Broken Strings
by Brynn O'Connor
Copyright © 2013 Brynn O'Connor
All rights reserved. This document may not be reproduced in any way without the expressed written consent of the author. The ideas, characters, and situations presented in this story are strictly fictional and any unintentional likeness to real people or real situations is completely coincidental.
Dedication
To my sons Ethan and Diego.
Contents
Prologue
One - Will The Real Kirk Hammett Please Stand Up?
Two - Searching For Silas Mann
Three - Backstage
Four - The Dancing Zebra
Five - Backstage Again
Six - Lunatic June
Seven - Brand
Eight - A Chance Meeting
Nine - Revelations
Ten - Dinner And A Mess
Eleven - Midnight in The Den of the Rock Star
Twelve - The Awakening
Thirteen - The Bad Girlfriend
Fourteen - I've Been Hacked!
Fifteen - Busted
Sixteen - Reunited
Seventeen - Confessions of a Lunatic
Eighteen - A Little Birdie Told Me
Nineteen - Go Greyhound
Twenty - The Con
Twenty-One - The Phone Call
Twenty-Two - Jail Break
Twenty-Three - The Longest Ride
Twenty-Four - Welcome to the Grand Illusion
Twenty-Five - Show Time
Epilogue
Prologue…
Its pouring rain and something tells me I should be slowing down more going into this curve but we’re going to be late for my little sister’s acting debut. Sure it’s only the school play, but it’s her dream to become an actress. If you ask, she’ll rattle off an impressive list of A-list actors who got their start acting in their school plays; much like the one my sister is going to be in. It’s a comical rendition of Shakespeare’s classic, The Taming of the Shrew.
“So you got your lines down sis?” I ask for the hundredth time. Call me paranoid, but I really want her to succeed.
“June… I could say them backwards.”
I hold up my hand to stop her before she does exactly that.
Last year she went to a casting call for this big budget teen vampire and werewolf movie and actually got a call back for one of the speaking roles as the main character’s closest friend. That main character turned out to be Tom Cruise’s son Brandon or whatever his name is.
That ended up being his breakout role and it could have been my sister’s as well. We were both ecstatic that she got a call back, but crushed that the part went to someone else. Still, she remains positive about her chances in Hollywood and nothing is going to deter her from her goal.
I glance her way. “Just making sure,” I reply.
“Yeah, well maybe- Watch out!” Her scream makes me jump in my seat and my head jerks so that my gaze is focused back on the road in front of me. Only problem is, all I can see is this blinding yellowish-white light, then I’m engulfed in darkness.
I hear screams!
In fact, I think I’ve been hearing them for a while now, but it just didn’t register until a moment ago. Who’s been screaming? The sound goes for another couple minutes before they’re covered in silence. I’m also becoming aware of a kind of deep ache beginning somewhere in my lower legs and radiating up into my spine. It’s not agonizing, it’s just damn uncomfortable.
The screaming begins again.
It starts off quietly and seems to be somewhere in the distant night, but as my head begins to clear so do the screams. Suddenly they’re not some far away fogged out noise; they’re a series of sharp cries of agony that tear through my skull, ripping my eyes wide open.
All I can see around me is twisted metal and fragmented glass from a windshield that is way too close to my face. In the eerie light the glass has taken on a dark reddish hue, almost like blood.
“Blood!” Oh my god, what happened? Suddenly everything comes rushing back. I must have drifted off into the other lane and hit a car head on! I move to sit up, but am instantly stricken with agony in both legs. I force myself to be still. If I panic it’ll just make everything worse. Slowly I will the pain to die down. The screaming also stops which makes me wonder if I was the one doing the screaming. I’m just about convinced of that when they start again.
“June!”
I look to my left, and scream myself. Camille is sitting up, rigid as a board in her seat. Her mouth is open wide and she’s screaming at the top of her lungs. Her arms are flailing about like she’s trying to do something but just doesn’t have the control over her limbs yet.
The source of the blood on the windshield becomes abundantly clear. She’s got a huge gash in her forehead and her precious life is just pouring down her face and into her white blouse. I reach out to wipe the blood from her face but an errant arm bats mine out of the way. This time I twist around to get a better reach but my own pain hits me so hard this time my vision goes and I blackout again.
I have no idea how long I’m out before I hear sounds coming from somewhere close by. It sounds like glass and twisting metal of something similar. I start to sit up but remember my legs and decide to lie still. I look over at Camille. She’s still bleeding, but now her arms are motionless at her sides.
“Camille…Camille, can you hear me?”
Suddenly I realize there’s a man at my side. I start to turn my head to see who it is but his hands and his voice stop me.
“Don’t turn your head miss!”
He’s holding my head in his hands.
“I’m okay. Please help my sister…”
“What’s your name miss?” He asks.
“It’s June. Why aren’t you helping my sister? I don’t need your help. See what you can do for her.”
Despite my protestations he seems bent on taking care of me instead.
“An ambulance should be here any minute,” he says. “Can you hold your head still? I want to check a few things.”
“Yeah sure but I-“
“What?” He asks.
It takes me a moment to push through the pain and form words again. “Sorry,” I gasp. “It’s just that my legs…unless I stay perfectly still they hurt like a bitch!”
“Yeah, you should probably try to keep as still as you can. I don’t know what damage you’ve got down there, but moving your legs is not going to help matters. Now really try to keep your head still. I need to do a quick exam here.”
I catch myself starting to nod, then I mutter, “Thanks.”
I feel his hands as they begin to probe the top of my head, then either side, and down my neck before he begins to check my face. He is fast and thorough and only takes a couple minutes before he finishes up by checking my pulse again.
“Well?” I ask through clenched teeth.
“I’d imagine you’ve got yourself a pair of broken legs June, and some cuts and bruises. Beyond that, I can’t tell. You could have internal injuries that aren’t going to be found until they get you to the ER. The fact that you’re feeling so much leg pain is good. That means we may be able to rule out any lower spine injury.”
“Now check my sister.”
He looks at me. I can tell from his expression there’s something he’s not telling me and instead of checking my sister he just looks at me.
“Why aren’t you checking my sister?” I bellow so loudly it reverberates around the closed in space of the car.
“It’s too late June.”
“What?”
“I checked her first, before you woke up. She…she wasn’t breath
ing and she didn’t have a pulse June. I’m sorry but it’s too late.”
“But…but I-I saw her. She was screaming and moving her arms around. I tried to…I tried…” I’m finding it harder and harder to talk. “I tried but she just batted my arms away. But she was alive when I passed out.”
“I’m sure she was,” he begins. “But when I got here she was no longer breathing and her heart had stopped. You could have been out for 30 minutes or more. People don’t often take this road anymore now that they finished the highway. You’re lucky I decided to take it or you may have bled out too.
“But I heard screaming just before I woke up to find you here.”
“Yes, and that was you June. You were screaming and you woke yourself up.”
“You’re lying. No one does that. I would know if it was me screaming and not my sister.”
“Sometimes when you’ve been in a serious accident your mind plays tricks on you. It even keeps you from facing reality…” He trails off, watching me intently.
“She can’t be dead she was just screaming…she just can’t…I was…she…”
Suddenly I can feel my grip on reality is slipping away. This can’t be happening. We’re on our way to the play. How can she be dead? That’s not possible.
“It’s not fucking possible!” I rage. “It’s not fucking possible! She’s alive!”
“June you have to stop before you hurt yourself even more.”
I feel a pair of hands holding my head in place again as he tries to keep me still. “She’s not dead,” I protest, but I can feel I’m beginning to fade and I’m losing the intensity of my convictions. “She’s alive,” I try one more time. “Not dead…”
And the night engulfs me. As consciousness flees me, I can hear a faint siren coming my way. The Calvary at last.
A loud wailing noise brings me back again. Bright lights are in my eyes, and I seem to be on my back and strapped down to something. I try to move my head and look to my side to see who is with me, but my head won’t move an inch.
“Don’t try it Miss. Your head is strapped to that backboard for a reason, now be still already.”
It’s a different voice that’s talking to me. Suddenly it dawns on me. I’m in an ambulance and we’re on the way to the hospital.
“Where’s my sister? Is she next to me? You’re taking her too right?”
And when nobody answers right away.
“Where is she? Let me see my sister!?” I try to sit up, but whatever they’re using to keep me down, it’s working. I can’t move my arms, my legs, my head, or even my waist. Pretty soon I have to stop completely. The more I struggle the more the pain hammers me back into submission. I close my eyes and breathe slowly and evenly; in through my nose and out through the mouth. In through my nose and out…
“We’re losing her!”
I can’t breathe! Something’s in my throat and I can’t breathe. I open my mouth as wide as I can, my nostrils flair, and I gasp for breath. What is happening to me? I try to sit up again but my arms are too tightly bound, as are my legs. I twist around thrashing, gasping, praying for air.
Suddenly there’s a burst of light and a klaxon begins ringing in my ears. My eyes fly open and suddenly I can breathe again. I look around my bedroom, locate my alarm clock and pound the off button with my fist. It takes me a minute to figure it out, and then I get it.
The date is October 16th, the anniversary of my little sister’s death. It’s been…ten years since she was taken from me and every year on this day I have some kind of nightmare about the accident and her subsequent death. At least this time I wasn’t killing her. I glance at the clock. It’s almost three in the afternoon. Time to wake up and join the land of the living.
Chapter One
Will the Real Kirk Hammett Please Stand Up?
Present Day…
Gabby and I are kicking back at It’s Bean Too Long a coffee shop in San Francisco waiting for Sam, a fellow Lunatic (the most faithful of the band Fringe are called Lunatics). He is supposed to meet up with us and work out a game plan for the San Jose shows.
We don’t know what he looks like other than he described himself as a Kirk Hammett (Metallica lead guitarist) look-a-like and would be wearing a black leather motorcycle jacket. He’ll be easy to spot. It’s a little too warm for a jacket these days.
We always arrive early whenever we’re meeting a Lunatic we haven’t met before, so we can bug out without being noticed if a real creep walks in. It’s why when he asks for our descriptions or what we’ll be wearing, I decline to answer and Gabby is vague.
I’m Japanese American and Gabby is your typical tall blue-eyed blond. She’s approaching 5 feet 10 while I’m barely north of 5 feet. She’s got this golden honey colored tan and looks stunning in a bikini. I on the other hand am fair and look better in a one-piece.
Guys love her for her bra size and me for my intellect…right. So when our Kirk Hammett asks for a description neither of us is saying anything beyond name, and gender. That’ll have to suffice for now. We sit on opposite sides of the table so we can visually cover all the exits.
At five minutes before meeting time an angel from heaven walks in. He really does look like Kirk’s twin brother, if he had one! He is so totally hot that I forget to flag him down; he hasn’t spotted us yet.
Gabby comes to the rescue and waves him over when he looks our way. The moment he fixes me with his gaze I can feel myself beginning to melt. If yesterday Gabby would have asked me to describe my ideal guy I would have described the guy who just walked over and sat down across from me.
He must be a little over 6 feet tall with a lean muscular frame. I wouldn’t say he’s got a runner’s build; he’s far too muscular for that. He definitely spends time working out, but not so much he’s a walking advertisement for Gold’s Gym. He may not be Mr. America, but he’s Mr. Universe to me; and he’s a Lunatic.
Gabby is the first to recover her senses and introduces us. “I’m Gabrielle and this is my friend June.”
“Very nice to meet you Gabrielle and June, I'm Sam.” He says in a deep baritone.
The way my name rolls off his tongue, it makes me wish he’d do something else with it, other than speaking. The moment that thought pops into my head I can feel the heat rising up my face. I must be beet red right about now because Gabby is staring at me.
“Are you okay?” She asks. “You’re turning red. I hope you’re not coming down with something. You’re not catching the flu right before a show are you? ‘Cause if you are you should go to another booth…in another restaurant…another town…”
Yeah she gets a little paranoid before a Fringe show.
“Relax Gabby; I’m just a little warm that’s all.”
“I’ll say, by the looks of your face you must be practically smoking.”
I’m trying to relax and regain my cool but the attention from Gabby is not helping matters. She’s right though, I’m so hot right now you could probably cook a side of beef on my face.
I try to relax and focus on the conversation at hand but that just makes me look at Sam and I’m burning up all over again. He was right about his description. Most guys, when they say they look like a celebrity; they’re the only one who can see any resemblance. That is definitely not the case here!
Sam has long curly dark hair that falls down just past his shoulders. His gorgeous locks frame his perfectly symmetrical face; he could have been a model, maybe he is. He has perfect skin, beautiful white teeth, and a light complexion enhanced by his hair. I love that he has a faint goatee. It gives him that ruggedly handsome slash scoundrel look with so kissable full lips.
“I would never have pegged you for a Lunatic,” Gabby is saying. “I mean, you look more like a member of a band than a rabid fan.” She laughs and he laughs with her. “I guess Lunatics come in all shapes and sizes.”
He gives her a puzzled look then says, “Well… I’ve been called a lot of things, never a lunatic. But coming out of your mouth, the a
ppellation is flattering.”
I look over at Gabby and she’s got this star-crossed look on her face, the one she gets when she meets a celebrity right before she embarrasses herself. I should probably jump in before she sticks her foot in her mouth.
“So tell me Sam, how many-” I’m about to say, how many shows have you seen, when his knee brushes up against mine under the table.
I can feel my skin getting goose bumps, starting where our knees are touching, and all the way to my brain. It’s kind of like a little electric jolt, and it makes me completely forget what I was saying. I can’t think, I can only feel and right now my body’s singing the praises of Sam the Lunatic.
Finally I have to shift back and sit up straight, breaking contact with the man; the fog clears from my brain enough for me to form words; many words. Gabby and I spend the next half hour gushing about the band and speculating about the new guitarist who will be making his debut appearance the next time they play.
Sam doesn’t talk a lot but he makes me feel like I am the most important person in the room. He’s super attentive and very intelligent, traits not often found among fellow Lunatics. I’m in the middle of this long monologue about rock-n-roll and my take on the lifestyle and how incredibly egotistical and selfish so many are, even my favorite band, Fringe, and how I could never date a rock star.
Just then, another guy wearing a motorcycle jacket, and who also looks vaguely like Kirk Hammett walks up to our booth.
“Hey guys.”
I do a double take. What’s going on here? “Do I know you?” I ask.
How is it that there are not one, but two Kirk Hammett, Metallica Guitarist look-a-likes in the same room? Is there some Kirk look-a-like contest going on that I’m not aware of? This is totally weirding me out.
“Uh…hello,” he says, “I’m the Lunatic who looks like Kirk Hammett who’s supposed to meet two girls here. Who’s this guy?”
“He’s the Kirk Hammett look-a-like we thought was the Lunatic we’re supposed to meet.” Gabby replies.
“He’s a Kirk Hammett look-a-like?”
Broken Strings (A Rock Star Novel) Page 1
