking him down. The stage light hit the ground with a loud crash.
For a long second, silence permeated the studio. Pushing up, I looked up in time to see someone run. Coming to my feet, I took off after them before anyone said a word.
“Jazz.”
I ignored the calling of my name as I ran toward the stairwell that led upstairs to the technical and service area of the studio. I climbed up the iron steps, my adrenaline pumping as I reached the landing. I saw the door on the other side of the catwalk close.
I raced across and slammed the door open only for something large and red to hit me square in the forehead. I hit the ground hard, everything going quiet.
Tak
* * *
Chasing after Jazz, I ran across the catwalk and pushed the door open to another stairwell in time to see her get hit with a fire extinguisher. Anger hit me so fast I didn’t give the fucker a chance to recover and swung again. I slammed my fist into his chin.
The fire extinguisher slipped from his hand, hitting the floor with a bang. I grabbed him by the collar and lifted him up, walking him back out to the catwalk. I pushed him so his body hung over the railing.
He frantically grabbed my wrist. “Let go.”
“Sure.” I loosened my hold. He cried out in fear as he fell back.
“Wait, wait,” he frantically yelled, reaching to grasp me before he took the spill. His skin was covered with sweat as he nervously pleaded. “Please, please let me up. I’ll talk.”
“I’m sorry, do I look like a cop to you? I don’t need you to talk, just die,” I said.
His eyes widened in terror and a terrified scream escaped his mouth. The doors to the stairwell opened behind me. The building’s security finally showed up.
I debated on whether to drop him or not but decided against it. Yanking him forward, I threw him down. Turning around, I faced security with an easy smile.
“That’s him.”
They looked from me to the man who trembled on the floor. Once they had overcome their shock, they were on him. I walked around them and went to Jazz who remained lying on the floor. Chelsea knelt down beside her, running a hand over Jazz’s head and winced.
“We’re going to have to call an ambulance. Can you drive yourself home?”
“I’ll go with her.”
She looked away from Jazz’s face to me. “What? Are you sure?”
I nodded and bent to reach under Jazz’s body to lift her up. “Yeah, lead the way.”
Chelsea eyed me. I guess she saw there was no fucking way I was going to leave Jazz’s side. Sighing, she nodded and we walked downstairs to meet the ambulance.
I spotted the staff talking to the police. I looked down at Jazz’s sleeping face. Apparently, she didn’t understand my orders.
I’d told her not to put herself in danger after she’d recklessly raced my car and she’d hopped up and went right back to doing it. I still couldn’t believe she’d pushed me out of the way. Luckily, we’d both hit the ground a few feet from where the light landed, but what if she’d stopped short after pushing me. Then she would have been hit by the stage light.
I wasn’t concerned with the crowd that grew outside the studio. I was sure the paparazzi and journalists would have a field day with this one. I didn’t care.
I was more concerned with the woman in my arms who’d put her life on the line for me. I climbed into the back of the ambulance that pulled into the large parking lot.
“I’ll do some crowd c
ontrol and meet you at the hospital,” Chelsea said before she left.
It wasn’t long before the ambulance was on its way. It hadn’t been lost on me this had been an attempt on my life and if the light had fallen on my head, I’d be dead.
I watched Jazz sleep and finally came to a decision. Originally, I’d been planning to take my time looking into what happened in Vegas, but it looked like what ever happened there wasn’t a onetime thing. And if I ignored it for too long, it would affect those around me.
Shit, I had to think long and hard before I made my next move.
Chapter 25
Health Check
Jazz
* * *
I opened my eyes to the sound of a loud beep. A sharp pain radiated through my head. I winced, pressing the palm of my hand to my forehead.
Where was I?
It didn’t take me long to realize I was lying in a hospital bed in a private room. Sitting up, I felt a slight panic. Beginning and ending with the fact I was here and the criminal who’d tried to kill Tak wasn’t. I needed to know what had happened to him.
I pulled the blanket off and tried to get out of the bed, wincing as the tubes in my arm pulled on my skin. Impatient, I quickly took them out and hopped out of bed. A wave of dizziness hit me. I ignored it.
Reaching the door, I pulled it open. My arm slightly trembled at the weight of it even though it wasn’t that heavy. Running out, I slammed right into someone’s chest. Pain radiated through my nose. I looked up and met the irritated glare of Tak.
“What are you doing out of bed?”
Rubbing my nose, I asked, “The guy, what happened to him?”
He ignored my question and placed his hands on my waist. He turned me around and marched me back to the bed. “Bed, now.”
I wriggled out of his hold and turned around to face him. “What happened to the criminal?”
“What happened to what criminal?” he asked. Crowding me back to the bed until my legs bumped against it.