I trail my fingers over the pretty comforter, smiling sadly as I take in the rest of the room. A multitude of fluffy pillows rest on the bed, alongside Snowy, one of her treasured childhood teddies. Tons of crime novels are stacked in an orderly fashion on the bookshelves over her pristine desk, alongside a neat bundle of magazines—Forbes, Entrepreneur, Fast Company—and a bunch of other boring titles. A massive globe rests on the other side of her shelf, and a pang of sorrow hits me square in the chest. Layla won’t ever get to visit all the places she had dreamed of.
I perch on the edge of her bed, smiling at the framed photo on her bedside table. It was taken four years ago when we were in Orlando. We’re both soaked after the Jurassic Park ride, but delightfully happy, giggling and smiling for the camera. Our arms are wrapped around one another and we look so carefree. So untroubled. A single tear rolls out of the corner of my eye. “I miss you Layla-bug,” I whisper, tracing my finger over the photo. “I miss you so Goddamned much, and I’m making a total mess of everything. I need you,” I softly admit, lying back on her bed.
Flipping on my side, I stare at her reflection in the photo. “You always were the strong one when it came to boys. I was always the stupid one believing in true love and all that nonsense, but you had the right idea. I just wish I could harden my heart. I wish I could forget him, but he won’t get out of my head.” I throw an arm over my face. “What am I going to do, Layla? How do I move forward for me and Mom because it’s only the two of us now and I’m not equipped to handle this.”
I imagine Layla’s here, and I can almost hear her voice whispering in my ear.
“Trust in yourself, Kotabear. Make the right choices for you, and make them good ones. You only get one life. Don’t waste it.”
A smile graces my lips as those words sink deep. Layla isn’t here anymore, and I’d give anything for her to have her life over again. But that’s not possible, regardless of how hard I wish for it. However, I’m still here, and she’d hate to see me like this. Floating through life uncertain, denying everything I’ve always dreamed of.
I owe it to my sister to live the best life I can.
In her memory. In her honor.
And for my sanity.
As I curl up in my bed that night, I feel happier than I have in weeks. I know what I want to do. Now, I just need to put things in motion.
Thanksgiving is a rather pitiful affair compared to how we usually spend it, but I don’t complain. Mom is getting stronger with every passing day, and that’s enough to keep my spirits up.
When I return to the house that night, I sit out on the veranda, sipping a glass of wine as I move back and forth on the veranda swing, contemplating everything I’ve decided to do. From now on, I’m going to honor my sister’s memory by living life to the fullest and not dwelling on my mistakes.
When I return to campus, I put stage one of my plan into action. It takes several days, a myriad of interviews and auditions, and a call to Juilliard, but finally the administration in U of I allows me to switch from the accounting program to the dance program.
I reported the paps to campus security, and now a member of the security staff escorts me to and from the building each day, ensuring I’m not hassled. I ignore every other effort the paparazzi make to engage me, and after another couple of days, most of them have gone away. I feel like sending a thank you card to the disgraced politician who was caught in bed with an underage girl for diverting the attention away from me.
I’m still the subject of gossip around campus, and hushed whispers and finger pointing follow me wherever I go, but I’m trying my best to ignore it, hopeful it’ll disappear once the other students realize I’m no longer with Shawn.
Shawn is going about his business as usual in L.A., and he’s clearly moved on, so I’m determined to do the same. To put the whole sorry debacle behind me. Thanks to my late transfer, I’ve missed a lot of classes, so I stay late most nights practicing and trying to catch up, and between my classes and Mom, I’m kept busy.
It’s only at night, when I have little else to occupy my mind, that I allow myself to think about him. To miss him. I wish I could forget about him, but memories of sleeping wrapped in his strong arms refuse to go away. He made me feel safe and loved at a time when I needed it most. I can be thankful to him for that. And I’m stronger than I thought I was. I haven’t fallen apart; I’m making plans for the future, and I can acknowledge the part he played in that.
On Tuesday night, I’m holed up with Tabs, Elsa, and Daisy watching some Netflix and gorging on pizza when Tabs jumps up abruptly, spilling soda all over herself. “Turn the channel,” she splutters, almost choking. “Put on CBS right now!” she commands, pointing at Daisy.
Daisy blinks rapidly as she switches the channel.
I jump up as his face appears on the screen. “No. No. No. I’m not watching this.”
Tabs grips my shoulders, stalling my forward projectory. “I’ve been skimming live tweets, and he’s going to say something about you! You have to listen.”
Part of me wants to stay, but the other part of me wants to get the hell out of Dodge. But Tabs is one stubborn bitch when she wants to be, so I give up the fight and flop back down on the couch.
Shawn is seated with his guitar propped on his lap on a small stage. Another guy with a guitar sits alongside him. They are highlighted under a spotlight, but the rest of the stage is in darkness; however, I can make out the orchestra at his back, poised and ready for some grand production. My heart flutters at the thought this might all be for me.
The camera pans to the dimly lit crowd, and their expectation is almost palpable. Shawn flicks his blond hair out of his blue eyes and smiles directly into the camera. “For weeks, everyone has been hounding me about my midnight dancer, but I’ve kept quiet out of respect for a girl who means the world to me. I’m breaking my silence tonight for a few reasons. For those of you who want to know, she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. She saved me when I didn’t even realize how badly I needed saving. Her strength, her zest for life, her laughter, and her love have transformed my life and resurrected my joy in music.”
You can almost hear the collective withholding of breath in this room. My heart is galloping around my chest like it’s just won the Kentucky Derby. Shawn leans in closer as the camera zooms in on his beautiful face. There’s no mistaking the sincerity on his face or the love in his eyes. “Kota baby, if you’re out there watching, I love you and I miss you so much. This is for you.”
I’m barely breathing as he strums his guitar and starts singing, emotion bleeding into the words as he beseeches me with his soulful lyrics and the haunting quality to his voice. Accompanied by the skillful orchestra at his rear, he is magnificent, and it’s one of the most beautiful performances I’ve ever been privileged to hear. I’m not even aware tears are streaming down my face until the song is finished and the crowd breaks into rapturous applause, giving him a standing ovation.
“Hey,” Elsa says, reaching out to wipe my tears away. “You doing okay?”
My chest heaves, and my heart literally aches for him. It’s been almost a month since I’ve held him or talked to him, and my entire being craves him. But I still doubt my judgment. “That was sincere, right?”
“Hundo P,” Tabs says.
“Kota, I know everything’s messed up,” Daisy says, “but there’s no way he didn’t mean that. He just told the whole world he loves you.”
“What’re you going to do?” Elsa asks.
I stand, swiping the last of my tears away. “What I should’ve done in the first place.” I don’t quite understand what’s going on, but there’s no way I can deny the words he just said or the obvious sentiment behind them. He told me that witch of an assistant was a manipulative bitch, and I let her play me, because I’m sure now that picture is a lie. Shawn told me he slept with her one time, but all he remembered was waking up beside her.
I’m betting she took that photo then, knowing it would come in handy someday.
And I fell for it, hook, line, and sinker.
Maybe it’s my delusional brain clutching onto strings, or maybe I’ve just nailed it.
Either way, I have to stop second-guessing everything or jumping to conclusions. I will only know the truth when I’m standing in front of him and he’s speaking the words to my face.
I stand tall, and a wide smile creeps over my face. “We need to talk. If he can’t come to me, then I’ll go to him. Tabs”—I flick my eyes to my friend—“can you book me on the next flight to L.A. while I go pack a bag.”
She gives me an approving thumbs-up as I fly out of the room to grab my stuff.
Fifteen minutes later, I’m hugging my friends as I prepare to leave.
“Give him a kiss from me.” Daise almost swoons.
“But don’t forget to give him hell, too,” Elsa cautions. “He’s still got a lot of explaining to do.”
“Go reclaim your sexy rock star,” Tabs grins. “And give him a—”
“Stop!” We three scream in unison, holding our hands over her mouth.
I laugh, grabbing all my friends in a group hug. “Wish me luck.”
“Luck!” Tabs singsongs. “But you don’t need it because that hottie lurves you!”
I’m still grinning as I make my way out of the building and start walking toward the street to call a cab. For the first time in ages, I’m completely confident in my decision. This feels like the right thing to do, and I’m just going to go with the flow. Even if I end up getting rejected, at least it will draw a line under everything.
It’s late and most of the students are already tucked up in bed. I quicken my steps as an eerie sensation ghosts over me. All the tiny hairs lift on the back of my neck, and I glance behind me, suddenly on edge, but the path is clear. Telling myself I’m paranoid, I roll my eyes and will myself to calm down. As I whip my head back around, someone crashes into me from the side, knocking me off my feet.
Adrenaline courses through my body as a figure dressed all in black bends over me. I open my mouth to scream when a cloth is pressed against my mouth from behind. A strange cloying smell tickles my nostrils and clogs my throat. My legs and arms thrash about as I attempt to fight my two attackers, but my limbs turn limp so fast, and I’m struggling to keep my eyes open.
They lift me up, as if I weigh nothing, and the last thing I think before my world turns dark is that my mother won’t survive this a second time.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Shawn
Mom said to go big or go home, so I went all out. Putting my heart out there in front of the nation. The Late Late Show is pre-recorded the day before, so the last twenty-four hours have felt like twenty-four years as I waited for it to air. Mom hugged me last night as we watched it, telling me she was proud of me. This morning, she got up at the crack of dawn to make me breakfast, hugging the shit out of me again, telling me to go get my girl.
I guess I have some things to be grateful to my stalker for—finding the girl of my dreams and reconciling with Mom.
My flight lands in Iowa shortly after ten a.m., and I waste no time getting to the business school campus. While I don’t want to draw more attention to myself or Dakota, I only have this one day to try to make things right with her. Tugging my hood up, I lower my head as I lurk in the shadows outside the main entrance to the building, waiting for her. I know her next class is due to start soon, so I just have to wait it out. However, trying to find someone in a crowd while attempting to look inconspicuous is not without challenge.
I’m starting to get dejected after twenty minutes, especially when the crowd dwindles and I still haven’t found her. Then I spot a familiar face. “Tabs!” I hiss, taking a few steps forward and beckoning her with my fingers. “Over here!”
She narrows her eyes at first, and then awareness sparks to life, and her eyes pop wide. She stalks toward me. “What are you doing here?”
“What do you think?” I pin her with an “are you really that stupid” look, and she slaps my arm. “Ow! That fucking hurt.”
“God, you’re such a pussy. If only your fans knew,” she scoffs, shaking her head. Then her expression morphs into a look so dark I actually take a step back in fear. “I’ve got a bone to pick with you.” She jabs her finger into my chest. “Actually, I’ve a few bones to pick with you, but we’ll start with how much of chickenshit you are. I never took you for a coward, but I can’t believe you didn’t call her and try to fix this, instead of letting it stew for weeks.”
I frown. “What the hell are you talking about? I’ve been calling and texting her every day. She’s the one who won’t speak to me.”
Her eyes narrow to thin slits, and she thumps me in the arm again. “Don’t fucking lie to me.”
“I’m not! And quit with that shit,” I demand, rubbing my arm. “You have a punch any guy would be proud of.”
She smirks and then remembers what we were discussing. “If you’re not lying, prove it to me.” She plants her hands on her hips, leveling me with a challenging look.
Extracting my cell from the back pocket of my jeans, I pull up my call history. “Here.” I thrust it at her. “Scroll down and you’ll see how much I’ve been trying.”
Her brow puckers in confusion as she flips through the list, and then a light goes off in her eyes. “Holy shit.” She presses a button and curses. “This isn’t Dakota’s number, Shawn.”
“What? Of course, it is.”
She shakes her head, pulling out her own cell. “This is her number, and they don’t match.”
I compare the two and she’s right—the number saved to my cell is not Dakota’s. “Who the hell have I been calling then? Someone’s been receiving my voice and text messages because they haven’t come back undelivered.” An uneasy feeling settles in my bones, and I let loose a string of expletives.
“This was deliberate,” Tabs says, articulating my thoughts. She punches the number into her cell. “I’ll call it and see who picks up.” I hold my breath as she puts her cell on speaker, and we both listen as it goes straight to an automated voicemail. “Damn it. No personal message which confirms my suspicions.”
“I think I know what’s happened, but I want some verification.” I dial Devin’s number and he picks up on the third ring. I ask him to run a trace on the number and call me back.
“Someone wanted to break you two up,” Tabs deduces, and I nod.
“I think it was my assistant. The day I landed back in L.A., I gave her my phone to turn off notifications, and I think she switched out the numbers then.”
“That’s not all she did.” Tabs proceeds to fill me in on Dakota’s call and how Calista answered and sent her an incriminating photo.
“I swear I’m not sleeping with her. It was one time, years ago, and it’s never happened again. I knew she was crazy, but this is some fucked-up shit.”
My phone vibrates, and I answer Devin’s call, already knowing he’s going to confirm Calista’s involvement. Although she attempted to cover her tracks by setting the cell up with an Iowa city number, Devin has been able to trace it back to her in a matter of minutes. I hang up and call Luke immediately, giving him a quick rundown of what’s happened. “I want Calista fired immediately. Revoke her security clearance and systems access and have the front desk retrieve her ID badge, laptop, cell, and anything else that is my official property.” He doesn’t argue this time, and a layer of stress lifts off me as I move to end the call, but Tabs holds up a palm, stalling me.
“Ask him if Kota has turned up at his offices,” she says, and I lift a brow in silent question. “She took a late flight to L.A. last night. Her plan was to go to your management offices and ask to speak to your manager because she didn’t trust that she’d get through to you if she called your cell,” she adds.
“I heard,” Luke confirms in my ear. “But she hasn’t turned up here. At least not yet. I’ll just double-check with security.”
I shake my head at Tabs, and she frowns, glancing worriedly at the time.
“No, she hasn’t made an appearance,” Luke reconfirms. “I gave her name to the front desk, and I’ll call you the minute she shows.”
“Okay. Thanks, man.”
“Shawn!” Luke’s urgent tone stops me from hanging up.
“What?”
“I’m sorry about Calista. I should’ve listened to you. You were right about her all along.”
“Just get rid of her now, Luke, and make sure she never comes back.”
I hang up then, a cloud of apprehension hovering over me. “Call Dakota,” I tell Tabs. “I need to know she’s okay.”
Tabs calls her three times in a row, but the phone goes automatically to voicemail, and my sense of apprehension multiplies.
“I don’t like this,” Tabs says, looking as worried as I feel.
“Me neither. Did she say what time she was planning on stopping by my management offices?”
“She had checked into a hotel at the airport and booked a cab for seven a.m. to bring her downtown. She should have been there by now. Something’s wrong, Shawn.” She grips my arm. “Do something.”
I call Devin again and quickly update him. “Can you check to see if she got on the flight and if she checked into her hotel. I’m worried.”
“Give me ten minutes, and I’ll call you back.”
“Let’s grab a coffee,” Tabs suggests, and I let her steer me to the small coffee place around the corner. I take a seat in the corner, with my back to the room and away from the window, while Tabs gets our drinks.
I drum my fingers impatiently off the tabletop, and my knee jerks up and down. I’m strung tight, and an awful sense of foreboding presses down on me, refusing to leave. Tabs hands me my black coffee, and I nod my thanks. She sits down across from me. “So.” She purses her lips. “You’re Shawn Lucas.”
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