Page 2 of Release
I wish I knew how to stop that from happening.
It feels so damned inevitable.
I’m going to fuck up Sebastian’s life. I just know it.
Setting aside the sinking feeling that the other shoe was about to drop, she sat up and reached for her smartphone to look at the latest emails from Rick.
“Crap.”
“What?” Eva asked from the seat on the other side of the aisle near Alexandra. She had hitched a ride back to Los Angeles, and like the perfect bestie who understood her moods, had left Alexandra to her thoughts up until then.
“Rick, that’s what.”
“What did he do now?”
“He scheduled me to interview and perform on Sammy P. Higgins Live.”
“That’s not so bad.”
“Yes it is. It’s for tomorrow night.”
“Oh. Well, think of it as jumping back in with both feet, honey. Maybe that’s what you need after such a long break without your music.”
Alexandra put the smartphone away. “Hmmm. You know what? Maybe it’ll be good for something else too.”
Eva removed her blackout sleeping mask and looked over at Alexandra. “Uh oh. You look like you have something brewing over there. I hope it doesn’t end up like your Alex Roberts idea.”
Alexandra smirked. “I think it will be memorable.”
“Good God,” Eva answered, and put the mask back on.
Finally home inLos Angeles and up in her room, Alexandra snatched off the headphones. She tossed them aside with a desolate growl, dragging out a notebook before picking up her guitar. God, she missed it. That was something to give her a bit of solace now that she was back in town. It was the longest she had gone without touching it—ever.
The first chords she strummed slid under her fingers and became the opening riff of what right away felt like more honesty than she’d known in years. She jotted down a few phrases that could eventually become the chorus, then the verse. It all came so naturally. The music flowed into her, and she closed her eyes, remembering what she just left behind in Tucson, with a wish to the heavens she could have it back again.
Her mind wandered to everyone else one by one. Eva was probably already home asleep. Wilkes was probably still working the angles with the media and this horrid proposal scandal, but at least he was far away. Dad was so much better, and with Rosa by his side, he was happier than ever. As she plucked on the guitar strings, she had no doubt. Her music made her feel more whole. Her music was not the problem. It was the career layered around her music that didn’t make sense anymore. The co-dependency on the media, the cameras, the constant spin and image-making that sucked away at who she was, not to mention being forced to tolerate the tabloids, blogs, and gossip in order to restore Lexxi Rock’s image.
What would make for the perfect combination was her guitar, her songwriting, performing live, living in Tucson and being with Bash—not necessarily in that order. Bash’s final words before she left Tucson had blazed a fire through her. He wanted to keep her there, and that’s where she wanted to be. Now, she was back to the empty mansion in Beverly Hills, and strumming on this guitar was the only way she knew to keep the memories alive. She wrote, sang and played the song that told the real story, the one that would never make it to press. It was the story of what really happened the summer Lexxi Rock forgot who she was supposed to be, and got a chance to be her true self for a while, the story of Sebastian Sullivan and the purple blaze that spread out around her heart.
Tortured by the words, her voice faded to silence and she realized she had stopped playing the guitar, lost in reflection. It was late evening now, and with the jetlag, getting some sleep was a good idea anyway. She set aside the half-written lyrics, padded into her master bathroom and got ready for bed. After brushing her teeth, changing into comfy pajamas and sinking back into the luxurious bedding, it took only a handful of minutes to drift off to dreams.
Sebastian appeared. The shifting shadows around them stabilized and became the familiar guest room of his house. He didn’t say a word. He only stared at her with wistful longing, even as his name repeated over her lips, trying to get him to say something so she could hear his deep, soothing voice again. Bash’s figure flickered like static on a TV channel with a weak signal, and Alexandra reached out a hand that pushed right through him as though he were a holograph. Her hand met nothing but air.
Behind her, laughter echoed. It was her manager, Rick. He cackled out, “You’re the best, Lexxi!”
The flash of a camera blinded her as she turned to try and find the real Bash. With the certain knowledge that came with dreams, she was sure he had to be somewhere close. All she needed to do was find him. Swatting at the unseen paparazzi, she took a step in Sebastian’s guestroom, and around her transformed into a red carpet leading into an awards ceremony. Bash was walking far ahead of her, with a hundred flashing cameras dotting the dreamscape like stars coming to life and dying. Her hands flung to her face to cover her stinging eyes as a lump formed in her throat.
Dread rolled through her. Instead of it being a pleasant dream, this was more along the lines of a nightmare. Bash was gone again. She couldn’t find him. She couldn’t get to him, and the sense that she was running out of time overcame her. No more kisses or lovemaking or confessions of desire.
“Bash?” she sobbed. Suddenly, she was surrounded by fans screaming for an autograph. One passed her a pen and paper which became strings that moved with a life of their own to tangle around her hands and wrists. Her arms were yanked up like a Marionette doll. When she looked up in horror, she saw the CEO of Blaze Entertainment grinning wickedly.
“Contract!” Rita Sage shouted, and made Alexandra dance with pulls of the strings now attached to the rest of her shoulders, arms and legs, and even one to make a forced smile rise on her face.
Struggling helplessly, Alexandra somehow broke free of some of the lines. She burst through the crowd of rabid fans who turned into a flock of birds that flitted off, taking the colorful scene with them and leaving her in a black void. Except as she turned around now, she realized she had been dragging Rita along the floor all this time, by the strings that had never severed. Rita was now the puppet begging to be freed. There was a split second where the image vaulted Alexandra into an awareness that went beyond the dream. It had to mean something.
Alexandra stumbled and fell to her knees, crying in a panic.
“I don’t have time for this,” she repeated over and over. “I want to be with Bash.”
She stared down at the reflective black floor, and Sebastian’s image appeared to stand over her kneeling figure. The panic in her chest calmed. Looking up with relief, Bash reached down to help her up, but when his hand connected with hers, purple tendrils of fire snaked up his arm and burned into his torso. He didn’t seem to be in pain, although the expression on his face was one of terrible resolution, like he was hurting inside and there were no more answers.
“You’re a fire I can’t fight,” he said, looking down at her with sad, broken eyes.
Bash disappeared like the flame of a candle that had been snuffed out, and Alexandra was left in the darkness alone. Alexandra woke up to the sound of her phone. A glance at the number showed it was a private caller. Hoping it was Bash, she answered.
“Bash?”
“No. Forget about him, Alexandra.”
