Fame And Secrets (Lords Of Lyre Book 2)

by Cora Kenborn

  “No shit.” He smiled back. Kissing me on the lips, as we always did, he nodded toward Ryker. “Take care of my girl, dude. I know where you live, remember that.”

  Ryker nodded as Gage winked, leaning his mouth against my ear.

  “Ohana, baby doll.”

  A fresh wave of wetness blanketed my face. “Ohana.”

  It was our special code word for family. As self-proclaimed orphans, Gage and I had decided long ago family was what you made it. And no matter where life took us, he’d always be mine.

  With a close of the door, my last lifeline left me.

  ***

  The place was a mess, and I didn’t give a shit. I couldn’t stop staring at the cake still sitting on the raised platform on the dining room table. Anger welled as I stalked toward it. Crooking a finger, I trailed it through the frosting, marring the beautiful, intricate design.

  “Phoebe, look at me. I leave tonight, and I’ll be back by tomorrow afternoon. It’s a morning drive interview that’ll last ten minutes. The shower isn’t until six o’clock, right?”

  “Yes. Six.”

  “Perfect. I’ll be home no later than two o’clock. Plenty of time.”

  Plenty of time, my ass.

  Something inside me snapped as I grabbed the cake and hurled it against the wall. As white frosting and bits of dyed cake slid down the paint and littered the floor, I began to laugh hysterically.

  At least I could decorate the nursery now. And pick a name.

  As my laughter died down, I sighed and took inventory of the hell hole left in my kitchen. Faith offered to clean, but I just wanted everyone out of my house. I’d just leaned down to pick up the toppled cake stand when I felt it.

  Horrified, I glanced down as clear liquid trickled down the inside of both of my thighs and pooled on the floor. I stared at it as if I could will it away. A noise from the hallway pulled my attention away as the front door opened. Ryker leaned over the couch to grab his phone.

  Holding it up, he grinned. “Sorry, forgot my phone.”

  My eyes returned to the continuous stream of liquid still running down my legs.

  “Jesus Christ, Phoebe!” His panic-filled eyes steadied on me as my stare lifted from the puddle to his face. Our eyes locked, and I glanced back to the floor, dragging his widened gaze along with me. “What the fuck is that?”

  “My…my water broke,” I stammered, still in shock.

  “Well, fix it!”

  “My water broke, Ryker!” I threw my arms wide as if the gesture would clarify the situation.

  He mimicked my stance. “It looks like you pissed on the floor.”

  As we stood arguing, the first contraction hit. Shocked, I winced and wrapped both arms around my belly. “It means you have to…take me to the hospital…now!”

  Stumbling backward, he ran both hands through his hair while still clutching his phone. “Oh, hell no. This wasn’t part of the deal.”

  “Ryker…” My knees shook as another contraction hit.

  Something isn’t right.

  “Stop this shit and hold it in there. Or up there. Or whatever you girls do.” He paced the room, his eyes ping-ponging from wall to wall. “We’ll clean this up and pretend it didn’t happen. Where the hell is the mop?”

  I tried to stay calm for both of us, but his erratic behavior made me lose hold of my sanity.

  “This is really happening. Oh god, this is…what the hell are you doing?” I looked up from my crouched position as he punched numbers on his phone.

  “Calling Mom. She can catch a flight. She’ll know what to do.”

  With a shriek that could only be described as a cross between a dolphin and a dying monkey, I knocked the phone out of his hand. “You’re not calling your mother. There’s no time.”

  “I can’t do this, Phoebe.” He bent to pick up his phone and balanced on one knee with his forehead in his palm. “Please don’t have this baby in front of me. I can’t handle blood and—”

  As another contraction hit, I grabbed a fistful of his hair and jerked his face upward. “I’m the only one allowed to panic here! Your job is to get me to the hospital. If you don’t, I’m going to fucking have this baby on your brother’s living room floor, and I swear to god I’ll strangle you with the umbilical cord!” A steady trickle of water dampened my legs again.

  Slowly rising from his knees, he sighed. “Shit. All right.” He dangled the keys in front of my face. “Do, uh…do you want to drive?”

  Screwing my eyes shut, my face contorted in pain. “No, I can’t drive. Just…get…the…car.”

  Within ten minutes, we fought the freeway with horns blaring. Ryker weaved in and out of traffic like a newly christened driver, the whole time reassuring both of us that he, indeed, could do this and no, god did not hate him.

  “Ry, slow down.” I tried to reassure us both. “I’m not going have the baby in the car.”

  He raised both eyebrows. “You don’t know that. Do you know that? No, you don’t know that.”

  “The first stages of labor can last hours,” I protested as I squeezed the dashboard.

  “Yeah? Well, you also told me that babies come at nine months. Nine months, Pheebs. You’re not nine months. This wasn’t supposed to happen to me.”

  My hands ricocheted off the dashboard. “To you? None of this is happening to you! Julian is in Seattle, and I’m in fucking labor. Do you understand what that means?” I waved my hands in the air like a madwoman. “I’m scared shitless! So, I’ll say it again…you’re not allowed to freak out! You have to be calm to calm me down; because if you’re not calm, then I’m not calm, and if I’m not calm—I’m really going to lose my shit, Ryker!”

  “Phoebe, shut up!” Keeping his eyes glued to the road, he stared in horror at the car crawling in front of us. Laying on the horn, he let out a howl of frustration. “I can’t drive with you screaming at me like that. I’ll crash. If we die, who’s going deliver the baby, Phoebe? Huh? If we die, you’ll be doing it all by yourself.”

  “Do you hear yourself? You’re not making sense!”

  “Neither are you!” He laid on the horn again and stuck his head out of the car window. “Fast lane!” he shrieked. “This is the fast lane, dickhead! She’s having a baby.”

  We aren’t going to make it.

  Once more, Julian would miss a milestone. But this time, it’d be the birth of his child.

  The rest of the ride to the hospital was silent except for my periodic gasps as the contractions hit. Ryker didn’t bother to park. He ran the car up on the curb, causing startled screams. I’d just unbuckled my seatbelt when he grabbed me by the elbows.

  I slapped his arms. “Ry, stop it! I’m in labor, not unconscious.”

  “How in the hell should I know?” He pulled at his hair again, causing the ends to stand straight up. “I’m winging it here.”

  “That makes two of us. I have no clue what I’m doing either.” I stomped my foot like a five-year-old.

  “Good!”

  “Great!”

  He slammed the car door. “Fine!”

  “Shut up, Ryker.” I turned and made my way into the hospital, stopping only when a contraction doubled me over. As we approached registration, another pain hit, all but collapsing me onto the desk. Ryker reached out a hand to steady me. This time, I didn’t protest, and his hand didn’t move. I raised my head, and spoke weakly to the receptionist. “Hi, I’m in labor…I think.”

  The receptionist eyed me with a robotic stare. “Name?”

  “Phoebe Ryan”

  “Have a seat, Mrs. Ryan. I’ll call you in a moment.” She returned her attention to her computer screen, but I refused to move.

  “It’s Miss.” I’d promised Julian I’d keep our marriage a secret. “I’m not due until May twenty-eighth. I’m barely thirty-one weeks.” I knew modern medical advances gave our baby a fighting chance, but nine weeks early was too soon for birth. What had I done to cause this?

  If our baby dies, it’s my
fault.

  Making notes, the receptionist gathered papers and a pen and handed them to me from across the desk. “Fill out front and back of all fifteen pages and have a seat.”

  Glancing around the crowded waiting room, I hugged the clipboard to my chest. “But I’m in labor.”

  The receptionist motioned to the person behind me, her voice clipped. “Yes, and so are all of these other people. Bring the paperwork back up when you’re finished.”

  My chest constricted and I glanced at Ryker; the fatigue starting to show in his eyes. With a slow blink, the downturned corners lifted, and the dull green color brightened to a determined jade I knew by heart.

  “C’mon, Pheebs…let’s go.” Gently taking my hand, he led me to the waiting area and lowered me onto a worn couch. Leaning down, he whispered softly, “I’ll be right back.”

  My hand shot out and wrapped around his wrist. “Ry, please don’t leave me.” It was a selfish request, but fear had settled deep in the pit of my stomach. Giving my hand a small, reassuring squeeze, he pointed toward the entrance to the hospital.

  “I have to move the car, Pheebs. I’ll be right back. I promise.”

  I reluctantly let go of my death grip on his wrist. Turning quickly, he walked toward the door as it shut tightly behind him. Although buried in paperwork, I watched him pull out his cell phone and turn the corner outside the window.

  Sighing heavily, I knew who he was calling. I was sure he’d get the same pre-recorded voice mail greeting I’d heard all day.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Julian

  “What the hell do you mean our flights have been canceled?” My grip on the terminal desk tightened as Zane stood behind me.

  The clerk shook her short blond hair and shrugged. “I’m sorry, Mr. Bale, but your reservation numbers were logged into our computer system and canceled over an hour ago. We can rebook you both on a later flight to LAX, but it doesn’t leave for another hour and a half.”

  “That’s impossible.” Only three people had access to our reservation information: Zane, Kristina, and me. “Change it back. This is a matter of life and death.”

  “Let’s not be dramatic, Jag,” Zane muttered.

  Whipping around, I shoved a finger in his chest. “Shut the fuck up, Z. No one asked you.”

  The clerk looked at me with a mixture of sadness and reserved giddiness. All it did was ignite an already lit fuse. “Again, I’m sorry. I’ve booked you both on the next flight. I’ll update you if there are any cancellations.”

  I pounded my fist onto the desk. “That isn’t good enough! Do you know who the hell I am?” I hated name dropping, but at that point, I’d use anything I had left.

  She grinned sheepishly. “Yes, I do. I was wondering if I could get an autograph?”

  I lost it. “Yeah. You can have an autograph. You can have it on my fucking ticket to fucking Los Angeles on the fucking plane that’s sitting on the fucking tarmac!”

  “Jag, stop it.”

  “Who the hell do you think you are? You can’t just kick us off a flight.”

  “Jag, you’re causing a scene.”

  “If he touches her, I’ll sue this whole goddamn airline. I’ll own it and your pathetic—” Before I could finish my sentence a hard, right hook bounced my chin from one shoulder to the other. Instinctively grabbing my face, I shoved Zane in the chest, not giving a shit that we’d drawn a crowd. “Jesus, Z! Are you insane?”

  “No, but you are. Will you shut up for two seconds and sit down? You think multiple headlines of you losing your shit in an airport will help the band or Phoebe?” He smacked me across the head one more time. “Use your brain, dickhead.”

  Sinking slowly into a hard, plastic chair in the terminal, I pulled the bill of my baseball hat low and avoided eye contact with anyone, especially Zane. Trying as best I could to remain calm, I texted Kristina to find out what the hell had happened.

  ***

  The text conversation with Kristina hadn’t been pleasant. The minute I’d sent the first text, while sitting in the small airline VIP club, she’d launched into a rant.

  Me: Did you cancel my flight?

  Kristina: Why would I do that?

  Me: Because our reservation numbers were used to cancel our flights. Someone in your office is an asshole.

  Kristina: The only other person with access to that information is Risa. Don’t shoot your mouth off if you don’t have proof, Julian.

  Me: Then how do you explain it?

  Kristina: A mistake. By the way, Risa got a call from the Stone Acer Show. I know you didn’t walk out on a nationally syndicated radio show. That’d be career suicide. That’d also be screwing with me. Don’t screw with me, Julian.

  This shit reeked of Daniel Dalton. If he could get to Phoebe in LA, and me in Seattle, he could get into Kristina’s office.

  Me: Cancel all the other interviews. In fact, cancel the next few concerts.

  Kristina: Have you lost your fucking mind?

  Me: We can’t do the damn things, end of story.

  Kristina: I swear to god; I wonder if this job’s worth putting up with your shit.

  Me: Me too, Kristina.

  I exited messenger and made a make-shift ice pack for my face from the airport VIP bar. What the hell was I supposed to do now? I had no patience to deal with paparazzi or fans. All I wanted was my wife. The thinly veiled promise in Daniel Dalton’s words hung over me.

  Before I lifted the ice pack to my jaw, my phone chimed to alert me I had voice mail. Scrolling one-handed, I stiffened when I realized it’d come from Ryker over an hour ago.

  “Julian, it’s Ry. Don’t freak out, because I’ve already done that. Okay, here it is. Phoebe’s bag broke. That bag that holds some disgusting water shit broke, and she’s in labor. We’re at the hospital and your wife is in labor—and don’t think I don’t know you’re married, because I saw the ring on her finger. I’m not fucking stupid, Julian. You could’ve told me…”

  Before he could finish, a beep flooded my ear, and the call disconnected. Grumbling to Zane about having to use the restroom, I made a quick exit and redialed the voice mail. Pounding my fist against the wall, I pulled the phone from my ear and prayed for a second message.

  Thank God.

  “Damn voice mail cut off on me, but Faith’s gone, and you’re gone, and I’m at the hospital with your wife. Dude, she’s having a baby, and I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. I don’t care how many interviews you have to cancel, just do it. Things are happening fast, man. Your baby is coming…soon.”

  Hanging up, I let a long string of curses fly from my mouth. As the last one bounced off the walls of the VIP club restroom, I drew an arm back and punched the plaster with all the force of my frustration and fear. Immediately, pain shot up my arm, and paint chips splintered and scattered onto the floor.

  “Fuck.” Shaking my fist to alleviate some of the throbbing, I scoured my voice mail for a third message from Ryker.

  There were no updates. No word on how Phoebe was doing. No word on if I’d missed the whole goddamn thing. The only thing I sat and listened to was message after message of Phoebe’s heartbroken voice, thanking me for breaking yet another promise.

  ***

  Two hours later, I sat in the terminal with the ice pack moved from my face to my hand. Pulling it away, I gingerly ran my other hand over my knuckles and inspected the damage. With a sigh, I licked my swollen lip and leaned back into the chair, closing my eyes. Dozens of phone conversations replayed in my mind. None of them brought me anything but ulcers. Three calls from Jaxon Hough updating me on the progression of the futile search for Frank from Hollywood Hills. Two updates from Ryker stole my breath and twisted my stomach in knots. I only returned Ryker’s, and even then, we played phone tag.

  Too many other things on my mind took precedence.

  Like Daniel Dalton.

  Did he know Phoebe was in labor? Had he followed them to the hospital? God, was my entire family in dange
r? The more I jumped out of my seat and checked the departure board, the later the flight was delayed. I’d punch another damn wall if I could spare a hand.

  I touched my cheek and wiggled my jaw again. Zane punched me pretty damn hard. If it’d been anyone else, I’d have come away from that desk swinging and not stopped until one of us was unconscious. But it was Zane, and whatever he’d been brooding about had manifested itself as a cheap punch to my face.

  I had a feeling it had to do with Faith. Those two snuck around like we were all fucking morons.

  Besides, I was out of control and had it coming. I tossed the homemade ice pack on the bar and started pacing when the vibration came from inside my pocket. Shoving my hand inside, I didn’t bother to see who called before answering.

  “Phoebe?”

  “Jesus, it’s about time!”

  Rubbing the back of my hand over my forehead, I let out a sigh. “How is she?” I paused before asking the question that stuck in my throat. “Ry, did she have the baby?”

  “She’s fine, but she’s got one hell of a grip, bro. God help you if you ever piss that woman off.”

  The room started to close in on me. “Is she…did I…”

  Ryker’s voice lowered. “No, Julian, you didn’t miss it.”

  The pain in my face and hand seemed insignificant to the one in my heart. “Thank god. All right, just keep her calm.”

  “Julian, your flight was supposed to get in hours ago.”

  “I know,” I muttered through gritted teeth. “It got canceled.”

  “Your flight?”

  “My reservation.” My blood pressure rose with every word.

  “How the hell does that happen?”

  “I’ll explain later. I’m booked on the next one, but it keeps getting delayed for mechanical reasons. I’m trying, man, but the only other flight is booked solid. I can’t get on it. Trust me, I’ve tried everything…even using my name, and you know I hate that shit.”