Fallen Angel

by Bev Dulson

  Thousands of miles away oblivious to what his ex-wife was currently doing but very well aware that she got her happy ending, the once great Max Maxwell, Lord of all he once surveyed, was feeling rather sorry for himself. He was used to penthouses, duplexes, suites, Hollywood mansions, not the small apartment he was currently living in. He kept telling himself it was only a temporary measure. He would rise again, he was after all, Max Maxwell, life wouldn’t keep him down for long. He might be getting the cold shoulder from all of his old contacts, but that was OK he didn’t need them. The only person you could count on in life was yourself and Max certainly knew that. He was so sure of himself that he even imagined his image on fifty dollar bills, the all American self-made music mogul who hadn’t let life beat him down. Well, not quite yet, he still had to drag his ass out of the hole Magenta had dug for him. God, that bitch had screwed him over good and proper and there she was sitting pretty with that GI Joe guy of hers. It made him sick. She’d turned everyone against him. Max was too blind to his imperfections to realise it was his own actions that had dug his own grave.

  He stood up from the sofa, flicking off daytime TV with the remote. He’d wasted enough time sitting on his ass. He had a plan, there were things he needed to do. There was no time to lose. Max Maxwell was about to enter the ring again and the world had better watch out, especially that so precious ex-wife of his.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The light from the screen of the lap top illuminated the keys enough that Hunter only needed the soft lighting of the lamp on his desk to be able to work. The numbers in the bottom right of the screen showed a time of 2.17 am, the numbers on the bottom left hand side showed his word count; so far the only number it showed was zero. He hadn’t written a word on his new book. When he’d written the first book, he wasn’t expecting to get a publishing deal which was the reason he’d written it under his real name, he expected it to just sit on his laptop. If he was honest, he’d written it as more of a cathartic experience. A chance to get his demons out and put closure on his past and wrap it all up in ‘fiction’ so people couldn’t see the truth behind the lines of his words. He happened to mention the book at a party and Magenta’s agent, Jasper Perry overheard and immediately struck up a conversation with him about the book. Jasper was very hard to say no to, so when he asked for a copy of the manuscript, just to have a ‘browse’ through, he gave him a copy. Hunter certainly wasn’t expecting what happened next. Jasper’s partner Myles was on the phone within days, what Jasper had neglected to tell him was that Myles was a literary agent. Myles loved the booked and before Hunter knew it, he had a three book publishing deal.

  This was so far out of his comfort zone that his usual switched on and in control persona went AWOL briefly, it was only briefly, but it was long enough for Hunter to miss that releasing a book under his own name was a huge error. He’d spent years erasing Jason from his life, he was Hunter now, but being with Magenta had made him nostalgic for the days when things were simpler and it was all about just being Mags and Jase. So when he wrote the book, he allowed himself the indulgence of being the guy he used to be. It was just a name on a book cover, a pseudo name; no one would make the connection. Now that vanity, stupidity, whatever you want to call it was coming back to bite him on his arse. He hadn’t lied when he’d told Mags and Trina that the meeting with the publicist had gone well, it had gone too well. They were talking about a poster campaign, they hadn’t said as much but the tone was obvious, they wanted to cash in on his good looks and they’d asked him to sex it up a bit to appeal to the ladies who wanted an action hero in their lives before going back out on the school run. A James Bond for the mums was what they’d said.

  He had an issue with all of that, he wasn’t sure he’d be any good at writing the sex scenes, the first book had been mainly action, OK there had been a girl who needed rescuing, but it was just a kiss at the end of the book. The publishers wanted more bonking in the next book. He preferred to be doing it rather than writing about it. The other, more pressing issue was his name. He couldn’t have posters of himself all over the place with his face and then Jason Lomax written underneath it. Hell, no one could call him Jason any more, he’d worked hard to cover his tracks and now he’d just blown the whole thing wide open. He couldn’t risk anyone he didn’t trust finding out that Hunter was Jason. As far as anyone knew, Jason Lomax was in a US State penitentiary, locked up for killing a fellow officer of the US marines, not sitting at a lap top in a penthouse in Liverpool attempting to write his next book. He just had to hope that no one would make the connection. A lot of time had passed since Jason Lomax was arrested and Hunter Cole emerged in his place.

  What would seventeen year old Jason think of the person he’d turned into twenty years later? Could he even have anticipated the twists and turns his life had taken? Could he have imagined himself as someone who not only owned a gun but became the best sharp shooter in the marines? Did he just think that he’d stay in Liverpool all his life and be with Mags? Well, the being with Mags worked out, just a shame there had been a huge gap in their lives. Although the things that had happened to both of them during their time apart had shaped their lives and made them the people they were today. He’d done things he was proud of but also things he wanted to forget, he’d saved lives, but also taken them, but now, finally, he was happy and if he lost it all, it’d be his own stupid fault for trying to be somebody he no longer was.

  The white glaring screen of the laptop was burning through to his eyes, he’d only managed two words, chapter one. He clicked off the laptop without even saving his work, what was the point? He pushed the chair back and wandered over to the window, taking his bottle of Bourbon with him and taking a swig as he stood at the floor to ceiling window, the darkness of the River Mersey stared back him, only the lights twinkling from The Wirral on the other side of the river and the red lights at the end of the wind turbines far out in the Irish Sea broke up the inky night. The Bourbon bottle swung from one hand as he rubbed his eyes with the back of the other hand a yawn escaping as he did so. Time for bed, not that it was any hardship crawling into bed next to Mags. He just didn’t want to be reminded what he could lose if everything went tits up. After saving her life from a hit that was taken out on her eighteen months ago, he certainly wasn’t planning on ever letting her go. He’d even had to smash Trina’s kneecaps in, in order to protect his identity and keep Mags safe. A fact that Trina totally understood once she’d discovered her best friend’s life was in danger and had forgiven him for ages ago. Even so, he’d filed that particular episode under things he was least proud of himself for.

  He padded across the bedroom, his stress immediately lifting as he watched Mags sprawled across the middle of the bed, the duvet pushed to one side, leaving her naked sleeping form bathed in the moonlight illuminating the room from the open balcony doors. The light voile fabric ruffled in the night time breeze and the air was a mix of sea salt coming in off the river and the heat from the end of a hot summer’s day. He took a deep breath, taking in both the refreshing aroma and the vision of Mags in front of him. Her hair splayed across her pillow, the redness of her hair and her milky moonlight body gave her almost a pre-Raphaelite look. She truly was an image to behold. He took a moment to watch her sleeping, it was gratifying to see her in such an untroubled sleep. The events at the manor house eighteen months ago had taken their toll on her. She was one of the strongest women he’d ever met, but even she couldn’t help but be affected by someone taking a contract out on her and also seeing the odd dead body lying around. It was at night time that those memories reared their ugly head in the shape of nightmares. He would take her in his arms, holding her close, reminding her that anyone would have to get through him first to even try and harm a hair on her head. He crawled onto the bed, wrapping his arms around her as he reached her, she instinctively moved closer to his body. Didn’t matter how hot the air in the room was, he would never fall asleep without her in his arms, it would always be his job
to keep her safe, whether she thought she needed it or not. He knew she was a strong woman, strong enough to take care of herself, he just thought she shouldn’t have to.

  Hunter woke to an empty bed. It took him a few seconds to process the noises around him as he rubbed his sleep filled eyes. He could hear voices floating through from the kitchen. He reached across picking his Tag watch up from the bedside table, 9.50am. The balcony doors were still open, looked like another sunny day. He pushed himself up from the bed, wrapping a towel around his waist and headed toward the kitchen. As he neared the kitchen area the voices became more identifiable as he heard Mags’ tinkling laugh and Trina’s softly spoken scouse accent.

  ‘Morning, ladies,’ he was surprised to see Trina’s husband, Dean sitting at the breakfast bar, busy on his phone, he’d only heard female voices. Although, to be fair, when these two got together it was hard to get a word in edgeways. ‘Hey, Dean, long time no see.’

  Dean acknowledged Hunter with a nod of the head, without looking up from his phone.

  ‘Morning gorgeous, you were working late last night,’ Magenta greeted him with a smile as he landed a kiss on her cheek and pinched a strawberry she was slicing ready to put into her juicer.

  He shrugged. ‘Ah, y’know I work better when you’re not around to distract me.’

  ‘Talking about distractions, why don’t you get some clothes on, you’ll put a girl off her breakfast,’ Trina joked.

  Hunter raised an eyebrow at her. ‘Thanks very much Treen, I’ll have you know this body is a weapon of mass destruction.’

  ‘Don’t I know it,’ Magenta winked. ‘Even so babe, go and get some clothes on. I’ll be back in a sec guys, I’ll finish making our breakfast then.’ Magenta disappeared into the pantry whilst Hunter went off in the opposite direction.

  Trina leaned in closer to her husband and began whispering. ‘What’s the matter with you?’

  ‘What d’ya mean?’

  ‘You didn’t even say hello to Hunter, you just grunted. You used to be good mates with him.’

  ‘Correction, I was good mates with Jase, I have no idea who this flash Harry, Hunter is.’

  ‘He’s still your mate, he’s just changed his name, that’s all, it’s not different to Magenta, she wasn’t given that name at birth.’

  He shrugged his shoulders. ‘At least hers is a stage name although the way she goes swanning around like she owns the world, well, it does me ‘ead in and as for him, I don’t trust him.’

  ‘Dean! If it wasn’t for Magenta we wouldn’t have the life we have or be able to afford the nice things we have now or have the kids in private education.’

  He gave out a sarcastic laugh. ‘Yeah, your best mate providing everything I should be providing. And let’s not forget what Hunter gave you, a pair of broken legs. I wanted to smash his face in for that, but you wouldn’t let me.’

  ‘Yes, because he did it for a good reason, Magenta’s life was in danger and besides, if you took him on, you’d only come off worse.’ As soon as she said it, she knew she’d said the wrong thing. Dean raised his face towards hers, his eyes burning with contempt.

  ‘Thanks for that, kick me in the balls as well, why don’t you? Not only can I not provide for my wife, but I can’t protect her either,’ he pushed the chair back, his hands on the breakfast bar as he pushed himself up. ‘You can shove breakfast up your arse. I’ll see you later.’

  ‘Dean,’ she called after him, but he was already on his way out of the door.

  Magenta reappeared, her arms full with eggs and croissants. ‘Where did Dean go?’ Trina spun round, plastering a smile on her face. ‘Dean junior called, he needed his dad to go and help referee the football match, the ref hasn’t turned up.’

  Mags smiled. ‘Good old Dean, always there when the kids need him.’

  ‘Yep, that’s him alright, now, let me help you make the breakfast.’

  CHAPTER THREE

  L.A. – Johnny Kidd’s mansion

  In his own personal recording studio in the basement of his beach side mansion, international rock star and lead singer of the rock group, Broken Arrow, Johnny Kidd and his bands’ drummer, Fly McFly were busy putting the finishing touches to the set list for their tour which was kicking off in New York following the new album launch next week, just in time for their bassist, Sloth, to finish his annual stint in rehab. His band, Broken Arrow were hotter than a hot dog.

  Johnny was tapping a pencil onto a pad as he worked on the list, despite everything being at the touch of an app these days, Johnny liked nothing better than seeing the bands set list scrawled onto a piece of paper, with things scribbled out and added, he was a creative person, he needed to see the process.

  ‘Dude, will you stop tapping, it’s drivin’ me crazy.’

  Johnny looked up at Fly. ‘Ya shittin’ me? You spend your life drumming beats.’

  ‘Yes and I know how to do it. You ain’t even got a rhythm going there, it’s just noise.’

  Johnny threw the pencil down and sat back in his chair, flinging his feet up on the music console in front of him.

  ‘I know that look on your face, what’s on your mind?’

  ‘What look?’

  ‘The look that says we’re going on tour very soon and instead of having all this nervous energy, you look deflated.’

  ‘I’m excited about goin’ out on the road.’

  ‘Well tell ya shittin’ face that.’

  ‘I was just thinkin’ about Magenta.’

  Fly rolled his eyes. ‘What about Magenta?’

  ‘Well, she seems really happy and I’m just wondering if we’re missing something else in our lives.’

  ‘What, like a six foot two action hero? I’m good thanks, I’m more about the Bond girls.’

  ‘You are such a dick sometimes, y’know what I mean. We’re getting too old for groupies, maybe I wanna settle down, take someone on the road with me.’

  ‘Fucks sake Johnny, we are not too old for groupies and you have people to go on tour with, they’re called your band! Are you telling me you wanna quit, is that it? We finally get rid of Max and can do our own thing creatively and you want out?’

  ‘No of course not, Broken Arrow is my life, you’re the closest person to me. I just don’t want my life to have just been about the band, I’m so lucky I get to do what I love every day, but I haven’t got anyone special to share that with.’

  Fly shrugged. ‘I don’t know what to say to you dude, I’m no agony aunt. Talk to Magenta when she flies in next week...unless that’s the problem...’

  ‘What the hell do you mean?’

  ‘Magenta, maybe it’s not finding someone special, maybe you already have someone in mind but there’s a six foot two action hero in the way...’

  ‘No way man. I love Magenta as a friend, I respect her as an artist and the way she brought Max down, that girls’ got balls but as for anything romantic, she’s with Hunter.’

  ‘Ah ha,’ Fly jumped off his drummers stool. ‘You didn’t say you didn’t like her, you said she’s taken.’

  ‘OK, let me lay it down for you – Magenta isn’t the one for me.’

  ‘Well dude, we’re about to send tens of thousands of women wild over the next few months, we only need to find one for you...’

  ‘Let’s just finish this set list off before I smash your face in with a cymbal.’

  ‘There’s the Johnny I know and love. Get your shit together my friend.’

  In a less affluent area of L.A. Max was just returning to his apartment after spending a few hours at an open mic bar down the block. He may not have his own company right now but if he didn’t keep his finger on the pulse of what was trending then he’d have no chance of getting a new venture off the ground. He liked sitting at the back of the bar watching people sing, there was some real raw talent out there, people who just needed a break. When he did get back up and running he knew that’d be an area he’d be exploring. People were getting fed up of reality TV talent shows, the
y were becoming dated. It was the clips of buskers going viral that really interested him and what a great story it’d be if he turned a busker into a star. That’d get one over his darling ex-wife for sure.

  He flicked his TV on, he wanted to watch Entertainment Tonight, he never missed it, again to keep in the loop. As if to spite him there was an item about Magenta.

  ‘English rose and International Rock Star, Magenta Valentina rocks New York next week as she teams up with our very own rock God, Johnny Kidd and his band Broken Arrow at a special event at Radio City Hall as Broken Arrow launch their World Tour and new album, entitled ‘To the Max’, thought to be a thinly veiled dig at their ex failed manager Max Maxwell. It’s not the first time the enigmatic duo has teamed up...’

  An image of Magenta and Johnny together flashed up on the screen, Magenta in black leather trousers and figure hugging bustier along with killer heel boots alongside Johnny, also all in black, jeans and a tight fitting top and his scruffy boots gave them a real edgy look. They looked like dynamite together and they sounded even hotter. Max knew when the picture was taken; it was at the Liver Bird hotel where his whole life began to unravel.

  He tuned back into the report. ‘This is the first time Ms Valentina will be performing in the US since her acrimonious divorce from disgraced music mogul, Max Maxwell...’