Heavy Metal (A Badboy Rockstar Romance) (27 page)

He trailed off, looking pained at the recollection.

“What happened?” I asked, horror rising up from within me.

“She got into my hotel room somehow,” he said.  “She was naked, lying on my bed.  I asked her to leave and she wouldn’t, so I went to call security.  Then she pulled a knife from under the pillow and said if I moved an inch she would kill herself.”

“What the hell?”

He nodded.  “That’s what I thought.  She ranted and raved for a while, saying all kinds of delusional shit that made it pretty clear she wasn’t in a good place mentally.  I was completely panicked, wondering what I was supposed to do.  But in the end it didn’t matter.”

“What do you mean?”

“The more she talked, the more worked up she became.  I’m not sure I could have done anything for her, to be honest.  As I stood there in the middle of the hotel room completely horrified, she slit her wrists right in front of me.  There was blood everywhere, and she had this...this
look
in her eyes.  It was emptiness.  She was empty inside.  It was horrible.”

“Oh my God,” I murmured, dismayed by the mental image.

“Yeah,” he nodded.  “She was rushed off to the hospital.  Once she was stabilized she was admitted on an involuntary psychiatric hold.  The last I heard she was undergoing inpatient treatment.  I thought that was the end of it.”  Then he hesitated.  “Well, there’s one other thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Shortly after all that happened, I started getting letters.  I mean, I always get fan mail, right?  But this was some weird, twisted shit.  I started getting threats.  There was no return address and no way to trace who had sent it, but it was unnerving.”

“She sent you threatening letters?” I gasped.

“I can’t say for sure it was her.  That’s the thing...there was no way to prove it.  And when you’re famous, well, it kind of makes you the target of a lot of stupid stuff.  It could have been bored teenagers doing it for shits and giggles, I don’t know.  Stranger things have happened, right?”

“Yeah, but...”

He nodded.  “I know.  I got a restraining order against her immediately, just in case.  And it’s been so long since I’ve heard anything that I thought it was all over and done with.  But now she’s here.  God, I thought that was all behind me.”

“Why haven’t I heard about any of this before?” I asked him curiously.

“It took a lot of effort and a hell of a lot of bribery, but we managed to keep the story out of the media,” he replied.  “I felt like keeping it out of the press was important out of respect to her – she’s obviously a very sick woman.”

“Obviously,” I agreed, proud of him for being so considerate.

“And as for why I’ve never told you about it until now...honestly, I hate talking about it,” Brandon explained.  “I hate even thinking about it.  It took me a very long time to be able to shut my eyes without seeing that awful image of her slitting her wrists replaying over and over,” he confessed.  “I’ve just tried to put it out of my mind.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah...I feel bad for her, but shit.  I can’t believe she’s still at it.  Even with the restraining order in effect, she’s turned up here tonight.  Who does that?  No one in their right mind, I’d say.  It’s terrifying to think about why she’s here or what she intends to do.  And she threatened you!” Brandon exclaimed, clearly more concerned about me than himself.

Suddenly my odd encounter with the woman had taken on a whole new, much more menacing tone.  “Is she dangerous?  I guess that’s a stupid question considering she’s already turned up with a knife and sliced her wrists open in the past,” I realized.  “What should we do?” I asked him, deeply concerned. 

“I just sent my agent a text advising that I’m canceling my appearance tonight,” Brandon told me.  “I’m going to go talk to the security guys from the temp agency and arrange for us to get out of here as soon as possible.  It might be a bit tricky now that the paparazzi and fans are lining the streets...dammit!” he muttered, obviously stressed out by what was going on.

“The security guys are right outside,” I told him.  Suddenly my stomach lurched.  “Ugh, I don’t feel so good,” I told him, hoping I hadn’t caught the same flu bug that had Steve and the others out sick.  “I need to use the – oh God!” 

Unable to finish my sentence, I made a dash for the attached bathroom, barely making it in time.

“Are you okay?” Brandon called from the other side of the bathroom door.

“Yeah, I will be,” I assured him, grimacing.  “Go do what you have to do.  I’ll be out soon.”

“Okay, I’ll be right back,” he promised.

I didn’t answer because I was too busy being sick again.  It was hard to believe I used to force myself to throw up on purpose, because damn, was it gross!  I was relieved to know that those days of intentional vomiting were behind me. 

Now if I could just stop my stomach from doing back flips, I’d be golden.

Several minutes later, I stepped out of the washroom.  My nausea had mostly subsided and I was, thankfully, feeling somewhat better.  I looked around and saw that Brandon hadn’t returned yet, so I poked my head out into the hallway.

The bodyguards were gone.

Recalling the way the crazed fan had appeared seemingly out of nowhere – and well aware that she could be violent – I wasn’t sure I should venture out into the hallway alone.  Thankfully at that exact moment the same bodyguard I had spoken with early strolled past and gave me a nod.

“Did Brandon find you?” I asked him, fully expecting the answer to be yes.

But instead of confirmation, I received a blank stare in response. 

“No, was he looking for me?” the bodyguard asked in confusion.

“Yes, it’s important.  You haven’t seen him at all?” I asked, a feeling of dread coming over me.  Whether it was instinct, paranoia or a little bit of both, I immediately felt like bad news was on the horizon.  I forced myself to take a couple of deep, calming breaths – but when the bodyguard answered me, all bets were off.

“No, I haven’t seen him since we got here.  Isn’t he in his dressing room?”

Unable to speak, I shook my head.

He looked at me curiously, sensing my distress.  “What’s up?” 

It was too early to panic...wasn’t it?  Brandon was probably safe and sound somewhere else in the building.  Maybe he had found some of the other bodyguards.  In fact, he was probably on his way back to me at that very moment.  Panicking would do absolutely no good whatsoever, I reasoned.  Why worry until there was something to worry about?

But as the minutes passed with no sign of Brandon, I found myself feeling sick again.  This time I wasn’t sure that my stomach lurching had anything to do with illness.  It had everything to do with fear.  When I called Brandon’s phone repeatedly and was unable to get an answer I intuitively knew that something was terribly wrong. 

By the time the police arrived, I was practically in tears.  I managed to remain stoic on the outside as I calmly provided the responding officers with all the information I had.  I described the woman to them, right down to her clothing and distinctive tattoos.  Then I told them about Brandon’s past experience with her, as well as the threatening letters that had most likely been sent by her.  I did what I had to, trying to be helpful.

But inside I was in complete and utter turmoil.  What the hell was going on?

This wasn’t really happening, was it?

It couldn’t be!  I felt like I was caught in a bad nightmare I couldn’t wake up from.  The entire situation was so surreal.  It was the sort of thing that only happened in suspenseful movies, or to strangers whose sad stories were reported on the evening news.  It didn’t happen to people like me and Brandon.  It couldn’t be happening to us.

But it was.

Brandon was missing, and there was no sign of his mentally unstable stalker either.  It didn’t take a rocket scientist to put two and two together.  Whatever had happened to Brandon, I knew she’d had something to do with it and I knew it wasn’t good. 

“Hayley, I’ll give you a ride back to the hotel.”

My head snapped around as one of the bodyguards from the temp agency approached me cautiously.  I could see he felt bad that Brandon had been abducted by a mentally ill woman on his watch.  But I didn’t care. 

Normally I would have tried to make him feel better, but not this time.  Maybe it was his fault and maybe it wasn’t.  It was possible, I supposed, that the strange incident couldn’t have been foreseen or avoided.  But that was a tough pill to swallow.  It was easier to blame someone.  It was easier to focus on anger than the terror in the pit of my stomach.

“You’re not giving me a ride anywhere,” I snapped.  “The building’s on lockdown.”

“Yeah, but the police already have your statement – and mine, for that matter.  They’ll let us out as long as we show ID on the way out,” the bodyguard replied.  “I’ll bring my car around front.”

“Don’t bother,” I retorted before abruptly walking away from him. 

Brandon still hadn’t been located.  The studio where he had been about to film the talk show had been put into lockdown, which had sent the paparazzi lined up outside into a frenzy.  Cops were crawling all over the place and so far they hadn’t turned up anything. 

I had overheard one officer suggest to another that maybe Brandon and his abductor had left the premises prior to the lockdown.  The thought left me feeling hopeless.

New York City was so huge that Brandon could be anywhere by now.  And the woman he was with was dangerous.  I was scared for his safety...terrified, really.  The last thing I wanted was to be back at the hotel waiting helplessly as I thought about worst case scenarios. 

I needed to stay.

Maybe Brandon wasn’t even in the building anymore, but it was the last place I had seen him.  And that made me feel close to him.  So I paced the hallways, my entire body trembling and my mind blank.  Was I in shock?  I didn’t know.  I didn’t care.

I eavesdropped on cops I passed by them.  I didn’t like what I heard.  In fact, at one point I nearly lost it on two officers who were standing around casually chatting about football in between filling out paperwork.  How dare they?

As far as I was concerned, the cops weren’t working hard enough or moving quickly enough.  In my view, they weren’t taking this seriously.  Realistically I knew they were probably doing all they could, but in my books that simply wasn’t good enough.  Nothing short of locating Brandon was good enough.

I watched through the window as people streamed out of the building and onto the sidewalk.  The entire area had been blocked off with yellow tape, making it look like one giant crime scene.  Technically I supposed that was exactly what it was.

The people walked out in single file.  They all had to stop to show their ID to an officer who was stationed outside.  He checked names against a list – likely a record of who had already been questioned.  Most of the people looked excited about the events.  I hate them for it.

They were most likely people – some tourists and others locals – who had shown up to be in the audience.  They had come expecting to see a show, and perhaps hoping to rub elbows with a celebrity or two.  Instead they had found themselves caught up in a real life crisis.  To them, it was still entertainment.

The show had been canceled at the last minute due to security concerns.  I suspected that was an unprecedented move.  It was most likely the first time in history the late night talk show hadn’t aired.  When I thought about that, it cemented the seriousness of the situation. 

Coming to a standstill, I leaned my forehead against a window and stared outside forlornly. 

There were two policewomen directing traffic directly outside the building.  I watched as a steady procession of cabs streamed past the window, pausing only to pick people up at the side of the road.  Then they drove off, transporting people to other destinations like clockwork. 

It boggled my mind that outside, the world was carrying on, going about business as usual. 

That seemed so wrong when my own world had come to a grinding halt. 

I couldn’t do it.  I couldn’t stare out that damn window anymore.  It was making me so angry!

Tearing myself away, I began to walk again.  I had no destination.  I simply needed to focus on putting one foot in front of the other.  It felt like the only thing in the world I was actually capable of at that moment, and I needed it.

So I walked.

Down at the end of the hall I spotted someone who looked vaguely familiar step out of a room.  Two beefy guys wearing security lanyards around their necks were on either side of him.  Upon further inspection, I realized the man in the middle was none other than Ryan Wright, the actor I had been so looking forward to meeting. 

He was headed my way.  He was about to walk right past me, so close we would practically brush shoulders.  And yet I didn’t care.  I kept my head down and trudged along, not even acknowledging his presence.

Instead, I was trying to choke back tears.

Shuffling down the hallway, I suddenly found myself completely overwhelmed.  I felt sick, weak and queasy.  Maybe the shock was wearing off and the harsh, ugly reality of what had happened was setting in.

It was too early to lose hope, of course.  Intellectually I knew that, and yet my heart was so heavy I could have collapsed right then and there.  Brandon was my world, my best friend, my soulmate.  The circumstances under which we’d met had been bizarre.  I felt so lucky I had met him by chance that night in the diner that seemed so far in the past.

But maybe things had worked out
too
easily, I fretted as my mind raced a mile a minute.  Maybe the universe required a certain amount of bad to balance out the good.  And things with Brandon had been
so
good.  They had been pretty much perfect, in fact.  What if that meant our luck had run out?

My line of thinking made no sense.  On some level I was aware of that, but I nonetheless couldn’t help but wallow in despair.  Maybe it was time for us to pay for the happiness we had found in one another.  Maybe the love that had so easily developed between us came with consequences. 

What if...?

No. 

I wasn’t going to go there.  I couldn’t.  And it wasn’t true anyway.  She wouldn’t...

What if...?

“Oh God,” I groaned as my stomach lurched.  I was going to be sick.

I burst into the nearest room, hoping it would, by some miracle, be a bathroom.  But of course, that would have been too perfect.  It wasn’t a bathroom. 

The space I had invaded looked like a large conference room.  In it were a long glass table, high backed leather chairs, expensive audio visual equipment and a sleek looking mini bar.  There was ornate modern art on display, giving off a very posh, sophisticated vibe. 

It wasn’t exactly the sort of place where one goes to vomit.

Too bad...I couldn’t wait.

Clutching my stomach, I looked for someplace to be sick.  But of course, there was no waste basket in sight.  Gagging, I doubled over and hurled all over a potted plant – a pricy looking orchid, to be exact.  Oops.

Feeling rotten, I began to reconsider my decision not to return to the hotel.  I didn’t want to go anywhere but what use was I there when I couldn’t even keep my lunch down?  Still queasy, I shakily made my way back out into the hall.  With my head down and my stomach churning, I wandered around in search of a bathroom.

When I finally found a restroom, I ducked inside gratefully.  I rinsed out my mouth and splashed some cold water on my face.  The woman staring back at me in the mirror looked like a wreck, with red, puffy eyes.  Seeing my reflection was jarring.  It made what was happening hit home.

I hurried back out hoping desperately that maybe there would be some good news by now.

My plan had been to stop a police officer to get an update, but the number of police officers in the vicinity was dwindling.  It took some time to actually find someone to talk to.  I finally managed to get the attention of a man in uniform.  Choking back tears, I asked him if anything had changed.

“That’s confidential police business,” he told me dismissively.  “Why don’t you go on home?”

“But I’m Brandon’s girlfriend!” I protested.  “I need to know if he’s alright!”

The stern-faced cop pursed his lips.  He was one of those tough guys who clearly didn’t take well to being challenged.  “Neither the suspect nor the victim have been located at this time,” he informed me brusquely, the line sounding rehearsed and completely devoid of humanity.

“Then why have most of the police officers left?” I demanded, growing more and more agitated by the second.  “Have they expanded the search for Brandon?  They’ve spread out, is that it?  They’re looking in other locations?”

“No, there was a bank robbery that required attention,” he replied unapologetically. 

Then he turned and walked away.

Most of the officers had left and they weren’t even looking for Brandon anymore.  They were on the scene of a bank robbery instead.  It was just another day on the job for them.  They didn’t care about what had happened or what sort of danger Brandon could be in.  No one cared...at least not as much as I did. 

My phone rang.

For a second, I froze.  Then I fumbled for the phone with fingers that felt like jelly, so eager to take the call that I nearly dropped the damn thing.  It was news!  It had to be news!  Or maybe it was even Brandon himself calling me to reassure me that he was alright and the situation had been resolved.

“Hello?” I gasped, my hands shaking.

There was a long pause.  Then a heavily accented female said, “Hello ma’am, my name is Anita and I wondered if I could ask you a few questions about your current Internet provider.  You see, I have a fantastic, time-limited offer that I bet your current provider is unable to beat.  If you sign up in the next two weeks, you will get three entire months of free service...”

I didn’t even hear the rest of what she said.  I stared at the phone in disbelief, thinking that the universe had to be playing some messed up, twisted practical joke on me.  Brandon was gone and instead of someone calling with good news, I was getting a call from a freaking telemarketer. 

“Aaaargh!” I screamed as I violently threw the phone down the hallway as hard as I could.  It was an unplanned, immature and downright stupid thing to do.  But in the heat of the moment, it helped me release some steam.  That was important, because it felt like I was about to boil over at any moment.

My eyes filled with tears as frustration overtook me.

I stormed through the mostly deserted hallways furiously, unsure of where I was going or what I was trying to accomplish.  At some point I must have taken a wrong turn because before I knew it I was in a completely isolated, darkened hallway that was shrouded in shadows. 

It was like a maze.  I was completely turned around and unsure of how to get back.  And being in the dark didn’t help one bit.  I felt along the wall until I located a light switch.  Then, as the shadows were chased away, I surveyed my surroundings with indifference. 

It looked like I was in an older part of the building, perhaps the area that had been used prior to the addition being built a few years back.  There was exposed brick on the walls, which were home to numerous framed and autographed photos of celebrities.  Some were current celebrities and others were from days gone by.  All of them were captivating in their own way.

There was pop culture history on those walls.

It probably would have been interesting under different circumstances.  But I wasn’t exactly in the right frame of mind to give it the appreciation it warranted.  I really wasn’t in a state to think about anything.  My mind was completely blank, which was probably a blessing as it kept me from spiraling into an endless abyss of what ifs.  It was a self preservation tactic.

I kept on walking, still completely turned around.  I picked a direction and kept on putting one foot in front of the other.  I was hoping I would eventually run into someone who could give me directions. 

But no one was around.

Then I spotted something on the floor a short distance away.  Though I wasn’t sure why I felt compelled to do so, I walked over to it and picked it up.  Turning it over in my fingers, I idly examined it with detached interest.

Then my heart pretty much stopped beating and I forgot how to breathe.

I recognized what I was holding.  Not only had I seen it before – I had also touched it before!  It was Brandon’s hemp bracelet, the same one I had been toying with as we’d stared up at the clouds in the park.  That could only mean one thing...

Brandon had been there!

He was nearby.  He had to be.  He just had to be.

Holding my breath, I raced down the hall as quickly and quietly as I could, my heart pounding in my chest.  I had to find him.  And something inside me told me I was going to.  But would I be in time?