Bad for You (Fallen Star Book 4)

by Candy J. Starr

  Making demands was no business of a fake girlfriend though. She wanted this for real, that was the truth. And that did neither of any good.

  My mind swayed, from wanting to ring her to apologise, then wanting to ring Pete and get out of this altogether.

  We ran through a few songs. It wasn’t great. It was so not great.

  “There’s no guts to this,” Brett said. “It’s just la la la.”

  I couldn’t argue with that. “La la la…” I sang back to him. “La la la, marshmallow girl. Sweet, too sweet. You scare the bejesus out of me.”

  I was just mucking around but Brett grinned. “Now, that has potential.”

  Yeah, right. I sneered. I was making up a stupid song, not being serious. He didn’t need to take the piss.

  “I mean it. It needs work, a lot of work, but that had some feeling behind it.”

  Clinton, the drummer agreed. I tried it again.

  “La la la, marshmallow girl. Sweet, too sweet. Scariest girl in the whole damn world.”

  I kept singing, making up stuff as I went. Brett picked up his bass and followed along. Soon, we had a whole jam going and, surprisingly, it sounded good.

  “Let’s try it again.”

  This time I added in guitar. We played it through a few times, making it rawer. The anger and intensity contrasting with the cutesy words. Fuck, we had something.

  “So, who is she?” Brett said when I finished. “Don’t tell me you’re falling for your fake girlfriend.”

  He wasn’t supposed to know that. Had Pete said something?

  “She’s not fake.”

  “Of course she’s fake. As if you’d go for a chick like that. She’s a bit chunky.”

  I swung around, ready to deck him. That was a shocking thing to say. Daisy was soft and sweet. Chunky made her sound awful. Like some kind of meat product. She wasn’t meat, she was marshmallow.

  “Shut your mouth,” I said. “You’ve been around emaciated women so long that you’ve forgotten what is even normal. Who wants to fuck a woman who’s all skin and bones and, even then, more worried about how she looks in bed that what she’s actually doing? Half those chicks are too starved to even move. God, you are so superficial.”

  Brett sat his bass on the stand.

  “Whoa, mate, you’ve really changed. I was just talking the way you used to, about two weeks ago. This chick’s really gotten under your skin. Who’d have thought it?”

  “Let’s take a break.”

  I went outside and lit up a cigarette. As if she’d gotten under my skin. She was nothing to me. Nothing at all. I had to nip this whole thing in the bud.

  No time to waste, I got out my phone and called Pete.

  “It’s about Daisy.”

  “Yeah, I was going to call you about her.”

  Finally, the man saw some sense. This relationship was wrong. The whole thing was twisted. He wanted to call it off, I wanted to call it off and, with some encouragement, I’m sure Daisy would want to call it off too.

  “The public love her. She’s cute and she’s pretty but she’s not threatening. Your popularity has gone insane. You should see all the Devon/Daisy fanart on the Internet.”

  I groaned. That was not what I wanted to hear.

  “I want to call it off. NOW.”

  “Yeah, well, that could be a problem,” Pete said. “With the new album, you’re going to need all the help you can get. The album’s not strong enough to hold up on its own. It’s not up to scratch. You know it and I know it. Soon, the fans will know it too. But, if there’s some leeway there. You’re in love and that’s taking its toll… See where this is going?”

  “So you want me to keep faking it?”

  I’d do it but it’d be all business from now on. Maybe I could get in a hooker to release some of the stress. Someone who could keep her mouth shut. Well, keep it open at the right times but not blab.

  “I want you to take it a step further,” he said. “I’m organising for her to move in with you.”

  “No way. No fucking way.”

  “Let me remind you, you have a court case coming up soon. If you don’t want to save your career by having a steady girlfriend, at least think of that. At this point in your career, you don’t have much choice.”

  Chapter 23.Daisy

  Nerves shot through me, a constant buzzing edge. I waited with Devon outside the courtroom until they called his name. He pretended not to care but small things gave him away. He’d jump up every five minutes, wanting fresh air, wanting a cigarette, needing a coffee. When he got his coffee, his fingers curled tight around the cup.

  I put my arm around him to comfort him and Pete took a photo of us. I shook my head. That wasn’t appropriate.

  “Don’t worry, mate. It’ll be all over soon,” Pete said. But it wasn’t Pete’s future on the line.

  Other people waited. A few of them took sneaky photos that would be uploaded. Devon’s day in court, that was newsworthy. I’d not been online. The negative comments were becoming more common. I thought I could sort things out, get people back on my side but maybe I didn’t have the skills for that. It seemed like once people started turning on you, it was a wave you couldn’t stop.

  I didn’t want to say anything to Pete. He might decide this fake girlfriend idea was a bad one. Instead, I tried to delete the comments before he got a chance to see them.

  I shivered. I’d worn a dress, a sweet dress that make me look like a Sunday school teacher. Devon wore a suit. The waiting area was all tiled floors with a long wooden bench. The heating in the old building obviously didn’t work well and the solid stone walls let no heat in. If I’d realised, I’d have brought a jacket with me.

  “Shouldn’t be long now,” Devon’s lawyer said. He’d gone off somewhere and had just popped back. “You don’t really need to say much. Let me do the talking. We have a tight case and the judge sitting today hates time-wasters so he’ll be on our side from the first.”

  Devon gave him a thin grin. It was weird to see him not being all cocky but I guess he had to take this seriously. Cockiness wouldn’t impress the judge.

  Eventually, we were called in. The courtroom smelt like polished wood, all formal, and a bit overwhelming. I sat in the public area, behind Devon. The reporter sat on the other side of the room. He glanced over at Devon, grimacing. His cold eyes glimmered with hatred.

  I thought it’d be all like on dramas, with a jury and the works, but it was just the two of them with their lawyers and the judge. There were a few other people watching. I think they were reporters.

  Devon’s lawyer got up to talk. His voice was smooth, like a television evangelist. There was a whole lot of legal talk. Devon sat still through all that. Then he had to get up and tell his whole side of the story. I clenched my hands, hoping he’d speak well. Please don’t let him throw any “fucks” into his testimony.

  He told the story of what happened that night.

  “The reporter, that guy over there, Brandon, he started trying to fire me up early in the night.”

  The lawyer asked what Brandon had said. Devon couldn’t quite remember. That didn’t sound good and Brandon smirked more. Then they asked about the party backstage.

  “I was sitting with some of the support band, just chatting when that guy came over to me.”

  That had been true. Why had the journo even stuck around, let alone approached Devon when he was so drunk? It wasn’t like he had any reason for it, especially if he’d been nasty earlier.

  Devon continued with his statement.

  “I got out of there as soon as I could,” he said. “I didn’t want to stick around if there was going to be roughhousing. I’ve got to be careful of my body, my hands especially. They are my pay cheque.”

  He gave a grin when he said that. The judge grinned back. I wondered if the judge was a fan.

  Then the journo, Brandon got on the stand. He told the court how Devon was so drunk he could barely stand up. It made Devon sound really bad. I wanted t
o jump up and say it wasn’t like that at all, but that wouldn’t help anything. Anyway, he told the truth. Devon had been really drunk. Drunk enough to pee in the hallway.

  The thought made me grin and I bowed my head so no one could see it.

  A few more witnesses got called up. A girl in heavy makeup took the stand. They asked her if she was the journo’s girlfriend.

  “Nope. He wanted me to be but I had no interest in him other than as a friend.”

  That took some of the puffed-upness out of him.

  Then the lawyer asked about her relationship with Devon.

  “We screwed. It was a one-night stand thing. A bit of fun. But Brandon didn’t like it at all. Kept raving on with all that stuff about being nice guy who got friend-zoned. Then he started talking about how he’d ‘get’ Devon one day. I thought it was all talk, saying how he’d punch Devon in the mouth if he ever saw him again, that kind of guff.”

  After she left the stand, there was some more talk, then we waited for the judge to make his decision. I sat perfectly still, as though any movement would turn the case against Devon. I had no idea how the legal system worked but Devon’s lawyer looked happy.

  After a few minutes, the judge said the case was dismissed. What did that mean? Devon’s lawyer grinned and slapped Devon on the back. That was good, right? We’d won?

  Yep, we’d won.

  Devon put his arm around me and we hurried out of the courtroom. We both walked lightly, an enormous weight lifted off us.

  On the steps, as we waited for the car, a few photographers took photos. Devon held me close, making us look like a real couple. They asked how he felt.

  “I never had a worry. That guy’s a joker. If he’s going to fight, he should learn to do it properly.”

  Before he left us, Devon’s lawyer leaned in close.

  “You got off easily this time but next time… Well, let’s just say, don’t let there be a next time.”

  He walked off, swinging his briefcase. He’d probably made a pretty penny out of all this but the main thing was that Devon had been cleared.

  The limo arrived and, as we got in, Brandon came out of the court.

  “You think you’re so smart,” he yelled at Devon. “You might’ve gotten away with it but I’ll get you in the end. Watch your back.” Then he did that thing where he pointed to his eyes with two fingers then back at Devon. “I’m watching and I’m waiting. You’ll screw up, I’ll make sure of it.”

  When Devon got in the car, he laughed. “That guy’s a loser. All talk.”

  I shivered though. Brandon the journo might be a dick but he was filled with cold hate and that hate was directed at Devon. I wouldn’t be so quick to dismiss him.

  Chapter 24.Daisy

  I packed up my stuff ready for my move. Pete had said to wait until after the court case so that Devon didn’t have too much disruption in his life.

  I didn’t have that much stuff to pack anyway – I’d gone a bit nuts with the wardrobe clean out. I couldn’t believe I was moving in with Devon. It was like a dream. Well, the cherry on top of the dream. He was definitely softening toward me.

  The limo stopped by to pick me up. I’d organised with Meadow to keep an eye on my place. All my valuables, ha. I didn’t even have a pot plant. But I had all my Devon merchandise there and I didn’t want anyone stealing it. I could hardly take it with me, either. Well, not all of it.

  “Just get the key off the concierge,” Pete had said. “Devon knows you’re moving in but he’ll be in the recording studio all day.”

  “No problem.” I’d probably have to clean the place again, anyway. Why he didn’t have a maid was beyond me. Why live in a mess if you didn’t have to?

  Pete had told me to move into the spare room, the one across the hallway from Devon’s. There were about three spare rooms in the place. I put my bag in there, then looked around.

  Should I clean up? After Devon’s reaction last time, I hesitated. But seriously, the mess. No one wanted to live like that.

  Once I’d taken all the dirty dishes into the kitchen and thrown out the food containers, the place looked better. The man lived on junk food. How the hell did he look so good? If I ate like he did, I’d be a blimp.

  After dusting and packing the dishwasher, the place started to sparkle. Wow, I was the best fake girlfriend ever. The apartment looked barren though. So impersonal. I had to do something about that.

  There was a department store right next to the apartment building. I could grab some bits and pieces to cheer the place up. That would be a good project for the day. Shopping wasn’t something I loved but thinking about making Devon’s apartment more like our apartment really inspired me.

  First of all, I went online. All the fans, they’d want in on this. Now the court case was over, they’d gotten a bit less hostile.

  I got chatting and the fans had lots of ideas. Some of them really horrible and ugly but you had to take the good with the bad.

  Like hell I’d wallpaper the place. Did they realise how much work that would be? And how grumpy Devon would get over it. And I didn’t want to buy someone’s kid’s art work for the walls.

  Then someone jumped into the conversation.

  “Think you’re better than us now you’ve moved in with him.”

  My heart jumped into my mouth. People didn’t say things like that to me. They loved me. They were my peeps. I was their representative. I ignored the bitch. She was just a troll anyway, I bet. Not a fan.

  Then someone else jumped in.

  “Yeah, I’ve noticed you’ve not been around as much. All this attention is going to your head.”

  “No it’s not,” I replied. “I’ve just been busy.”

  What was going on? I’d said I’d just moved house. That was time consuming. I’d had to spend the day in court and the days before that angsting over the court case.

  And I’d been cleaning all morning. Luckily, a few people jumped in and stuck up for me. I wanted to get out to the shops but I couldn’t with all this going on.

  I stayed online for half an hour or so after that, just to prove I wasn’t getting stuck up. I was still one of them, even if I’d moved into Devon’s place.

  Because his place was so white and grey, a few touches of colour would make a heap of difference. I got some red throw cushions and some nice knick knacks. Nothing too cluttering, just some pops of colour.

  I got a coffee machine because he didn’t have one and I really needed coffee in the morning. On the way out of the store, I picked up some nice vases and got a heap of fresh flowers.

  When I got back, I set everything up and was about to take some photos, then I looked at the furniture arrangement. The sofa would be so much better opposite the TV instead of stuck against the wall. Not only would it be more comfortable, it’d give better light for our photos.

  I dragged it until it was where I wanted it. That was one heavy sofa. Then the rug needed moving. In the end, I’d changed most of the room around. I put the table and chairs against the back wall so that the dining space and living area were separate.

  The sofa looked so much more comfortable with the cushions scattered around. I’d be able to loll there and watch TV without straining my neck. Devon and I could snuggle up and watch movies. It was the perfect spot for it.

  I finished it all off with the framed photo of Devon and I from the paper. That looked good. It made the place look like it was ours.

  When I was done, I took more photos. I didn’t stick around to read comments though, just in case someone else had said anything nasty.

  Next job was to empty the dishwasher.

  I’d put most of the dishes away, when I spotted something at the back of one of the cupboards. It looked like it’d been purposely hidden away out of view. I got it out. It was an envelope.

  I should not do this. I really should NOT.

  But I couldn’t resist. I’d just take a tiny peek.

  There was a photo. It was probably nothing. I pulled it o
ut. The photo was old and faded. I’d say over ten years old from the way Devon looked. It was the early days of FORSAKEN. You could tell that just from Devon’s hair.

  There were three people in the photo. Devon and Tex, I recognised. They had a girl between them. She had her arm around Devon’s shoulder. He looked at her with an unmistakable longing. That girl was Julie. I knew that as soon as I saw the photo. There was an intensity about her. Something wild.

  I studied Julie’s face, then looked back at Tex. Tex didn’t have that wildness. He was way too steady for that, even when he was just out of his teens. But you couldn’t miss it. The two of them, there was a definite resemblance.

  Was Julie Tex’s sister?

  I carefully put the photo back in the drawer and went back to the sofa. My hands shook a little. I’d known Tex had a sister. There were so many rumours and so much speculation about why Tex had quit music but the most frequent one was that his sister had died.

  I should’ve worked it out. That song Tex wrote, “The Stars in her Eyes”, was about a girl called Julie. I’d listened to that a million times but I’d assumed Julie had been a girl he’d dated or just a made up a name that sounded good. Tex’s partner was called Ruby but there might’ve been a Julie in his past.

  Even when I’d heard that name in relation to Devon, I’d not made the connection.

  Man, that Julie, she had them all in her thrall, even years after her death. What was it about her? The girl in the photo wasn’t pretty. The features that worked so well in Tex’s face were too strong on her. Her nose was too big and her mouth was crooked.

  It was the eyes that got him in. The vitality and life in those eyes. I bet she’d never have agreed to be someone’s fake girlfriend. He’d have been the one chasing her. You could tell that just from the photo. She’d have lead him on a wild chase.

  I’d gone into this arrangement knowing in my heart that all it it’d take was time. I could win Devon over. Now, I wasn’t so sure. I was no Julie. I’d never have a man obsess over me years after my death. I just wasn’t that kind. When she’d been a memory from his past, even a name, I’d not thought much about her but seeing the photo unsettled me.