Hidden in the Stars (Falling Stars #2) (30 page)

"You need to tell her." His voice is soft, but frank. "Don't let her go until she knows."

"I don't plan on letting her go," I say, my voice just above a whisper.

He gives one firm nod. "Good, 'cause when you feel that," he gives the paper in my hand a pointed look before meeting my eyes once more, "it changes everything."

"I know," I breathe out the words.

"I was afraid she was just a rebound, a distraction you didn't need."

I open my mouth to protest, but he puts one hand up, stopping me.

"Stop," he clips out. "I know, I was wrong. Kristy was definitely all of those things, but this girl…" he gives his head a shake, "she's your angel, your Mia."

I grin. "She's my snake charmer."

"I don't think I want to know what you fucking mean by that." His grin matches mine.

"Probably not, unless you want to talk about my dick." Placing my arms behind my head, I lean my head back against the wall.

"You're the dick." Chris chuckles. "Now, tell me you're good with writing the song."

"I'm good."

"Thank fucking God. I've got so many things I want to do with this." He snatches the paper from my lap, stands from the bed, and begins pacing. "I want to taste the red of your lips," he reads, and then looks up at me. "That's fucking sexy as hell and completely relatable."

"She wears red lipstick," I confess, dropping my arms and picking up my guitar.

"Hungering to wear the fragrance of your skin?" He raises one brow.

"She smells like sin, and what can I say? I like to sin." I strum the guitar.

"Yeah, she's definitely your Mia." Chris grins wide, turning back to the paper and reading lines out loud.

Three hours later, we have the first draft of our latest song,
Intoxicated
, and some ideas for another two playing around in our heads.

"Jack…" Julia stops abruptly at the sight of Chris. "Sorry, I didn't know you—”

The panic on her face concerns me.
Mom.

"What is it?" I place my guitar on the bed and stand in a pair of black basketball shorts. Her eyes focus on where they ride low on my hips and continue to roam over my half-naked body before giving herself a shake.

"Information has gotten out about Liza." Her eyes fill with concern. "Here." She holds out her iPad.

It takes four long strides before I can reach out and take the tablet from her hand. As I scan the popular entertainment website, I feel Christopher's presence on my left.

The site has pictures of Liza plastered all over it: from the hotel footage, personal photos, and another of her with Lucas and Kel.

My muscles tense, heart races, and my mouth is suddenly dry.

"What the hell?" Chris asks from beside me.

"Someone gave them her name and enough information for them to go on. I don't know what all they got on their own or if it all came from a source," Julia rushes out, causing my head to spin.

"Get Una on the fucking phone," I growl, scrolling through the online article claiming Liza is a prostitute working under the guise of a stripper, a single mother in L.A. ghetto housing, and, the worst, her son is a product of child molestation.

"She's already—”

"Now, Julia." I toss the iPad onto the bed. "Fucking now!"

She freezes in fear. I march to the bedside table and pick up my phone. Tapping her contact, it barely rings once.

"I'm working on it, Jackson," Una answers.

"I want Kristy," I growl into the phone.

"So do I," she answers. "But we don't have any solid proof. I've got people tracking down the cause of the leak, but the reporter won't give up the source."

"It's not a fucking leak, Una." I begin to pace. "They’re fucking lies. She's not a whore!"

"I didn't mean to imply she is what they are saying, but we have to—”

"Did you see what they are saying about her son? He's just a fucking kid." All of my energy drains and I sit down on the bed. Running my free hand through my hair, I sigh.

"I'm sorry, Jackson." Una's words are sincere. "We'll get this figured out, but you need to stay away."

"How the hell can you expect me to—?"

"Because if you show up, the media will crush you both. You will only make it worse for them."

"Fuck," I breathe out, realizing she's right.

"Julia's getting the apartment secured for you today," Una informs. "Work with her to get it set up and I'll work on getting Liza and her family moved into the hotel suite."

"No, get her into the apartment," I demand.

"But… Fine," Una concedes. "Work out the apartment details with Julia. I'm going to work on this shit storm." She disconnects.

I drop my phone to the floor and fight every instinct I have to rush to Liza.

"You got an apartment?" Chris' question tears me away from my thoughts.

"Yeah." I rub my face, leaving my hands over my eyes.

"What do you need me to do?" Julia asks from the spot where I left her.

"We have an apartment to finalize and furnish today." Dropping my hands, I look at her.

She nods, moving into action. Grabbing her iPad, her fingers fly over the screen.

"It's going to affect the show," Chris states.

"Christ," I groan, flinging back onto the bed. "I didn't fucking think about the damn show. It's a
family program
," I emphasize. "This is my fault, Chris."

"She didn't have to come to your hotel with you," he argues.

I push up, leaning back on my elbows. "Fuck you."

"I'm not being a dick…" he pauses, "this time. I'm just saying, she made a choice and crazy shit has happened. You can't take all the blame."

"Oh, I don't. I blame that fucking bitch."

"Kristy?" Chris sneers her name.

"I know, I know." I push back up to sitting. "You told me she was trouble."

"I am always right," he adds.

"Dick."

"Yeah, pretty much." He shrugs. "Go shower and get dressed. I'm going to make some calls."

"You're calling in the cavalry, aren't you?" I ask, walking to the bathroom.

"Why do this alone when you have all of us?" With a wink, he puts his cell to his ear. "Baby, I need you," he says with a grin on his face. "Fuck, don't say shit like that when I can't get my hands on—”

I close the bathroom door just in time to cut off their conversation.

Liza

Having just finished stage rehearsal for the show and not expecting to see three assistant producers waiting for me, I stop short.

"Miss Campbell, Mr. Thorne would like to speak with you privately." The woman in the middle speaks.

"Mr. Thorne?" I choke out the question.
Why would the show’s producer want to speak with me directly?

"Yes," the man on the right answers.

"Is there a problem?" I swallow my nerves.

"He will tell you everything once—”

"Liza!" Sid calls, rushing toward me.

A security guard puts an arm around her waist.

"Let me go, you steroid ridden jackass!" She hits his arm, but turns her attention back to me. "Liza, it's Lucas!"

Something snaps inside me and I rush to Sid. Voices call out from behind me, but I can't hear them. My temples pulse, breathing labors, stomach cramps, and every muscle in my body is tense.

"What happened?" I push the guard’s arm from her waist and grip her upper arms.

"I'll show you on the way. Let's go." Grabbing my arm, she pulls me down the hall and out to an awaiting taxi.

Inside the car, I turn to her.

"Sid, please," I beg for answers.

She shoves her phone in my face.

I swallow down the bile rising at the words written on the website.

Sid pulls the phone away. I take deep breaths, trying to calm myself.

They know who I am. They think I'm a whore.

"Then, there's this." Sid pushes the phone into my hands.

Lucas and Sean’s faces flash in the video as the reporters call out to Lucas and surround him, separating him from Sean.

"Lucas, did you know about your mom?"

"Lucas, do you need help getting away from your home?"

"Who's your father? Do you know him?"

"I'm going to be sick." I cover my mouth.

"Drive faster," Sid orders the driver.

Kel breaks onto the screen, pushing through the crowd, and picks Lucas up.

"Kelvin, are you and your sister in a romantic relationship?" a report calls out, shoving a camera in his face.

Kel rears back, balls his fist, and punches the guy. Though holding Lucas is an obstacle, he still gets a clear hit and the guy's camera flies to the ground.

"You'll pay for that!" the asshole calls out.

"You deserved it," another reporter yells, stepping up and helping Kel get Lucas out of the crowd. The screen goes dark.

"Oh my God. What am I going to do?"

Sid takes her phone and replaces it with her hands.

"Lucas is fine. He's in the apartment, but those jerks are still outside."

I roll down the window and let the cool air hit my face. Inhaling deep, Sid squeezes my hands.

"It's going to be okay. We'll get out of town if we have to," she assures.

"The show," I groan. "That's why they were waiting and wanted to talk."

"You think they're going to kick you off?" Sid asks, anger in her tone.

"Probably," I laugh humorlessly.

Minutes feel like hours, but we finally arrive at my apartment where the media sharks are indeed surrounding the entrance.

Sid pays the driver and we slip from the car.

"Liza, look here?"

"Is it true Jackson paid you?"

"Does Jackson like rough sex?"

They are relentless, but I push by each of them.

"Get back!" Sid screams, shocking a couple of them still.

This gets us through the last of them and into the building. I take the stairs two at a time and burst into my home.

"Lucas?" I gasp.

"Mom?" He jumps up from the couch and rushes into my arms.

"I'm so sorry," I say to his head.

"I'm okay." He squeezes.

"We're going to go visit Aunt Char and Uncle Marc to get away from—”

"What?" He pulls away, looking up at me. "What about the show?"

"Forget the show, Lucas. I need to get you away from this chaos." I cup his face.

"No." He pushes my hand away. "I know it’s all lies. Don't let their lies win."

"It's not that easy." I drop my bag to the floor and take a deep breath.

"Yes, it is."

My phone rings, but I ignore it.

"No, it's not. They will probably release me from the show because of this anyway." I place my hand on his shoulder.

"Tell them they’re lying. They can't remove you from the show without proof," he insists, and for a brief moment, I wish I was this naïve once again.

My phone rings again and this time, Lucas grabs it.

"See? It's the show."

Before I can stop him, he taps the screen and answers.

"It's the show."

That it isn’t some media hound allows momentary relief, but then knowing this is the call where I'm going to be kicked off the show before it starts sets my nerves off.

I take a deep breath and answer.

"Hello?"

"Liza Campbell?"

"Yes."

"This is Ms. Smythe. I'm one of the assistant producers for Hidden Talent."

"I'm sure you're calling about the current story in the media. I assure you it's not true," I defend before she's able to judge me.