by Bev Dulson
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
L.A.
Max was only what could be described as cock a hoop. It was all over TMZ, CNN, BBC, trending on Twitter and being shared on all other social media platforms. Sitting at his breakfast bar with a bottle of Whiskey, from the cheapest Bargain Liquor store he could find, the headlines were making the cheap Whiskey taste less cheap.
‘Magenta Valentina in drugs bust’
‘Magenta arrested!!!!’
Some of the more downmarket rags went a bit further…
‘Rock chick to coke head’
‘Is it ‘snort’ over for Magenta - her career takes a nose dive...is it down to the coke up there?’
Max chuckled, he knew there was more chance of Magenta running off and becoming a nun than her having a drug problem. Didn’t matter that she would be released and probably not charged, he imagined Logan already had a hot shot lawyer on it, if he’d still been in charge he’d have sent Justine Clayton, absolute ball breaker, she knew her stuff. No, what mattered was trial by media, or at least social media. He’d seen it happen so many times before, an acts career totally down the toilet by one misplaced story online, some recovered from it, many didn’t, the damage had been done.
He carried on reading the reports, some commenting on the irony that she was arrested the day after she’d been representing a drug rehabilitation charity. Timing was everything, he grinned. Others noting her recent erratic behaviour and putting that down to possible substance abuse. Oh this was just getting better. How high the mighty have to fall.
Breaking news popped up on TMZ, Magenta had been released, a statement was due from NYPD in the hour. Max panicked slightly, she’d been released much more quickly than he anticipated, he was expecting at least an overnight stay. He didn’t have much more time to contemplate that thought, there was a knock at the door. He heaved himself up, he’d noticed he was putting on a bit of weight, his triumphant return was on the cards, he really needed to get back in shape, cut back on the burgers and drink. He’d start tomorrow. He looked through the spy hole, grinning at the sight in front of him.
‘Well, you took your time,’ he opened the door widely and grinned. ‘Hello, my old friend. To what do I owe the pleasure of you travelling all this way?’
‘One thing I’m not is your friend, Max and believe me, this is not a pleasure, but it has to be done face to face.’
‘Good to see you too, Logan,’ he stepped to one side. ‘Come in, you’re just in time, got a bottle of my finest Whiskey open.’
Logan clocked the label on the bottle, finest it certainly wasn’t. ‘I’m not staying, I have pressing business back in New York.’
‘Ah yes, poor Magenta, she does seem in rather a pickle doesn’t she?’
Logan could’ve kicked himself, he’d given Max an opportunity to get a dig in before he’d even had chance to fire the first shot.
‘Roxie Meyer’s what do you know about her?’
Max leant against the breakfast bar, stroking his chin thoughtfully. ‘Roxie, ah she’s the young girl at number one isn’t she? Cracking song. I still take an interest in the charts, but golfing at the country club is more my thing these days,’ he laughed, letting Logan know he was completely at ease at his own downfall. They both knew he wasn’t.
Logan pulled a face, he’d bet his house that Max showed more than an interest in the chart. ‘Yeah, fabulous song, you know it’s Magenta’s right?’
‘Really? That does surprise me, not one I’m aware of...but then she always did have lots of material. I didn’t have time to look over each one, who does when they’re running a multinational company? I’m sure you have a similar problem Logan, although I don’t think you have as many acts to look after as I did…’
‘I have enough,’ Logan was struggling not to rise to the bait. ‘So, you didn’t see the clip on line of Magenta singing the song herself?’
‘Too busy golfing,’ he took an imaginary golf swing. ‘Don’t really have time to keep up with showbiz gossip.’
Logan caught the quick glance to his right, not quick enough for him not to follow it. Max’s laptop left open, paused on TMZ. Logan nodded at it. ‘Just catching up on golfing news are you?’
Max slammed it shut. ‘Exactly. Now Logan, as lovely as it is to see your ugly mug, we’ve established I don’t know what you’re talking about, so I suggest you leave, sorry you have a wasted journey.’
Logan sat on the breakfast stool. ‘We haven’t established anything. Tell me what you know about Jax Buckley, he’s the one who gave Roxie the song and sent her to Highway 65.’
‘Then I suggest you talk to Jax, haven’t seen him since he was sacked for stealing songs, sounds like he’s up to his old tricks again…’
‘So, I did speak to Jax, on the flight over here, you can have a long phone conversation on the flight to LAX. He tells me you originally stole the songs he was sacked for, he took the wrap because you had something on him and you were blackmailing him.’
‘That’s ridiculous, I didn’t need to steal songs… you have no proof, only his word and we all know what’s that worth.’
‘Y’see here’s my problem, I don’t trust either of you, so I have to weigh up what I know. You desperately want to get back into the music business and you need an act to do it. We know Roxie sung regularly at a bar just around the block from here. You hear her sing, you know she has an amazing voice. There is no denying you have an eye for talent, but your ego still wants you to bring Magenta down, her success is like permanent salt in an open wound. So, you can't resist taking one of her songs and giving it to Roxie, but you can’t do it yourself, too obvious, so you get Jax involved. Not many people in the music industry would go near you, but if you still have something over Jax, he’s fair game and we know how partial you are to a bit of blackmail, Johnny can testify to that. So, you get Jax to steal the song and you mastermind Roxie’s success from here, watching Magenta go into meltdown from your grubby little apartment.’
‘Who d’you think you are? Columbo?’
‘I know I’m right Max, I just need to prove it, so watch your back, you’ve picked on the wrong person. Magenta will take you down.’
He laughed. ‘You come here, to my home and threaten me with Magenta? Is that all you’ve got?’
Logan stood up. ‘Just watch your back, Max. Magenta is mad and you don’t want to be on the wrong side of that.’
‘Last time I checked, Magenta was banged up.’ He was blindly hoping that Logan hadn't heard the news of her release yet.
Logan’s phone beeped. ‘She’s been released,’ he checked his message. ‘You might wanna check TMZ, full apology from NYPD and they’ve got the person who planted the drugs.’
Max’s face paled. ‘What?’ The new arrest was news to him.
‘I’m fairly sure that’s got something to do with you too, I suggest, if you want this to end, you release your own statement and tell the press what you’ve done.’
‘Again, you don’t come here and threaten me Logan, you don’t know who you’re dealing with.’
‘I know exactly who you are Max Maxwell - take this as shots fired.’ He stood up and headed towards the door.
‘My gun is loaded.’
‘Enjoy your golf, Max.’
Max watched as Logan left. Shit, if they had Erika, he was gonna be in trouble, he knew that stupid girl was getting careless. He’d get rid of the burner phone he’d been using to contact her. He’d just deny anything she said, there was nothing to connect them without that phone. He poured a large glass of Whiskey, he was still in control, although Logan may have been right, he also knew he couldn’t prove a damn thing, things were about to get real good.
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
Trine had never felt more alone, Magenta was understandably keeping a low profile and had gone to the brownstone, she’d text her earlier on with the instruction of to only let Logan know where she was. She couldn’t blame her, after the debacle with Erika, she knew Magenta mus
t be concerned about who to share information with. Logan had texted her just before his flight took off from LAX, he said he’d update her in the morning and thanked her for being there for Magenta. Of course she’d be there for her, she was her best friend.
She sat on the window seat in her hotel room, forehead resting against the glass, dressed in her PJ’s and glass of wine in her hand as she watched Times Square below. This was where Dean was sitting the night she told him to do one, he hadn’t even been in touch. Her best friend was in hiding, her husband had been banished back home, suddenly her world felt very small. Her phone was in her other hand; her kids’ faces filled her home screen. Was she right to throw her marriage away? What would she tell the kids? She couldn’t tell them what Dean had been doing. Was it really cheating? He hadn’t physically had sex with someone. In some ways that made it worse, she didn’t know exactly why, it just felt creepy. Imagine if the kids had found that on his phone, it didn’t bear thinking about. Her phone beeped. For one second she hoped it was Dean. It was Juke, she opened the message:
Hey babycakes, great job today, glad Magenta’s free #teammagenta – y’all let me know if you’re OK, don’t want you being lonely in NYC xx
She smiled, here she was, all alone in New York City, getting a text from Juke, the most flamboyant person she’d ever met. The Trine who used to work in Boots would think that was off its head. She quickly text him back, yes, she was lonely, but she wasn’t going to tell him that:
Thanks Juke, I’m all good, just shattered so heading to bed. See you tomorrow xx
Leaning back and resting her head against the wall, she yawned, maybe that’s exactly what she should do, a good night’s sleep always made everything better. She knocked back her glass and stood up, albeit a bit wobbly, yep, bed was a good choice. She jumped back as there was a hammering at her door.
‘Scouse, are you in there?’
Johnny.
She opened the door, clocking his worried face and Romeo’s bland expression just behind him.
‘Scouse, I’ve been texting you and calling you. What the hell’s going on? Are you OK?’
She nodded. Johnny stepped into the room, closing the door behind him before Romeo had chance to follow him.
‘Everything’s fine. Magenta’s been released without charge and they caught the person who planted the drugs.’
‘I know that, I’ve seen the NYPD statement. I’m asking you if you’re OK?’ He placed his hands on her shoulders.
She shrugged them off. ‘Why do you care Johnny? You’re always asking if I’m OK. Why?’ She moved away from him and flopped down on one of the armchairs in the suite.
He followed her. ‘Look around Scouse, all I’ve seen is you running around looking after everyone...who's looking after you?’
She gave a sarcastic laugh. ‘I don’t need looking after, I’m fine, I don’t need you doing your knight in shining armour act, coming in here and trying to rescue me.’
‘Scouse, let me tell ya this for nothing, I am not a knight in shining armour and I wouldn’t want to be. Never trust a knight in shining armour, their metal has never been tested, I’m bruised, rusted and battered and I ain't no knight.’
‘Well, that must make my husband a dickhead in tin foil then.’
He flung his head back laughing. ‘You kill me, even when you’re looking sad you make me laugh.’
‘Glad someone’s happy, I’m jet lagged, my best friend has just been locked up, my husband isn’t who I thought he was and this trip was supposed to make everything better,’ her shoulders began to shake with emotion. ‘I’m strong, I can normally cope, but I just feel overwhelmed.’ She brushed the tears threatening to leak from her eyes with the back of her hands before they could fall onto her cheeks.
‘Hey. it’s OK, you’re just tired, a good night's sleep, that’s what you need.’
‘That’s where I was heading before my knight in battered armour turned up.’
‘I’m sorry, I should let you sleep, I was just worried.’ He rested his hand on the back of hers, stroking it gently.
‘Thing is...since Dean left, I haven’t been able to sleep very well on my own.’
‘I can stay until you fall asleep.’
‘I’m sure there are a million places you’d much rather be...some rock star party or something.’
‘Right now, I’m where I’m supposed to be,’ he stroked her cheek. ‘C’mon, let’s get you into bed and off to the land of nod. Promise I won’t go until you’re snoring.’
‘I don’t snore.’
He helped her onto the bed, Jet lag must’ve really been kicking in for her, she was struggling to lift her legs up onto the high Queen Size bed. She settled down, her head resting on the pillow, He lay with his elbow propping his head up on the opposite pillow, watching as she closed her eyes. ‘Thanks, Jon Boy,’ she mumbled sleepily. ‘You’re a great mate.’ It seemed like she was snoring within moments. He laid his head down on the pillow and was asleep seconds after her.
Hunter followed Magenta around the brownstone; Tango was in the kitchen making himself a coffee. It felt very weird to be wandering around what felt like a museum of Mag’s old life. They walked up the stairs to be greeted by a large portrait of Magenta and Max on their wedding day.
‘Urgh, well that’s gotta go.’ She pulled at the corner of the frame, yanking it off the wall, despite its size; she made short work of it and chucked it over the bannister, watching it smash on impact. Within moments Tango came dashing out into the hall.
‘What’s going on?’
‘No need to worry mate, just getting rid of rubbish.’
‘Magenta, this house, it hasn’t been lived in for over two years, there’s no dust sheets, yet it’s spotless.’
‘Cleaners have been coming in every week.’
‘Ah right,’ Tango nodded slowly. ‘That might explain things.’
‘Like what?’ She asked, leaning on the bannister.
‘This robbery, something seems off about it.’
Hunter butted in. ‘I thought the same, too convenient.’
‘None of the other stuff stolen has appeared on Ebay,’ he shrugged. ‘Seems suspicious to me.’
‘It was a robbery, of course it’s suspicious,’ Magenta replied.
‘What he means is, if it was a normal robbery, your other stuff would’ve been sold on by now, it’s only your song that has seen the light of day.’
‘My guess is, this is an inside job,’ Tango added.
‘Well, yeah, we know that. It was Max, we just haven’t got the proof.’
‘It had to be someone who had access and could make it look like a random break in…’ Tango began.
‘Like the cleaners,’ Hunter finished.
‘Bingo,’ Tango grinned. ‘Magenta, I’m gonna need details of the cleaning company.’
She pulled her phone out. It was all arranged through the record company. ‘Logan. I need details of the cleaning company that look after the brownstone and I need it five minutes ago...it doesn’t matter where I am, I’m with Hunter and Tango, I’m safe, just get me that information and deal with the press, I can’t fuckin’ move right now.’ She didn’t wait for Logan’s response. She walked back down the stairs. ‘I reckon by the time we pour ourselves a much needed drink, we’ll have the details from Logan.’
Trina opened her eyes, she couldn’t work out where she was, the room, even in semi darkness didn’t seem right, no familiar sounds. She was lying flat on her stomach, her left arm flung out and resting on something...on someone. Dean? No, even her foggy headed brain knew Dean wasn’t with her right now, besides whoever was next to her wasn’t soft and squidgy like her husband, this person had rock solid abs...rock God abs, and what was that smell? It was a recent memory; it was Fucking Fabulous, which meant only one thing. She lifted her head off the pillow and strained her neck; Johnny Kidd was in her bed. That brought her straight to her senses and she shot out of bed, yet again she’d spent the night with the most
eligible bachelor.
She looked down at her clothes, the low light of a lamp in the corner giving her the light she needed. She was in her pj’s, she looked at him, his long frame stretched out sleepily across the bed, he was fully dressed, including his boots, so they obviously hadn’t got jiggy with it. She began to pace, trying to pull the memory from her mind, how had she ended up in bed with him? She recalled being tired, almost like when the kids were babies, she was emotional after Magenta’s arrest, she was heartbroken after Dean’s actions, she was lonely. Then Johnny appeared and she’d begged him not to leave her. Oh God, didn’t she have any self respect? No wonder Dean had acted the way he had, she was a mess. Hold on, no, she was a mess because of his actions! ‘Straighten’ yer crown, girl.’
‘Are you gonna wander round this room all night muttering to yourself or are you coming back to bed, some of us need our beauty sleep.’
His voice stopped her mid step; she turned to look at him, lying there like he was on the front page of a magazine. ‘Hmmm, some need their beauty sleep more than others,’ she sighed. ‘Johnny, how do we keep ending up in bed together?’
‘Because the universe wants it, gotta tell you Scouse, you are the only woman I’ve ever been to bed with and actually just slept with, not in the biblical sense.’
She pulled a face.
‘You’re beautiful when you’re asleep,’ his voice was all husky.
‘As opposed to looking like the back end of a bus when I’m awake?’
He grinned. ‘Man, your comebacks are like kryptonite to my chat up lines. This is driving me crazy,’ he was up on his knees. ‘You’re driving me crazy.’
She took a step back. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘You are like one of my songs, always in my head.’
‘Yeah well, you’re messin’ with my head. You know my situation, I’m married.’
He nodded slowly. ‘Yep, to a complete dick who doesn’t deserve you, look, just because it’s tough for you right now, doesn’t mean it always has to be…’
