Little Bird

by Honey Palomino

  “I had my stylist leave some things for you in my room.”

  “You did?”

  “Yep, let’s take a look,” he said. Lying on the bed were several outfits, all of which were a little too flashy for my taste. An array of shoes and boots were piled on the floor in big boxes, their lids left open to display the expensive footwear inside. Nate grabbed a tight red leather dress and put it up against my body. “Perfect! Put this on.”

  “Seriously? It’s a little bit —”

  “— Of course, Little Bird,” he replied, flashing his famous smile my way. “You’ll look amazing! Would I steer you wrong? Trust me.”

  My stomach fluttered at his words and I looked uneasily at the dress again. I grabbed it from him and nodded. “I’ll try it on.”

  “I’ll leave you to it, then,” he said. “Anything you might need to get ready is in the closet in the bathroom. Oh, hey,” he said, winking over his shoulder as he turned. “Wear the black heels, too. And leave your hair down. I love it long.”

  “Heels,” I muttered, trying to remember the last time I’d worn heels and hoping I didn’t break my neck in them.

  “You’ve got half an hour before we leave for the venue,” he replied. “I’ll be out with Sophia for a bit. Come out when you’re done.”

  I nodded as he kissed me again, watching him walk away and once again questioning exactly how I’d gotten so lucky.

  Chapter 11

  DOVE

  The next few hours were a blur that left me spinning. We left Gigi happily tucked in at Nate’s glass house and headed to the show. After arriving at the venue, which turned out to be the damned Staples Center, I tried to keep my chin off the ground the entire time. Nate held my hand firmly as we were whisked into an underground garage and then led through a maze of hallways, finally being escorted into a suite of large adjoining rooms.

  “Here’s your green room, Mr. Nash,” the woman who met us at the limo said, as she ushered us inside.

  One entire wall was lined with mirrors and big round lights and revolving stools in front. Low slung couches were arranged in a U shape around a big screen television. A large kitchen and bathroom were attached. The woman left, leaving only Nate, Rocco, Sophia and myself in the room.

  “Why don’t you get ready here?” I asked. It looked just like I imagined a green room would.

  Nate shrugged, “I like having my stylists come to the house, plus I prefer spending my time right before the show doing other things to prepare.”

  Sophia started towards the door. “Show time is in half an hour. I’ll come get you.”

  “Thanks, Sophia,” he said, turning to Rocco. “You can wait outside the door.”

  Rocco nodded and silently followed Sophia out. Nate turned to me and pulled me close.

  “Finally,” he said. “I thought they’d never leave.”

  I laughed, shaking my head. “This is all very overwhelming. I can’t believe this is your everyday existence.”

  “You ain’t seen nothing yet, babe,” he winked, before brushing his lips against mine. I kissed him back, relishing in his warmth. After a moment, he pulled away and looked me up and down. I’d worn the red dress and heels and while it was wildly out of character for me, I felt amazing in it. “You look gorgeous, you know that?”

  “Thank you,” I smiled up at him and he kissed me again before pulling away and heading to the kitchen.

  “It’s time to drink, Little Bird!”

  “Already?” I asked.

  “It’ll make the show better,” he laughed. “Trust me.”

  Once again, I chose to do just that. I watched as he began opening cabinets and the fridge, looking for glasses and ice. A few moments later, we were clinking glasses of whiskey sours together.

  “To tonight’s show,” he said.

  “Don’t you get nervous? I mean, this place is huge. How many people are coming?”

  “It’s a sold out show tonight, so about twenty thousand, I think.”

  “That’s nuts.”

  “Yeah, I get nervous,” he said, holding his glass up before taking another drink. “This helps.”

  I nodded in understanding and took a drink myself. Hell, I was nervous for him. “Where will I be while you’re on stage?”

  “You’ll hang out with Rocco on the side of the stage.”

  I nodded, taking another drink, letting the warmth of the booze relax me. I sat down on the couch and watched him pace around the room a bit.

  “Where’s your band?” I asked.

  “They have their own rooms.”

  “Oh,” I nodded, taking the opportunity to drink him in. My stomach quivered at how damned good he looked. The leather vest and pants were like a second skin, and I smiled as I imagined just how good his skin felt under my fingers. “So what happens after the show?”

  “We’re going to The Whiskey.”

  “The what?”

  “The Whiskey a Go Go on Sunset Boulevard. It’s an ancient hole in the wall, but it’s where my friends will be for the after party.”

  “Oh, okay,” I nodded, a surge of nervousness hitting me. This was all so far out of my comfort zone, but I was trying to put on a brave face and act as nonchalant as possible, when inside I was basically freaking the hell out like a schoolgirl.

  Not only was Nate Nash standing in front of me, but I was in his green room, and he was regularly kissing me. Twelve year-old Dove would have been squealing with glee right now if she knew this was in her future.

  By the time Sophia knocked on the door to let us know they were ready for him, Nate had finished two whiskey sours and quickly downed a straight shot before we left the room. We walked through another endless maze before the hallways opened up into a large open area that was buzzing with activity. It took me a moment before I realized we were in the backstage area.

  People wearing headphones and lanyards ran around frantically talking into walkie-talkies. When Nate appeared, surrounded now by an entourage of management and several more bodyguards, the crowd of workers seemed to part magically. Nate held my hand and walked me over to the side of the stage behind heavy curtains and a massive soundboard, with what looked like a million knobs and levers and lights flashing on it.

  “Rocco, stay with Dove till the show’s over,” he ordered.

  “Yes, Boss,” he said, standing firmly next to me.

  Nate smiled at me and lifted a brow. “You ready?”

  “Am I ready? I’m not doing anything but watching. Of course I’m ready!” I laughed. He kissed me quickly, and squeezed my hand.

  “See you after the show, Little Bird.”

  I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face as I watched everything going on around me. The curtains were closed and I could not only hear the waiting crowd, but I could feel the energy of thousands of anxious souls rolling through the place.

  Nate and his band members waited in the wings. Nate downed a bottle of water and started stretching.

  The chanting started out low and soft, but soon, the crowd was chanting and stomping and screaming, “Nash! Nash! Nash!” Over and over, until the entire arena seemed to be trembling with excitement.

  Slowly, the curtains opened and Nate ran out onto the stage, sending the crowd into a wild explosion of screams and applause. Nate waved to them, strapped on his electric blue guitar, and jumped right into his first song, whipping the crowd into a frenzy within seconds.

  My heart jumped into my chest as I watched in awe for the next hour and a half as he held the crowd in his hands like a hypnotist.

  A little voice inside my head told me my life was never going to be the same again.

  Chapter 12

  DOVE

  That voice was right.

  Everything in my universe changed after that night.

  Instead of going home after the weekend was over, Nate convinced me to take a few more days off and go to New York with him.

  His penthouse in Manhattan was reminiscent of his home in Los Angeles — a
ll glass and modern minimalist, only this time it was suspended in the heavens high above Central Park.

  It made me dizzy.

  As did the pace of Nate’s life.

  In New York, he was constantly on the move, either going to meetings with record company executives or having late night dinners with friends and colleagues — which meant mostly other artists. He introduced me to all of them as his girlfriend, which at first, made me feel so special and honored.

  But soon, his affections turned into something else entirely and I became merely another object for him to display as a sign of his success.

  I wasn’t a treasure.

  I was merely a possession.

  Like his homes, his car, his money.

  In the beginning, he was attentive as a hungry bee to a pollen-filled flower. He spent long nights devouring me, lavishing me in praises and later, expensive gifts. I had stars in my eyes, and I ate it all up. I allowed him to devour my entire life piece by piece, and as everything I’d worked for fell away like spent flower petals, I simply smiled.

  As I quit my beloved job at the hospital, I smiled at Nate.

  As I ended the lease on my home, I smiled at Nate.

  As I said goodbye to my friends and family, I smiled at Nate.

  With a happy, willing smile, I let it all go so easily.

  I thought I’d found something better to replace those things, but I’d been so wrong. So very wrong.

  Not long after I packed up and shipped all my things to Manhattan, Nate’s behavior changed. Like a switch had been flipped inside of him, he became possessive and controlling.

  He began looking through my phone when I was in the shower.

  He searched through my email while I slept.

  Instagram, facebook, twitter — he’d scour my feeds and check my private messages daily.

  I wasn’t doing anything wrong, of course. I spent practically every waking moment with him and Gigi, never venturing far away from him, except for the occasional shopping trip, and even then, he insisted Rocco accompany me, even though it wasn’t necessary. Nobody knew who I was, nobody cared if I was shopping alone in the city, except for him.

  At first, I’ll admit, I was flattered. He cared so much about me that he was afraid to lose me, I thought. How sweet.

  But then, he saw a message one night while I was asleep that had been sent to me by a man I’d dated a few times that had turned into a friend. Eddie and I hadn’t seen each other in years, but he’d written to ask me the name of an author of a book we’d both enjoyed.

  That was the night I knew I needed to get away.

  That’s when it all went downhill.

  “I fucking knew it!”

  The sound of Nate’s shrieking voice woke me from a dream. I blinked a few times, sitting up slowly and looking around the dim room. I glanced over at the clock and saw that it was a little past four in the morning and I was alone in our bed, the skyline of Manhattan sparkling outside of our bedroom windows.

  I threw back the covers and padded down the hallway to find Nate sitting in front of my laptop, a bottle of Maker’s Mark in his hand and his eyes full of rage as he glared at the screen.

  “Nate?” I whispered.

  His eyes shot up, crashing into mine—angry, hard, white-hot.

  “Nate?” I repeated, taking a small step backwards, as he stood up and walked towards me.

  “I knew you’d cheat on me,” he snarled, his lips twisted.

  “What are you talking about?” I asked, a twinge of fear shooting through my gut.

  “Eddie!” He flung the name like it was a dagger.

  “What about Eddie?” I asked, cocking my head. Then, I remembered the email. It was innocent enough. I’d replied to him, giving him the author’s name, told him I missed him and hopefully I’d see him soon, just being polite. Both of us knew I didn’t really miss him and I would most likely not see him soon. It was just something you said. “Why are you so mad, Nate?”

  “You fucking miss Eddie? You miss him, Little Bird?”

  “I don’t —.”

  “— Shut up!” He roared. Gigi’s paws sounded on the floor as she came running to my side. “You can’t defend yourself! I saw your words! Are you going to tell me you didn’t type them?”

  “No, but Eddie’s just —.”

  “—I said, shut up!” He stepped towards me and I swallowed hard at the look in his eye. He was drunk, obviously. The smell of liquor rolled off him in waves. “Do I look like a fool to you?”

  “Nate, please,” I began again.

  My mouth dropped in shock as he raised a hand over his head.

  Everything seemed to move in slow motion after that.

  My eyes trailed up, breaking away from his gaze and up his arm, watching his hand as he clenched his fingers into a fist. I held my breath unconsciously, my brain foggy with disbelief.

  “Nate…” His name escaped my lips slowly, lingering as a question, a silent plea. Gigi barked, jumping between us, just as he let his hand drop to his side. She growled up at him and he looked down at her in anger, seemingly broken out of his own trance.

  “Shut the fuck up, you stupid mutt,” he said, his words slurring as he walked away. I watched, bewildered, as he turned away and stumbled down the hallway to our bedroom and closed the door. I slept on the couch, too terrified to join him in the bedroom.

  The next morning, I thought he didn’t remember a thing.

  He walked out of the bedroom with his hand on his head, complaining of drinking too much the night before. I stayed silent, weighing my words.

  The last thing I wanted to do was argue.

  But there was no way I was just going to let him get away with that behavior. I couldn’t hold my tongue.

  “So, you just don’t remember anything about last night?”

  He looked at me in confusion for a moment, then his eyes lit up.

  “Oh, yeah,” he said. “You mean the part about you being a cheating slut?”

  “Nate!” I shouted.

  The anger that he displayed the previous night returned to his eyes as he closed the distance between us. He lowered his voice to a low, angry growl as he grabbed a fistful of my hair and pulled it back, forcing me to look at him.

  “Listen, Little Bird,” he seethed. “You’re mine, do you understand? If I find out you’ve talked to Eddie again, you’ll regret it. I’m not about to have my woman fuck around on me with some nobody.”

  My eyes widened at his words. He gripped my hair tighter, pulling it painfully.

  “Nate, you’re hurting me,” I said, tears stinging my eyes.

  He smiled an ugly, twisted smile, and then bent his head, smashing his lips into mine hard. I fought to swallow the bile threatening to escape from my throat.

  “Just tell me you understand, Little Bird,” he said.

  “I understand,” I whispered. He kissed me again, gentler this time, before letting go of my hair and smiling, his pretty million dollar smile back again, the anger wiped from his face in an instant.

  Chills ran up my spine as I saw the transformation.

  “Good,” he nodded, firmly, as if everything was settled. “Now, how about we go out for brunch? I know a great spot.”

  I went to brunch with him that day.

  And the next.

  And then, I agreed to go on a worldwide tour with him. And another, six months later.

  I stayed, telling myself he just had a jealous streak. I convinced myself he loved me so much he just couldn’t help it. I didn’t talk to Eddie again. In fact, I didn’t talk to many people at all. In order to keep the peace, I began ignoring the texts and calls and emails of Violet and my Mom, barely returning any of them. I stayed close to his side and did my best to make him happy.

  Turns out, none of that mattered.

  Because Nate Nash was not a happy man.

  On the outside looking in, his life was perfect. Rich, famous, handsome — everyone wanted a piece of him. Everyone wanted to be him.<
br />
  By all appearances, he was living the life of everyone’s dreams.

  But behind the scenes, his life was a mess.

  The pressure put on him by his managers and publicist were immense. He didn’t get along with his father, at all. He was constantly hounded by the press and his every move was judged by a ruthless public. His fans loved him to an obsessive level that made it impossible for him to have any sort of normal lifestyle.

  To deal with it all — he drank. A lot.

  And he hated himself.

  And when things got to be a little too much and the booze didn’t do the job at helping him escape — he lashed out at me. He’d rage and shout and raise his hand in warning when I asked him not to yell at me.

  Sometimes, he’d apologize.

  He’d blanket me in gifts — flowers, jewels, clothes. He’d take me on shopping sprees and fancy dinners and once, after a particularly bad night — he canceled a tour date in Italy and flew us to Paris, arranging a private dinner in the Louvre.

  There were times when he could be the most romantic, magical lover that I could have ever dreamed of, making it impossible to stay mad at him.

  But they were just short stretches of time, interrupted by fits of anger and threatening tantrums that I feared would someday turn violent.

  Unfortunately, I was right about that, too.

  Chapter 13

  SAMANTHA

  PRESENT DAY

  Sweaty palms.

  Racing heart.

  Gigi pulling on the leash.

  “Here you go, Samantha,” the smiling man said, his hand outstretched.

  Taking the keys from the rental agent, I tried to smile back, but couldn’t. We walked out into the parking lot, searching for the license plate number listed on the little tag attached to the keys.

  I swallowed hard as I gripped my suitcase and threw it in the trunk. I opened the passenger’s door and Gigi hopped in, her tail wagging excitedly. I tried to remember the last time I’d driven a car, and realized it must have been right before I’d met Nate.