Kind of Famous (Flirting with Fame Book 3)

by Mary Ann Marlowe

  We still had rules on my site, though. I texted Ash. Could you go into the forum and remind the posters not to bring over gossip even if it’s about me. Thanks.

  Everything was under control, but it left me with a low-grade depression. I remembered how cavalier I’d been about Gabriel’s reaction to the attacks from my posters and felt a pang of remorse. Who was I to decide how someone else should feel about being targeted online?

  I leaned back in my chair and swiveled around. I nearly jumped out of my skin when I saw Gabriel standing right in front of me, like I’d conjured him.

  “Shit, Gabriel. Sidle much? You gave me a heart attack.”

  He held a mug of coffee in a way that made him look like he was at a cocktail party, mingling. “I read your article on Friday.”

  “Yeah, I can guess your reaction. My enthusiasm has no place in a serious magazine. Yadda yadda yadda.” I spun back toward my laptop. “We’ve had this conversation already, Gabe.”

  “Actually, I came to apologize. I was wrong.”

  Interesting. I faced him again. “Do tell.”

  “After I saw you here with that drummer—”

  “Shane.”

  “—Shane, right. I thought you’d written a puff piece based merely on your infatuation with him. In my own writing, I have to search for the good and the bad, so I was holding you to the same standard.”

  “This is starting to feel like a back-handed compliment.”

  He shook his head. “Not at all. I’m trying to contextualize.”

  “You’re pointing out the lack of critical thinking in my article.”

  He held up a hand. “Stop. I’m telling you that I understand now what Lars is after. What you wrote about the Walking Disaster—”

  “Walking Disaster.”

  “What?”

  “It’s just... Never mind. Go on.”

  “What you wrote reminded me of how I felt when I used to actually love a band, back when I first started writing.” He looked behind him and hooked a chair with his foot, rolling it over. He settled in with his elbows on his knees and started back in, hands moving, reminiscent of Shane. “When I was about fifteen, I heard Metallica for the first time. Do you remember when you first heard them?”

  I thought about it. “Not exactly.”

  Wouldn’t have pegged him as a heavy metal fan if he hadn’t spammed my blog with Metallica-based sock puppets.

  “Well, I do. I was—”

  Pete, at the cube next to me, stood up and said, “Guys. Normally, I don’t care if you want to hang out and chat, but I’m on a deadline. Could you take it to the breakroom?”

  Gabe checked his watch. “Want to go for a walk? No funny stuff. I’ll tell you the rest of this.”

  My gut said no, but my brain said he was offering an olive branch, and I probably owed him an apology of my own for starting the online war. “Sure.”

  He held the glass door open for me and said, “I feel as though we got off on the wrong foot.”

  His willingness to let go of a valid grudge mollified my own attitude. A little. It was more than Shane had done.

  The elevator doors opened, and we waited side by side, surrounded by strangers from other floors. How could there be such an infinite supply of strangers? After a week working in a small building in Indianapolis, I at least recognized everyone. Every day in New York was a total reset. Gabe was beginning to feel like an old frenemy in comparison.

  As we exited the building, he steered me around the corner, away from the crowds.

  “So, you were telling me about Metallica.”

  “That can wait. What’s troubling you?”

  I sagged. “I guess I owe you an apology as well.”

  “What for?”

  “First for the cyberbullying. I thought I understood what it would be like to be on the receiving end.”

  He laughed. “It’s not fun, is it?”

  “Not in the least.”

  “But that’s not what’s wrong, is it?”

  The truth slipped out. “You were right about Shane.”

  “How so?” He stopped walking and turned to face me.

  “He kind of proved your point.”

  “Do you mean—?”

  “We seem to have what they call irreconcilable differences. He wants me to have no interest in musicians, and I want him to have a little faith in me.”

  He pressed his lips together, more sympathetic than I would have expected given the circumstances. He reached over and touched my arm. I nearly jerked back, but he said, “Layla. I’m sorry. I mean it.”

  “Yeah, well.” I shrugged. “Whatcha gonna do?”

  “I’m serious.” His fingers tightened. “You deserve better.”

  Clearly, he meant himself. His eyes softened, and those pretty lips curved. I could objectively see that he was attractive. And attracted to me. He’d apologized. If we’d only just met, I might have given him a chance.

  It wasn’t like I’d be cheating on Shane either. Shane had thrown away his shot.

  But Gabe and I hadn’t just met, and there was too much water under the bridge. He sent my spidey senses into overdrive, and my heart revolted at the thought of him.

  “Gabe.”

  I turned to walk back toward the office, but to spare us any awkwardness, I changed the subject. “Thanks for listening. Tell me about Metallica.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Sometime during lunch, Ash called and left a voicemail message.

  “Circumstances changed. I’m flying in tomorrow. I know it’s super short notice, but I’d still love to get a chance to meet up. My flight arrives around two, then I’ve got to find a place to stay somewhere in the Brooklyn area. I don’t really know my way around. I looked on Travelocity for a hotel, but damn, they’re so expensive. Maybe you could give me a recommendation. Anyway, I don’t know if I can go all the way into the city. Maybe I could come find you tomorrow night. I don’t want to inconvenience you though.” She finally took a breath before awkwardly signing off. “Sorry for the long rambling message. I’ll talk to you later.”

  I knew I should offer to put her up, but I didn’t know how Jo would feel about it. Plus, I had no idea how long Ash was planning to stay. For all I knew, she was moving here indefinitely. For all I knew, she was moving in on my new life.

  That thought twisted my gut. It was unfair, and I chased it away. She’d done nothing to warrant my suspicions. Yet there they were. Lately so many people I’d rarely spoken to were finding reasons to message me for favors.

  I fought creeping doubts and decided to trust her intentions. After all we’d known each other for years.

  I texted Jo: A friend is coming to town for some family emergency tomorrow. Do you mind if I let her stay on the sofa/floor/bed for a couple of nights? I promise to get my living situation squared away asap.

  She shot back a short No problem.

  It felt weird inviting someone from the fan world into my little musician bubble, but hopefully Ash would be cool about it.

  Jo can put you up for the night.

  The incoming text from Ash didn’t settle my nerves.

  So, you really are staying with her? That’s incredible. But Micah won’t be there right? They’re on tour still?

  Yup. Until early next week. I’m not staying permanently anyway. I’m looking for a new place.

  So, you’re not Shane’s girlfriend?

  I rubbed my eyelids. Is this what fame was? Just a million people knowing your business? Then again, if they were so interested in me, they’d have figured out we broke up. Thankfully, Shane’s antics didn’t generally make the gossip pages.

  Nope.

  That’s too bad. He looks like a cutie. Maybe I’ll bump him up in the pretend boyfriend list.

  She meant it as a joke. I did
n’t like it one bit though. I wanted to text back: Hands off! Mine! But that wasn’t true. It brought home how I’d eventually watch him find someone who wasn’t me. I’d watch him move on.

  I had to keep telling myself we weren’t right for each other. He should find someone else. As should I.

  On Tuesday, Ash texted just after three to let me know she’d arrived. I told her how to get to Jo’s, then left work early to meet her there.

  The first few minutes were spent hugging and saying how great it was to see each other. She insisted we take a photo together to put up on the site. She said she was going to title it: Fearless leader and her acolyte.

  I didn’t protest. My cover had been blown. Why deny her a little fun?

  She gawked at Jo’s townhouse. “I’d kill for a place like this, even in Portland. Must be incredibly expensive, huh?”

  I shrugged. “You want some water? Or we could go out and get coffee?”

  “Water’s fine. I don’t want to put you out. If you have work to do or whatever. Go on about your business. I’m gonna jump online for a few, if you don’t mind. I need to touch base with my family.”

  While I went to get her a bottle out of the fridge, she made herself at home on Jo’s sofa. I still didn’t know what family she had here. Why wasn’t she staying with them?

  I set the water on the coffee table. “Is everything okay?”

  She didn’t answer. I glanced over to find she’d shoved in her headphones. Her laptop was opened to the fan site, and she’d gone first to post our picture instead of checking in with her family.

  I opened my own laptop and logged in. I had enough work to do that I could forget about Ash for another hour, but then my stomach started to rumble. As if she was reading my mind, Jo texted: Are you hungry? I’m on my way home and can’t stop thinking of tacos. There’s a little place around the corner where we could meet.

  Starving. But Ash is here now. Can I invite her along?

  I’d love to meet her. Zion just texted too. Andrew’s out of town, still. It will be the four of us.

  Perfect. Send me the coordinates. I’ll meet you there.

  I waved to get Ash’s attention. “Hey.”

  She glanced up and pulled out an earbud. “Yeah?”

  “I’m going out to meet Jo for dinner in a bit. You’re welcome to come.”

  Her entire face lit up. “Seriously? That would be amazing.”

  “You don’t need to meet up with your family?”

  She dismissed the question with a dramatic eye roll. “You’d think. I’ve got some time.”

  “Is someone sick?”

  “No. Nothing like that.” She didn’t elaborate. I narrowed my eyes at her, expecting her to give me something, but she jumped up and rummaged through her bag. “Do you mind if I change?”

  Without waiting for an answer, she climbed the stairs, and the next thing I heard was her exclaiming over pictures of the band upstairs. She yelled down, “Is this Micah’s guitar?”

  I held my breath and tried to remember that I hadn’t been any less excited a few weeks earlier.

  Ash came back down the stairs wearing an actual Theater of the Absurd concert T-shirt, ripped jeans, and she’d put on serious eyeliner and lip gloss. I had to say, “The T-shirt might be a little much.”

  She looked down at herself. “It was this or a Walking Disaster T. Considering the circumstances, I figured this was less offensive.”

  I wanted to tell her, first of all, Jo wouldn’t be offended by a Walking Disaster T-shirt. Second, I wanted to know what possessed her to fly across the country with nothing but concert T-shirts.

  Then I remembered my own suitcase. If I hadn’t brought professional clothes, I’d be wearing pajama pants and concert shirts. “One sec.”

  I went upstairs and dug through my own meager wardrobe until I found a plain black knit top that would probably fit her. I took it down and tossed it over. “Try this on.”

  Like a pouty teen, she exhaled. “Fine.”

  “You don’t have to wear it. I figured you’d want to meet Jo as a person rather than a fan.”

  “But I am a fan. What’s the difference?”

  “Do whatever you want, but we need to get going.”

  On our way down the outside steps, she asked, “Who else will be there?” She was practically bearing down on me.

  “Just Jo and one of her friends.”

  “Eden?”

  “Not Eden.” Before she could ask, I added, “Or Adam.” At least I doubted it. With the baby to watch, they seemed to spend most of their time socializing at home or where they could bring the kid, but what did I know? I’d only observed them for a little while.

  “How did you get to meet them?”

  I’d already explained it, but as soon as I said, “Jo introduced us,” I could already follow the leaps of logic that Ash might make. If she met Jo, she might also meet Adam.

  I still found it incredibly annoying that she’d somehow managed to glom this experience off me. For the first time, I considered the suspicions that had been growing. I let myself imagine that maybe she’d made up the family emergency.

  We didn’t speak again until we’d walked a few blocks. Then she started asking questions. “What part of Brooklyn are we in? Where does Adam live? Are we close to where Shane lives? Do you know where they rehearse?”

  “Who?”

  “The band.”

  “Which band?”

  This went on the entire way over. Finally, we arrived. The restaurant wasn’t much to look at, but Jo had picked it, so I figured it would be fine. Zion waited outside and waved as we approached.

  Ash’s motor mouth restarted. “Who’s that? Is he in a band?”

  “That’s Jo’s friend, Zion. And no. He’s a photographer like Jo.”

  Her shoulders sagged, and I felt like I’d had to tell her the Ferris wheel was closed. “Sorry. But he’s a really nice guy.”

  Jo came running up from behind us. “Layla! Wait up.”

  We stopped, and Ash reached into her back pocket for her phone. Before it hit me what she was doing, she clicked a photo of Jo rushing up the street, in sweats and an old T-shirt. If Jo noticed the invasion of privacy, she didn’t say. She caught up, out of breath, and I worried for a minute about her health. I knew nothing about diabetics, but I’d seen the whole tribe surround her when she’d gotten lightheaded before.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  She smiled. “Yeah. Thanks for asking. Just running late as always. Is this your friend?” Her hand was already out. “I’m Josie Wilder.”

  Ash said, “Yeah. I know. I’m Ash.” Her eyes were moons. “Do you mind if we get a picture together?”

  I couldn’t take much more. “Not right now, Ash. Let’s go eat.”

  Jo said, “If you don’t mind me looking like a wreck. I’ve been working at the studio and lost track of time until Zion texted.”

  “You don’t have to.” I wanted to smack Ash, but she’d already swung around and held the camera up, oblivious to Jo’s hints that she wasn’t exactly presentable for a picture.

  Jo said to me, “Really. I guess I should be flattered. I don’t get this kind of attention much anymore.”

  Zion gave me and Jo each a hug and shook Ash’s hand. “I’ve been here forever. Let’s eat!”

  At least for the time it took to order and eat, Ash stopped behaving like she was starstruck. I tried to imagine how she’d behave if she actually met Adam and remembered I’d completely lost the ability to stand normally when I’d first met him. Adam and Eden seemed to roll with it. I figured I needed to learn to do the same thing, but then Ash blurted out, “You’re so lucky to have snagged Micah. He’s amazing.”

  Jo laughed. “He really is.”

  Zion tried to wrestle the conversation back to a common topic. “Hav
e y’all seen the latest Star Wars?”

  Instead of volleying back, Ash asked, “Where are you from, Zion?”

  He pressed his lips together, but the corners lifted, and I could tell his controlled smile threatened to erupt into laughter. “Georgia.”

  “Oh, is that how you know Jo?”

  “As a matter of fact.”

  Jo caught my eye, and I saw something there that made me wonder if she felt pity for me that my friend was behaving like she’d just ridden into town on the dumb-ass train, or if she was starting to wonder why she’d ever thought I was cool.

  Unaware that Jo’s demeanor had grown unusually chilly, Ash turned toward her, elbow on table, back now to Zion, and began to question her about how she’d met Micah. “I mean, I know about what the papers said, but how’d you first get introduced?”

  Zion said out of the corner of his mouth, “Looks like Jo has a new best friend.”

  I realized what was going on, what Ash wanted. I could see her moving in on Jo, trading me in, trying to follow the same path I had to make friends and get in. Unlike her, I hadn’t premeditated the whole thing. I’d become friends with Jo because I’d befriended Jo as Jo and not Jo as Adam’s wife’s brother’s girlfriend. Did she count the degrees of separation? Did she think she’d hang out with me until she could make the jump?

  I didn’t want to make a scene, so I didn’t interfere with her misguided attempts to draw Jo out. Jo shot a glance to Zion once, looking for an escape. Zion made a valiant attempt to change the topic by asking how my apartment search was going.

  I sighed. “I want to be settled by Sunday, before Shane gets home. I checked out a place in Jersey City, but—”

  Zion shuddered. “Why haven’t you come over to check out my place yet?”

  “Uh.” I winced. “I got the feeling you weren’t really looking for a roommate.”

  “What? No. I’m just worried it might be too busy for you there. But you’d be welcome to take Jo’s old room. Why don’t you come over after dinner?” He cast his eyes at Ash with a headshake, then added, “You can bring your crazy friend along, too.”

  Before I could go through the motions of Midwestern protocol, thanking him, refusing him, making him insist, then finally accepting, Zion took my hand. “Don’t even try to say no. It’s settled.”