The Rockstar and the Pussycat (Dark Fire Book 1)

by Ivy M. Jones

  I smiled at the image of the shirt Justin had created for our family. Then I bent to pick up the clothes I had tossed on the floor.

  There was a folded yellow square of paper on the floor just under my hoodie. The best I could figure was it had fallen out of my pocket, but I didn't recall putting it there. I swiped it off the floor and opened it.

  Call now or Zach goes to jail.

  Below that was a phone number.

  Terrified, I picked up the house phone sitting on the bedside table and dialed.

  "Glad you finally called," a voice I didn't recognize answered.

  "Who is this? What do you want?" I could feel my stomach flipping. It had been several hours since I'd had a nausea pill, but I was usually in bed before I needed another one. At 12:30 in the morning, I was going to need something to carry me over until morning.

  "Tomorrow morning at nine, have a seat in front of Shep's in Midtown off 57th. Tell anyone about this, bring anyone with you, and I hand everything over to whoever pays the most and your friend goes to prison for a long, long time."

  I froze, panicked and disbelieving. It wasn't until I registered the dial tone in my ear that I finally moved. The reality of the situation hit me and I ran to the en suite bathroom to lose everything that had been in my stomach.

  I tried to think as I hunched over the toilet. Zach had promised that he couldn't go to jail for what happened. Cy's uncle had confirmed it. What could this person possibly have that could send Zach to prison anyway? He'd hinted at giving the information to the paparazzi... Why not the police?

  And how was I supposed to go alone? Justin had been shadowing me, his concern obvious. It felt wonderful to be so cared for.

  Being cared for was novel. Before, all I’d had were those horrible weeks after my father had disowned me. Before that were the years when I’d been on my own without any help but desperate to remain independent from him. And before that, the decades of my childhood spent naively doing everything possible to be exactly what he wanted me to be, miserable and lonely as a result.

  Justin could follow me forever and I'd never tell him to leave. Or would I have to?

  I was horrible at lying. Even keeping secrets caused me physical discomfort and I had more tells than I could count. I was going to have to do something insane if Justin was going to believe it…

  So far, he hadn't asked about Griffin and Nicki, but I knew it was just a matter of time until he did. I wanted to cry as I argued with myself that I probably wouldn't be able to hold out for very long with such a huge secret anyway, so why not?

  With a jolt that had me clutching the toilet again, I knew what I had to do. They would all hate me, no doubt, but if I could keep Zach safe, I would do it. The guys meant more to Justin than I ever would.

  If it had have been possible to have stopped this, and Justin found out that I didn't, he would never forgive me anyway.

  Weak, I pushed myself up to a standing position, brushed my teeth with my finger, and picked up my clothes. I took a deep breath at the bedroom door and let my mind go back to how happy I'd been when I'd come through that door. I looked at the plain but beautiful ring that sparkled against my hand.

  I pushed through the door and squared my shoulders against the desolation I felt inside. I made my way back to the others, coming up behind Nicki to whisper, "I'm so sorry. I hope you can forgive me someday."

  "What?" she said, tilting her head to look over her shoulder at me.

  "So when can we expect to see Griffin's ring on your finger?" I asked, loudly enough to catch the attention of the two people beside us- Griffin and Justin.

  Justin swung around so fast I barely saw him. His hand was on Griffin's forearm, locked in place so tight, I could see the tendons stretched under his skin.

  "What the hell is she talking about, Griffin?"

  I watched Nicki wheel on me, her face a deep shade of red. "What the hell, Andy?"

  I let my lips whisper I'm sorry once more, but then spoke my next words out loud. "This is such a great night! So happy... I thought it was time to let you guys be happy, too. No use hiding it anymore, right?"

  Nicki's face was stricken and the red faded to a pale, sickly white.

  Behind her, I saw Justin take a swing at Griffin who blocked with his arm. Justin knocked him over and the two of them rolled to the floor, someone's bottle of beer sliding to the floor beside them. I watched in forlorn acceptance as Justin tried over and over to pin his best friend to the floor in order to pummel him to death with his fists.

  "Justin! Stop! It was a mistake," I shouted, too scared he was about to kill his friend. I hadn’t added in Justin’s protectiveness of Nicki into this plan. Justin very well might kill him. "Please, let him go!" I tried to pull him off, throwing my wet shirt and hoodie to the floor in desperation.

  His eyes snapped up to mine and in slow motion, I watched Griffin nail him in the chin. Those gorgeous eyes rolled back in his head and his lids closed. He dropped down over Griff's chest, unconscious.

  Griffin rolled Justin's unconscious body to the floor. "Shit! I didn't mean to knock him out. I was just trying to stop him. I- I..."

  "It's my fault. I'm so sorry. I didn't think he'd try to kill you," I sobbed. I backed away as everyone looked at me. "I'm so sorry. S-so sorry," I cried. "I just had to do something."

  I turned and ran, digging Justin's keys from the pile on the front hall table and ducking out through the front door, flying across the circle drive until I got to Lourdes. I had to wipe away tears so often, I absently wondered if the windshield wipers would work better than my hand.

  Going as fast as I was, it still took over an hour and a half to get back to the Justin's apartment, the place we were going to call home and raise our little make-shift family. That was probably nothing but a dream now, but I spent the rest of the night sobbing into the pillow, hoping that Justin would understand when I explained that I had no choice. I had to save his friend.

  I set the alarm on my phone for eight, not that it mattered much. Before I finally drifted off to sleep, the clock read five. I would be dragging and groggy, but I would fix this, no matter what.

  There was sand in my eyes every time I blinked. My skin felt stretched too tight across my body. The food on my plate had no taste, but I ate it anyway, swallowing down a nausea pill on autopilot. Whether I was hungry or not, I needed to eat.

  I put my hand on my belly, which Justin and I had noticed the other day had begun to feel a little harder. It pooched out a little right below my belly button, we had decided.

  I wiped away the lone tear that welled up. I was dehydrated, having cried for hours before falling asleep. I downed the cup of juice at my elbow and checked the time. Six minutes to nine. I'd gotten in early enough to eat at Shep’s, not sure what to expect.

  I waited for another three minutes before a stranger appeared and sat in the seat across from me. He was almost completely unremarkable, with sandy-blonde brown hair and average features. He wasn't handsome, but not ugly either.

  Not knowing what to say, I crossed my arms and leaned back in my chair, waiting.

  With a nod, he indicated a dark sedan parked at the curb.

  "Your candy isn't going to get me into that dark-windowed car, stranger," I sneered icily.

  "You're not getting in. You just need to talk to the man inside," he said, nodding.

  Hesitantly, I stood. He followed my lead, slapping a twenty on the table to cover my meal. Together we walked to the curb. The stranger opened the door but I shied away.

  "Andrea," a voice called from inside.

  I knew that voice. Before I'd been old enough to call him Daddy, I'd known that voice.

  I leaned closer. "What are you doing here?" I asked.

  "Sit, Andrea. I won't have this conversation on the street."

  I looked around at the random people strolling down the street, at the waitress who smiled at me while she cleared my dishes from the table. The tip the stranger had left her was probably ove
r one hundred percent of the bill.

  With a deep breath, I slid into the car. Immediately, the stranger slid in beside me, pushing me close to my father. He pulled the door shut with a smooth click.

  The car lurched forward into traffic and we were off.

  "Tell me why you're here," I said sharply, refusing to look at him.

  "Andrea, meet Ian. He's agreed to marry you, granted you abort the bastard you're carrying. Then I'll finally be able to make this media circus disappear."

  "Nice to meet you, Ian," I said, my voice flat. "I'm sorry I have to decline such a romantic proposal, however."

  I saw my father's head shake slowly back and forth in the edge of my vision.

  "A Senator's daughter cannot be making the mess you've gotten yourself into."

  "You're not a Senator," I said tightly. "Not that it matters. It's my life. And if I recall correctly, you already cut me from yours."

  "Unfortunately, it doesn't work like that, Andrea." His voice was cold and I felt myself shiver under the coat I'd snagged from Justin's closet. My super-warm winter coat was still in the hall closet at Zach's. I'd needed something this morning and Justin's spare coat was not only warm, but it smelled like him which sent a little current of courage through me.

  "I'm sorry. Perhaps you need to spell this out for me." I hugged myself to keep in the warmth. The air in the car felt icy despite the heater blowing.

  "There was no proposition involved, Andrea. I wasn't offering it as a suggestion and there is no alternative. You're going to abort that bastard, marry Ian and move some place quiet while I settle the madness on this end. Then, when I've cleaned up this mess, I'll be running for office."

  I stiffened beside him. This was insane. Did he really think I would let him do this?

  "Why?" I finally looked at him. "You told me before that you had disowned me. Wasn't that enough? I left. There was no reason to follow me."

  "I beg to differ. It might have been enough, but you couldn't keep your face out of the tabloids. Now, my pregnant daughter, knocked up by a famous musician, is everywhere I look. There are pictures calling you a gold-digging whore and questioning your morals. I can't have that, Andrea. Questioning the morals of my wayward daughter is only a small step from questioning mine."

  "So because someone snapped some pictures of me and made up some stories, you're going to force me into a marriage I don't want?"

  "And get rid of the baby that you haven't confirmed you're pregnant with. You're just a naive girl who had some fun with a celebrity while he was in town, but nothing came of it."

  The temperature seemed to drop even more with each word until I finally clenched my hands repeatedly to keep the blood moving.

  "Driver! This is my stop," I yelled. I had no idea where I was, but anywhere was better than this clown car filled with freaks.

  There was no response. The car didn't even slow.

  "Let me out," I said, gritting my teeth.

  "You've made some very poor decisions lately, Andrea. I'll be making them for you in the future."

  I screamed, launching myself at him, nails bared, kicking at him until I had my hand on the door handle. With a heave, I pulled as hard as I could. There was no lock to flip, no button to pull up at the window.

  The door didn't open. Strong arms banded around my chest and abdomen, pulling me away from my father and making it hard to breathe. I struggled until I realized the tension across my belly might be bad for the baby. But even when I relaxed, the arms around me didn't.

  We finally arrived at my parents' estate, the big gate opening in front of us. From his pocket, my father produced a scarf and tied it around my face over my mouth. Then, those tight arms tightened further and I was pulled backwards out of the car and hustled into the house.

  I wanted to fight. But I just didn't know how without possibly hurting the baby.

  For several hours, I was alone. Locked in my old bedroom, all I could do was look out the window at the sprawling lawns and lament how far away the slightly lower roofline of the pool house was. I regretted that I had left my cell phone in the pocket of my winter coat – when Ian searched me, I realized how stupid it was that I'd left it at Zach's – and I wondered how my father had found out about Zach's past.

  The Private Investigator hadn't had a hard time checking into Zach's past. It couldn't have been difficult then for a man like my father either, someone with unlimited resources and the driving need to corner me into doing his will.

  There was a sound at the door and the knob turned. I braced myself, grabbing my old alarm clock in case I needed a weapon. It was better than nothing and there was nothing else in the room to grab.

  The door opened and in stepped my mom. She looked tired. Old. Defeated. Yet robotic.

  I swore in that moment that I would never let my father destroy me the way he obviously had her.

  She was singularly fit to be a Senator's wife, I realized. Over the years since I'd moved out, he had broken her, molding her into someone too dispirited to fight him on anything. Her eyes were dead, and I knew that she would support him on anything, stand by him no matter what, even help him if he wanted to hurt me.

  There was no maternal ally in her. This person was nothing but the shell of the woman I had snuggled with as a child.

  "Your father wanted you to know that he's called a doctor friend of his. Someone discreet. Doctor Hodgins will be here shortly. Is there anything you need until then? Something to eat? Something to drink?"

  She barely moved as she spoke, her hands clasped gracefully in front of her. Not a single lint particle on her sweater set, not a hair out of place. She had the same color hair I did, but you wouldn't have known it. Father had ordered it colored at some point when I was in high school, determining that no one took a platinum blonde seriously. She'd toned down the intensity with some honey blonde and near brunette, making her appear fake to me.

  My mother had hair like shimmery silver and a hug that could vanquish nightmares. This woman, who spoke vaguely of my impending abortion and didn't touch me, was a stranger.

  "Why did he send you? Did he think you could convince me to go through with this?"

  "I'm sure that was not the case. He explained that this was a female matter and as such, he would not be involved." Her hand came up to her pearls, patting them gently as if to confirm they were still in place, but in no other way did she give the appearance that she was anything other than a mindless automaton.

  "Except to order the murder in the first place," I pointed out.

  "Ridiculous, Andrea. We're not that conservative," she said, rolling her eyes so slightly, I almost didn't catch the movement. Her patrician features registered nothing more than a faint incredulity, and then it was gone.

  "Leave." I turned back to the window.

  "You don't need anything then?" I heard the door open behind me. I thought about rushing it, but when I glanced up, I saw a flash of black suit coat just on the other side of the door frame. Of course there was a guard out there. Silly for me to believe otherwise.

  I turned back to the window. "I don't want anything from you."

  "I suggest you make yourself comfortable with the idea, Andrea. Doctor Hodgins will be here within the hour."

  And with that, the door closed. And I was locked back into my childhood bedroom, where memories of my real mother brought me a little comfort, while the knowledge that the woman I remembered was gone brought tears to my eyes.

  Mothers should be better than that, I thought. They should fight for their children until the end.

  My head snapped up and I looked out the window at the long driveway. In less than an hour, a car would roll up that long length of pavement bearing a passenger intent on killing my child.

  Like. Hell.

  Justin

  My hand came out to pull pussycat to me, but encountered nothing but empty sheets. Her smell was missing, her body was missing, and there was pain in my head I couldn't place.

  Groaning, I
came awake.

  I didn't recognize the room at first. Probably because I'd never been in it before. And for a split second, I had a horrifying thought: I'd dreamt up pussycat. I was in some other random chick's room and none of my time with Andy was real.

  I took a deep breath to settle my mind. Nothing. No perfume, no female clothes scattered or even mine...

  I looked down. I was still dressed in the shirt I'd had made for my proposal to Andy.

  Oh, thank you Jesus.

  I got up, finding my shoes next to the bed and made my way into the hall, quickly recognizing Zach's house. In the kitchen, Nicki was making coffee, but I didn't see the guys.

  "Morning," I croaked.

  She turned and I watched her face fall. "Good morning."

  "What?" I asked, grabbing a mug from a cabinet and lining it up beside the Keurig on the counter for my turn.

  "You don't remember trying to kill Griffin last night?" She slammed her mug onto the tray under the coffee maker and violently hit the brew button.

  "Kill... What?" I blinked, hard. "Oh. Shit."

  "Yeah. Oh, shit."

  "Nicki, I'm sorry, I swear. I just... I just want to protect you." I knew it was a lousy excuse, but I couldn't remember anything after knocking Griffin to the ground, so I had no idea if anything else had happened or had been said.

  "I'm not even going to explain why it's none of your goddamn business, Jus."

  "I know," I sighed. "Wait..." I recalled pussycat's stricken face. "Andy said she didn't mean it, that it was a mistake. Is there something going on between you and Griffin, or not? I'm confused."

  "Yeah, I don't know what she was talking about. Maybe just trying to fix it so you'd get off of Griffin. Then Griff popped you in the chin and you went down. Cy and Zach carried you into the spare room and we all went to bed."