Indigo Rain

by Elise Noble

  “Don’t you think you’re overreacting a tiny bit? Why would somebody out to get Vina—if that’s what happened—suddenly have it in for me?”

  “I don’t know, but you’re my favourite sister, and until we get some concrete answers, I’m taking precautions.”

  “I’m your only sister.”

  That was a long-running joke between us, since it was entirely possible we did have another half-sibling lurking somewhere. Our father had fucked anything with tits, after all.

  Zander slung a sweaty arm over my shoulders and gave me a squeeze. “Favourite and only sister.”

  CHAPTER 25 - ALANA

  BLACKWOOD HAD ADOPTED a strange concept as an employer, or at least, it seemed that way in my limited experience. They actually cared about their staff and recognised that they had personal lives, and if a problem arose, they helped to solve it. Give and take, Zander called it. Yes, he sometimes had to work ridiculous amounts of overtime or travel the length of the country at the drop of a hat, but in return, when the Vina situation arose, he simply made calls to clear his diary for the next week and arranged for some help from his colleagues too. Devan agreed to go to the hotel to see if anyone witnessed our culprit near Vina’s room, while Max and Bryson would stick near me at each concert venue for the next week. Technically, bodyguard duty was beyond their remit for the contract with Indigo Rain, but Travis reckoned Ian was too busy to care and Gary wouldn’t question it as long as Blackwood didn’t charge extra on the bill.

  With the women surrounding the band in general and Travis in particular befalling mysterious accidents, Zander was keen to keep as much distance between Travis and me as possible. As it was too late for Travis to sneak back into the hotel incognito, Zander concocted a cover story instead by posing as an old buddy, driving him to the radio station in his sports car and dropping him off in full view of everyone. Better for the world to think Travis had been staying with a male friend than a girlfriend. Travis confided in Rush, Dex, and JD about our fledgling relationship during a hurried conversation in the men’s room, and after offering some words of support which, according to Travis, were unrepeatable, they acted as if they knew Zander when Travis climbed into a Blackwood car after the interview.

  Then we went to visit Vina.

  Jeanne had reported she’d woken up, although she wasn’t supposed to be having visitors outside of family. But when Zander and Travis went in with their oh-so-smooth charm offensive, we got offered comfy seats, cups of tea, and the good biscuits with the chocolate on.

  What should I say? Asking Vina how she was seemed disingenuous, and I could hardly use the standard British line of “you look well.”

  “Hey,” I mumbled.

  Her eyes wouldn’t open fully, and white bandages covered the rest of her face as well as her hands. Zander, ever the detective, picked up her chart and began reading while Travis and I sat down, one of us on each side of the bed.

  “Alana?”

  “And Travis,” he said.

  “My brother’s here too. Zander.”

  “Hi, Vina. As well as being Alana’s brother, I’m a private investigator, and I’m here to help work out what happened to you. I’m not going to ask you how you feel, because I realise you must be feeling pretty damn awful at the moment, so let’s focus on getting you better.”

  Zander was so much better at this stuff than me. I was grateful, but at the same time, I felt bad that his bedside manner was obviously borne out of practice. I’d never got so involved in the hands-on aspects of his job before, or realised how sad it was that he had to comfort victims for a living.

  “Do you feel up to talking?” he asked. “Or is there anything we can do to help you feel more comfortable?”

  “I can talk, but I don’t understand how this happened.”

  Her words came out muffled because she couldn’t move her lips, the stilted speech of an amateur ventriloquist.

  “We think we know the ‘how,’ but right now, we’re stumped on the ‘why.’”

  “It was my face cream, wasn’t it? But I’ve been using that brand for a year, and it’s never burned like that before.”

  “It’s possible somebody spiked it with acid.”

  Vina didn’t speak for a full ten seconds. Then, “What?” she asked hollowly, as if she couldn’t quite believe what she’d heard.

  “Your skin lightener contained a high level of acid. Did it seem a different texture to normal?”

  “It was thinner and it smelled funny, but I thought they’d just changed the recipe a bit.”

  “Where did you get it?”

  “From the internet, the same place as always. A website called ‘The Fairest of Them All.’”

  “When did you put the new jar in your suitcase?”

  “On Wednesday morning before I travelled to London.”

  I didn’t know whether to feel sad or angry on Vina’s behalf. Both, really. Angry that society pushed fake ideals onto people, and sad that Vina had felt compelled to adhere to them.

  “Have the doctors said much?” I asked, wishing I could squeeze her hand to show my support. But of course I couldn’t. The bandages concealed the damage, but I’d seen the state of her hands before she left the hotel yesterday.

  “Most of the time, they use all these medical terms I don’t understand. ‘Cautiously optimistic,’ that’s what the skin specialist said yesterday.”

  “That sounds promising.”

  “They also said that if I hadn’t washed the stuff off so fast, I’d be looking at years of surgery. One of the nurses told me I was lucky. Lucky!”

  “Sometimes people don’t think before they speak.”

  “I need to thank you for what you did. I panicked, and it was you who put me in the shower, and if you hadn’t…” Vina gulped back tears, and I laid a hand on her shoulder.

  “I just did what anyone else would have done.”

  “Shit, I’m not supposed to cry. It hurts when I cry.”

  “Have you had enough painkillers? Should I call the nurse?”

  “They’ve given me the good stuff, or so they said.”

  Zander took over again. “We’re trying to get hold of your family, but your mum’s abroad. Do you know how we can contact her?”

  Vina shook her head, then her eyes crinkled as she winced in pain. “Kenya. She’s in Kenya on a volunteering program through her church.”

  “Which church?”

  “First Baptist.” Vina rattled off a street address in Colchester. “A nurse already asked. But the pastor said Mum might not even have electricity for weeks, so her phone probably won’t work.”

  “We’ll try to get a message to her.”

  “She’s been saving up for this trip for years.”

  “That won’t matter. Trust me, she’d much rather be back here if she knew you were hurt.”

  “I know, but… She put her whole life on hold for me for so long, and when I won Sing! Live last year, we both thought all the work had paid off, only nothing turned out the way we hoped. And now this.”

  “Can you think of anyone who might have wanted to hurt you? Anyone with a grudge?”

  Vina didn’t hesitate. “Rebekah Grace.”

  “She was a runner-up on Sing! Live,” Travis filled in.

  “At the beginning, she was nice to me, when she was beating me in the polls. But then our positions switched, and she turned into an absolute bitch. I’m ninety-nine percent certain she put laxatives in my Fanta before one show.”

  “That was why you kept running to the bathroom?” Travis asked. “I thought you were just nervous.”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “We’ll check into it,” Zander said. “Anyone else?”

  “I split up with my boyfriend recently. Three, no, four months ago. He said he didn’t like what I’d become, and…and…” She took a moment to get her breathing back under control. “One of the things he hated was me lightening my skin. He said I’d sold out.”

  “Why did
you do it?”

  “My manager said it would give me a better look.” Her shoulders shook, and she began sobbing again. “Now I’ll have scars instead.”

  Oh, hell. “I’ll get the nurse,” I mouthed.

  Vina had suffered quite enough for today.

  For years, it had just been Zander and me eating at the big glass table in our Chelsea apartment. Then I’d had only a few short months to get used to Dove being there, and now Travis was sitting opposite her, asking if she’d pass the pepper.

  He may have acted wild a lot of the time, but I’d come to realise that was exactly what it was: an act. A persona he’d created to shield him from the glare of the spotlight he’d found himself under. Yes, he’d always have an edge, but underneath, he was quite civilised.

  And when we curled up on the sofa after dinner, he cuddled me close, twirling my hair in his fingers while we stared at the TV. And I say “stared at” because neither of us was really watching. My mind churned with hopes and plans and fears for the future, while Travis’s relaxed expression didn’t change even when the movie ended and the news began.

  “We’re heading to bed,” Zander said. “It’s after midnight. Don’t you have a show tomorrow?”

  Travis nodded. “A small one. Some VIP thing.”

  They’d be playing at the Roundhouse in Camden. Guests included competition winners, music journalists, and fans able to afford the exorbitant ticket prices for the intimate gig. Like at the party in Paris, the band would be playing a stripped-down version of the show, which meant more focus on their skills and no special effects to hide behind.

  “We’ll go to bed in a minute,” I told Zander. “I’m too comfortable to move.”

  When Zander’s bedroom door clicked shut, Travis kissed me. He’d kept his hands more or less to himself all night, but instead of things turning heated now we had some privacy, he seemed more…tepid.

  “Are you okay?”

  “No.” He closed his eyes and took a long breath. Exhaled slowly. “Do you know how long it’s been since anyone but my foster mom asked me that?”

  “How long?”

  “I can’t even remember. Then you came along, and four times you’ve asked me if I’m okay.”

  He’d been counting? That such a tiny thing should mean so much made me ache inside. “I’m so sorry. Everyone needs somebody to lean on when things get tough.”

  “Rush, Dex, and JD are too busy trying to cope with their own demons, and nobody else gives a fuck.”

  “Want to talk about it?”

  “I’m scared, blue.”

  “Scared? Because of what happened to Vina?”

  “A little. But mostly because of what’s happening with you. And your family, and your friends. You all treat me like a human being. This is the best night I’ve had in years, maybe ever, and I never want it to end.”

  “But all we did was eat dinner.”

  “Exactly.”

  He did that thing where he lined our fingers up again, palms flat against each other. His fingers were long, elegant, at odds with his sometimes-rough personality. And I had a chip in my manicure. Dammit.

  “Everybody likes having a day off.”

  “It’s more than that. I like being normal. My childhood was something I’d rather forget, and even after I moved in with my last set of foster parents, the house was always busy. Three or four kids at a time, and most of them were assholes like me. Don and Mary had the patience of saints with all of us, and fuck knows, I tested it. This…this is peaceful. And you’re here. Do you believe in soulmates?”

  “I’ve never really thought about it. Do you?”

  “Maybe. I don’t want to.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I like being here with you too much. Too much because now I’m scared—no, fuckin’ terrified—that it’ll all get torn away from me.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Two years. Two more years before I can get my life back. Right now, I feel like I’m two people fighting for space in the same body.”

  “Rock-star Travis would have cranked up the music, knocked back enough alcohol to bring a horse to its knees, set fire to something, then outraged the neighbours by screwing me on the balcony, right?”

  He kissed me softly on the cheek. “Reformed Travis would still screw you on the balcony if he thought your brother wouldn’t kill him.”

  “Uh, perhaps we could do that on a day when he’s out?”

  After we’d arranged a small forest of potted plants next to the railing to hide us from view.

  Travis raised an eyebrow. “E is for exhibitionist?”

  “We already did E.”

  “So? We can make up our own rules. There’s nothing to stop us from going through the whole alphabet again.”

  “In that case, can I have the D?”

  L was definitely for laughter. I was still giggling when he picked me up and carried me to the bedroom, punctuating every step with a kiss. Tonight, I got sweet yet solemn Travis, and an orgasm so spine-tinglingly intense I couldn’t move for a full five minutes afterwards.

  “M is for making love,” Travis whispered in my ear as I floated on a cloud of pheromones.

  Yes. And I’d just fallen in it.

  CHAPTER 26 - ALANA

  AFTER THE EVENTS of Friday and Saturday, it was good to get back to doing my job, which had now expanded since I had Travis’s, Dex’s, and JD’s Instagram accounts loaded up on my phone too. Although Travis warned me against reading his direct messages.

  “I understand. They’re none of my business.”

  “It’s not that. Women send me, uh…”

  “Snatch shots,” Rush said.

  JD snorted. “Yeah, clit pics.”

  “Don’t forget the incredible selection of racks,” Dex put in.

  “And that weird chick who kept sending him photos of her feet.”

  “And butt bitch.”

  Good grief. “Rush, that’s not very nice.”

  “Hey, that’s what she called herself. She wanted to sit on Trav’s face and have him lick her—”

  “Enough! I think Alana gets the picture.”

  Yes, I did. Avoid Travis’s DMs or be scarred for life.

  Travis had arranged passes for Zander, Devan and a few other Blackwood employees who were out front watching the show while Max and Bryson kept an eye on events backstage. They’d considered a more overt presence, but as Zander had said before, if whoever tampered with Vina’s moisturiser was still around, he didn’t want to tip our hand.

  I couldn’t deny I felt twitchy. After Reagan’s death, I’d switched out my heels for flats, and this morning, I’d tested my moisturiser on a tiny area of my hand before putting it near my face. Thankfully, I wasn’t allergic to anything but assholes, and I was trying to avoid Gary as much as possible.

  Breathe, Alana. Max and Bryson kept people safe for a living. They’d look after me.

  Travis ran along the front of the stage, whipping up the crowd for the encore as I shuffled closer at the side. With my camera, I was basically invisible. Nobody paid me the slightest attention. All eyes were focused on the four boys, not another tiny cog in the relentless machine that was Indigo Rain.

  And that’s when I saw her. Just a glimpse at first, but when I looked again, I was ninety percent sure. She stuck out because while everyone else was dancing in time to the music, she was still. Focused. Watching Travis and nothing else.

  I snapped a burst of photos then backed up slowly, watching the girl until I bumped into a wall of solid muscle, otherwise known as Bryson.

  “Everything okay?”

  “I’m not sure. There’s a girl in the audience, and I’ve seen her before. In Paris.”

  “And?”

  “Dex said she was Travis’s stalker. She follows him all over the world and pops up in odd places. I guess I didn’t think much of it at the time, but now she’s here, and so soon after somebody hurt Vina…”

  “You think maybe
she got jealous of the competition?”

  “Vina and Travis weren’t together.”

  “They were together on stage. And I watched them perform—they sure knew how to put on a show.”

  Yes, they did, hands all over each other. I didn’t care because Travis was a showman acting a part, but I saw how it could look like something it wasn’t to a person on the outside.

  “I guess. Maybe.”

  Bryson wore an earpiece, and he recounted my story to the others. “Zander wants to know where she is and what she looks like.”

  “Red camisole, honey-blonde hair down to her shoulders, positioned near the front.” I peeped out again. “Roughly in line with JD’s drum kit. She’s just standing there, not moving around like everyone else. About my age, but perhaps an inch shorter. Oh, and she’s called Peyton.”

  Like the freaky nanny in The Hand that Rocks the Cradle.

  Bryson shifted so he could see too. “Okay, I’ve got her.” He relayed the description to Zander, guiding him towards Peyton. It became an agonisingly slow race—would Zander reach her before the band finished the encore and the crowd began to disperse? I wished I could get a message to Travis, ask him to sing just one more song.

  But I couldn’t, and he finished with a flourish, tearing off his shirt and throwing it into the crowd. JD lobbed his drumsticks too, and the lights dimmed as the band ran off stage.

  Shit.

  Bryson stood his ground, talking calmly. “Forward, forward… She’s to your right. Red top with those little straps that break easily.”

  How did he know what to say? I couldn’t even see Zander in the crowd.

  Rush lifted me six inches off the floor and gave me a sweaty kiss on the forehead while Travis stared daggers at him from a few feet away. Travis had told his bandmates of the need to keep our relationship secret for now, so either Rush was doing his bit to assist with the deception, or he took joy in deliberately winding his friend up. Knowing Rush, it could be either.