by Amity Cross
There was a part of me that was starting to believe the NDA was a gift—I shied away from the spotlight and it gave me the chance to step back and let Sebastian do what he needed to. He could handle the interviews, the red carpets, the photoshoots, and everything that went with his fame, and I could watch from the safety of the sidelines. That didn’t mean I’d be free of the tabloids, but hopefully, I’d be less of a target for Mallory and Vix. There was a little method to my madness.
“We’ve got more touring next year,” he said with a note of hesitation. “UK and Europe, then Asia before some dates in Australia and New Zealand. That’s seven or eight months, not including any extra dates the label could throw in.”
There was still so much uncertainty in our relationship, but I knew I wouldn’t shy away from it now. I just had to deal with it and find a happy balance. We’d had our passionate falling in love stage, now we were at the part where things deepened and the real relationship began.
“When I find the thing that makes me tick, if it’s a new job or a charity or something, then we can work out the rest,” I said. “Maybe that was the problem last time—I had nothing to focus on, other than what city we were going to next.”
“It was all about me,” Sebastian said morosely.
I shrugged. “You’ve got a demanding job.”
He grabbed my hand and tugged me down to the bed beside him. “I had all these good intentions…”
“I know.”
“To be honest, I feel like a selfish prick.”
“Don’t.” I placed my hand on his knee and squeezed. “It’s not always easy to figure out what to do with your life. Unless you’re Sebastian Hale.”
He snorted and leaned close. “Are you sure? It’s not easy being me.”
“Life’s always a work in progress,” I replied. “Besides, I can only handle at least three scandals at once.”
“Only three?” His lips quirked. “That’s a slow day, then.”
“Good.” I laughed and melted against him. “I could do with a little R ‘n’ R. That’s rest and relax to you, not rock ‘n’ roll.”
It was strange, but I was beginning to see the difference in me since leaving the Point—I was doing my best at ‘adulting’ without the crutch of my mother’s bookstore to hold me up. Letting people in had forced me to grow out of my hopeless romantic and melodramatic ways.
“What are you going to say to her?” Sebastian asked.
“To Vix?” I shrugged. “We’ll see tomorrow, I suppose.”
I’d been mulling over it on the back of my mind in-between items on my packing list, but everything I’d thought up involved a lot of curse words and mic drops. We still had to play it safe to catch her embezzlement, so it was a tough decision.
“Everything’s going to be okay,” he said. “You know that, right?”
I did, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t going to be some turbulence along the way.
10
Sebastian
We still hadn’t heard anything from the police by the time we left for the airport the next morning.
I left things in Farmer’s hands, kind of glad to have one less thing to worry about for the moment. Things had been quiet at the house after the last incident, so I pushed it to the back of my mind and focused on what was coming next.
I watched the city roll past as we drove toward the airport, inching closer to Juniper’s showdown with Vix. A partition separated us from the driver, so we were alone in the back, far away from prying ears. I’d had the foresight to book my car service so sticky fingers couldn’t hide cameras and listening devices. I was really beginning to hate my burgeoning paranoia.
“I’ll be a distraction,” Juniper said next to me. “While we’re working on unravelling Vix’s deception, she’ll be busy believing we’re fighting to be together. Both are true, but she only has to know about one.”
“Clever,” I murmured.
“Harry is coming separately,” she went on. “He thinks he can get into contact with a few people who might be willing to testify.”
“Seriously?” I asked, my eyebrows raising. “I’m surprised. She loves to pay people off and seal the deal with threats. What makes Harry think he can get anyone to talk?”
“Harry’s switched on,” Juniper explained. “He got to where he is by being honest and doing the work. That kind of ethic has made him a lot of friends and hopefully, it can work in our favour.” It was an ethic that was severely lacking in the world these days, and I mulled it over in the back of my mind. “Besides, if they see you and the others willing to stand up to her bullshit, then it goes a long way to convince them there’ll be no retribution. People are afraid of losing what they’ve worked hard to achieve. We need to take that out of the equation and protect them as much as we are protecting ourselves.”
“Have you ever thought about being a motivational speaker?” I asked. “Because that was fucking inspiring.”
She laughed and shook her head. “I’m far too shy for that. I suck at public speaking. I always remember standing in front of class at school, my hands shaking, and mumbling my way through whatever stupid assignment we had to read as everyone stared at me.” She grunted and leaned her head against the seat back. “I got really good at hiding and making myself small. I guess that carried over into adulthood.”
“You were bullied?”
“Try being the only ginger at your school, then mix it with a dose of depressed mother and a dash of the father who jumped off a cliff, then you have the recipe for an easy target.” She eyed me and added, “I bet you were the most popular kid at school.”
“What makes you think that?”
She scoffed, “Have you met you?”
“On a daily basis.”
At that moment, we arrived at the airport, so she couldn’t question me further about my exulted high school career. She didn’t need to hear about the colourful parent-teacher interviews where it was usually my dad’s behaviour that was the topic of discussion rather than my mediocre report card.
I got out of the car first and held the door for her. “Ready?”
“As I’ll ever be,” she replied as the attendants scurried to collect our luggage.
I took her hand in mine and we walked into the terminal, oblivious to the other passengers who were starting to recognise us. In the distance, I spotted Damon and next to him was a nauseatingly familiar head of bleached blonde curls. Here goes nothing…
Damon spotted us first. He gave us the thumbs up, then grabbed his bag and pissed off towards the nearest security checkpoint. He knew what was good for him and was escaping the blast radius while he had the chance. When Vix turned and saw me and Juniper, I couldn’t blame the guy. Beneath’s totalitarian manager looked like she was about to explode.
“Juniper.” Her lip curled, and she shifted her focus onto me. “You lied to me.”
“Did I?” I asked with a shrug. “There’s so many lies flying around, it’s hard to keep up.”
“It’ll take more than a sex tape to get rid of me,” Juniper said, coming out swinging. “Your magical NDA should’ve been more thorough. My lawyers told me there’s nothing in there stopping me from having a relationship with Sebastian. I have no intention of speaking to the media, appearing on red carpets, or being public with our relationship, so there will be no issue.”
“So you can try all you like,” I said, backing her up, “but we’re adhering to all the outlined conditions in both our contracts, so you can unwind your knickers.” We hadn’t spoken to any lawyers, but she didn’t need to know that.
Vix looked furious, but there was nothing she could do about it. Juniper had a ticket and if she didn’t come, I’d make the entire trip a nightmare—if only to cover up our other deception.
“I’ll be watching you like a hawk,” she warned, her gaze fixing on Juniper. “I’ve got a business to run and a band to manage. The last thing they need is you fucking it up. Like literally, fucking it up.”
; Juniper smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.” Then, in a move I didn’t see coming, she flicked her hair over her shoulder and turned her back, forcing me to take a quick step to catch up.
As we walked away, I shot a look over my shoulder that said everything. You can try and control us, Vix, but we’ll always be one step ahead… playing by your rules.
We’d barely arrived in LA before we were whisked away to our first appearance. We did a late-night TV show, then a daytime one, then we were suddenly at an awards ceremony in the middle of fucking December. They used to run the same time of year, back-to-back, but now they just scheduled them whenever they liked. The world of twenty-four-seven media coverage was getting out of hand if you asked me.
We also had the chance to meet our new bodyguard, Statfield. Juniper was wary about him, but it was more for her protection than mine. After the second day, she’d started calling him Shades, so I took it as a sign she was getting used to our new shadow. She’d even took a selfie with him and sent it to Vanessa.
Performing to a live audience always gave me a buzz, even if it was to a bunch of industry people in a fancy Hollywood theatre. After belting out our biggest single from our latest record, Sin/Sex, I’d walked back into the wings, feeling better than I had in days. Having my guitar in my hands, the guys around me, and the buzz of being at the top of my game was better than any drug.
It was right after we’d walked off stage, and I was handed back my phone from one of Vix’s assistants, that I got an update from Farmer on the intruder situation. Closing myself in my dressing room, I listened to the lengthy voicemail detailing a package that’d arrived at the McMansion. He’d opened it under controlled circumstances, but what they’d found inside was far more sinister.
“Who was it for?” I demanded.
“I don’t want to alarm you, Mr. Hale. The police are handling it. They took the package to have it forensically tested and are certain they’ll be able to find out who sent it. It was covered in DNA.”
“Who was it addressed to, Farmer? I won’t ask again.”
There was a long silence and I knew it wasn’t for me.
“Is there anything else I can assist you with, Mr. Hale?” he replied tensly.
“No. That’s all.”
“I’ll contact you when there’s more updates.”
I didn’t bother replying. I just hung up and changed back into my shirt and suit jacket, not sure if I should be furious, calm, or just cut to the chase and explode. Who’d ever thought making music would lead to this? The love of my fucking life being threatened by some sicko who couldn’t tell reality from fantasy.
I hated being powerless. All the money in the world couldn’t solve this, and I was powerless.
When I left the dressing room, Josh was walking past. When he saw me, he stopped and clapped me on the shoulder.
“Hey, man,” he said. “You okay? You look like you just saw Vix naked. I know, because I had the same look on my face right before I threw up in her bathroom.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”
“Buck up, mate. We killed it out there. I’d rather be on holiday too, but there’s worse things in life than playing on a stage like that.”
I snorted and shook him off. “I’m going to get a drink before going back out. I’ll see you after.”
Ordering a glass on scotch straight up, I was sipping the liquor when a familiar scent wafted in my direction. Turning, I saw Mallory lingering in my personal space. She was wearing a glittering black gown, with a leg split that went up to her waist, and a plunging neckline that ended at her navel. In true pop princess style, she was standing in a way that had the folds of her dress pulled back, her toned leg and matching glittery knickers flashing for my benefit.
I grunted in annoyance. It was only a matter of time before we gravitated towards one another. We travelled in a lot of the same professional circles, so putting up with her was inevitable.
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m presenting later,” she declared like she was the most important person on the guest list.
“I meant in my face.”
Mallory let out a humph and rolled her eyes. She didn’t move, and it only made my irritation fester.
“You know, forgiveness is something you don’t deserve from me,” I went on. “I know I have to see you at these stupid fucking things, but you should give us a wide birth, Mallory.”
“After all that humiliation, Juniper took you back?” She flicked her hair—a move I was quickly realising was a woman’s way of luring someone in… for lust or the kill—and eyed me with suspicion. “How much did you pay her?”
“I don’t think you have a say in the matter,” I replied, my fingers tightening around the glass. “What were your last words to me again? No one turns me down, Sebastian. No one.” I mimicked her voice and I felt an odd sense of satisfaction when her glare intensified.
“Bastard.”
“That’s the pot calling the kettle black.”
“You—”
I’d had more than enough of her attempts at destruction and I strode away, leaving her alone by the bar. Whatever insult she was going to hurl at me died in her throat, and for the first time in my life, I didn’t care. She could say what she wanted and it wouldn’t matter at all. One day, Mallory would wake up and realise everything and everyone in her life was fake, and what a day that would be.
Out in the theatre, the televised awards were in an ad break, so I took the chance to search for Juniper in the crowd. An usher led me to our seats and I slid beside her, glad to be back in her presence—Juniper had this uncanny way of calming me down. The hotheaded young rock star had mellowed with a little love and attention from the right woman.
“Hey,” she said, threading her arm through mine, “you were amazing up there.”
“Thanks. You think so?”
“Of course.” Her brow creased. “Everything okay?”
I grimaced and shrugged. Should I tell her about the package? No, that was best left unsaid—it’d only upset her.
“I saw Mallory backstage,” I told her.
Juniper tensed and made a face. “Ugh. I suppose it was inevitable.”
“She was her usual dramatic self. Nothing to worry about, I warned her to keep her shit away.”
“Thanks.” She smiled and lifted my hand to her lips and kissed my knuckles. “Maybe we can have a cat fight at the after-party.”
“You’re feisty tonight,” I said, raising my eyebrows.
“I’m in a good mood. I met some guy while you were gone, and he was super nice. Wanna see the selfie I took with him?”
“Sure. I want to ID the guy so I can punch him in the face later.”
She held up her phone and leaned against my shoulder. “See?”
“That’s fucking Bruno Mars.”
“I know,” she declared, looking smug. “He was super nice.”
“Shit, Juniper! I can’t punch Bruno Mars in the face.”
She giggled as the host came back out on stage to continue the ceremony, and I sank back into my seat, my mind on one thing—Juniper’s safety.
11
Juniper
Music pulsed around me, and I lingered in the shadows of the club, watching the ultra-famous schmooze.
The after-party was in full swing. Champagne was flowing, VIP areas were cordoned off, groups of blinged out rappers were showering people with expensive bottles of liquor, entourages formed rings of protection around their chosen celebrity, and private security lingered in the dark corners. Speaking of silent shadows, Shades was around here somewhere, watching me from afar.
I caught a glimpse of Vix near the bar, talking with a man I didn’t recognise. She laughed and put her hand on his arm, obviously flirting with the guy. I wondered where Josh was.
Seeing her had caused all sorts of intense emotions to rise—hatred and anger mostly—but things had gone smoothly enough. Apart from the dagge
rs she shot at me with her eyes every time we were in the same room, our only altercation had been the brief stoush we’d had at the airport in Sydney.
It’d been easy to melt into the crowd while at the theatre, but now we were at the after-party, memories came flooding back. The way people had looked at me the night Mallory leaked the sex tape made me feel nauseous, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried about my first party back from the brink.
I’d been able to deal with the way people had looked at me so far—at the TV studios and the hotel, and from the paparazzi who followed our every move—and I’d brushed it all off, but standing in this room was taking some serious willpower.
I sipped the drink in my hand—a gin and tonic—more for something to occupy myself with than to enjoy. Sebastian was talking to some people across the room, and I’d faded in to the background. Not because he was ignoring me, but because I wasn’t in the mood. This was his thing, and besides, I wanted to take baby steps.
Holding onto my drink, I was doing my best invisible impression when a woman approached me. Groaning, I turned.
I recognised her instantly—Victoria.
Damon’s sister was currently gracing an ad campaign for one of the top Italian fashion houses, so her picture was on billboards and magazines wherever I looked, making it hard not to forget her. Victoria Whittaker was at the height of her career, she had a famous brother, and was second in Mallory Grigorio’s ‘squad’. Pair all that with the fact she was walking towards me, and cue my hackles rising.
Her bronzed skin glowed against the mauve of her flowing silk dress, and her poise was perfection, even when she was long in the tooth. I frowned, knowing I looked like a lump of ginger-tinted coal beside her, and wondered why she was so pouty.
“Hey,” she said, her accent strange to my ears. Sometimes she sounded Australian, other times it was a mix of American and British. It was like she didn’t know where she wanted to be half the time. I’d only spoken to her once, so who knew? She was an international model, after all.