Fame & Obsession (Lords Of Lyre Book 1)

by Cora Kenborn

  I remained silent. What was left of the band busied themselves with the walls or their own hands. Eventually, I broke the unease, barely lifting a glance at them.

  “I lost my cool, but I’m not gonna go all Dahmer and serve you two up for dinner if that’s what you’re thinking.” I tried joking to assure them the storm had passed.

  “For what it’s worth, I don’t blame you for being freaked out.” Ty pushed his six-foot-three frame off of the wall, scanning my face for a reaction. “Zane said you’ve been getting those letters for a year now.”

  I averted my eyes and nodded.

  “You could’ve told us,” he said quietly. “You didn’t have to deal with it alone.”

  My fingers clenched together in my lap. “Not now, man.” I had my reasons for keeping it a secret, but I didn’t have the patience or energy to get into it right now.

  Ty just dipped his chin. “What’s changed?”

  “Zane said they’ve gotten a little more…personal,” Tanna said, pulling her skullcap low around her eyes. Gone was the badass bassist from earlier. Her demeanor shifted from harsh to shy as she sat down beside me on the couch and pulled her body inward. She was like a little sister who wanted our approval one minute, then was standoffishly reserved the next.

  I rubbed my temples to ward off the headache brewing behind my eyes. “You could say that.”

  “Not to beat a dead horse, but how was this letter different?” Ty asked, his curiosity piqued.

  I pulled the folded piece of paper out of my back pocket and handed it to him. “The bitch is crazy.” He could read it for himself. The words sickened me.

  Ty scanned the letter line by line, and I watched his eyes widen as the paragraphs rambled on. I knew it front, back, and sideways. I heard each psycho line in my sleep.

  My Dearest Julian,

  I lie here thinking of the greatness that’s befallen you and a tear slides down my face. I know if you were here, you would bring it to your lips to bind us. That’s who you are. Your light shines for all to see.

  As you embark on your moment of prosperity, I remind you that we will be together soon. It’s our destiny to rejoice in body and soul for eternity.

  I’m chasing you, Julian. I see you. I think of you and I imagine the fingers that caress the strings of your guitar also caress me. I know you see me too. You’ve touched me and I know you trust I’ve saved myself just for you. The moment we become one, you will be absolved.

  Until then, I’ll be thinking of you and watching your every move. You belong to me.

  Your Angel, Me

  “Dude, this chick has lost contact with the mothership,” Ty blurted out, his eyes wide.

  “Who are you telling?” I closed my eyes and rolled my neck.

  “What were the others like?”

  “Not as batshit as that one,” I answered, cracking my eyelids and staring at the paper in his hand. “The others sounded fangirly. This one’s fucking creepy.”

  “Have you told Helena you have a stalker?” Ty raised an eyebrow.

  I let out a halfhearted laugh. “Get real.”

  “You have to tell her. She’s gonna have your ass for holding back this long.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know.” Helena scared me more than any obsessive fan.

  He dropped the paper on the mixing board. “Man, put this shit in a Ziploc or something. Don’t you watch cop shows? It’s evidence, and we’re fucking up any fingerprints every time we touch it.”

  I continued to stare at the offending letter as if it were laced with poison.

  “Tell her.” He raised his voice for emphasis. “If you don’t, I will.”

  “Fine,” I mumbled, rubbing my forehead.

  “I’m not screwing around, Jag.”

  “I said fine, didn’t I? Lay off, Ty.” My dark mood escalated under his scrutiny, but even I wasn’t stupid enough to pick a fight with a guy twice my size.

  Picking up his jacket, he walked behind Tanna and draped a brotherly arm around her slender shoulders. “C’mon, I’ll get you settled before I crash.”

  Rising slowly, Tanna glanced at me while cocking her head to the side. “You sure you’re going to be okay?”

  “Yeah,” I exhaled, tossing her a forced smile. “Get some sleep. We’ve got a big night tomorrow.”

  Leaning down, she kissed me on the forehead. “No more worrying. Sleep, you.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” I saluted.

  The door closed behind them and the room fell silent. Alone with my thoughts, the main one I’d been avoiding rushed back in a wave of coconut scented anxiety.

  Phoebe Ryan.

  Her name, her face, and the fact I knew all of it now, haunted me. She lived in an old brownstone in Murray Hill. I’d memorized the damn information like a treasure map.

  Phoebe Nicole Ryan. Born: October 28, 1992, in Shallotte, North Carolina. Attended Dreighton University August 2010–October 2010. Withdrew, completed online degree in 2015.

  Why did she withdraw after only three months when she had a scholarship? It made no sense. I swore, rubbing my temples. Damn, my head hurt.

  Folding the letter back into my pocket, I dragged my jacket off the floor and closed my fingers around my guitar case. Swinging the door wide open, I collided with a familiar blond with shitty timing.

  “We’ve got to stop meeting like this, sugar.”

  I looked up with a heavy sigh. “Not now, Viv.” I tried to maneuver around her as she flashed the smile of a striking cobra.

  “So you haven’t called, Jules,” she purred, sliding her hand up my chest. “Keep this up and I may not stick around.”

  “My name is Julian,” I said, removing her hand.

  Refusing to be deterred, she gathered my face in her hands, forcing me to look at her. “After you took off, do you know what happened, Jules?”

  “It’s Julian. And, no.”

  “Zane hit on me, baby.”

  My laugh lacked humor. “How long did it take to make yourself believe that?”

  “What the hell is your problem?” She lifted her chin defiantly.

  “Cut the shit, Viv. Zane already told me you tried to hump his leg the minute I left the table.” I pulled her wrists away and threw them back at her. “Too bad he shot you down. From the sounds that come through the wall, you’d have been thrilled.”

  She jerked one arm free and swung an opened palm that connected directly with my cheek. It stung but I didn’t flinch.

  “Did you get it all out?” I asked with a blank stare.

  Her face epitomized a woman scorned. “Fuck you, Julian!”

  “At least you got my name right this time.”

  Vivian pushed all her weight against me. “I hate you!”

  “Get in line!” I yelled, twisting around to head for the door.

  “Who is she?”

  I had no intention of giving her the satisfaction of an easy answer. “Who is who?”

  “Don’t play stupid with me, Julian. I was sitting right there. You needed a forklift to pick your jaw up.” A hurt look came over her face.

  “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” I taunted.

  She shook with fury. “Do you think we didn’t see you chase after her like a lovesick teenager?”

  “You’re out of line.” I walked to my guitar case. Pausing at her word choice, I glanced back. “Wait…we?”

  “I’ll ask again, who is she?” Vivian insisted.

  I felt myself losing control. “And I’ll tell you again, it’s none of your damn business.”

  Moving in close, she ran a hand down my back, and leaned into my chest. “There was a time you couldn’t get enough.”

  Wrenching myself out of her grasp, I slammed my guitar case shut. “You were a great post-show energy burn, that’s all.”

  “Maybe if you fucked half as good as you played, I wouldn’t have had to go somewhere else to get off.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest and glared at me.

  �
�That really hurt.” I laughed at her insult, which infuriated her even more. “Especially coming from someone who’s given away more pussy than the animal shelter.”

  She stepped back as if I’d slapped her.

  Let that one sink in for a minute, bitch.

  I was halfway out the door when I heard it.

  “You don’t give a shit about anybody but yourself. It’s the reason Billy’s dead.”

  My body became a live wire. “What the fuck did you just say?”

  “You heard me. What’s wrong, Julian? Couldn’t you handle the competition? Did Billy get a little too popular so you sent him off to his death?”

  I’d never hit a woman, but she’d make it easy to justify.

  She moved closer and my skin crawled. “How do you think your new obsession would react if she knew you’re the reason your friend is dead?”

  “Stay the hell away from her,” I warned in a low voice.

  Vivian shoved a fingernail into my chest. “Fuck you. You don’t own me. You’re an idiot if you think you’re going throw me over and live happily ever after with some bitch.”

  My peripheral vision blurred with rage. “Go home, Vivian.”

  ***

  The acidic threats replayed in my head as I walked down the crowded sidewalk. I imagined the disgust in Phoebe’s eyes if she ever found out what I’d done. Frustration grew within me as I realized I actually cared what she thought about me.

  Opening the door to the swanky hotel lobby, varying whispers surrounded me. I pulled my baseball hat low over my eyes and took the key from the grinning receptionist. For once I didn’t smile back, and when I was out of sight, I heard her whispering to her coworker.

  “Oh my god! That’s Julian Bale.”

  Yeah, bitch, it’s me. I’m a fucking sideshow freak.

  Why was I being such an ungrateful prick?

  I already knew the answer. Everyone had pushed all the right buttons tonight, and I’d fallen back into destructive Julian in the blink of an eye.

  Stumbling into the room, I sat on the bed in complete darkness. Solitude was the wrong judgment call. I needed take my mind off of the tripwire Vivian had set earlier. There was one subject that could deviate me from my disjointed brain. Turning on the side lamp, I dialed the only person who could calm the storm raging inside of me by confirming the seed I’d planted.

  “Hello?” she greeted.

  “Hey, it’s me. I know it’s late, but can you go over the plans again? I don’t want anything left to chance when it comes to her. I need to know you can make this happen for me.”

  Chapter Nine

  Phoebe

  “Baby doll, grab a plate. The movie’s about to start.”

  I’d just opened the door when the smell of Chinese food hit me. Throwing my bag on the kitchen counter, I blew Gage a kiss, and rummaged through the cabinet.

  Our modest, two-bedroom brownstone in Murray Hill wasn’t anything you’d see in an episode of Friends. The tiny fixer-upper in Lower Midtown East Manhattan was the cheapest we’d found that didn’t have leftover crime scene tape. The train lines that ran nearby took us about anywhere in the city. That was a strong selling point, since unlike a native, I wasn’t down with all the foot travel yet.

  Anyone else would call it a dump, but for two kids who came from nothing, Gage and I loved our apartment. The foyer, kitchen, and living room blended into one area, so Gage and I separated them with creative color schemes. He’d wrinkled his nose at my eggplant paint choice and gold sunburst-shaped mirrors. He claimed the look screamed drag queen, so I punched him in the balls. Miraculously, he saw it my way and admitted it had a distinct mix of Fifth Avenue glam and beatnik chic that was uniquely us.

  Eyeing an open bottle of merlot, I gave myself a healthy pour into the mason jar I’d pulled from the cabinet. The set had been a gag gift from Gage in an attempt to rib on my Southern roots. The joke had been on him. Due to both of us being broke-ass twenty-something singles, they’d become our everyday crystal.

  The wine warmed my throat, beginning the long process of unraveling the ball of fury that had pummeled my stomach since Chloe’s call. Plopping down on the floor next to Gage, I grabbed the carton out of his hands and swiped a pair of chopsticks.

  “When I said help yourself, I didn’t mean to my dinner.” He smirked as I dug in. “You want to help yourself to my date too? He’s right there.”

  I’d shoved my mouth full before noticing a shy smile across the coffee table. Chewing furiously, I pushed the carton back into Gage’s hand and wiped my mouth on my sleeve. “Hi, Parker. Sorry, my manners suck.”

  He speared chicken from his own container. “Hi, Phoebe. It’s great to see you again.”

  “You too.” I smiled and eyed him curiously. “Glad I didn’t scare you off last night.”

  “Hardly,” he dismissed with a wave of his hand. “That was weeknight entertainment.”

  I liked him. I hoped Gage didn’t screw this up. Relationship sabotage was his superpower.

  Leaned against the sectional, Parker almost blended in with the tan upholstery dressed in a camel-colored v-neck t-shirt. I noticed a horizontal scar under his eyebrow. I wondered what story that scar told. Was he a clumsy boy or a reckless teen? Did he get in a fight? Scars told all kinds of horrors if you listened long enough.

  I should know.

  By eleven o’clock, stifling yawns proved to be impossible. I set my wine jar on the table and announced I was toast.

  Gage jumped to his feet and hit his palm against his forehead. “Omigod, Pheebs! I forgot, something came for you!” He darted into his bedroom and returned with a huge bouquet of blue irises.

  I furrowed my brow. “What the hell is this?”

  “By the water, stems, and funny smell, I’m going with flowers.”

  My stare was fixated on the vase in his hands. “You know what I meant. Who sent them?”

  His eyes lit up, and he ripped off the envelope tied to the glass. “Let’s find out!”

  “Gimme that!” I snatched it out of his hand. Pulling the card out, I read it aloud. “Roses are red, but not the flower for you. Only irises have beauty of eyes so blue.”

  Gage broke the silence. “The fuck?”

  I shifted an accusing glare in his direction. “Did you do this?”

  He threw his hands up. “I love you, Pheebs, but I can’t afford gum.”

  “Who would do this?” My head swam as I pored over the possibilities. A gasp caught my throat as an unwelcome thought invaded my head.

  It couldn’t be…

  “Read the other card.” Parker nodded to another envelope tucked inside the bouquet.

  I tore it open and read with an unsteady voice. “By the way, you’re welcome, princess.”

  Oh god, that word. The conflict it evoked made me want to crawl out of my skin.

  “Lucy, you got some splainin’ ta do.” Gage’s smirk faded as he lifted my chin to meet his eyes. “Pheebs, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  The card shook in my hand. “Maybe I have.” I silently pleaded with him to understand. “Gage, I don’t know, this isn’t…I…”

  Understanding where my thoughts were headed, he snatched the card from my hand. “Stop it. It has nothing to do with him.”

  “But…” I had a hard time finding the words to tell Gage about Chloe’s call.

  Gage refused to play a role in my regression. “But nothing. It’s not even a question. What is a question is…who have you been clam-slamming behind my back?”

  His words snapped me out of my stupor. Clenching my jaw tight, I stole the card away from him. “There’s no guy!”

  “Oh c’mon, Pheebs, you can’t tell me that—”

  “I can tell you that all of my free time since moving here has been with you.” I gestured wildly while pacing the floor. “When have I had time to be between anyone’s sheets but yours?”

  I paused mid-pace and watched Gage nervously glance from Parker, to me, and back to Parke
r. I needed to stop lashing out. I meant to refer to Gage’s ability to comfort me during my nightmares. However, as usual, my mouth shot off before my brain showed up to the party.

  But damn it, this one was on him too. My fears weren’t irrational, and he wouldn’t listen. Sighing, I slipped the card into the pocket of my dress pants and began to clean up.

  I assumed carrying half-eaten Chinese food cartons to the kitchen would’ve put an end to the Gage Harlow inquisition. I should’ve known better.

  “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing here, baby doll,” he announced, folding his arms in battle-ready stance. “You got caught with your panties down, and you’re trying to backflip the walk of shame.”

  “God, I want to shake you sometimes,” I muttered, concentrating on scrubbing the spotless kitchen counter.

  A calming voice drifted in from the other room. “Could this have anything to do with the guy who followed you outside, Phoebe?”

  I turned sharp eyes on him and threw the wet towel in the garbage. “That guy was a total jerk. He wouldn’t send me anything but a restraining order.”

  Parker shrugged. “Fair enough, but I was referring to the guy who kicked that guy’s ass for touching you.”

  Why did everyone assume I needed rescuing? “What the fuck, Parker? Were you hiding in the bushes?”

  Parker’s eyes focused on Gage with hot intensity. “The bar got too crowded so I walked to the back of the club. I saw Heath Vaughn manhandle Phoebe, and I got up to kick his ass myself when Tall, Dark, and Deadly handled it.”

  Gage shifted his eyes from Parker to me. “Heath Vaughn tried to diddle you?”

  Parker waited for me to respond. When I studied the linoleum floor in detail, he sighed.

  “Vaughn thought it was all right to maul your BFF and another guy at the bar handled him.”

  “You two have the attention span of fleas.” I squeezed the bridge of my nose. “Can we focus here?” My gaze centered on Parker. “There’s some guy sending me stalker poems.”

  Gage swiftly dismissed my concern. “Look, you’re a hot, single girl in New York City, Pheebs. Some guy probably saw your ID at the club when you got carded.”