Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 114223 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114223 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
“How did you…” He gulped, widening the loop of his tie like it tightened around his neck. “What…”
“They have fucking TVs in Spain, that’s how!” My voice hitched up, the control I’d clung to seeping slowly out of me. I looked aside. I needed air. I didn’t have air. Not in the physical, but fucking spiritual sense. I always had someone babying me. I could drag Indie from her room and have her accompany me, but I didn’t want to do it. As it was, she was overworked and dealing with personal bullshit. Plus, I needed to be alone. Bollocks.
Bollocks!
“Look, I can explain.” Blake held his palms in the air in surrender.
How many times had I seen him in this position? One too many. That was the exact number. And I was sick and tired of it. I pushed him, bloodthirsty for a fight.
The more I had money, and power, and fame, the less I had freedom, and happiness, and the ability to be me. And the person I’d become was imperfect. He occasionally fucked things up, including his drummer’s kit. The person I was wanted the truth. The person I was—I am, I always will be—couldn’t settle for the life he had. A life where I worked for so many people—Jenna, Blake, my former publicist—and the only thing that kept the illusion of control was the fact I’d taken the biggest slice of the pie. A pie I was no longer hungry for.
I didn’t need guardians.
And babysitters.
And people who leaked pictures of my dick on the Internet.
I needed to get out of there. Now.
I made my way to the door before my fist could make its way to Blake’s face. My manager panicked and grabbed my wrist to turn me around. What the hell did he think he was doing? The minute I swiveled and he saw the look on my face, his eyebrows popped.
“I did it for your own good, Alex.”
“Fuck you,” I spat, shaking his touch off me. “You don’t get to pretend it’s even half-true after everything you’ve done.”
“Where are you going?”
“Doesn’t matter. Wherever it is, no one’s coming with me. Not Indie, and definitely not you.” The minute I said these words, I realized it was a demand I’d been afraid to make months ago. Sure, I’d bullied my past babysitters and taunted Indie, but I’d never put my foot down. I’d never said no. Until now.
“Alex.” He jumped in front of me, blocking my way to the door. “I’m afraid if you leave now, you’ll make a huge mistake. If a punch in the face is what I need to tolerate to keep you sober, I’ll take one for the team.”
I threw my head back, shaking it on a bitter chuckle. “Aren’t you a goddamn saint.” I shot him a serious look. “Out of my way.”
“Alex…”
“Now!” I grabbed the first thing I could get my hands on and swung it in his face with force.
He tripped sideways to prevent the hit. Tania crashed with force against the door, chipped wood flying everywhere from the thump. She broke into two pieces, leaving me standing there, choking the neck of my guitar while the rest of her was lying on the floor. She lay under my feet like a dead lover. Beautiful and broken and no longer mine. She was all the diaries crammed into one object. The empty box that was full of tunes and lyrics. She was the most special, important gift I’d ever received, and the only possession I actually cared about.
And she was gone.
Tears pooled in my eyes, and I squinted to prevent them from falling. When was the last time I’d cried? Never. I mean, I’m sure I did—who hadn’t?—but it was so long ago I couldn’t imagine it was after I hit thirteen. So. There was that. I was crying. I was fucking crying.
Blake was standing behind me, his pulse so fast I could hear it thrumming in my ears. He wanted to offer an apology but knew better than to speak. I’d kill him. Shit. Tania. Shit.
I don’t think my world had ever been so silent as it was in the moment I stepped out of the room. Indigo stepped out of hers at the same time, like she could sense me. When I looked at her face, all I saw was another mouth I needed to feed. I bypassed her. She stood there barefoot, with that Paris dress she always worked on clutched in her hand.
“Alex? What happened?”
“Whoever is stupid enough to follow me will get fired on the spot,” I said coolly, then left.
I wandered around the streets. Alone. It was reckless, and stupid, and kind of cool. I bought a pack of cigs and finished them as I walked. I thought about everything. About Will and Fallon, who were on the same continent, probably not many miles away. About their wedding. I thought about my life and what it had become. About my mates, or the people I referred to as such. Of Blake, who pulled no punches to further his career and mine. Of Alfie, who was oblivious to anything other than his dick’s desires, and about Lucas, who’d tried to seduce Indigo. Then I thought about Stardust, about the way she’d made me feel. Like I was living in a semi-normal universe, where I didn’t have to worry the girl I was shagging would sell our sex tape to The Sun or lure me into buying her something expensive. She was, perhaps, the only real thing I had in my life, and that was utterly pathetic, seeing as she was my employee, and only on tour because I paid her to save me.