Lyrical Odyssey Rock Star Series: Box Set 1

by Charli B. Rose

  I couldn’t afford to quit my job and live in a hotel for a month. I gazed off into space, trying to wrap my mind around how I could make it work.

  My silence must have worried Beckett, because he stroked my arm and said, “What are you thinking?”

  I gave a humorless chuckle. “That I can’t afford to live out of a hotel indefinitely. That my entire life is in Charleston. Well, most of it is anyway,” I amended.

  “We actually have housing available for research participants while they’re receiving treatments. I have everything you need to fill out for that in this folder. Assuming you agree to be part of the research trial,” he said, sliding the paperwork over to me.

  “I don’t really have a lot of other options unless I want to die. And I’m not quite ready to give up on life just yet.” I snatched up a pen and began filling out the myriad of forms in the folder.

  When I was done, I stacked the papers neatly and handed them over to Beckett.

  “I don’t mean to pry, but are you close with your parents?” he asked hesitantly.

  “I’d say we have a good relationship. Why?”

  “I know you didn’t want to bring anyone with you to get your results. But you might want some support at least for those first few infusions,” he suggested quietly.

  A heavy sigh slipped through my lips. “You’re right. I need to tell them. But this isn’t something I can just drop on them over the phone. When do you think I can travel?”

  “Honestly, you probably shouldn’t for now.” He gave me a sad smile.

  “OK. I guess I’ll call them tonight then. Let’s go clean my blood,” I said, standing and injecting resolve I didn’t have into my spine.

  “Hello,” Mom’s chipper voice came through the phone.

  “Hey, Mom. Is Dad home?” I asked.

  “Yeah. Is your car giving you trouble again?” The sound of rustling came through the speaker.

  “No. My car’s fine. I just … need to tell you guys something, but I only want to explain it once,” I said quietly.

  “Isabelle, you’re scaring me,” she scolded.

  “Just get Dad.”

  She shouted for my dad to come to the phone.

  “Hey, honey,” Dad’s voice filled my ear.

  “So, you know how I was feeling under the weather there for a little while after I got home from …” I swallowed hard.

  “I remember,” Mom answered.

  “Well, I thought I was preg—”

  “A baby? You’re going to have a baby?” Mom shrieked excitedly.

  “No, Mom,” I said. And according to the list of side effects Beckett had given me, I might never have one. A sob choked out.

  “Whatever is wrong, we’ll deal with it,” Dad chimed in.

  “When I thought I was pregnant, I went to the doctor. They ran a bunch of tests. It seems that my kidneys are not working properly,” I said.

  “I’ll call our family doctor and find a specialist for us to take you to. I’m sure everything will be fine,” Mom said, already in management mode.

  “I’ve actually already seen a specialist. I’m in Atlanta. I started dialysis today,” I said, keeping my tone even.

  “Dialysis? It’s really that serious?” Mom asked, alarmed.

  “Yes. They think I have an autoimmune disorder, and it’s affected my kidneys. I’m going to participate in an experimental trial. The doctors hope if the treatments work and I get a transplant that I’ll be good as new. More or less.” I wound a loose thread from the hotel comforter around my finger until the tip turned bright red.

  “I don’t know how I feel about you doing experimental treatments. That can’t be safe,” Mom rambled.

  Meanwhile, Dad said, “You need a transplant?”

  “Yes, ultimately, I need a new kidney. The sooner the better. And the doctors would like to test you both to see if you might be a match. They’re also looking into other options too. But I have time.” I hoped.

  “Of course, we’ll get tested. What else do you need?” Dad asked.

  A tear slipped down my cheek. “Can you come here?”

  “You don’t even have to ask. We’ll be there tomorrow. Do you need us to go to your apartment and get anything before we come?” Mom asked.

  “Yes. I’ll text you a list of what I need. I’m going to be in Atlanta for at least a month. I didn’t pack for that long,” I explained.

  “Don’t you worry about any of that,” Dad assured me.

  “Thank you,” I whispered, already feeling better that I wouldn’t be facing this totally alone.

  “Of course, sweetie. But why didn’t you tell us sooner?” Mom asked, hurt in her tone.

  “I didn’t want to worry you. I honestly didn’t think it was going to be such a big deal,” I admitted.

  “We’ll call you tomorrow when we have our plans nailed down. You should go get some rest. You sound tired,” Mom said.

  “Your mom’s right, honey. Go to bed. We love you,” Dad said.

  “I love you guys too. See you tomorrow.”

  I ended the call and collapsed back on my bed. Tomorrow I’d move into the housing Beckett had arranged for me. But for now, I was going to enjoy the high thread count sheets and the soft mattress beneath me.

  Dizzy deleted scene 4

  Dawson

  Dawson shops in Beijing for present for Izzy - A few months after Beats of the Heart ended

  “Yo, Daw, let’s go,” Brooks shouted, banging on my hotel room door.

  I rolled over in bed, determined to ignore him. It had been six months since I’d actually gone anywhere with the guys. I had no desire to break that streak today. If I didn’t acknowledge him, he’d give up and leave without me. That had been our pattern ever since Izzy cut me out of her life.

  I buried my head beneath my pillow. Ah, blissful silence. I just wanted to sulk and sleep until I had to put on my game face for the crowds. Then I’d make the label happy by pretending I wasn’t falling apart inside. I’d sing and strut and sign autographs. Then I’d have a couple drinks before praying for sleep to take me and keep me as long as possible.

  Just as I was sinking back into the place where everything was perfect in my world, bright lights intruded.

  “What the hell?” I growled, squinting up at Brooks who held my pillow in his hands.

  “You don’t get to wallow today. Tomorrow, I’ll leave you be. But today, you’re going to get your ass up and shower. And then you’re going to hang out in Beijing with your friends. We’re going shopping,” he demanded, tugging the sheet off me and dropping it on the floor.

  “I really don’t feel like it, man.” I curled my body up in the fetal position. It at least made me feel like I was holding all my broken pieces in place.

  “Dude, my mom’s birthday is coming up. I need to go shopping. I want you to come with me. Please,” his tone was soft.

  His words triggered something. “What day is it?”

  “Saturday. We’re in Beijing.” He sat in the chair across from the bed.

  “Not day. I meant what date is it?” my voice held an edge of panic.

  “August 20th.”

  “Shit.” I scrambled off the bed and dashed to the bathroom. As I turned on the shower, I shouted back out, “I’ll be ready in ten minutes.”

  How had I almost forgotten?

  After the world’s fastest shower, I threw on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. A beanie and a pair of sunglasses completed my wardrobe.

  “Let’s go,” I urged Brooks, shoving my wallet in my pocket.

  “Don’t you want some socks and shoes first?” he asked with a chuckle.

  Shaking my head at my absent mindedness, I tugged some on.

  Later as we strolled down the street with Joe trailing behind us, I peered in every store window we passed, looking for … something.

  “Let’s go in here,” Wilder shouted up ahead and turned left into a shop.

  Inside, the small space was packed with shelves. There was no rh
yme or reason to how things were placed. The chaos was overwhelming. But a small flicker of hope ignited inside me. The perfect gift was in here. I felt it. I meandered the aisles.

  A spot of color caught my eye in the corner of a shelf. Carefully, I reached over a tiny teapot, a porcelain doll and a wooden elephant. My fingers closed over the softest plush I’d ever felt. When I finally freed the soft bear from the shelf, I knew he was perfect. His fur was a pastel tie-dyed. The velvety nose was a dark purple. With trembling fingers, I opened the heart-shaped tag hanging from his ear. “Groovy”. Phil Collins immediately began floating through my mind. This was it.

  I cradled the bear against my chest and approached the register. The man behind the counter spoke in a foreign tongue, likely Mandarin.

  “How much?” I asked, holding up the bear.

  He spoke again in words I didn’t understand.

  It didn’t matter how much the bear was. I needed it. Slipping my wallet from my pocket, I fished out my credit card. The clerk beamed at me when I handed over the plastic.

  After a few minutes, he handed my card back to me along with a slip of paper.

  The guys followed me out empty-handed.

  “Dude, I think you just paid like $200 for a beanie baby that you could’ve gotten stateside for like five bucks,” Brooks muttered beside me.

  “I don’t care. He’s perfect. I’d have paid $2,000 for him,” I retorted, turning at the corner to head in the direction of our hotel.

  “For Izzy?” he whispered.

  “Yeah. Her birthday’s coming up. I almost forgot,” my tone was heavy with shame over the prospect.

  “Hey, I bet that store over there probably has stationary and shit,” Brooks said, pointing across the street.

  My pace increased as I dashed to the shop Brooks had pointed out. He was right. Rows and rows of cards and fancy stationary filled the space. I trailed my finger over card after card until I found one with colorful butterflies adorning the front. Inside was blank. Perfect.

  I grabbed a pink ink pen. Once I’d paid for my items, I moved off to the side. I drew in a deep breath and tried to find the words to fix what had somehow broken between us.

  Flutterby,

  I miss you so much. I haven’t taken a full breath since I bid you goodbye in Amsterdam. My heart followed you onto that plane. And it’s never come back. I don’t know how to live without it, without you.

  I wish I knew what went wrong. If I knew, I could fix it. I’m so sorry about everything that happened with the tabloids. I never meant for my dream to bring you harm. You’re the only thing that matters to me. I’d give up everything for you. If the brightness of the limelight is too much, I’ll walk away. There’s nothing I want more than you. I know we can figure things out. Please get in touch with me. I love you. I will always love you.

  I hope this little guy brings some color to your day and a smile to your beautiful face like he did mine.

  Happy birthday, flutterby.

  Love,

  Dawson.

  I handed the bear and card over to the clerk for her to ship to Izzy’s apartment. Hopefully he’d arrive on time.

  Dizzy deleted scene 5

  Izzy

  Izzy wakes from surgery - A few months after Beats of the Heart

  Slowly, my eyes cracked open, then immediately slammed shut. It was too bright. I rolled to the side. Or at least I tried to. Everything hurt. I groaned.

  “Hey, sweetie,” Mom’s soft voice came from beside me.

  My lids opened a tiny bit.

  “Let me turn off the lights,” my dad said from the other side of me.

  Once the room was dimmer, I opened my eyes and glanced around. A colorful bear was resting on the pillow next to me. Mom and Dad leaned over the metal railing.

  White, sterile walls.

  TV perched in the corner.

  Window to the side.

  Everything rushed back to me. I was in the hospital. I’d just had surgery.

  I scooted up on my pillow, wincing as I shifted my weight.

  “Did the transplant go OK?” I croaked.

  “Dr. Thomas and Dr. Miller seemed very pleased when they came to speak with us,” Mom offered.

  “OK. I think I’m going to sleep now.” I tucked the cute little bear under my chin and drifted off to sleep.

  Dizzy deleted scene 6

  Dawson

  Dawson Rehab - Over a year after the end of Beats of the Heart

  Groaning, I rolled over in bed and fell to the floor. I squinted against the overhead light I’d forgotten to shut off before I passed out. Papers crumpled beneath me as I pushed myself to my knees. Confused, I glanced down. Wadded up sheets of paper littered the carpet all around me. All of it evidence of my continued failure to create a single song. A discarded whiskey bottle caught my eye. Salvation in a glass bottle.

  Eagerly, I reached for it. Only a couple of swallows swirled in the bottom. Not enough, but it’d have to do until after the show. With a twist, I cracked the lid and drained the contents. I swiped the back of my hand across my mouth then threw the empty container in the direction of my trash can. I missed. Oh well.

  I staggered to my feet. A quick check of the time showed that I didn’t have time to shower or change clothes. Thankfully, I’d passed out fully dressed, even had my shoes on. I gave myself a mental pat on the back as I moved over to my dresser.

  My eyes collided with the bloodshot gaze of a face I no longer recognized. The man staring back at me with dark circles under his eyes and a red nose was a stranger. Unable to handle the truth, I quickly dropped my head and peered at the top of my dresser. In front of the picture of me and Izzy was a trace of white dust. Barely resisting the urge to draw it into a line, I brushed the wooden surface clean. Instead, I opened the top drawer and removed a joint. I tucked it into my back pocket.

  I ran my fingers across Izzy’s smiling face in the photograph. As much as I missed her, I was glad she wasn’t here to see what I’d become. Bringing my fingertips to my lips, I pressed a kiss to them then touched Izzy’s glass covered mouth.

  With a sniffle, I turned to the door. After a couple of failed attempts, I finally wrenched it open.

  “Sorry I’m running behind, guys,” I shouted in a slurred voice.

  No one answered. I bumbled my way down the aisle to the front of the bus. I lurched forward, the floor coming at me fast. The world went dark before I even finished falling.

  “Come on, D. Wake up,” a voice urged close to my ear.

  I didn’t want to though. The darkness was peaceful. In the dark, I was numb. There, I wasn’t a failure. I wasn’t heartbroken. There I was just … nothing.

  The violent shaking of my shoulder wouldn’t relent though.

  “Move out of the way,” an unfamiliar voice ordered.

  Strong hands gripped my body and rolled me over to my back. A bright light shone in my eyes, making my head throb.

  “What did he take?” the voice asked.

  “Who knows?” Lila snapped. “Just fix him.”

  “He was drinking whiskey earlier. And when I tried to wake him up for soundcheck, there was cocaine on his dresser. I should’ve thrown it out,” Brooks whispered in a sad voice.

  “This is not your fault,” Wilder growled. “You didn’t give him the drugs. You didn’t force him to use them. You didn’t make him shut us out. This is all on him.”

  “Let’s quit worrying about who’s at fault,” Lila ordered, immediately putting a stop to their discussion.

  “Why are you guys shouting?” I mumbled.

  “Oh, thank God. He’s awake,” Brooks croaked.

  “Sir, can you tell me your name?” the guy with the flashlight asked.

  “You don’t recognize me? That’s cool, man. I don’t recognize myself either,” I mumbled sadly as I struggled to sit up. “What the hell is that awful smell?” My stomach churned.

  “You, dude,” Wilder said from behind the guy hovering over me. His nose wrinkled as he
looked at me.

  “Sorry.” My head lulled to the side. It was so heavy. I needed a nap. But I had to perform first. “Is it show time? ‘Cause I need a nap.”

  “You missed the show,” Lila said, crouching down next to me. She wiped my face with a wet rag. It felt good.

  “Shit.” I’d never missed a show. Not even when I had the flu years ago.

  “Sir, I need to take you to the hospital,” the man in the uniform said.

  “No. I don’t want to go to the hospital.” I shook my head, causing the world to tilt on its axis.

  “Does he have to go?” Lila asked.

  “Look at him,” Brooks shouted. He dragged his fingers through his hair. “He needs help.”

  “And we’ll get it for him. The best possible. But privately,” Lila said calmly.

  “Of course, he has the right to refuse to go to the hospital so long as he’s coherent. So I need him to answer a few questions for me,” the stranger explained.

  “Fine, go ahead,” Lila said with a wave of her hand.

  “Sir, I’m Eddie, and I’m a paramedic. Do you know why I’m here?” He stared at me intently.

  I thought long and hard about the correct answer to his question. “Because I screwed up. I passed out.”

  He nodded, so it must have been the right answer. “Tell me your name.”

  “Dawson Anderson.”

  “Do you know where you are?”

  “On our tour bus. But I have no idea what city we’re in tonight because we’re in a new town every day.” I leaned my head back against the cabinet behind me.

  “OK. I think you’re coherent enough to refuse to be transported to the hospital. But I do advise you to get some help. I’m a big fan of your music. It’d be a shame if you went down the path of so many other great musicians whose success was cut short by poor decisions,” he scolded.

  I gave him an embarrassed nod then closed my eyes. Conversation continued around me, but I tuned it all out.

  Sometime later, someone sank to the floor beside me. “Talk to me, man,” Brooks pleaded with me.