Chapter Twenty-Nine #2
Shit! Maybe I am!
As usual, he’s left me a plate of croissants and fruit cut up into tiny pieces. I smile and pick up the plate. There’s a Post-it note stuck to the counter underneath it.
There’s yogurt in the fridge
to go with your fruit.
Don’t forget to share some
with Princess.
Love you,
J & D xo
I collect my yogurt and eat breakfast, sharing some with Princess on the couch, which has now become my second home.
If I’m not in bed, I’m here. My life doesn’t consist of much.
I haven’t left the condo since I arrived nearly a month ago.
I’m pretty sure I’m starting to get cabin fever, but I’d rather that than go out into the public where those stupid paparazzi can find me so easily.
My mind runs in circles, thinking about what he’s been doing while we’ve been apart. So I do the one thing I know I probably shouldn’t—I pick up the laptop and turn it on.
After my call with him last night, it sparked my interest. I Google ‘Colter Slade’ and sit there for a minute or so, my finger hovering over the enter key.
What is once seen cannot be unseen, keeps replaying in my mind.
I go to shut the laptop, but I stop myself.
With a deep breath, I hit the enter key, and a search listing comes up, including lots of pictures of him.
Seeing his face takes my breath away. I literally gasp.
I can’t take my eyes off the picture of him holding the microphone in one hand and the stand in the other.
Then, clearly tattooed on his forearm, is D & C - Until the End of Time.
I stare at it.
It’s as plain as day.
My heart beats so fast it’s hard to breathe. Tears form in my eyes as I enlarge the photograph to zoom in on the tattoo.
He got a tattoo for me?
Princess jumps on my lap, and her foot hits the keyboard, sending the page scrolling down.
“Princess, no!” I pick her up and set her beside me.
Looking back at the screen, there’s a headline and a link.
COLTER SLADE WALKS OFF STAGE AT CONCERT IN GREECE
[Click here] for the story!
The link is too enticing, and I can’t help but click on it.
It takes me to a gossip magazine site with a video.
It starts with him finishing “Rapture,” then the music for “Until the End of Time” kicks in, and his face contorts as if he’s in immense pain.
His eyes are watering as he looks back at Dingo, yelling something.
Johnny puts his hands in the air like he has no idea what’s happening.
He throws his microphone to the floor, causing a large reverb in the speakers, and he storms off stage. The crowd boos, and the video cuts out.
I press the back button, and it shows a list of links.
I scroll through the headlines until one catches my eye.
JESSIE brADbrOOKE TELL ALL!
How she lost her love child with
disgraced rock royalty, Colter Slade.
[Click here] for all the juicy details!
I know I shouldn’t.
I know this is like Alice ‘falling down the rabbit hole.’
But I grit my teeth and open the page anyway.
Jessi Bradbrooke, 24, from London, never thought that one day she’d be a notch on disgraced rock royalty Colter Slade’s belt.
“He was in love with me, but I told him I couldn’t be with him anymore. His lifestyle was changing. He was changing, and I didn’t like who he’d become,” Bradbrooke says tearfully to Ant and Dec in their interview with the former Slayette from the world’s most popular rock group—12GAUGE-Slayed.
“I loved him, I did, but with all the reports that he was seeing another woman, I couldn’t take it. When we found out I was pregnant, he told me he loved me and he would stop seeing her. But he never did. That’s why I had to leave him… he had not once kept his word.
“When I lost the baby, he tried to win me back, but I couldn’t be around him anymore.
It was too painful. So I did the only thing I could.
I sat and I wrote a beautiful song called “Candy Shop.” It sounds upbeat and all about sex and drugs, but the message is hidden in the lyrics, and I dedicate that song to my lost baby. ”
“Candy Shop is now available on Spotify, and I’d love it if you’d play it in remembrance.”
I scoff. “What a load of crap,” I say too loud. I see through that woman’s bullshit! It’s just a ploy to sell the bitch’s song, which he helped her record.
What a backstabbing, skanky-assed, god-forsaken, vapid whore!
“Slut,” I mumble for good measure as I click out of the story.
I don’t know how long I spend reading through stories and reports on 12GAUGE-Slayed and him in particular.
About how their tour ends in a month, and how his performances are less than average.
Suspected drug use is also reported as causing his lapses on stage, forgetting words, and staring aimlessly into the crowd.
I bite my bottom lip as I look at pictures of him at interviews. He’s always wearing sunglasses—he never used to do interviews with sunglasses on. It makes me wonder if he’s still using and utilizing shades to hide it. The thought makes my stomach flip.
The home phone rings, distracting me from my thoughts of him, and I jump up and race to answer. “Hello?” I say, expecting Joseph or Danny.
“This is Melanie Simms from the Daily News. Am I speaking with Deliah Norman?” My eyes open wide, and my heart jumps into my throat.
“Um… no. How did you get this number?”
“Miss Norman, is it true—”
I hang up before she has time to tell me whatever bullshit story she wants to spin me. As I lean against the wall, the phone rings again, making me jump. With that, I take the receiver off the hook, press the button to hang up, and let it hang to the floor.
I walk over to my cell and dial Joseph.
“Hey sweetie, how are you going? Sorry, I haven’t rung today. We’ve been swamped here—”
I tune out to what he’s saying and interrupt him. “Joseph, the paps have your home number. Melanie Simms just called,” I say, sounding more panicked than I feel.
“Okay. What did you say to her?”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Okay, be calm, Dee. Take the phone off the hook, and we’ll talk via our cells. It’s not a big deal. We only have that home phone for emergencies,” he states, trying to make me feel less guilty than I do because now he can’t even use his own damn phone.
“I’m sorry. This is so frustrating for you.” I sit on the couch and run my hand through my hair.
“It’s okay. You, me, and Danny, we got this. We make a great threesome, and we’re having beer and pizza tonight. In fact, once I’ve finished what I’m doing, I will slip out early and spend some time with my favorite girl. How’s that sound?”
“Joseph, I don’t want you to miss any more work because of me.”
“You are way more important to me than work. Plus, between you and me, this place is really starting to piss me off, so coming home early is doing me a favor,” Joseph says with a slight chuckle.
“Okay, beer and pizza sound good, but we’re not watching Thor again. I never thought I’d say this, but there is such a thing as too much Chris Hemsworth.”
There’s a gasp on the other end of the line, which is the exact reaction I was going for.
“Blasphemy, Deliah Norman! Go and wash your mouth out and say ten Hail Marys before you are damned to Hades for what you’ve just said, young lady,” he exclaims, making me laugh.
“I love you.”
“I know. I love you too. Be home with beer in, say… half an hour?”
“Sounds perfect,” I reply and end the call.
I sigh and look at the laptop on the coffee table, which shows me pictures of my rock god.
I slowly close the lid and then push it to the other side of the table, as if moving it away from me will help me stop thinking about him.
I lie down on the couch and switch on the television, watching reruns of Home and Away, the Australian soap opera.
Nothing like a bit of Summer Bay bad boys to take your mind off how crap your life really is.
The front door opens no more than thirty minutes later, and I sit up as I watch Joseph walk in and put a case of beer on the kitchen counter.
“Are we drinking for all of Great Britain?” I ask in a posh voice, and he laughs.
“Thought it was time for a good old drinking session. You, me, Danny Boy, and Princess Sophia are gonna get hammered!” He pulls two beers from the container and walks over to me.
“We are not getting Princess hammered,” I reply when he hands me a beer.
“Nah, but she can join in the festivities.”
“Festivities?”
He nods. “You’ll just have to wait and see. Danny’s bringing them along with the pizza when he finishes tonight.”
“Right.”
“Stress less, princess. It’s going to be great fun. I promise.” Turning toward the television, he says, “Are you watching bloody Home and Away reruns again?”
“So?”
“You know that’s where Chris Hemsworth started his career, right?”
“Oh, Jesus Christ,” I reply, rolling my eyes at him.
He laughs, and for the moment, the weight pressing down on me feels a little lighter.