Kind of Famous (Flirting with Fame Book 3)

by Mary Ann Marlowe

  I blew out a lungful of air. I thought I might cry after we were done, but Zion handed me a beer, and tilted his bottle toward me.

  As we clinked, he said, “Vive la révolution.”

  I suddenly did feel like celebrating, relieved and proud of myself for walking away on my terms. It really had been a long time coming.

  Ash got word that her sister-in-law was back in the hospital, so she rushed off first thing in the morning to meet her brother there. Zion insisted on cooking me some breakfast before I left for work.

  “I miss Jo sometimes. We had a rhythm. And Andrew doesn’t eat breakfast, so . . . Can I make you some eggs?”

  He set a plate on each of our placemats, then started interrogating me. “Do you want someone to tell Shane what you did?”

  “Not really. No.” The eggs were perfect. I tried the toast and bacon. I could get used to being treated like this. It would be like being home with Mom again.

  “Have you talked to Adam or Eden?”

  That was a good question. “No. Do you think this will make them want to have nothing to do with me now?”

  He shrugged. “I couldn’t say. Eden’s a tough read, but I’ve only known her to bristle over invasions into her privacy. Not sure how she’ll react to a complete embargo on free publicity for her husband. Adam probably won’t even notice.”

  “Did you talk to Jo?”

  “I’ll let you do that.” He studied me a minute and added, “Can I give you some advice?”

  “Of course.”

  “Not everyone is who they appear to be.”

  That wasn’t what I was expecting to hear, but I chewed on my bacon and mulled it over. I figured he meant Shane. “I’ve already begun to figure that out.”

  “Sometimes people hide in plain sight. Sometimes they wear disguises to protect themselves. You have to give people time to reveal themselves.”

  I sat on that a minute, wondering if he was warning me that the Shane I’d first met had been hiding someone much more sinister. If that were the case, then why did they all seem to want things to work out? Was he saying I should give Shane more time to show me who he really was?

  Or was he talking about me? Had he somehow understood the double identity I’d only just shed?

  “Thanks, Zion. I’ll think about that.”

  On my way in to work, it occurred to me that I’d simply fall into obscurity for most of the fan site people. I had no plans to join whatever group they set up elsewhere, and the only way they had to reach me would be through the admin contact email, which would continue to work until I let the domain name lapse. I’d been afraid to check it, but I logged in on my phone before going up to the office. My inbox was filled with multiple emails with the subject To Layla just like the private messages. I nearly opened one up, in case they were simply kind farewells, but I didn’t know if I could resist a sustained effort to get me to bring the site back up. I’d read them later. In a week or a month. Once they’d had a chance to move on.

  As soon as I got to my cube, Gabe appeared. “That was a bold, Napoleonic move. What made you go and pull the plug like that?”

  Why wasn’t I surprised he’d noticed?

  “Just time to move on.”

  “Good riddance to bad rubbish is what I always say.” He leaned his elbow on my cube wall. I used to think it looked elegant, but now it was bordering on creepy. “I’m curious, though. You trying to win back little drummer boy?”

  Shane was anything but little. I pulled out my chair and dropped into it, intending to swivel away from him without giving him any more explanations.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Because you do realize that ship has sailed, right? Once he saw how you felt about Noah, even once, he’d never trust you again.”

  Now that was a piece of information I hadn’t shared with anyone but my closest friends. Curiosity won out. “How did you know—?”

  “That Shane would drop you over something so small? You forget. I’ve been covering these guys for a long time. Shane’s so obviously insecure about his position in the band, always in the shadows, never the one who gets the girl.” He grinned, and he might as well have been holding a flashlight under his chin for all the malevolence in his expression. “Kind of ironic that he had the girl but chased her away out of sheer jealousy. Pretty stupid of him.”

  “How did you know he’d seen what I wrote about Noah?”

  His breath hitched, but he must not have thought I noticed. “What else would make him blow it with you?”

  “Gabe, did you—” He had said he could get anyone’s contact info. And he’d been all over my fan site. “You sent him the link, didn’t you?”

  “I thought he should know.” He grabbed the chair from the cube that was perpetually empty. “Layla, it’s time you stop leading me on and give me an answer.”

  “Leading you on? What are you even talking about?”

  “I’m not going to wait around forever.”

  “Well, you’re gonna have to.”

  “Come on, Layla. That drummer isn’t going to give you another chance.”

  “No, Gabe. Understand this. My response to you never had anything to do with Shane. You’re a pompous, self-involved twat. Since you also more or less confessed to sabotaging my relationship with a guy I really could have seen myself with, I guess what I want to say is: Fuck off.”

  He had the audacity to look stunned. Like he’d really thought I was stupid enough to fall in line with his plans. He stood, straightened his shirt, and said, “Bitch,” before walking away.

  I waited for him to get out of earshot before I let the tears fall. Gabe may have orchestrated my breakup with Shane, but he’d only precipitated the inevitable. If I didn’t hate Gabe so much, I might have to thank him for saving me the time. Shane would have eventually discovered my history of ranking the boys in the band. He would have seen that he hadn’t rated anywhere in my list of pretend boyfriends. He would have figured out Micah gave way to Noah at some point. Then he’d do the math and come up with the same wrong conclusion.

  Gabe was right. Shane and I didn’t stand a chance. He might see that I blew up the website, but he’d also know that I was staying with Zion. Nothing substantive had changed. In his eyes, I’d gotten my way. I’d insinuated myself into the band. One of the last comments I’d read on the blog suggested I no longer needed the board because I had the band. Shane would no doubt say the same.

  I stopped to assess where I was at with my life.

  I had my job. Ajit had let me code a small piece of one of my solutions, and Byron offered to let the company pay for any training I wanted to take to get more up to speed.

  I had my new writing gig. An email from Lars listed a series of bands who wanted to volunteer to be a part of the Fly on the Wall series. The Rock Paper gave me a lot of cred. I might get to travel some. I’d be meeting more bands. Things looked like they might take off.

  I had friends. Ash would go back to Portland, but we’d stay in touch. Even if I never saw Adam or Eden again, I had Jo and I had Zion now.

  I had my family. Mom and Dad wanted to come out to visit soon. I couldn’t wait to show them around. My brother had set a date for his wedding, and I’d get to fly home and bask in hometown comfort.

  And I had myself. I’d come to the city split in two. Real me and Internet me were separate and secret from one another. I’d found a way to merge them together, and I came out the other side whole. I no longer felt the need to hide who I was.

  The world would go on. If I could go back a month and see myself now, I’d be impressed and excited about my future. If I’d never met Shane, I’d be more or less in exactly this same spot. Once I worked him out of my system, I’d reclaim the excitement I had at the start. I could do that. It would take some time and focus, but I’d get there.

 
Chapter Thirty-One

  I didn’t see much of Ash for the next several days. Despite her sister-in-law’s dislike of her, Ash offered to stay with the couple to help them transition into parenthood. But on Sunday, when Jo sent her an invitation to come out for an outdoor party, she jumped at the chance. “I need to get away. Just tell me when and where.”

  Jo offered to send her driver to pick her up, and I got in on that ride, too. I wanted to be with Ash when she arrived. Of course, she realized the minute we pulled up where we were going. She recognized the front of Adam’s townhouse from the gossip pages.

  “I’m impressed,” I confessed. “These places all look the same to me.”

  “You don’t remember that video of Jo passing out in the sidewalk right here?” She pointed at a tree, and then I did remember it. In my defense, it had been ages ago. Plus, it was a pretty nondescript tree.

  She grabbed my elbow. “Oh, my God. Come the fuck on.”

  I had to laugh. “Be cool, okay?”

  “Are you fucking kidding me? Is he here?”

  “Yeah. I think so.” She slipped off a yoga wrap to reveal that, of course, she had on a Walking Disaster T-shirt. I sighed.

  We rang the bell, and Eden answered. She had the baby cradled in one elbow. “Hey! You must be Ashley. I’m Eden. This is Joshua.”

  Ash didn’t freak out. She touched the baby’s hand and said, “Are you a big boy?” She looked up at Eden and asked, “Does he sleep through the night yet?”

  Eden moved out of the way and let us in, answering, “God, I wish. Though what you call night varies . . .”

  They went on ahead of me, talking about babies like they were picking up a conversation they’d left off before. I guess having spent days with her brother’s baby had left Ash wanting to talk about nothing else.

  Zion was behind the kitchen counter, but Ash already knew him, so she waved and said, “Hey, Zion!” Like it was no big deal. I laughed at how easily she’d managed to adjust to all this.

  That was before we went out back. I decided to sit back and watch her transform into psycho fan. Adam stood in the yard, hammering together some kind of small wooden swing set for babies. Ash walked straight up to him, and said, “Oh, my God.”

  I held my breath, but she shocked me.

  “Where did you find this? It’s perfect!”

  She got down on her knees and studied the instructions laid out on the ground. Adam dug out the front page, with the manufacturer information and held it up. “I ordered it from here.”

  Next thing I knew, she was holding a complete conversation about how hard it is to find quality children’s play equipment. “I was just looking at those little musical chairs for my nephew—he’s only three days old—but they seem too advanced for any baby.”

  Adam paused and scratched his chin. “Oh, yeah. They’re okay for nap time, but forget about using them to entertain the baby for any length of time.”

  I sat in a chair on the porch, absolutely mesmerized by her ability to do that. Jo placed a lemonade in front of me and sat. “Taste this. It’s amazing and low in sugar.”

  I took a sip. “Is that strawberry?”

  “Strawberry and lemon. Good, huh?” She followed my gaze out to the yard. “Your friend seems to have made herself at home.”

  “Yeah. I’m quite shocked.”

  “What about you?”

  I turned to face her. “Me?”

  “Have you made yourself at home? Do you like it at Zion’s?”

  Eden joined us. “Did you ask her about Shane?”

  Jo shook her head. “I wasn’t sure if I should.”

  “You guys can ask me about Shane. I don’t have anything to say, but I’m an open book.”

  Eden dropped her chin on her palms, elbows on the table. “So, did you ever respond to him?”

  Jo said, “It’s okay if you don’t want to. We can be friends with both of you, whatever you do.”

  “Respond to him about what? I haven’t heard from him in a week.”

  They exchanged a glance. “You haven’t heard anything from him?”

  “Not since he butt-dialed me.”

  Jo called, “Zion?”

  He stuck his head out, and she asked, “Has she seen it?”

  “Why are you asking me?”

  “Because you live with her!” Jo jumped up with a shimmy. “Oh, my Lord. She hasn’t seen it.”

  “Seen what?” I seemed to be the only one who didn’t know.

  Jo came back with a tablet and began typing. Then she set it down in front of me, out of the glare. “Watch.” She had YouTube pulled up.

  The title of the video: To Layla.

  The image opened shaky, blurry with blobs of light broken by blobs of shadow that occasionally coalesced into people on the stage. The sound was loud, and the speakers sounded blown out. Jo hit stop. “Let me find a better one.”

  She minimized the video and returned to the search results. The entire page had the same video. Or the same title anyway. Every single one said, To Layla, but the thumbnails were different. The next video Jo clicked on was clearer and from a different angle. Micah stood on stage, talking. The camera zoomed in on him. Jo made sure the volume was up and the screen maximized.

  Micah was already talking.

  “Come on, everyone. Cameras out. We encourage you to record this and share it far and wide. This is a brand-new song. Never performed anywhere. Hell—” he chuckled “—we’ve barely practiced it.”

  The video panned around. Phones were out everywhere. Little iPhone Micahs floated above the crowd below the real Micah, who announced. “Now, this is important. When you upload this, please give it the title To Layla. This message is for her.”

  I hit the screen to pause it. “When was this recorded?”

  Jo frowned. “Uh.”

  Eden said, “Tuesday.”

  Tuesday? That was the day Ash came to town. This concert would have coincided approximately to the time she and I were moving over to Zion’s, posting on the forum, and getting ready to hit the detonator on the site. If the site had been up all week, this video would have been posted there, and I would have seen it. But I’d been avoiding all the fan sites all week.

  Then I remembered the messages.

  The emails.

  I took a shaky breath and blinked back tears.

  “You guys should put it on the TV,” Adam yelled from the yard. Ash was no longer beside him, and I noticed she’d snuck up behind us to watch over Jo’s shoulder.

  Eden said, “Ooh, good idea! Go!”

  We all raced into the house, and within minutes, she had the video on a widescreen TV. My curiosity was killing me.

  “Everybody comfy?” she asked, settling into a leather love seat, next to Jo, who now hugged a pillow.

  Ash and I shared a sofa directly in line with the screen. I nodded. “Play it.”

  Micah lifted the guitar strap up and over his head, then said into the mic, “This requires a change in personnel.”

  For the first time, I could see Shane as he stood and came around the drumkit. He wrapped his hand around the neck of Micah’s guitar, and as he ducked his head under the strap, Micah took his place at the drums. Ash said, “I didn’t know Micah played drums.”

  Jo laughed. “Not really.”

  He must have known enough because he began to tap a simple four count rhythm. Shane stepped into the spotlight. Someone had brought out a stool, and he hooked it with his ankle, sitting before the microphone. As he adjusted it, he said, “This is going to be interesting. I’ve never played in front of more than one person at a time before.” The crowd cheered. “I might be about to make a total fool of myself here, but it’s worth it. I need to apologize to a girl in a pretty big way. Do you think this will work?” The roar brought the speakers to their limit, and t
hey started to crackle.

  Ash took my hand. “This is for you?”

  I nodded, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from Shane. I hadn’t seen him in over a week, and my soul hurt from wanting him. I’d missed his face, his ever-changing expressions, his manic energy, and mostly, the way he’d looked at me before he’d lost all faith in me.

  I prayed he’d found it again.

  He lifted his knee and rested his foot on the bar, and then he began to play. First a C, then an E, an F, then a C.

  “I know this song.”

  Sure enough, he began with the same first verse he’d sung to me before.

  Another tequila sunrise/misty and gray.

  Empty house

  Empty bottles

  And the sun sets

  On another lonely day

  As he sang, Micah managed to keep a steady beat going. Rick worked in a simple bass line between the verses, and Shane continued as he had once before. That first verse had made me sad when I’d first heard it, picturing broken-hearted Shane, but now he was describing the house he’d be coming home to, tonight probably. Dark and empty. I’d left it that way.

  Hope glints against the darkness

  Pinpricks of light

  Fill the night sky

  Moonage daydreams

  And the time comes

  For her star to burn bright

  Ash said, “Damn, girl.”

  Shane looked up, and the entire stage exploded in tiny pinpricks of light everywhere, like stars shining. The crowd ate it up. The rhythm transformed, picked up as he sang the chorus.

  Constellations turn

  Turn around in flight

  Stars shine

  Shine against the night

  Wish I may

  Wish I might

  Find my one true love’s light.

  That was the extent of the song as far as I knew. I expected him to simply repeat the chorus and end there. He proved me wrong. Yet, again.

  The key changed, as did his strumming pattern. Noah came in with the melody from the chorus, but it played against the bridge in a way that gave me unexpected chills.