Drawing a deep breath, I leaned back to examine my work. It was beautiful. It was heartbreaking. It was perfect. Just what I needed to do for myself.
On a pink Post-It, I scribbled: One final memory to add to your sketchbook.
I stuck it to the top of the sketch. Stared at the colors, the lines, the technique. Tried to detach myself from the subject. To view it critically. I couldn’t. It hurt too much.
This image would complete our story. Stamp “the end” on it in the sketchbook I’d given him back when he moved away after sixth grade. I’d been adding to it over the years, illustrating the story of us. All stories had an ending. This was ours.
I opened the bottom drawer and pulled out two pieces of thick cardboard. Using them, I sandwiched the sketch safely between them. Carefully, I slipped the protected sketch into a padded envelope. I wrote the address of Dawson’s apartment in LA on it.
I’d mail it tomorrow. I was too tired now.
Treading down the hall with heavy steps, I went in my room. One look at the bed I’d shared so many moments with Dawson on, laughing, loving, talking, sharing, living—in person and virtually—and I began to tremble with the effort to hold back my wails. I couldn’t sleep in there.
I snatched my pillow off my bed and tugged a blanket out of the closet. I sank onto the couch and prayed for sleep to come quickly.
Chapter 20
Izzy
I woke on the couch. My eyes ached, my neck was stiff, my heart hurt. As I tossed and turned on the couch last night, waiting for slumber to claim me, I figured out a plan of action. It was what I had to do in order to close the Dawson chapters of my life.
Systematically, I moved around my apartment, taking down photos and mementos, emptying drawers of band T-shirts and boxing up all the tokens of our relationship. The Sunflowers reprint came off the wall. The jar of wishing stars removed from my nightstand. Marching to the kitchen, I pried the magnets from our bucket list stops off the refrigerator door. Then I grabbed a large trash bag. I couldn’t dwell on this anymore. I had more important things that needed to occupy my mind. There was no room for heartache. Not now.
Holding the bag open with one hand, I picked up the box of photos, scrapbooks and songs. The box hovered in my grasp over the gaping hole of the trash bag.
But I couldn’t let it go. Weeping, I carried the items into my closet. I climbed up on the stepstool and shoved everything into the far, dark corner. I could throw it out later. When I was stronger.
I collapsed on the bed sobbing uncontrollably. My phone chimed with an alert.
The sender was unknown. I should’ve ignored it. But no one had my new number. Curiosity always killed the cat.
Unknown: You get to see the first cut.
A video attachment followed. I opened it. The opening strains of “Love Rocked” blared through the tiny speaker. The new music video. They must have shot it early. Without me.
The camera zoomed in on Dawson as he sang the opening lines. As it panned back out, a girl with dark, curly hair started dancing around him, trailing her hands across his body and his guitar. I paused it, staring at the girl. It looked like the girl he was photographed with. I deleted the message without watching the rest of the video.
♪“Where Do Broken Hearts Go” by Whitney Houston
THE END (for now)
Notes of the Heart
Book 2 of the Lyrical Odyssey Rock Star Series
Copyright © 2019. Charli B. Rose.
First Edition. All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of various products referred to in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication / use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
charlirosewriter.wixsite.com/website
Cover design by Susan Garwood
Cover photo edit by Alora Dillon
Cover photographer by svetikd photography
Edited by: Heather Cardona,
Nathanie Serrano, &
Karen Boston Editing and Proofreading
Interior Formatting by EZ Book Formatting
To my boys,
who inspire the love that flows from my fingers onto the keys.
I love you both so much.
“Music was my refuge. I could crawl into the space between the NOTES and curl my back to loneliness.”
― Maya Angelou
About the Book
Their hearts were in harmony… until the music faded away.
Izzy
Since childhood, our relationship grew from a single note to a full symphony. Two years ago, when I needed him most, he went radio silent. Starting over and rearranging the lyrics with someone new just hasn’t been the same. Beckett has my trust and friendship, but not what he wants the most: my heart. I have a second chance at love, if only my heart can change its tune. But before it can, that old song resurfaces…
Dawson
Falling in love with my best friend was wonderful. Until I lost her as I chased my dreams. My dreams have become my reality, and I have it all, except the one thing I want: Izzy. Every song I perform is a reminder of what she inspired. Without her, the music that used to flow freely has died. If I can convince her to be my song, my heaven, my everything once more, then maybe I won’t feel so lost. But her heart is singing a new tune, and I may be too late.
Can Dawson make Izzy see the classic anthem was better than a one hit wonder?
NOTE: This is part TWO of Dawson and Izzy’s story. Part ONE of their story can be read in Beats of the Heart and is available here.
Note from the author
For those of you who already read Beats of the Heart, you know how instrumental music was in the creation of Dawson and Izzy’s story. So much of their fictional lives was inspired by song lyrics. Their love story isn’t just a journey through the highs and lows of love but is a lyrical odyssey that can be experienced as you read through the integrated playlist. Songs from all walks of life and all ages have touched this story in one way or another. I hope you enjoy the ride. In addition to a link for my Spotify playlist, there are little music notes ♪ scattered throughout the book. In the e-book version of the book, if you click on the music note, you’ll be taken to the official YouTube video or the Spotify link for a song that’s relevant to the scene it’s in. (If you’re reading the paperback, obviously the notes aren’t clickable, but next to the music notes, I’ve listed the title of the song and the artist in case you want to check them out.) I do not own the rights to any of these songs. They are added merely for reader enjoyment.
This story picks up after the heartbreaking end in Beats of the Heart, so make sure you’ve read Beats of the Heart before you proceed. It will make the story so much more enjoyable to have experienced Dawson and Izzy’s first go at love.
Playlist link: https://spoti.fi/2CREMzb
Prologue
Dawson
♪ Thunder by Imagine Dragons
The roar of the crowd echoed in my ears as I made my way down the long hallway backstage. I stalked past the green room, overflowing with noise and flesh. I didn’t even cast a second glance. I had a one-track mind—Izzy.
“You stopping by the after-party?” Wilder asked as he slowed his pace.
“Nah. I left my damn phone on the bus. And I’ve got to go call Izzy and check on her. Joe’s guy back stateside said the paps have staked out her apartment bui
lding.” I’d been worried ever since Joe got the call from Ty’s brother, Deke, advising that a mob of press vultures had camped out across the street from Izzy’s building.
“She needs official protection, dude,” Brooks chimed in.
“I know. But she thinks having bodyguards will draw more attention to her, which is the last thing she wants. And I agreed at first. But now, it’s not a matter of keeping a low profile. It’s a matter of safety. I just need to convince her to allow the security team to actually be more present to keep her safe.” I sighed and twisted my thumb ring in agitation.
“Good luck with that,” Brooks said with a chuckle. He knew how stubborn Izzy was. How much she hated attention.
“Yeah. See you guys in the morning,” I said as the rest of my bandmates entered the den of depravity that could only exist after a rock concert.
I strode out the door, totally ignoring the shouts for my attention from fans on the other side of the barricades. Steve, our manager, on the other hand, I couldn’t ignore. I slowed my pace as he jogged up to me.
“Dawson, I told Lila I would find you and go over a few last-minute changes to your schedule for the next couple of days. Now that everything has hit the fan, the label is seeing dollar signs attached to this scandal,” he panted out as he tried to keep pace with me.
Good luck, bud. I was a man on a mission. I was so annoyed with myself. And with Brooks. Damn groupies. If I hadn’t rushed off the bus earlier to escape my best friend and the two groupies he’d brought on the bus, I wouldn’t have forgotten my phone. And I’d be talking to Izzy right now instead of listening to my manager drone on and on about how a sex tape of me and the love of my life was the perfect catalyst to increase ticket sales.
“Listen, Steve.” I pinched the bridge of my nose in annoyance. “I’m not trying to twist this thing around to benefit the label. The only thing I care about is Izzy. Oh, and making sure the video and pictures are taken down. Oh, and finding out who is responsible, so I can make them pay,” I spoke through gritted teeth, ticking off each of my concerns on a finger.
He held up his hands in surrender. “Like I said before, man, the Internet is forever. But I’ll do my best to get it taken down.”
“If it was your wife, you’d do more than your best. You’d make it happen. Just get it done.”
“I’m on it. In the meantime, you have…”
I stopped listening. The path to our bus was clear. I sprinted towards it. “Just text me the details,” I shouted back at Steve over my shoulder.
“Great show, man,” our driver called out as I thundered by where he was relaxing until time to roll out.
My hand flew up in acknowledgement, but I didn’t slow down to speak. Just as I emerged from the short staircase at the back of the bus, Lila stepped into the walkway.
“What are you doing up here?” I growled at her. She should be at the party dealing with any trouble the guys might get into. And she sure as hell shouldn’t be upstairs where our bunks were.
“I…uh… was looking for you,” she stammered. Her fingers clutched her throat. She was obviously flustered.
I didn’t have time for whatever she wanted. I pushed past her and opened the door to my room. “You shouldn’t have been looking for me on the bus. You know our show just ended, like, ten minutes ago.”
I marched to my nightstand, where I left my phone charging. It wasn’t there.
“I figured you’d have made a beeline back to the bus as soon as you finished so you could call Izzy. It’s your normal routine,” she offered from the doorway.
I didn’t pay her much mind. Stooping on the floor, I searched under the edge of the blanket, around the furniture. Everywhere. It was gone.
“Damn groupies,” I muttered.
“What’s wrong? What are you looking for?” Lila asked.
“Before the show, Brooks had some groupies on the bus.” I ran my fingers through my sweaty hair as I seethed.
“I thought you guys had a rule about no random hookups on the bus.” Lila frowned.
“We do. My man, Brooks, needs a refresher. Anyway, my phone was here earlier because I sent Izzy a message before I rushed out. And now it’s gone. One of Brooks’s randos must have swiped it.”
I paced the small space like a caged tiger. I needed to make sure Izzy was alright. We’d been missing each other the past couple of days because of my schedule—only catching up with quick texts and voicemails. It wasn’t enough. Tonight, I had to talk to her. To see her.
“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it. With the way you misplace your phone or charger all the time, I have spares on my bus. I’ll call and lock out your old phone, get you a new number and bring the new phone back in fifteen minutes. OK?”
I sank down on the edge of my bed and gave her a small smile. “Thanks, Lila. You’re a lifesaver.”
“It’s no big deal. All part of the job. Anyway, you might want to log out of all your accounts on your laptop, change passwords and stuff. You know, just in case whoever took your phone manages to figure out your unlock code and can access everything you have tied to your phone.” She turned to leave.
“My phone doesn’t have an unlock code.” My fingers fidgeted with the metal circling my thumb, trying to soothe my nerves.
Her eyebrows shot up into her hairline. “Dawson, what the hell? You’re famous. Everything you own should have an unlock code on it. You need to shut down everything. Open new accounts. Understand?” she scolded.
I nodded, properly chastised. “To be honest, I never really thought of putting any sort of lock on my phone.” But I should have. The last thing I wanted was for people to find more private stuff of me and Izzy. And I knew there was enough material in my accounts to make some unscrupulous people very rich. After Lila walked out, I opened my laptop and began logging out of all my accounts, archiving what I could to my cloud, changing passwords and anything else I could think of to try to protect mine and Izzy’s privacy.
When I finished, Lila wasn’t back yet. So, I stupidly logged into a celebrity news site. Big mistake. More photos, more video clips, more actual information about Izzy, about us—all shouted at me. My heart cracked for my girl with each new ping of information being hurled at the foundation of our love like little rocks. She was going to be really upset.
Before I could devolve into a raging, frantic mess, Lila returned, holding a new phone triumphantly out to me. I leaped off the bed and plucked it from her fingers. “Thanks,” I mumbled as I shut the door in her face.
“You’re welcome. I took care of locking your old phone so that nothing is accessible without the Social Security Number you used when you opened your cell phone account,” she shouted through the door.
I didn’t bother to respond. My sole focus was on reaching out across fathoms of space to reconnect with the other half of my heart. After waiting an eternity for the new phone to power on, I was finally able to tap out the number I had memorized so many years ago.
I waited for the call to connect.
And waited some more.
♪ Everything but Me by Daughtry
Finally, the click of the line being answered filled the silence. I sucked in a deep breath, ready to launch an apology for being MIA the past few days and for the latest embellished headlines. Before I could start, a robotic voice came on. “We’re sorry. The number you have reached has been disconnected or is no longer in service. If you feel you have reached this recording—”
Scowling, I hung up and pressed the digits more slowly this time. And waited, praying for the most beautiful sound in the world to fill my ears.
“We’re sorry. The number—”
My fingers squeezed around the plastic device that was supposed to be my lifeline. I resisted the urge to chunk it across the room. Barely.
Jumping to my feet, I stormed out of my room.
“We roll out in an hour,” our driver shouted at my disappearing form.
I threw up my hand in acknowledgement. I didn’t
need an hour to find Brooks and drag him back to the bus.
As I moved down the hallway of the venue, I had tunnel vision. I didn’t see anyone who tried to get my attention. When I reached the door to the green room, Joe was stationed outside it. He frowned at me. “D, what are you doing back here?” He knew I never came to the after parties unless I was required to. And tonight wasn’t a requirement.
“Is Brooks in there?” I asked without answering his question.
When he gave a slight shake of his head, I stomped down the hallway to the last dressing room on the right. It was the smallest one backstage. No one ever wanted the tiny room that was inevitably backstage at every venue. With the room being barely bigger than a coat closet, Brooks knew no one would ever fight him for the space. As he always said, he didn’t need much room to get off a couple times with whoever was his chosen distraction for the night.
“D, you don’t want to go in there. He only left the party a few minutes ago,” Joe shouted behind me in warning.
I had zero craps to give about where in the process of dipping his stick Brooks was. In about five seconds, stick dipping was done. My rage over the pile of crap that had been shoveled in my direction as of late had finally hit detonation levels with Brooks breaking the damn bus rule. Without a courtesy knock or shout, I twisted the door knob and threw the door open. It bounced off the wall. Idiot should’ve locked the door.
The naked chick riding his lap shrieked and scrambled behind the chair. Brooks stayed put, hands laced behind his head, the picture of nonchalance. I was about thirty seconds away from murdering my best friend. His brow quirked up at me.
Lyrical Odyssey Rock Star Series: Box Set 1 Page 14