Beastly Lights

by Theresa Jane

  “Wyatt, what’s up?” he walked off to continue the call away from the bickering, and I moved closer to try and take some control back from the conversation. When I heard they were discussing which colors would best suit my complexion, I turned to the only sane person left in the apartment. I never thought I would find an ally in Ant, but there was no one left.

  “Ant, tell them they’re crazy,” I implored at the stoic man, and a grim smile spread across his lips as he assessed me.

  “No, I think we should let this one play out,” he shrugged. “Liam clearly needs to get something out of his system.” He now wore a smug expression, and I was preparing a scathing retort when Liam reappeared with an angry look plastered across his face.

  “I need to go to the studio,” he ground out. “Some intern screwed up one of the recordings, and they want me to record a new track they’re thinking about putting on the tour list.”

  “But you leave in less than a month,” Ant frowned, and the pair shared an angry look before Lucinda interrupted them.

  “This is perfect; you can take Freya.”

  “What?”

  “I’m not ready for another public outing,” Ryan answered, a little flustered.

  “I’ve already been out,” I shot back, trying to level everyone with my annoyed look, undecided as to who was making me angrier.

  “Yes, but this is different,” Ryan dismissed.

  “I have to go now. Come on, Freya,” Liam motioned for me to follow him, and I raised my eyebrows at him challengingly.

  “No,” Ryan almost squealed, rushing to my side. “I need ten minutes, twenty tops.”

  “I need a break,” I huffed as Ryan started pushing me down the hallway.

  “Hurry, Freya,” Ryan said impatiently. “Even magic takes time.”

  “I don’t want to do this,” I shouted over my shoulder, but it seemed no one was listening to anything I had to say.

  When Ryan had me in my bathroom standing in front of the mirror, he looked at me expectantly, and I stared right back.

  “What?” I finally sighed, running a hand through my tangled hair.

  “Well, where’s your make-up?” Frowning, I opened a drawer and pulled out my lone foundation and slammed it down on the counter, looking at him angrily. He moved beside me and looked worriedly in the drawer, and I swear he visibly paled.

  “Lucinda!” he shouted, causing me to jump in alarm.

  “What?” Lucinda asked breathlessly moments later.

  “We have a serious problem,” Ryan said gravely. “Do you have your make-up kit with you?”

  “Yes,” she answered cautiously, looking over at me briefly before looking back at Ryan. “Why?” She watched as Ryan pointed at the foundation as if it were the most shocking thing in the world.

  “What is that?” she asked, her eyes narrowing on the bottle. It was going to get a complex if people kept speaking about it like this.

  “That is her idea of make-up.”

  “Hey, I’m right here.”

  “Give me a sec,” Lucinda said hurriedly, running from the room before coming back moments later as Ryan took deep, cleansing breaths.

  “I’ve got this; you sort out an outfit,” she announced, setting the monstrosity of a bag on the counter and rifling through it. Where had she been hiding that?

  Ryan quickly ran from the room with a worried look as he muttered about my incompetence and the disgrace I brought upon the female species.

  “Sit,” Lucinda instructed, not looking up from her task. I gingerly sat myself on the closed toilet seat, feeling like a child being scolded by their teacher for not doing their homework.

  “Why do I need to get dressed up? What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” I asked, pulling at the hem of my worn shirt. The only response I got was a disapproving glance as she continued to pull things from the bag. I shuffled closer, wondering if she was going to pull a hippopotamus out of it, but she shooed me away before setting to work on the disaster which was apparently my face.

  “Do I really need to do this?” I asked, trying to desperately not to let my eyes water as she poked them with a black pencil. I was terrified she was going to have to start again if I did.

  “Yes,” she answered shortly, and I sighed defeatedly.

  “You should take advantage of it; you never know, it might be fun to have all the attention.” However, she sounded less than convincing, and I could feel my dread begin to grow.

  “Would you like all the attention?” I challenged.

  “No, that’s why I work behind the scenes.”

  “Is Ryan at least going to put me in actual clothes this time?”

  “If he doesn’t, I don’t think Liam is going to let you leave the apartment,” she smirked, and I frowned up at her as she moved to brushing powder across my cheeks. “He ranted at me for a solid hour this morning about Ryan’s choice for you last night.”

  “I thought he was mad at me,” I admitted, not revealing that I thought he was angry about my inability to be more beautiful than the women he had been with previously.

  “Lucinda, are you done?”

  “Nearly, Ryan,” she huffed, working more furiously on me.

  “How long have you and Jarred been married?” I asked, trying to get my anger under control by changing the subject.

  “Five years,” she smiled, her eyes filling with a genuine love for her husband. “I was still in college when we met. He works at the same high school as Ant. He was just a substitute teacher, and Ant brought him to one of our family dinners. We were married only six months later, and nine months after that we had Davis.”

  “He seems very…”

  “Not like me,” she laughed. “Yeah, we’re very different, but I need him. He balances me out; he doesn’t let me get out of hand.”

  “Lucinda, she needs to get dressed,” Ryan burst back into the bathroom, shooing Lucinda out as she tried to swipe one last stroke of lip gloss.

  “I’m not done,” she complained.

  “Too late,” he dismissed, handing me a pile of clothes and leaving the room. Once the door was closed, I looked down at the clothes, wondering where he had found them. When I looked through the bags last night, there had only been skimpy dresses and injury-inducing heels.

  “Move it, Freya,” Ryan yelled through the door, and I muttered angrily under my breath as I started to pull my clothes off.

  Chapter 23: The Girlfriend

  “Freya,” he whispered in my ear. “Relax.”

  “I am,” I answered defensively. He placed his hand over both of mine to stop them from trembling. He was reaching across the seat between us, his body heat pressing on me until it was almost impossible to breathe. I tried to take a deep breath to calm my racing heart, but it only made it worse. Everything that was him was filling my senses, and my mind was muddled.

  Daryl and Martin were driving us again, and I desperately looked out the window at the darkening city streets. I needed to change the subject; I needed to get him to lean away before the sensations in my body completely overrode my sensible mind.

  “Why do you need to do this now?” I asked, cursing my shaky voice as his hands still held my jittery ones. “Why couldn’t I have stayed at the apartment? Why were there so many photographers outside? Will there be that many at the studio? What are they waiting for? Why are you still holding my hands?”

  “Whoa, slow down,” he chuckled, and I turned back to glare at him. “Take a breath there, speedy.” To spite him, I held it instead, and he laughed harder.

  “You aren’t helping,” I deadpanned.

  “Neither are you,” he smirked before he pressed a gentle kiss to my temple, and I looked up at him with renewed confusion.

  “You know,” he murmured, ignoring my confused look. “I like it better when your hair’s down.” Suddenly, his other hand moved around and pulled my hair free from the tie, and I thought my heart had stopped. Heat rushed up my c
heeks, and I suddenly felt very cramped in such an enclosed space. I tried to hide my labored breathing until I was finally able to drag my eyes away from his.

  At that moment, I realized the car had stopped moving and all of a sudden, my door was open. Bright flashes and loud voices were invading the small space, fraying the last of my nerves. Deciding I would fare better out among the vultures than in the car with Liam, I quickly ducked away from him and made to get out of the car. However, instead of making a smooth escape, like I planned, I was thrown back harshly against the seat. I heard him chuckle beside me and I huffed indignantly, blowing the hair from my face as I flushed redder.

  “Sometimes, it helps to unbuckle first,” he mocked before leaning over and releasing me from the pesky belt. I felt his breath dance across my exposed collarbone, and I almost forgot where we were until a bright flash forced my attention away from him again.

  Instantly, my panic from before was back and I unknowingly sank back into Liam. Daryl and Martin were outside the door trying to hold the horde of photographers back, and they were getting antsy.

  “Let’s go,” Liam instructed in a low voice. Then suddenly, a large hand was resting firmly in the dip of my lower back and pushing me out into the throng of people.

  All too soon, my feet hit the ground, and I heard the car door close. Liam stood beside me, the voices intensifying and the flashes becoming frantic.

  Liam’s hand was still pressed firmly to my back, almost protectively, as he continued to move me forward through the crowd. He was joking with some of the photographers who he seemed familiar with. At first, I didn’t take much notice of their banter until I realized why they were teasing him.

  “Come on, Liam,” one whined as we made it to the glass doors of what I assumed was the studio. “Give us a decent shot.”

  “You’d do the same for your girl,” Liam playfully replied, and I felt a strange warm sensation rush through my chest as I looked back. I realized Liam had positioned himself in a way that would keep me mostly obscured from view, his hand still pressed firmly in the dip of my back. Then we were inside the building, the door closing behind us and mostly muffling the noise from outside.

  “Can they still see us?” I asked nervously as I turned back to the slightly tinted window. Quickly, Liam took my hand and pulled me flush against his side before leaning down and placing a gentle kiss in my hair.

  “I guess that’s a yes,” I mumbled. I was stopped from saying anything else as a short and stocky man came waddling over with a worried expression on his face. He wheezed loudly as he stopped beside us and quickly flattened down three of the four strands of hair on his head. The other still poked up at the ceiling in rebellion. All I could imagine was a giant flag flying from it as the rebellious strand proclaimed its victory.

  I was focused on the rebel hair, so when Liam nudged me to get me moving again, I startled, not knowing what the two had discussed.

  “Where are we going?” I whispered so Mr. Wheeze couldn’t hear me.

  “To the recording booth. I want to get this over with,” Liam grumbled. His mood had taken a sudden swing since the car only minutes before. I could only assume Mr. Wheeze had done something to anger him.

  “What did he say?”

  “Weren’t you listening?”

  “I was a little distracted,” I shrugged sheepishly.

  “By what?” Liam asked, and I knew his amusement was quickly chasing his anger away.

  “The hair standing on the top of his head,” I answered a little sheepishly, and I watched as Liam looked over at the man and shook his head with a barely restrained smirk.

  “Only you,” he muttered, taking his hand from mine and instead wrapping it around my waist to pull me closer. I felt sparks ignite everywhere we touched no matter how I tried to ignore them. I needed to get my body straight before I did something stupid. Like fall for the rock star.

  “Liam, finally,” someone scolded, and I looked up to find a lean, graying man glaring up at Liam.

  “Hey Wyatt,” Liam greeted stoically.

  “Where have you been? You know what? I don’t care; we have things to do.” He walked back down a corridor. Liam quickly dragged me along beside him.

  “You should have been here an hour ago. Time is money,” he patronized, and I felt a frown consume my face as Liam continued to follow the man obediently until we came to a stop outside a heavy-looking door. He quickly ushered us inside, seeming to notice me for the first time.

  “Who’s this?” he spat, as if my presence had somehow offended him.

  “Freya,” Liam paused, giving me an odd look before continuing. “She’s my girlfriend.”

  “Her?” the man scoffed before throwing his head back, laughing at some joke I wasn’t privy to.

  “Yeah,” Liam answered uncertainly, his arm dropping from my waist as he rubbed the back of his neck.

  “You’re playing with me,” Wyatt chuckled, not fully recovered from his fit. “You gave up Jazelle for that?” He didn’t even look at me but instead flicked a dismissive hand in my direction.

  “Excuse me, who do you think you are?” I demanded, feeling my face flame as Liam remained stiff beside me.

  “Oh, feisty?” Wyatt raised an eyebrow knowingly at Liam, and I could feel myself losing control. Liam must have realized this too because he quickly sprang to life and took my hand, pulling me back from Wyatt. I realized I had taken a few steps in his direction, and Liam obviously didn’t want to see what I would do next.

  “It’s publicity,” Liam placated, and I felt as if a cool splash of water had been thrown at me. “Lucinda’s idea.”

  “You should dump that woman,” Wyatt chided, seeming to find a new topic to discuss other than my inadequacies as Liam’s new fake girlfriend. “She can’t do anything right. She is going to do nothing for your image.”

  “There was a slip-up,” Liam explained. “She was the only option." He shrugged before he quickly added, “but no one can know about this,” he warned, and Wyatt just shrugged as if the news meant nothing to him when I could tell it did.

  “If I recall, it was you who was pushing for this fake relationship only an hour ago,” I shot back, and I felt Liam’s gaze drop on me. The anger behind his eyes was unmistakable.

  I felt like the rug had been pulled out from under me. I could never keep up with his moods. Any warm feelings I had from before had dissipated and were instead replaced with a burning rage just waiting to be unleashed. I was just about to reply when Wyatt cut over the top of me.

  “Come on, we don’t have time for this. Set her up somewhere and get inside the studio.”

  “Set me up somewhere?” I seethed as the man disappeared into another room. I took two steps in his direction before Liam pulled me back and turned me around so I was facing him.

  “Come on, Freya," Liam groaned. “Just a few hours, and then we can go back to the apartment.”

  “A few hours?”

  “What did you think, I could do this in thirty minutes?” He scoffed, releasing his hold on me and walking to the door Wyatt had just disappeared into.

  “What am I meant to do?” I frowned, keeping my feet planted firmly on the tiles.

  “Here,” he said, pulling something out of his back pocket and thrusting it into my hands. When I looked down at it, I was torn between gratitude over how considerate he had been to bring my sketchpad and furious that he would stuff something so precious to me in his back pocket. “There’s a couch in here; I really shouldn’t be that long,” he said gently, but it didn’t lessen my annoyance or wipe the other man’s words from my mind.

  “Liam,” I sighed, looking down at my sketchpad.

  “Please, just a few hours.”

  “Who was that man?” I asked, not able to hide my distaste from my tone.

  “Who, Wyatt? He’s my manager. He makes sure everything on the business side of things is running smoothly. He books my tours and everything else I n
eed to be who I am." He shrugged, looking at the door anxiously.

  “Why do you feel the need to impress him?”

  “What?” he spluttered, looking back down at me with a startled expression. “I’m not trying to impress anyone,” he answered adamantly.

  “Okay,” I shrugged, busying myself with flattening out the pages of my sketchpad.

  “No, why do you think that?” he demanded, his tone defensive.

  “It’s just you look at him and act like you want to prove yourself.” I shrugged, trying to wriggle out of the conversation with as little detail as possible. “It’s as if you’re afraid to disappoint him. Like a son trying to earn the approval of a father.”

  “I don’t have a father,” Liam ground out, narrowing his eyes at me.

  “I know, he left after your sister died. It only makes sense that you would look for another father figure to prove yourself to.” He pondered my words for a moment as I continued to play with my sketchpad.

  “Wyatt has been with me since the beginning. He found me singing covers in a dingy bar in Brooklyn. I owe him.”

  “Okay,” I answered skeptically, and Liam glared at me for a moment longer before turning to the door and holding it open for me without saying another word.

  I walked past him and into the room and was immediately confronted with a board filled with buttons and knobs and all kinds of fun things. The only problem was Wyatt, who sat beside the man at the controls, glaring at me.

  “What’s up, Raven?” Liam greeted, slapping that man on the back as he passed by.

  “Hey, Henderson.” Raven looked me up and down and I tugged at my sleeve, uncomfortable with all the attention. “So, this is her?”

  “Not his type,” Wyatt muttered, still glaring at me.

  “No, but I would gladly take her off his hands,” Raven smirked before turning back to his board of wonders and fiddling with the switches.