Fallen Angel

by Bev Dulson

  He stood up, left a tip he could ill afford, but still that didn’t dampen his mood, he whistled as he left the deli. Today was going to be a good day, time to ramp up the plan, he had some phone calls to make and a few other things to organise but everything so far was just as he anticipated, maybe even better than he thought. Enjoy sitting on your high perch looking down on everyone, Magenta, it won’t be long until you’re in the gutter. He smiled to himself at the thought.

  Chapter Ten

  NYC

  Trina had caught up with the social media updates in the yellow cab that took her to the Upper East Side and Logan’s apartment were Magenta was staying. So engrossed in her phone and the updates, she hadn’t been able to appreciate her first time in a yellow cab or the famous sights that she crawled past on her travels.

  She also didn’t take in Logan’s fabulous apartment with its floor to ceiling windows giving a panoramic view over Central Park, the first thing she noticed was her best mate sitting on an oversized sofa, her rusty coloured hair piled loosely on top of her head and wearing a soft, grey onesie she certainly didn’t look like the rock chick who had rocked the stage last night, she looked just like her best mate after a sleepover.

  ‘I’ll put the kettle on.’

  ‘Logan doesn’t have a kettle, he just has some futuristic coffee machine, I’ve sent Hunter out to Starbucks, he’ll be back soon, he’s getting your usual too.’

  ‘Who the hell doesn’t have a kettle?’

  Magenta shrugged. ‘That’s American’s for you.’

  ‘That’s a deal breaker for me, I could never be with someone who didn’t own a kettle,’ she plonked herself down next to Magenta, putting an arm around her. ‘It’s not as bad as you think.’

  ‘Hmm, the press think I’ve gone mad and once they’re after you, that’s it.’

  ‘I spoke to Erika before I left the hotel, she’s getting the videos taken down.’

  ‘Won’t matter, people have seen me lose my shit. It’s so not like me, I never do anything like that, certainly not in public. It’s only a stupid song, why am I so bothered?’ She placed the palm of hand against her forehead and rested her elbow on her knee.

  ‘It’s not the song, it’s the fact that someone, maybe this Roxie person has deliberately set out to steal it.’

  ‘My instincts are screaming that Max is behind this, but according to Logan he’s still in music exile, no one will go near him.’

  ‘What about the guy from Highway 65?’

  ‘Deacon? Logan’s right about him too, he’s not behind this.’

  Trina’s phone beeped again, Magenta and Johnny were trending on Twitter.

  ‘I need to speak to Johnny, find out what he thought he was playing at,’ Magenta sighed.

  ‘I err...spoke to him last night.’

  Magenta narrowed her eyes, picking up on the tone in Trina’s voice.

  ‘What’s going on, T?’

  ‘He was jealous that’s all, reckons he wants a relationship like you and Hunter.’

  ‘No, what’s going on with you? You went straight back to the hotel last night, when did you see Johnny?’

  ‘He was in the hotel bar, I couldn’t sleep, I bumped into him in there, jet-lag, y’know.’

  ‘Yes, I know jetlag, but that’s not what kept you up. I’ve known you all my life, T. Something’s going on...is it Dean?’

  Trina put her face in hands, trying to keep her tears at bay; she felt Mag’s arms around her shoulders.

  ‘Hey bird, what is it?’

  ‘He’s been cheating on me, sending dick pictures to other women.’

  ‘WHAT? The little shit, what till I see him, does he realise how stupid he is? What explanation did he have?’

  ‘I haven’t spoken to him, he was asleep when I got in. I saw the pictures on his phone and I had to get out of the hotel room, I found myself in the bar, bumped into Johnny...’

  ‘Oh God T, please tell me you didn’t have a revenge shag with Johnny?’

  ‘I’m nearly 40, give me some credit. I just got pissed. I did stay in his hotel room, but in separate rooms.’

  ‘Huh, Johnny, a gentleman. Who knew?’

  ‘It’s embarrassing. Of all the people to confide in, I chose him.’

  ‘So, what are you gonna do about Dean?’

  She shrugged. ‘Right now, you’re my priority. Johnny needs to fix this shit storm he’s created. It will all go away, keep a low profile for a day or two and there will be another celeb all over Twitter in the next day or so. One thing about instant ‘news’ is that something else replaces it just as instantly.

  ‘T, when did you get so wise?’

  ‘Wouldn’t say that, was totally oblivious to my cheating arse of a husband.’

  Hunter entered the lobby of Logan’s building, carrying three Starbucks cups in a tray when the doorman called out to him.

  ‘Mr Cole, a parcel has just arrived for you.’

  A parcel? Nobody knew he was staying here, well nobody that wasn’t in the inner circle anyway. He took the parcel from the doorman, instantly knowing what it was by the shape and the feel. Setting the Starbucks tray down he opened the parcel. Just as he suspected, his book. He opened the cover, ‘I know who you are, ‘Mr Cole’ again, an illegible signature was scrawled across the bottom.

  ‘You said this had just been delivered, how long ago?’ He asked the doorman.

  ‘Literally just as you arrived, you must have passed each other in the street.’

  Hunter was back out of the door before the doorman could finish, as he hit the street he looked left, right and across the road all he could see was people going about their day, tourists, nobody who looked the least bit suspicious. It was pointless trying to find the delivery person, especially in a city like New York. He went back into the building.

  ‘Any chance I could have a look at the CCTV?’

  The doorman nodded. ‘Of course, Sir.’

  He took him into the security room and accessed the CCTV. ‘That’s strange.’

  ‘What is?’ Hunter already knew what he was going to say.

  ‘Seems to have been a malfunction. The CCTV has gone down.’

  Hunter didn’t believe in coincidences. Somebody made sure the CCTV would be no use, they’d picked the wrong person to try and intimidate. As soon as he found out who this person was...and he would find out, then it was game over for them.

  ‘Thanks for trying, do us a favour, if anyone delivers anything again – will you give me a shout?’

  ‘Of course, Sir.’

  Magenta’s mood wasn’t improving, an interview with Roxie Meyers had appeared on line.

  She was sitting on a large sofa in what looked like a coffee shop, it almost looked like a scene from Friends as she sat next to her interviewer, both of them holding colourful mugs. Cosy, it looked cosy.

  ‘So, Roxie, the number one spot, congratulations.’

  A coy smile appeared on her face as she took in the accolade. ‘Why, thank you, but it’s really down to the label, they got behind me and the record, they made the magic happen.’

  ‘You can’t deny you have a fantastic voice and the song, lyrically, it’s ahead of your young years. Where did the inspiration come from?’

  Again, there was a pause and the smile faltered slightly, the untrained eye wouldn't have noticed, but Magenta was scrutinising every inch of the young girls face. ‘Yes, Roxie, do tell the story of how you wrote a song about the love of your life disappearing off the face of the earth, how he’d promised to return one day, but a decade later, you’re still waiting. Tell them how it broke your heart, especially as you’re only a kid yourself,’ Magenta ranted at her iPad.

  ‘Well, it’s difficult, obviously I’m only young and I’ve been lucky, I’ve never had my heart broken...’

  ‘Bet you’ve broken a few,’ the interviewer interjected.

  ‘I’m not sure about that,’ she grinned. ‘However, I’m a very empathetic person and I can imagine the pain someone w
ould go through if circumstances kept them apart from their lover, it would just leave you heartbroken...’

  Magenta folded her arms. ‘No shit, Sherlock.’

  ‘Roxie, there have been comparisons made between you and Magenta Valentina. How does that make you feel you to have your name mentioned in the same sentence as someone of her talent?’

  ‘Obviously, I’m flattered. I know the red hair makes us both look striking and maybe I look like a much younger sister. Although I’m not a natural red head, I think it might be time to revert to my natural colour. In terms of vocally, I grew up listening to Magenta, well I had no choice, my mom would always have her songs on, so yeah, I guess you could say I’m inspired by her. If I could have the career she had, I’d be real happy.’

  Magenta slammed the iPad down. ‘Younger, no choice to listen to my music, the career I HAD. BITCH.’

  ‘Hey, babe. What’s wrong?’ Hunter appeared at her side. ‘That the imposter?’ He indicated to the frozen image on the screen.

  ‘Hunter, what the hell is going on? I thought someone had just given her the song to sing, now she’s claiming she wrote it and not only that she’s bad mouthing me, saying my career is over.’

  He sat next to her, his hand resting on her thigh, his thumb stroking her pyjama clad leg.

  ‘She’s just a flash in the pan, if she has to steal someone else’s music to have a hit, she isn’t going to last long.’

  ‘That’s the thing, I don’t think it was her that broke into my house and took the demos, she wouldn’t even know they were there AND if she has all the stolen tapes, she’ll have albums full of material.’

  ‘So, we release a statement, say you’ve had the tapes stolen and one has found its way into Roxie’s hands. Discredit her like she’s trying to do to you.’

  ‘That just looks like I’m jealous, I can’t prove that song is mine, all the evidence is gone. Maybe I should just let it go, sometimes the best thing is to say nothing at all, let it blow over.’

  ‘Hmmmm.’

  ‘What’s on your mind?’ She reached out, her hand on his shoulder, feeling the muscle definition through his top.

  ‘Nothing.’ Everything, someone was targeting him, someone had targeted Magenta. Coincidence, twice in ten minutes that word had popped into his head. He didn’t like coincidences. ‘Nothing babe,’ he pulled her close. ‘It’ll all be OK, trust me.’

  ‘With my life.’

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Logan sat behind his glass desk in his glass office, after his dealings with Max and their previous company, he wanted transparency at Logan International Music. Some days he regretted that decision, today was one of them. The staff had a perfect view of him in the moments he felt stressed. This issue of Roxie using Magenta's song was at the top of his to do list, but what to do about it? He’d drawn a blank with Highway 65, Deacon said she and the song had come as a package, already in existence when he met her. So, how did she get the track in the first place? Now, he had an even bigger problem.

  He stood up, walking across his office, he had a cracking view of the Empire State building, he often took up this spot, looking out at this beautiful building to help him work through any issues. His hands on his hips and his gaze on the city below him he tried to work out what to do. On his desk sat an envelope and in that envelope was a threat to Broken Arrow, specifically Johnny and also to Magenta. He took all threats towards his artists seriously and security was something he never scrimped on, it was too much of a risk the way the world was these days. He didn’t think this was a terror threat, the author of the letter had taken time to cut up a newspaper and stick the words to the paper. That was old school, this person meant business, if they could take the time and effort to create a letter like that, then they were a serious basket case. A letter like that on its own would raise his concern, but coming straight after the break in at Magenta’s and the stolen demos, he couldn’t afford to overlook this. No, he wasn’t prepared to take a chance with Johnny or Magenta’s safety.

  Turning his back on the Empire State building and going back over to his desk he picked up his phone. ‘Marsha, can you get me the head of security up here and can you contact Johnny and Magenta, tell them I need to see them urgently. Thanks.’ Plonking himself back down on his chair he put his hands behind his head. Since when did a running a record company get so complicated? He just wanted to produce good music.

  Trina had ignored Dean’s texts and calls all morning, wouldn’t do him any harm to worry about her. Had he seen the open WhatsApp message? Had he realised she’d seen it or maybe he thought he’d opened it himself and the jet lag was confusing him. She wished she’d never brought him to New York, the one place she’d always wanted to visit and he was contaminating its magic with his sexual exploits with a load of scrubbers. She was fuming, to put it lightly.

  Magenta had been called to an urgent meeting with Logan, which she was also going to attend. Magenta had ordered her to go back to the hotel and have it out with Dean before the meeting. It was always better to get these things off your chest, but Trina didn’t relish having to hear how little disregard her husband had for their marriage. No matter how angry she was with Dean, no matter whether she thought her marriage was over or not, this was going to hurt.

  She swiped the room key into the suite door, not even sure if she’d find Dean inside or not. He was there, sitting on the window seat, eating a bagel and looking out at Times Square.

  ‘I prefer the view from here, I’d rather watch than be down there amongst the millions, it’s chaotic.’

  She raised an eyebrow. ‘Never had you down as a voyeur, but hey, you think you know someone.’

  ‘Where have you been? Thought we were going to Central Park this morning? I suppose Lady Valentina had you out and about early at her beck and call.’

  Trina took a deep breath; he hadn’t even noticed she hadn’t spent then night with him. She’d spent the whole night in the suite of a rock star and he couldn’t be more oblivious if he tried. OK, so she hadn’t done anything untoward, unlike him, but if she had, would he have even cared? She steeled herself for the conversation, putting her invisible armour on; he was not going to break her, not going to make her cry.

  ‘Dean, I’ve seen the pictures.’

  He stopped mid bite, his eyes flickering to her, with something in them she’d never seen before. He looked like a little boy who’d just been caught robbing sweets. Repulsion flooded her body, this was her husband, the father of her kids and he was nothing but a pervert.

  ‘How many women have had the misfortune to be sent pictures of your penis?’

  ‘I...I...don’t know what...’

  ‘Give me some credit Dean, I’m not thick. Is it just the pictures or are you shagging these desperate women too?’

  He hung his head. ‘Just over the internet.’

  She took a step back, visions of her husband looking at women on internet sites, his knob in his hand, were running on loop in her mind and she just wanted to press stop.

  ‘Porn, is it porn sites you’re doing this on?’

  He shook his head, still unable to look up at her. ‘No, you can sign up, it’s like bored house husbands and you know, you can have virtual sex.’

  ‘Virtual Sex! You haven’t even gone to the effort of dragging your arse out of the house to cheat on me with a real person, this just sums you up Dean, you’re lazy. Can’t make the effort with your wife and can’t make the effort to invest in a proper affair. You’re a lazy, weak, pervert. You disgust me.’

  ‘You’re never there, your job, Magenta and that Hunter one, they’re more important to you than me and the kids.’

  She took a step forward, pointing her finger at him. ‘Don’t you dare, don’t you dare bring the kids into this. Everything I’ve done is to give them and us a better a life and what do you do to contribute to that? Nothing, you just sit there with your tiny prick in your hand, ogling women.’

  He looked up at her then, the look o
n his face not showing any sign of sorrow.

  ‘You don’t care do you?’

  ‘Like I said, you’re never there.’

  ‘So, what you’re saying is you’d prefer me to go away completely so you can carry on with whatever you’re doing with Cyber Sally?’

  ‘Lots of marriages have arrangements like this.’

  ‘Fuck you, Dean. Fuck you.’

  ‘Just a suggestion, how do you know until you try, it might work. We could even do it together, there are couples sites. We never do anything together anymore.’

  ‘I don’t know who you are, or who you’ve turned into, you’re not the man I married.’

  ‘Yeah well, you’re not the woman I married either, you used to be so pliable and since you’re all besties again with Magenta you’re walk round like you’re the friggin’ queen with your perfect hair and always having your make up on and nail appointments.’

  She laughed bitterly. ‘You don’t get it so you? I never had the money to get my hair and nails done and as for make up, I got whatever freebies I could get when I was working at Boots. It wasn’t exactly my priority and to be fair it isn’t now, but does it make me feel better, then yeah, I’m guilty of taking more pride in my appearance, but I’m not going to apologise for it. The option was there for you to do the same too; whatever I’ve been earning with Magenta was for both of us.’

  ‘Yeah, ‘cos every man wants to ask his wife for money.’

  ‘I don’t know what’s happened to you Dean, I don’t know when you became so bitter and I certainly don’t know what happened to make you such a perve. We’re finished. You’re welcome to your virtual playmates. Dean, do you know why the grass is always greener on the other side? ‘Cos it’s fertilized with bullshit,’ she turned her back on him and marched towards the door, her hand on the handle she called out over her shoulder. ‘There will be a ticket at the airport for you, I’ll book you onto the next flight home, I want you gone by the time I’m back in a few hours.’