Fame And Secrets (Lords Of Lyre Book 2) Read online

  “Julian, I didn’t mean to…”

  Three steps into the room and he stood with his hands fisted by his side and his jaw clenched. “You didn’t mean to what, little brother? Leave her alone? Ignore my calls? Completely go against every fucking thing I told you?”

  Two more steps and Julian stared relentlessly at his brother. My brain screamed at me to intervene, but Julian had an untamed look on his face, and predicting his next move was useless.

  Another step forward and Ryker automatically stood to meet him as the flecks of gold in Julian’s green eyes glittered. “Nothing to say, Ry?”

  Beads of sweat appeared on Ryker’s forehead. Julian had cornered him by design. He wouldn’t relent until he had the answers he thought he deserved. I watched in horror as Ryker began the preamble to his confession. “Man, I’m sorry, it’s all—”

  “It’s all my fault, he’s right.” I held my breath as both men gaped at me, each with personalized bewilderment plastered across their faces. They both open their mouths at once to question my sanity.

  “What?”

  Think fast…think fast…think fast.

  Pregnancy had turned my reactive skills into a pile of formerly intelligent goo. I said the first thing that came to mind. “He was in jail.” My mouth twitched as Julian’s dropped.

  Ryker looked like I’d informed them he’d taken a jaunt to the moon. “Pheebs, what the—”

  I interrupted him before he could call my bluff. “No, Ry, it’s okay. There’s no need to be embarrassed.” Maneuvering in between them, I placed a hand on Julian’s chest, methodically moving him backward. “Blame psycho pregnancy hormones if you want, but he got on my nerves. He hovered over me, making me crazy. I told him to leave, and he wouldn’t. He refused to go against your wishes, Julian.” I glance at Ryker, who remained in shock. I flashed Julian my most convincing pageant smile. “I threatened to have him arrested for trespassing. He called bullshit on me, so I flipped out and called the police.”

  Julian cocked an eyebrow, his hands pinned to his side. “You did what?”

  I knew Ryker would blow everything to hell, so I allowed the rest of my false confession to slither past my lips. “I called the police and had him arrested. They didn’t question me. You’re a celebrity, Julian. One call from me and I could have your mother behind bars.”

  He stepped around me to confront Ryker, and I blocked his path. He circled the opposite way, and I immediately mimicked his motion. Exasperated, he caught my shoulders and physically turned me. Face to face with his brother, he allowed torturously long moments of silence to pass before speaking.

  “Is this true?”

  Thoroughly confused, Ryker stared through me with a silent question on his face. With a slight dip of my chin—so slight I worried he’d miss it—I pleaded with him. I hated to drag him into a lie with his brother, but it saved his own ass. My nonverbal cues let him know if he backed out now, he’d throw me under the bus.

  Blowing out a chestful of air, he raised his eyes to the icy ones boring into him. “Yes, it’s true,” he lied. “I went to jail because of her. I tried, but she’s so damn stubborn, she wouldn’t listen. Now I have a court date.”

  I held my breath as Julian alternately stared between us, his eyes a mix of disbelief and anger. Finally, he settled them on me. “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Don’t be cute, Phoebe. Why did you do it? You know I didn’t want you alone.”

  “Yes, Julian, I know that, you never let me forget it.” He deserved every bit of that jab. “I know it wasn’t rational, and I have no excuse. I did it, and it’s done. Let’s move on.” I turned to head upstairs when his hand caught my arm.

  “Not so fast,” he ordered, studying my face. “Why didn’t you call me? I specifically asked you to call if you needed me. Didn’t you think having my brother arrested constituted needing me?”

  Damn. He’s right.

  Reverting to the proven tried and true, I ran a hand through my hair and swept a sultry glance up his body, meeting his eye. “I know. I should’ve, but I didn’t want another argument where you got mad and yelled at me for not agreeing with the all mighty word of Lord Julian.”

  A cheap shot? Hell yeah. I’m grasping at straws.

  “I’m not yelling at you!” he yelled. “I just don’t understand why you’d upset yourself and cause a shit storm over absolutely nothing.”

  “You’re yelling.”

  “I’m not yelling,” he yelled again. “If I yelled, you’d know it. This is not yelling. This is speaking very fucking loudly.”

  “I don’t know why I do half the things I do lately. I’m an emotional basket case.” At least I spewed partial truths. “Don’t ask me to explain because I can’t. I did it. I’ve apologized to Ryker, and he forgave me. Why can’t you?”

  Losing some of his anger, Julian palmed the back of his neck and sighed. “I still think there’s something you two aren’t telling me.” He glanced at Ryker. “And I can’t get mad at you because, well, frankly, I don’t get half the shit she’s saying.” Resting both hands by his sides, he shrugged. “So, I guess we’re at an impasse.”

  Ryker shot me a heated glare. For a moment, a rush of indignation welled inside me. What the hell was his problem? I saved him from Julian’s fraternal wrath, and he thanked me with a death stare? I made a mental note to tell him where to shove his stare when were alone.

  “Don’t you agree, princess?” Julian directed a stare my way.

  The less I said the better, so I bit my tongue until it bled. “I guess so.”

  Turning toward the stairs, he threw his chin over his shoulder toward Ryker. “Send your papers to Kristina Graham, our new manager.”

  A bewildered look crossed Ryker’s face. “Papers?”

  “Yes, Ry, your papers—your arrest papers and your court affidavit. Send them to her and I’ll make it go away. It’s not your fault my fiancée’s a lunatic.”

  Ryker glanced at me with a panicked look, and Julian followed his every move. I nodded as discreetly as possible and he grunted, dropping one shoulder in defeat. “Sure, man. I’ll do it tomorrow.” He couldn’t exit the front door fast enough. Sticky latch and all, his sprint time was worthy of a gold medal.

  Weary from amateur detective work and fighting with the brothers Bale, I turned to follow Julian upstairs when he abruptly stopped, his eyes sparking authority. “I meant what I said, Phoebe. This discussion isn’t over. I’m going to take a shower, but I wanted to remind you we’re not done…so no lame-ass excuses.”

  Every fiber of my being screamed at me to pick a fight, but instead, I closed my mouth and nodded, following him up the stairs. Whatever he had to say, it was big. Just like the wall that grew between us.

  A wall I wasn’t sure could be brought down.

  Chapter Nine

  Julian

  “I’m not sure if I have the right address.” I handed the piece of paper Helena had given me to the receptionist peering at me over retro-rimmed glasses.

  “No, this is correct.” She shoved it back in my hand and returned her attention to her keyboard. I stood, not sure what to do next. Couldn’t she at least give me a floor, or shove one of those boney-ass fingers down a hallway and point me in the right direction?

  Jesus.

  “She’s expecting me,” I blurted out. Eloquence beyond measure. No wonder I had girls pulling panty drive-bys on a daily basis.

  She removed her glasses and tilted her head. By the way she scowled while twirling the ends between her thumb and forefinger, she wouldn’t be throwing her thong anytime soon. I’d successfully gotten myself on her shit list.

  “And who is she, sir?” The way she emphasized sir, it could’ve easily been replaced with asshole.

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” Helena had taught me well. Never burn bridges. Even if you wanted to set every one of them ablaze and watch them sizzle. “It’s Kristina Graham.”

  Her sarcastic laughter startled me. “Miss Graham
doesn’t see clients.” She looked me up and down disapprovingly. “Especially unknown clients. I’m sure if you have an appointment, it’s with an associate manager.”

  I’d been cordial—almost pleasant up until now. But this bitch pissed me off, and after dealing with Phoebe and Ryker’s pathetic lie-fest last night, I was in no mood for her bullshit.

  “Look, lady, I have an appointment with Kristina Graham at nine a.m., and it’s now,” I glanced at my watch, “nine twelve. If you don’t call Miss Graham right now, I’ll take great pleasure in explaining the reason the rest of her day is fucked is because her assistant needs to chew a bottle of Midol. Got it?”

  Almost jerking the receiver out of the cord, she pulled the phone to her ear and narrowed her eyes. “Your name?”

  “Julian Bale,” I said, shooting her a brilliant smile.

  Bitch.

  I studied the wall art as she mumbled into the phone. Out of place didn’t begin to describe the strange feeling that washed over me. Practically living in Helena’s office for four years, I’d grown accustomed to the bare walls, tan couch, uncomfortable chairs, and meticulously tidy desk. Helena was efficiency personified. Kristina Graham exploded with color and impressionism. Abstract art hung on the maroon colored walls with ornate frames. High backed black couches littered the waiting area with brightly colored pillows that matched the weird paintings.

  Helena Gibbons and Kristina Graham were as similar as chocolate and vanilla. Why Helena recommended her out of all managers in Los Angeles confused the hell out of me.

  “Take the elevator to the third floor, go down the hallway, take your second right, and her office is the third one on the left-hand side.”

  Turning around, my eyebrow shot up. “Excuse me?”

  She sighed exasperatedly. “What part didn’t you get?”

  “Pretty much everything past take the elevator.”

  Rolling her eyes, she scribbled on a Post-It Note and shoved it across her desk. “Here, she’s waiting.”

  I could see this chick would be an issue for me if we didn’t resolve this insta-hate right now. Forcing my practiced groupie smile, I stuck out my hand. “I think we got off on the wrong foot. Sometimes my mouth shoots off and I have to beat it into submission. My name’s Julian Bale. And you are?”

  A small smile tugged her lips as she tried to rein it in. Clearing her throat, the scowl returned, but she took my hand anyway. “Risa.”

  I shook her hand and pointed toward the elevator. “Well, Risa, it’s been my pleasure. Hopefully next time, you can call me Julian in your mind, instead of dickhead.” I winked at her and she cracked a smile.

  I silently congratulated myself as the elevator door closed.

  Julian, one. Risa, zero.

  The winding hallways and Risa’s simplistic directions led me on a ten-minute scavenger hunt to nowhere. By the time I’d knocked on the fifth wrong door, I’d dropped enough F-bombs to blow up the building. I’d just wandered back to the elevators, ready to forget this shitty day existed, when someone tapped me on my shoulder.

  “Lost?” I glanced over my shoulder at a petite woman with wide deep-set brown eyes. She cocked her head to the side and tucked her shoulder-length auburn hair behind one ear.

  I slammed my hand on the elevator button again. “Nope. Just karma telling me I’m definitely in the wrong place.” I’d kill Helena when I got her ass on the phone.

  She shifted an armful of papers and placed her hand on her hip. “Maybe I can help. Who are you looking for?”

  “Nobody important.” I just wanted to get out of here and go home to Phoebe. I didn’t like the way we’d left things this morning. She knew I didn’t buy that bullshit story about calling the cops on Ryker. Phoebe was a smart woman. I didn’t get why she pulled that crap out of her ass, knowing one phone call could verify her story. I knew within five minutes of being in the locked bathroom upstairs that she’d lied. What I didn’t know was why.

  Something told me I’d have a harder time getting the truth out of her than I would my brother. Ryker would fold under pressure. I had a strategy, I just needed to put it in place.

  “I highly doubt that, or you wouldn’t be on the third floor,” the woman said with a knowing smirk. “Risa’s a tough negotiator. You wouldn’t be up here wandering around like a lost tourist if you didn’t have an appointment.”

  I gave her a sideways glance at her mention of the receptionist from hell. “Risa needs bitch therapy.”

  She laughed. “True, but she’s efficient.” The elevator doors finally opened, and she nodded inside. “You going or staying?”

  I thought about it. Los Angeles was crammed with aspiring musicians. Although Lords of Lyre had a signed contract with Circa Records, an album, and an impending tour, high demand agents were hard to gain access to. Of course, an artist couldn’t take two steps without tripping over an eager one ready to represent the next big thing, but there were also horror stories of embezzlement, extortion, and just plain being ripped the fuck off. Landing a reputable, high profile agent was as easy as capturing Big Foot. Apparently, Helena considered Kristina Graham to be the best. I’d be an idiot to let my pride get in the way of what was best for the band.

  I stepped away from the elevator. “I’m staying.”

  “Good.” She nodded. “So, I’ll ask again, can I help you find someone?”

  “Yeah, thanks.” I smile appreciatively, raking a hand across my forehead. “I had a nine a.m. appointment with Kristina Graham.”

  She glanced at her watch. “It’s almost nine forty-five. You’re late.”

  “She’s probably a real ballbuster, huh?”

  She nodded down the opposite hallway, indicating I should follow her. “Oh, I don’t know. I’ve heard she’s a demanding hard-ass, but as long as you listen, your balls should be fine.”

  I followed the small powerhouse down three winding hallways to a door I’d passed by at least three times. She didn’t stop to knock. She flung it open and walked in, surprising me.

  “Whoa, won’t you get in trouble for that?”

  “Nah, it’s cool.”

  I suppose things are done differently in California.

  The office décor closely matched the lobby, and I stood taking it all in as she motioned for me to have a seat. As I sank into the enormous cushion, I expected her to leave. Instead, she walked around the mahogany desk and perched her ass on the side of it, wrinkling papers and typed contracts.

  “Aren’t those contracts kind of important?” I asked, shocked at her audacity.

  “Probably,” she said, smirking. “Allow me to introduce myself, Julian. My name is Kristina Graham. I’m your new manager.”

  I stared at her. The smug way her eyebrow cocked with self-assuredness both infuriated me and earned my respect. I palmed the back of my neck and laughed uncomfortably. “You could’ve told me that at the elevators.”

  “I could’ve,” she said, nodding her head in agreement. “But that would’ve taken all the fun out of it for me. There’s so little fun in my day-to-day business dealings, I take it where I can.” With forced momentum far outweighing her short stature, Kristina Graham swung herself off her perch and sank into her oversized office chair. “So, Mr. Bale, how’s LA treating you?”

  Her strange mix of business formality and street smart diversion tactics kept me off balance. I didn’t like it, but from her smug face, it was standard operating procedure for Miss Graham. “Please, it’s Julian, and I wouldn’t know. We’ve been riding out the final legs of Helena’s publicity tour from hell.” Trying to keep the irritation from broadcasting across my face was a losing battle.

  She rolled her eyes. “Well, as a band, you should be used to that by now, yes?” Apparently, Helena hadn’t revealed much to her in terms of our personal lives. The way she narrowed her eyes at me made every syllable seem like a test rather than a question. She had to know. Every tabloid in the free world knew about Phoebe. She wouldn’t be a manager worth shit if she hadn’
t done her homework on my life.

  “Are we really playing this game, Miss Graham?”

  “Game?” I had to give her points for at least trying to appear surprised by my question.

  I rested both elbows on the edge of her desk. “Look, I’m not a moron, despite what you may be used to around here.” She opened her mouth to interrupt, and I held up a finger to silence her. “Let me finish. I may be a musician, but I’m far from stupid. I have a degree in psychology and can mind-fuck with the best of them—and believe me, the best brought their A-game. I’m sure as a woman you’ve had to be somewhat of a hard-ass to gain respect in this business. I get that. But, before we entertain a partnership here, let’s be clear. No games, no shady shit. Treat me like I have a brain, and I’ll treat you like you have a dick.”

  Her pursed lips twitched with a hidden smile. “Can I speak now?”

  I thought for a minute. “No, one more thing. Anything regarding my personal life to the media is off limits. If you want to know something, ask me. But my fiancée and our baby stay out of the papers, got it?”

  “I can’t control what the tabloids print.”

  Closing my eyes, months of horrifying events flashed through my mind. I almost lost Phoebe because of my resistance to confide in Helena about having a stalker. The fallout from that decision led her father straight to her. I wouldn’t repeat the same mistake twice.

  “I’m going to tell you something, Miss Graham, and it’ll explain why I’m so adamant about this.” I took a deep breath and ripped out my soul in front of a stranger. “Thanks to our friends at the shitty mag rags, I’m sure you know all about how my guitarist, Tanna, attacked and almost killed Phoebe.” She dipped her chin in acknowledgment. “What they haven’t grabbed onto yet is that Tanna’s breakdown brought Phoebe’s felon father out of hiding—right after murdering an innocent co-ed in Maryland. Miss Graham, my fiancée is almost seven months pregnant, and stress put her in the hospital the other day. I need your word of complete discretion.”