Infamous

by Alyson Noel

  Six Months Later

  FORTY-SIX

  KIDS IN AMERICA

  Spotlight magazine exclusive!

  We here at Spotlight were thrilled when Tommy Phillips agreed to take time out from his busy schedule to catch us up on his latest news! Read on to see what Tommy’s been up to since that tragic night at RED.

  Spotlight: Tommy, thank you for taking the time to talk with us. We know you’ve been lying low for the last several months, spending time in the studio, and recovering from what we can only imagine was a harrowing experience. How are you holding up?

  Tommy: I’m doing okay. Not sure I’ll ever be over it entirely; it’s the sort of thing that’s not easy to forget.

  Spotlight: Understandable. Have you been in touch with the others—Aster, Layla, Ryan, and Madison?

  Tommy: Sure. We’ve all remained friends.

  Spotlight: Anything more you can tell us?

  Tommy: I don’t feel comfortable speaking for them. All I can say is that there was a lot of loss and everyone’s doing their best to cope and move forward in the best way possible.

  Spotlight: And what about your relationship with Ira Redman?

  Tommy: What about it?

  Spotlight: We were all shocked to learn he is your dad.

  Tommy: There were a lot of shocking reveals that night. That was merely one of them.

  Spotlight: What’s it like being Ira Redman’s son?

  Tommy: No different from being anyone’s son, I imagine. It’s another relationship to navigate. What I’d really like to talk about is my music. I think my record label would prefer that as well.

  Spotlight: Of course! Catch us up—tell us what to expect.

  Tommy: Well, as you know, “Violet Eyes” hit number one on iTunes.

  Spotlight: And stayed there for multiple weeks. If we’re not mistaken, it’s since maintained a solid position in the top ten. You must be so proud. When does the next single drop?

  Tommy: Five more days until “Thoroughbred Girls” will be released, and of course there will be plenty more to follow. A world tour is also in the works, so keep an eye open for that.

  Spotlight: We wouldn’t miss it! And we can’t wait for “Thoroughbred Girls”—any hint on what might’ve inspired it?

  Tommy: It’s a ballad about a sad, tragic girl who died too young.

  Spotlight: Hmmm . . . sounds familiar. Guess we’ll have to wait to decipher the lyrics and see if our hunch is right. Any truth to the dating rumors? We’ve been hearing whispers!

  Tommy: I never discuss my love life.

  Spotlight: We seem to remember a time when you were much more candid. Speaking of, Madison Brooks is up for an Academy Award. What do you think her chances are of winning?

  Tommy: I have no doubt she’ll get it.

  Spotlight: Well, the competition is always tough, but we agree that she’s got really good odds. Either way, your loyalty is admirable, to say the least. We know you have to run, but thanks so much for dropping by! And readers, make sure to download “Thoroughbred Girls,” then check back here and we’ll decode the lyrics together!

  FORTY-SEVEN

  CITY OF STARS

  Trena Moretti stood before the mirror as a swarm of assistants fussed at her makeup, gown, and hair.

  The Oscars.

  She was actually attending Hollywood’s biggest, most glamorous event. As she took in the sight of her shimmering gown, she wondered if she’d ever get used to the constant stream of exclusive invitations flooding her mailbox.

  Weeks after the tragedy at RED, she’d been awarded an Emmy for her reporting on In-Depth. Funny to think how not that long ago, she actually worried what might become of her career once the Madison case was solved. As it turned out, she’d be riding that wave well into the foreseeable future. Her nonfiction book proposal had gone to auction, with the highest bidder offering a healthy seven figures. And if there was one thing she knew, she could always count on Hollywood to offer up a new tragedy. It was just a matter of picking the right one on which to focus.

  And, of course, maintaining a good relationship with Detective Larsen and Paul Banks was key. If Larsen hadn’t been following her, and if Paul hadn’t been tracking Madison from the moment she escaped, Trena might never have gotten out of RED alive.

  It was Larsen’s distrust that had placed him at the scene. But it was Mateo who’d alerted him that something weird was going on after receiving a disturbing text from Heather—a sort of rhyming good-bye that had left him alarmed.

  “You look stunning.”

  Trena glanced into the mirror to see James standing behind her. He wore a custom tux, and she had to admit, despite her initial doubts about him, he cleaned up really well.

  “Limo’s waiting.” He offered his arm.

  Trena’s makeup artist took one last pass at her lipstick, then stood back and watched in admiration as Trena headed for the door with James. “Any predictions?” the makeup artist called.

  Trena paused and looked over her shoulder. “Madison. Always bet on Madison,” she said. “That girl was born to win.”

  FORTY-EIGHT

  LOVE’S PURE LIGHT

  “Are you sure you have everything?”

  Aster’s mother stood in the doorway, wearing a worried expression.

  “Pretty sure.” Aster took one last look around her childhood room and realized she was ready. In fact, she felt really good about it.

  “Then allow me to give you this.” Her mother handed her a small black velvet box containing a beautiful gold-and-diamond hamsa pendant, much like the one Aster had lost at Paul’s office the night of the fire. Only this one was nicer, and the diamonds were bigger. “For good luck,” her mother said, helping to secure the clasp around Aster’s neck.

  It wasn’t the first time she’d left home, but it was the first time she’d left on good terms. And something about her mother’s valiant attempt to keep her emotions in check made Aster want to give in to hers. Instead she held back her tears and bravely patted her mother’s arm as they made their way into the hall and down the elaborate marble staircase.

  Her mother loved her. Aster no longer had reason for doubt. Maybe she’d never show it in the demonstrative way Aster craved, but that just wasn’t her style. Still, from the moment she’d walked out of RED, squinting against the glare of flashing lights and ogling crowds, only to find her parents, frantic with worry, Aster knew they still loved her, were still there for her, and had only wanted the best for her, even if their dreams didn’t match hers.

  After a few months spent recuperating at home, Aster had started attending classes during the winter quarter at UCLA. To everyone’s surprise, she was leaning toward a law degree.

  The most predictable, but still ironic, part of the scandal was the swarm of offers for acting jobs and modeling gigs, coming at a time when Aster was no longer interested. Like Heather predicted, her embarrassing video had gone viral, and Aster still hadn’t grown used to that kind of exposure. Dating Ryan allowed her access to all the fun industry events, which at the moment was good enough for her. She was proud of his new hit TV show, but she was content with keeping Hollywood at a distance and focusing on her new role as a college freshman.

  “Hey, you ready? I brought muscle in case we need it, and from the looks of it, you do.” Javen gestured toward the backseat of Aster’s car, piled high with her belongings.

  Hugging her little brother, she grinned at his boyfriend, Dylan, then glanced nervously at her mom. It hadn’t been easy for Javen to come out, but after everything Aster had put her parents through, the shock was mild in comparison.

  A car honked, and Aster turned to watch Ryan waving as he headed up the long drive. Climbing out of the car, he went straight to Aster’s mom, who, as usual, fawned all over him.

  It was amusing to see how her mom transformed around Ryan. Normally, she was imperious and standoffish, like a cast-iron pan clad in Chanel. But Ryan had somehow managed to charm her, and more than once, Aster
had caught her giggling in his presence.

  “I figured I’d follow in my car. I have room for these guys.” Ryan motioned toward Javen and Dylan.

  Aster frowned. She wasn’t ready to leave quite yet, but it wasn’t like she could continue to drag it out. It was moving day, and later she was having everyone over for what she hoped would become the first of an annual Oscar-viewing party.

  Still, she couldn’t imagine leaving home without saying good-bye to her dad. Her new apartment wasn’t far, and she knew she’d visit often, and yet . . .

  She sighed and headed for her car, figuring he was still tired from the flight home from Dubai and getting Nanny Mitra settled in her new home. Once she’d voiced her disapproval of the sort of people Aster and Javen had become, Aster’s dad surprised them all by offering to fly her back home and move her into a beautiful building they owned. He loved his kids, no matter what. And if Nanny Mitra couldn’t find it in her heart to do the same, then it was best if she lived somewhere else. It was a show of support Aster had never expected, and it left her feeling guilty for having spent so much time underestimating both of her parents.

  Reluctantly, she slipped behind the wheel, waved good-bye to her mom, and slowly nosed her car down the long drive. When she heard someone calling her name, she slammed the brakes, jumped free of her car, and barreled straight into her father’s arms.

  “You weren’t really going to leave without saying good-bye, were you?” he asked.

  “Never,” she said, whispering the words into the shoulder of his soft cashmere sweater. “Never again. I promise you that.”

  FORTY-NINE

  GREEN GRASS AND HIGH TIDES

  Layla settled onto the beach chair and pulled the towel closely around her. It was her favorite sort of Southern California day. The sun shone bright and hot, yet the air was brisk enough to bring a chill to her skin.

  She squinted toward the ocean, watching as Mateo helped a child catch his first wave. The delighted look on the child’s face when he managed to stand made Layla inordinately proud of the work Mateo was doing.

  He was one of the good ones. One of the best she’d ever known, and probably ever would know.

  As if sensing her thoughts, Mateo looked up in surprise to find she was there. He called to one of the instructors to take over, then made his approach. With his feet carving into the sand, he tugged the zipper of his wet suit and peeled it down low on his torso, easily proving he was still one of the most beautiful specimens Layla had ever seen.

  She took a deep breath and forced herself to lift her gaze.

  “I hear congrats are in order,” he said as she tossed him a towel and watched as he rubbed it against his hair. It was a well-choreographed move they’d practiced countless times in the past. Only back then, Layla had given it little notice, or worse, felt resentful of the amount of time he spent in the water. The idea that it was most likely the last time they’d enact such a moment left her feeling bittersweet.

  “I could say the same.” She nodded toward an ocean full of kids who, thanks to the foundation Mateo had started to help at-risk kids, were learning to surf.

  “It’s pretty great, isn’t it?” He beamed with pride, though Layla was quick to note that the pride was reserved entirely for his students. It was a complete lack of hubris that proved she’d been right all along. He really was too good for her.

  “Still, it’s not quite the same as a big book deal. And last I heard, a movie deal too?”

  He looked genuinely impressed. But compared to what Mateo had built, she wasn’t sure she deserved his praise. Writing what was hyped to become the hottest new teen thriller was one thing, saving lives was another.

  “Are you going to write the screenplay?”

  “They agreed to let me take a stab at it,” she said. “But most likely they’ll fire me at some point and turn it over to someone with more experience.” Mateo looked as though he was about to disagree, but Layla stopped him and said, “That’s how it usually works, and I’m fine with it. I figure I’ll learn a lot in the process.”

  “And school?” His deep brown gaze rested on hers.

  “School is still happening. Not sure if I’ll go for a journalism degree, but I have time to decide.”

  “So how is it in New York? Are you happy?”

  Was she happy? She gazed at Mateo and thought of all she had lost the moment she decided to leave. Then she nodded and said, “Honestly, I love it.” Her enthusiasm for the city was undeniable. “But sometimes I miss it here. You know, mellow moments like this—hanging on the beach and watching you surf.”

  Mateo laughed. “No, you don’t.”

  She laughed too. She kind of did, but she recognized those feelings as more a nostalgia for a past she could never reclaim than a wish for her future. “Maybe not. But sometimes I do miss other things, you know?”

  He held her gaze, letting the moment stretch and float. His voice wistful, he said, “How’s H.D.?”

  Layla smiled. “Happy. Dating. Did you know he’s running the VIP room at the Vesper when he’s not painting? He seems to love it.”

  “And your mom?”

  Layla closed her eyes and sighed. “We met for coffee. She might come to New York for a visit. We’re taking it slowly. And Valentina?”

  The grin that lit Mateo’s face was like the sun peeking out from the clouds on an overcast day. “Fully on the mend. She’ll be twenty-one any day now, just ask her.”

  Layla sighed. There was so much to catch up on—so much he deserved to hear. After the scene at RED, she’d holed up at home with her dad for a really long time. Hadn’t spoken much to anyone until months had gone by. She’d needed the time to process and heal, but now she realized there might be a price to her silence. “Mateo . . . ,” she started.

  He leaned toward her and placed a hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay. We’re good,” he told her, and in that moment she knew that they were. Mateo had always been a man of few words.

  She watched as a beautiful girl made her way toward them. Her long black hair hung to her waist in soft waves, and she held tightly to a little girl’s hand. When she came to stand beside Mateo, Layla got the sense they were dating, and her first instinct was to instruct the girl on just how special Mateo was—that his heart was not to be messed with—that she’d better not even consider treating him the way Layla had.

  She was just about to introduce herself when Mateo nodded and said, “Looks like you have a visitor.”

  Layla glanced behind her to find Tommy.

  She turned back to Mateo, wondering why she suddenly felt so guilty. She was happy. Mateo was happy. So it had all worked out for the best, hadn’t it?

  Tommy slipped his arm around Layla’s waist and planted a light kiss on the side of her cheek.

  “Are you Tommy Phillips?” The little girl gazed at him in awe.

  Tommy grinned and bent down to her level.

  “I am,” he said. “And you are?”

  She hid her face in her hands. “Violet.” She grinned behind her fingers.

  “You know I wrote a song about you?” Tommy said, sending her into a flurry of giggles.

  As Tommy spoke with the little girl, Layla looked at Mateo. “We’re heading to New York tomorrow, but tonight we’re all going over to Aster’s new place to watch the Oscars. Do you guys want to join us?” She looked at Mateo’s friend, making sure to include her.

  Mateo looked at Layla, then reached for the girl’s hand. “Thanks,” he said. “But Maria and I are just going to hang with the family tonight.”

  Layla nodded, then took one last look at the beach. She loved New York City—the hectic pace was a good fit. Still, LA would always be home, and nothing could ever replace it.

  She leaned forward and hugged Mateo to her. She had so many things to tell him, but none of them mattered. Not anymore.

  She and Tommy were heading for the car when Mateo called out to her. “I forgot to ask—am I in the book?”

  Layla
glanced back with a grin. “Guess you’ll have to read it and find out.”

  With Tommy’s hand in hers, she turned away from her past and headed into her future.

  FIFTY

  THE MAN WHO SOLD THE WORLD

  Ira Redman sat behind his desk in his office at RED, looking over the list of potential A-list guests begging for the chance to either form their own narrative, or simply indulge their deepest voyeuristic fantasy.

  Thanks to the tragedy, Ira’s clubs had never been hotter. But at the moment, none was hotter then RED.

  He looked away from his papers and fiddled a bit with his phone, scrolling for Tommy’s text. Shame how everything had gone down just exactly as he’d planned, all except for that moment when Tommy was forced to reveal Ira was his dad.

  Of course he hadn’t controlled the outcome. It had never been his to decide. Still, as a keen observer of people, he found he was rarely surprised. From the moment he determined Heather was behind it, he figured she’d also inadvertently orchestrate her own demise.

  It was the cartoon cat that gave it away.

  Heather had come to him with an idea for a line of T-shirts, greeting cards—an entire product line—and asked him to help fund it. She wanted to call it Socio Cat, a sort of demented version of Hello Kitty.

  Ira had done his best to explain why the idea wasn’t one that interested him. But Heather was persistent, and he’d finally taken a meeting where she’d left a prototype behind.

  The day it fell from his desk and he saw the way Tommy reacted, Ira knew it meant something more and decided to do a little digging.

  Though he’d never intended to be held hostage inside his own club, much less all the bloodshed, he realized now he should’ve expected as much. Still, the latest rumor that the club was haunted with Heather’s ghost had guaranteed that Halloween at RED would continue to be the hottest ticket in town for years to come.