Page 56 of Rebel

They don’t even mention her name. To them, she is just a nameless face, another dead rock star, not a person, and my stomach churns at the way they speak about her.

The lead singer was clearly struggling with addiction, pictured high. Did drugs play a role in her death?

The lead singer lasted a little longer than most, but is Dead Ringers cursed in the lead singer department? At this time, results are not back yet on the cause of death, but drugs are suspected as she was seen partying, drinking, and doing drugs right up until the day of her death alongside band members and other celebrities.

Our reporters have dug into the troubled singer’s past and found a long, torrid history of alcohol and drug abuse. Most are assuming this is the reason for her untimely death right before Dead Ringers was supposed to head out on their sold-out tour. Their recent history is littered with bad decisions and tragedy, one right after another. Are the Dead Ringers cursed? Is this the end of the infamous rock band, or will her death simply catapult them into higher stardom?

Most are just cover-up stories or they blame my sister, which figures, but there is one that catches my eye.

Willa, Lead Singer of Dead Ringers, Kills Herself—Who is Really to Blame? The Drugs or the People Around Her?

I scan the article quickly.

Willa’s tragic passing was announced yesterday. Coroners have not yet reported the cause of death, but there seems to be no foul play. The band released a statement, expressing their grief and confusion on her passing, but was it just another PR statement to cover their many wrongs? They have gotten off scot-free on crimes due to their connections and money. Dead Ringers has a past filled with sordid secrets and misdemeanors they never faced any punishment for. It seems that Willa was no different, just another casualty on their way to the top. Her name is not the one on everyone’s lips, however, but theirs is. Many are blaming drugs, but anybody who has seen recent photos could see the young singer was struggling with the lifestyle and perhaps friction within the band, so why didn’t anyone step in?

Why didn’t anyone help, including her own bandmates?

Only time will tell what happened to Willa, and for the sake of fans and everyone out there, I hope we remember that she was a person, not just a member of a band. We offer our sincerest condolences to any family members or friends of Willa and hope the truth will come out.

My eyes land on the name of the reporter who wrote it—Ben Miller. Grabbing my phone, I look him up and see he no longer works for the gazette. Was he fired for this article? It doesn’t throw a good light on the industry or Dead Ringers, and we all know what rich people are willing to do to cover their mistakes.

I do find a website and a blog where he is still reporting. His newest headline reads, “Fallon—Star or Fraud. New Truths Shock the World.”

I scroll down until I find an email, and I shoot one off quickly. Dropping my phone to the table, I drum my fingers impatiently, wishing he would reply. He’s the only one who didn’t turn a blind eye to her death or blame her. No, it’s clear from his articles he wants the truth, and so do I.

We can help each other.

While I wait, I grab a coffee and read fan sites, skipping over mentions of me and pictures with the guys. Some are really nice, and some are horrible, but I refuse to give them any traction inside me. I remind myself that this isn’t real and that I don’t care if they like me or not.

I also ignore the calls from the guys and look for mentions of my sister. An hour later, I find one. It’s on a blog ran by fans who call themselves Ringers.

MusicLover29: My friend works for their label, and he heard that she killed herself and they are trying to cover it up. Rumor is, she went to them for help and they ignored her. How fucked up is that?

It’s an offhand comment, but it chills my heart. They knew.

They had to have known. The fact that I touched them makes me sick, but I swallow it down. I can take some self-hatred and sickness if it gets me what I want. Just then, my phone vibrates with an unknown number, and I answer cautiously.

“I received your email. Let’s meet. There is a coffee shop on West and Fifth, Doors, one hour.” He hangs up.

Putting my phone away, I drain my coffee and hail a taxi.

“Ben Miller?” I question, and the man’s head jerks up.

The coffee shop is quiet at this time of day, since the dinner rush is over. There are just some bored employees working behind the wooden counter. The windows look out onto the street, but in the back, in the hidden alcove, it’s almost silent.

A laptop sits open before this man, a darkened phone next to it.

He’s not what I was expecting. He has a short brown beard, kind brown eyes, and styled brown hair. He’s young, maybe only a few years older than me, and dressed in a button-up and jeans. When he smiles, it’s kind.

It’s not the sharp shark grin I was expecting from a reporter.

“Please sit.” I do, and when I tug the hat off, he nods. “Beck Danvers.”

I shush him, looking around before leaning closer. “Not that loud.”

He nods, watching me with sharp, intelligent eyes. “You’re the new lead singer for Dead Ringers, so why did you seek me out, asking for help? I’m not on their fans list, that’s for sure.”

“That’s exactly why,” I tell him honestly, stretching out as I release a breath. It’s now or never. I have to trust someone, even a little bit. “I want to know what really happened to Willa. I want the truth, and I think you do too.”

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