He powered on the television, turned to Channel 52, and eased back into one of the conference chairs.
“You brought me here to watch the news?” Melody asked, shifting her eyes between the screen and Gary.
“No . . . It’s a damn press conference. Now, watch it, please. You’ll have to be ready to deal with this. I’m sure there will be a shit storm coming your way.”
“What do you mean?” she asked suspiciously.
“Watch, Melody,” Gary reprimanded, turning up the volume.
Melody recognized Sly’s public relations representative, Maura, speaking at the podium. Melody’s heart hammered against her chest, and her fingertips felt numb. Gary reached out and grabbed Melody’s hand for support.
“As many of you know, I am Maura Androse, PR representative for Diamond Records. It is with profound sadness that I share with all of you the great loss suffered by Diamond Records owner, Stephan ‘Sly’ Carlisle and his fiancée and Diamond Records recording artist, Terikka Felix. Last night, while leaving a late-night studio session, Terikka was attacked by a crazed fan. The man, who police are still working to identify, slipped past security and physically assaulted Terikka. The altercation resulted in her being tackled to the ground.”
A collective round of gasps rose and fell over the crowd of reporters.
“Terikka was rushed to the hospital, with Sly by her side. The couple were expecting their first child at the time of the incident. Unfortunately, we are sad to report that the unborn child was lost. Sly, Terikka, and the entire Diamond Records family is grieving at this time. We all ask that you keep Sly and Terikka in your prayers and respect their requests for privacy during this very difficult time. As always, at Diamond Records, we operate as a family. As such, we will remain by their side and provide them with all of the support they need. I will take a few questions from the media at this time.”
“Maura! Maura!” several reporters screamed at once. Maura pointed to a short woman in the front holding an NBC News microphone.
“We at NBC would like to extend our heartfelt condolences to Sly and Terikka. Do you know what provoked the violence against Terikka?” the reporter asked.
“All we know is what was in the police report. Terikka was alone at the studio with her security and management team. She left the midtown Manhattan building at 11:30 p.m. When she stepped outside of the building, an unidentified man charged into her, knocking her to the ground on her stomach. Terikka’s security team physically detained the man until the police arrived. The report did not specify if any words were exchanged during the incident. Several witness accounts claimed that the assailant was screaming insults at Terikka—specifically regarding her relationship with Sly. I cannot comment on why it happened or what exactly provoked this man to carry out such a heinous act,” Maura answered carefully.
“Is it true that several of Melody Love’s fans have expressed their anger over news of the relationship between Sly and Terikka and the birth announcement?” another reporter shouted.
“We are not speculating on why this assault occurred. We want to focus on supporting the grieving parents and helping them heal. This press conference was simply to announce that the Diamond Records family is asking for respect and privacy at this time. I have no information regarding the perpetrator, his affiliations, or his motives. Thank you for your time,” Maura said, stepping down from the podium and quickly exiting the room.
* * *
“Enough,” Melody said, her voice shaking. Gary quickly aimed the remote at the television to turn it off.
Melody closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. It was one thing to hate Sly and Terikka for what they’d done, but it was an entirely different thing to think about a baby dying. Melody shuddered and lowered her face into her hands. Once, in anger, she had wished for something like this to happen . . .
* * *
Melody stared from behind her dark shades and observed the neighborhood from her passenger-side window. Birds chirped from the trees in the yard, and the bright August sun blazed bright in the sky. The beautiful stone townhome in Park Slope was a place she’d visited together with Sly; some of their best lovemaking sessions had occurred there.
He was living here with that bitch now, playing house.
“Are you all right? We should just drive away. This shit ain’t good for you,” Gary said seriously.
“What do you think, Gary? I am a wealthy, multitalented, platinum-recording artist that could probably have any man that I want; yet, I am sitting outside of my ex-boyfriend’s house like a stalker feeling like my world should end right this second,” Melody said despondently.
Gary let out a long sigh.
“You know that I’m here for you, Mel. You’re right; you can have any man that you want. So let’s go home and work on a list. I bet you my list will be longer than yours,” he said, trying to lighten the atmosphere.
“I’m not leaving until I see them. I want to see their backstabbing, two-timing faces. I want to see her carrying a baby that belongs to my man, when it should belong to me,” Melody grinded her teeth as she stared out of the windshield.
“Mel . . . c’mon, it’s not worth it,” Gary replied, patting her arm affectionately.
“You don’t know what it’s worth to me. I gave that man the best years of my life,” Melody said bitterly, fighting the tears that were stinging her eyes. She didn’t know why she felt so emotionally drained. Sly had moved on. But when news of the baby emerged, it had crushed her soul. She was green with envy. That baby should have been hers.
“I made a lot of sacrifices to be with Sly,” Melody reflected. “He was already established and successful when I met him. He was the king in the music industry, and he was worshipped for it. Me, I was just one-third of a struggling girl group. My sisters and I were trying to catch a break to make it to the next level. We worked every day to keep the little momentum we had. When I met Sly, I fell in love with him immediately—his energy, the way people flocked to him, and the complete attention he showed me was overwhelming. He wined and dined me. Took me places I’d never seen, bought me things I’d never dreamed of owning. And in return, I gave him my all. My music, my heart—my undying loyalty and love.”
“I know the story. I was there, girl. You can’t dwell on the past anymore. This . . . what you’re doing . . . It ain’t healthy,” Gary said, pointing to the house. “It’s called self-torture. You are hurting yourself just by being here.”
“I thought we would be together forever. Over the years, however, I learned the hard way that he was a first-rate con artist—a deceitful liar. No better than any other man. A liar, a cheater, a thief of hearts. But I wanted to be with him so badly, I forgave him for his sins. Over and over . . . until there was nothing left of me, and everything left for him,” she said, sobbing into her sleeve.
Gary was silent. What could he say to her after she’d just bared her soul?
Silence fell between them. Suddenly, Melody sat upright in her seat. The front door swung open, and Terikka stepped out.
Sweat beads cropped up on Melody’s forehead, and her legs bounced with nervousness.
Terikka seemed to be glowing. Her hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail, and her face had spread slightly from the weight gain of the pregnancy, but it seemed to enhance, not detract, from her beauty.
Melody bit down on her bottom lip. Sly stepped out and smiled adoringly at his new love interest. He wore a smile that Melody hadn’t seen in years. It was that true bliss look that he’d displayed with her in the beginning stage of their relationship.
He seemed to be genuinely happy. She hated to imagine that Terikka, an upstart singer, had captured Sly’s heart. It was easier for her to think of the other woman as a piece of meat—a sexual tryst that would surely end when the passion died down. From the looks of it, Sly was in love with Terikka.
“Mel, why don’t we just leave? Stop torturing yourself here,” Gary pleaded with her. Melody ignored her friend, intent on
watching the couple.
Sly put his hand on the small of Terikka’s back and helped her into their waiting car. Melody felt the same gnawing jealously she’d felt the first time she’d seen Harmony and Ron together at her mother’s funeral.
“She’s a problem that I really want to disappear,” Melody said stiffly. Gary looked at her in confusion.
“Are you sure about that? I mean, he’s the one that needs his ass kicked. He should’ve been loyal and faithful to you. We already know these hoes ain’t loyal,” Gary said evenly.
“Did you hear what I said?” Melody asked sharply. “I wish she and that bastard baby of hers would disappear. They can both die for all I care.”
Gary put up his hands to his forehead like Melody had hit him over the head with a hard object. He was good at theatrical displays in times of intense emotional situations.
“Wishing for someone to die is a bit over top, don’t you think?” he asked.
“My wishes never come true, anyway,” Melody said wistfully.
“Sometimes it takes the right people around you to make things happen,” Gary said abstractedly. “Now, I take it you’ve seen enough and are ready to go home?”
This mission had been too top secret to have one of Melody’s regular drivers. Gary started the ignition and moved the car to take them home. The two of them never spoke about the incident again.
* * *
“I didn’t really want the baby to die,” Melody said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I was angry at the time. I felt betrayed and hurt when I said it, but I wouldn’t really want something like this to happen.”
Gary sucked his teeth and waved his hand at her. “Sly and Terikka lost their baby, and somehow, you feel sorry for them? How is that your fault? It was just a crazed fan. They are both grown adults, and they lied to you. He’s a two-timer, Melody. Remember, he cheated on you. And let’s not fucking forget that they publicly humiliated you. They could’ve just let the world see her belly through paparazzi pictures. They didn’t have to make their grand announcement at a show that aired around the world. They brought the negative attention to themselves and their unborn child. Sly wanted you to feel hurt. And you know what? All of those things are choices that he made on his own. You are not responsible for what the universe had in store for his ass. He should know that everything we do comes back to us . . . It’s called karma. Oh, yes, baby girl, I’m learning that we all better watch out, because karma is one powerful, vindictive, angry bitch. Trust me, you made your wish, and now it has come true. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Sly and Terikka just got what was coming to them.” Gary was so riled up his face was turning red.
Melody saw something in his eyes that unsettled her. Did he actually just say that the baby dying was a gift from God?
The guilt of wishing harm on the unborn child made Melody sick to her stomach. She bolted up from her chair and rushed to the nearest restroom, hand over her mouth.
Melody splashed water on her face, still shaky from vomiting. She looked up at herself in the bathroom mirror and sighed. What happened to Terikka was weighing on her mind. Then she replayed in her mind some things Gary had said to her.
* * *
“Trust me, you made your wish, and now it has come true. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Sly and Terikka just got what was coming to them. I just hate a greedy-ass bitch. There is a special place in hell for all of them, if you ask me. If I could wipe them all off the face of the earth, I sure would. Especially to protect you.”
A fine sheen of sweat blanketed Melody’s forehead now. She had wished Ava dead for blackmailing her, and suddenly, Ava was dead. She wished Terikka and Sly’s baby dead, and suddenly, the baby was dead.
Suddenly Melody felt sick again. She raced back over to the toilet to throw up again. It couldn’t all be a coincidence. Melody was powerful, but she wasn’t God.
Chapter 17
Lyric
Lyric sat on the gold toilet seat in Khalil’s bathroom with a phlebotomy rubber tied around her arm. She slapped the center of her arm, vigorously searching for a ripe vein to hit.
She was hooked on heroin again. So hooked that she couldn’t properly function without it. So hooked that she was more terrified of leaving Khalil and not having access to his drugs than she was of any abuses inflicted on her during her stay at his house of horrors.
Lyric had stopped begging to leave. With her addiction growing more insatiable each day, she accepted that life with heroin was the only way she could live. She was trapped in this gilded cage, but there were worse places she could be—like on the streets with no drugs.
Khalil told her to shoot speedballs directly into her arm. He said it would be the best high of her life. He was right.
She slapped her arm again, groaning when she didn’t get a ripe vein right away. She hated that her veins took so long to find now. She knew it was because she had blown so many of them out by her repeated needle use.
Loud banging on the door caused Lyric to jump. The needle scratched her arm, causing her to bleed.
“What?” she demanded. Lyric knew that Khalil didn’t play the locked doors game. “I’m coming,” she yelled, just as Khalil’s little pain-in-the-ass servant opened the door with a key.
“Damn,” Lyric cursed. Now that Lyric was chained to her addiction, he no longer kept her in actual chains.
She sniffled back the snot threatening to leak from her nostrils; it was an early sign that she was dope sick. She needed another hit soon.
“Prince Aziz is ready for you to join him,” the man said, looming darkly over her, like a personal Grim Reaper.
“I need this hit,” Lyric said, backhanding the mucus from her nostrils. “Tell him I’ll do whatever he wants once I get right.”
The man shook his head. “He is not in a very good mood today.”
A flash of panic flared in Lyric’s chest. She knew what those words meant. She could tell by the look on the servant’s face that he was serious. Every second of delay would give Prince Khalil Aziz more time to think of creative ways to torture her.
Lyric looked down at her syringe.
“Help me,” she implored. The man looked over his shoulder first, and then back at her, torn between his boss’s command and Lyric’s request.
“If he gets mad, I’ll say it was my fault. I’ll say I demanded that you do this for me first.” She quickly tied her arm, and luckily, her veins were a little more cooperative this time.
The man felt around her arm and nodded. He picked up the needle and with shaking hands eased the drugs into her bloodstream.
Lyric closed her eyes and let out a tiny sigh. Immediately, her body relaxed against the toilet seat. Her head dropped to her chin, and she almost slid down to the floor. The man caught her under her arms and pulled her upright. Lyric laughed. She needed to be in this condition to deal with Khalil. He had done many cruel things to her since she’d arrived at his “pleasure palace.” Lyric knew it wouldn’t be over until the prince was tired of toying with her. Frankly, she had mixed feelings about leaving now. As much as she hated her gilded cage existence, she didn’t think she could live again on the outside either. A world without drugs was no place for her.
“Do I have to call for her again?” Khalil barked.
“Stop your bitching. I’m coming, you spoiled-ass prince,” Lyric grumbled, the drugs giving her a false sense of bravado.
Khalil stomped into the bathroom and dragged Lyric by her hair.
“Get her ready,” he said, pushing Lyric toward his female helpers.
“Get off of me. I can walk,” Lyric snapped, following the women out of Khalil’s sex chamber to the Turkish-style bathing area.
The women led her to a huge, gold-trimmed sunken bathtub scented with lavender oils. She was surrounded by beautiful women, some old, some young.
They stripped the clothing from her body and helped her into the steaming aromatic water.
“These flowers will clean you to Pri
nce Aziz’s approval. It makes you tight and ready,” one of the girls said.
“Ready for what?” She tried to cover her body with her hands, but the women simply brushed her hands away. For the first time, she noticed that her body was covered in small bruises. She inhaled deeply and exhaled. She leaned back against a soft bath pillow and closed her eyes, pretending she was somewhere else. Like on tour with her sisters, performing in a sold-out arena.
“Please, let us clean. We no hurt, we help,” a beautiful raven-haired girl no older than sixteen said softly in broken English. An older woman smacked the girl across the mouth, ordering her to stay quiet.
The women lathered her skin and hair until every inch of her body had been cleansed. After her bath, Lyric was wrapped in a plush, white towel and helped out of the bathtub and led to a small divan bed.
A bowl of hot wax was placed on a table nearby to remove the excess hair on her body.
“No, I’m good. You don’t need to do that to me,” Lyric swatted at their hands as they pulled the towel away from her body, leaving her naked.
“Prince Aziz asked that you be cleaned,” the head female servant explained as she rubbed Lyric’s skin completely dry. “If you resist, there will be consequences,” she warned.
“Oh, I get it. He brought you all over here from another country, and if you don’t do what he says, he will send you back,” Lyric said, looking at the faces of the women to see if she was correct. When none of them responded, she sighed and leaned back as they poured hot wax down her legs and up over her pubic bone.
Expensive artwork decorated the walls, and racks of beautiful dresses lay draped over the furniture. Neat rows of beautiful gold and diamond jewelry were displayed in cases. Salon chairs with vanity mirrors were lined up on the side of the room, and counters were covered with high-end cosmetics.
The raven-haired girl spread wax on her upper lip.
“How about you show me how to get out of here, and I’ll send someone to rescue you?” Lyric whispered.
“Sorry, miss. He will send me back,” the girl said, shaking her head. Her eyes were wide with fear. “Please, we have to follow Prince’s orders.”
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