Star (Beautiful Book 5) Read online

  “Where the fuck have you been?”

  “Let me go, please. I just want to go home.”

  “What? I haven’t seen you for almost two years and you’re not even going to acknowledge me?”

  “I want to go. I just want to go.”

  I frown. “Why? What’s going on?”

  People around us take pictures and call our names.

  “Get your hands off me,” she yells, her eyes wild as she pulls back.

  “Leisel, calm down.” Does she even realise who I am?

  “I can’t. I need to go.”

  “Hey man, she’s not Leisel,” some guy yells, and I look up to find her brother, Kurt Marx.

  “Are you serious right now?” I say, frowning at him. As if I don’t know the woman I asked to marry me when she’s right in front of me.

  “Just let me leave, Jonathan,” Leisel begs, pulling against my grip. At least she knows who I am. She hasn’t lost her mind.

  “So you can disappear again? I don’t think so.” She and I have business that needs sorting, numerous assets lying dormant, including a house I can’t sell because she’s on the title. Not to mention, she took Perry. I fucking loved that dog.

  “Let me go,” she shrieks, fighting harder. “Let me go. Let me go.”

  “Shh.” I lean in close. “I will. Just agree to meet with me.”

  “I can’t.”

  “How’s Perry?”

  “Jonathan.”

  “Get your fucking hands off her!” A voice booms over everyone. Flashes are going off like it’s the Queen’s birthday celebration. But it’s part of the territory and I’m used to it. This guy, however, doesn’t like it one bit. “And fuck off, you parasites. If I find a single photo of this posted, I’ll come after every fucking one of you.” Like that’ll make a difference.

  When he gets close enough, I recognise him as Marcus Bailey, rock star extraordinaire. I’ve heard his stuff. He’s pretty good. But he’s a loose cannon, and I’m not keen on featuring in one of his viral videos. Behaving badly is how he found his fame.

  “So will I.” His brother steps in and folds his big arms across his chest, flexing. “Let the girl go.”

  “We can take them,” Joel says in my ear as Coop cracks his knuckles and grunts on my other side.

  I shake my head and release Leisel, holding my hands up in surrender. Better I look like the bigger man here. “I wasn’t hurting her. She ran into me and we have history.”

  Marcus growls like an animal and Leisel bursts into tears. “I’m so sorry,” she says. Then she bolts. Fuck.

  “Leisel!”

  “Lisa,” Marcus calls out at the same time. What?

  “I just want to talk.” I slap my hands against my thighs. Fuck, I’m gonna be stuck in limbo with her forever.

  “Her name is Lisa.” Lisa? Some blonde I don’t know gets in my face and blocks me from going after her. “Why are you calling her Leisel?”

  “Because that's her fucking name,” I snap, my head aching, but not so much that I don’t notice how smoking hot the blonde is.

  “What did you say?” Now Marcus Bailey is in my face. Fucking fantastic.

  “Her name is Leisel Marx. I was supposed to marry her.” So I fucking think I know.

  “You’re Jon?” His head pulls back like I physically pushed him.

  “Jonathan Masters,” I correct. Only my friends call me Jon, or Jon-o. And Marcus Bailey doesn’t look too friendly to me. “Yes. And I would have appreciated a moment to talk with my fiancée without you interrupting, Bailey.”

  Baring his teeth, Marcus grabs the front of my shirt, pulling me up until I’m balancing on my toes. Ah, shit. Cooper and Joel move to stop him, but I wave them back. This is all on camera, we don’t need this to get any worse than it already is.

  “Ex-fiancée.” Marcus snarls and I can smell his breath. Minty. At least he’s brushed recently. “She’s not yours, mate. She’s mine.” His? Now his reaction is making sense. They’re fucking each other. “Don’t fucking touch her again or I’ll break your pretty face.”

  “You wouldn’t dare,” I counter, actually worried because one, I don’t want a broken face, and two, if he hits me then Cooper and Joel are going to jump in, and so will his brother and this will end up on TMZ as the brawl of the century. Aussies Behaving Badly! will flash across the screen and they’ll freeze-frame on the most humiliating part. No thanks.

  “Try me.” Marcus releases my shirt and shoves before I can regain my footing. I stumble back, Connor catching me as Joel lifts his knee ready to fucking kick the arsehole—Joel is a competitive kick boxer, he’s just looking for a reason to plant his foot in somebody’s face.

  “Leave him,” I command, feeling the reigns of control slipping from my grip. I turn to Cooper and yell, “Find her.” He nods just as Marcus takes off towards the front door. Fuck.

  It’s like a fucking Benny Hill skit with each group taking off after Leisel. Marcus and his brother lead the charge, with me and my guys a few steps back, the rest of the rubber-neckers bringing up the rear, desperate to be part of the action.

  “Get in their way,” Marcus shouts at his brother. The brother nods then veers to the side, closing the first set of doors after Marcus gets through. Then the bastard blocks them so the rest of us can’t get through.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” I yell, trying to keep my cool so I don’t end up punching the guy in his smug face. “This is a fire hazard.”

  “I don’t smell smoke,” he says, smirking.

  “Let me out,” the blonde who got in my face demands. “That’s my friend out there. We came together.”

  “No can do, pretty lady. Family sticks together.”

  “Yeah, and you’re in my brother’s way,” Cooper grunts, puffing his chest so he’s towering over the other Bailey.

  “Don’t call me pretty lady,” the blonde snaps. “I have a name. It’s Sandra Haegan. Keep an eye out because you’ll be seeing it somewhere you don’t particularly like.” Chick’s got balls.

  “And I’m Theo Bailey. Theodore if it’s legal documents you’ll be filing.”

  “Fucking move!” Joel comes running in like he’s on the brute squad, colliding with Theo side-on and throwing him out of the doorway.

  “Take that, motherfucker,” Cooper yells, shoving his way through and sprinting for the front door as the whole fucking venue pours through after us. It’s difficult to stay upright in the crush that presses against the front glass doors—doors that are also blocked. What the fuck?

  “Let us out,” I yell through the glass, tugging on the door as the bouncer on the outside holds firm, his foot on the frame.

  “Mr Bailey insisted,” he yells. I’m getting squashed like a fucking sardine.

  “Give us some fucking room would you?” the blonde—Sandra—yells to everyone pushing against us. “The door opens in, dick faces.” The pressure on us relieves somewhat.

  “Thank you,” I say, taking in a humid breath. This is ridiculous.

  She nods. “No problem.”

  “Whatever Bailey offered you, I’ll double it,” I yell to the bouncer.

  “He offered ten grand,” he says. Whoa. Ten grand? Leisel must mean a lot to him.

  “Sure. I’ll give you twenty. Give me your number and I’ll send it right now. Do you have PayID?”

  He nods.

  I pull out my phone. “Then what’s your number?”

  He rattles it off then I enter the details via mobile banking. A text alert sounds and he pulls his phone from his pocket, checking the display then immediately letting go of the door.

  “Pleasure doing business with you, Mr Masters,” he says with a nod and a self-satisfied smile.

  “Spend it wisely, mate,” I grunt as we burst out onto the footpath like rats leaving a sinking ship, the cool night air our saviour.

  “Get out of my way or I’ll kick you in the fucking balls!” Sandra yells to some random dude in her way. I like her already.

&nb
sp; When she breaks free of the crowd, she sprints up the street. I follow in her wake, knowing she’s the one who’ll most likely know which way Leisel went.

  “Lisa!” she yells up the street, running towards a group of paparazzi who are swarming around a car. Fuck, they got here fast. The engine revs and they step back, yelling while a navy blue sedan speeds off.

  “Fucking great.” I catch a glimpse of Leisel and Marcus Bailey inside the car and let out a sigh. There she goes again.

  “Shit,” she hisses, stomping her foot as we both stop running.

  “So, Lisa is her name now?” I ask, catching my breath.

  She throws her hands in the air. “I guess. I’m still reeling over the fact my best friend is Leisel Marx. I had no fucking clue and I saw her every day.”

  “Did you know her when she was Leisel?”

  She meets my eyes. Hers are insanely blue. Like a cornflower. “No.”

  “Then how could you know?”

  “Because it’s my job to know.” She pulls out her phone and jabs at the screen before holding it to her ear and listening. “She not answering.”

  “Well, if I know Leisel—and I do—she’ll be in the wind by morning. She’s gone.”

  “Yeah, well, you should know, you’re the one who keeps chasing her away.” She glares at me as she shoves her phone back in her bag. She’s got spunk. I like it.

  “Listen, I’m sorry for the way I spoke to you in there. I was surprised to see her again, and I was rude as a result.”

  “It’s none of my business,” she responds, folding her arms across her middle. My eyes sweep down and take in her curves. Blonde, blue eyes with an hour-glass figure: exactly my type. Pity we didn’t meet under different circumstances.

  “Still,” I breathe, sliding my hands into my jeans pockets as I meet her eyes again. “I shouldn’t have been so rude. Not to someone as lovely as you.” I grin, turning on the charm.

  She smiles as she meets my eyes, and I think I’ve got her. I’m about to offer to drive her home when she releases a burst of laughter then shakes her head. “Men,” she mutters before rolling her eyes. I’ll take that as not interested then. Shame. She’s fucking gorgeous.

  “Jonathan Masters?” My name causes me to turn. “It is him.” A couple of women rush me, wanting a selfie and an autograph, and the next thing I know, I’m surrounded by people and photographers. I pose and go along with it for a few minutes before I move away. But when I look for Sandra again, she’s gone.

  I smile to myself. Easy come, easy go…

  Three

  Sandra

  I kick off my shoes as I let out an exaggerated sigh. What a fucking shit fight tonight was. Girl’s night turned paparazzi storm. I don’t think anyone expected that.

  Checking my phone, I find a text from Lisa—or Leisel, I’m not sure what to call her now—that says she’s sorry and will explain later.

  “You better,” I say, noting that she sent it not long after I tried calling her over an hour ago. For a moment, I stare at the screen, trying to think of something to write back. But I’m too upset right now to be communicating. We’ve been best friends for nearly two years. I’ve told her everything about me, and she didn’t even think to clue me in on the fact she’s a famous rock star in her own right? Jesus, I even have her music in my Spotify playlist.

  Exiting the messaging app without replying, I drop my phone on the bench in my kitchen, heading to the fridge for a bottle of water before changing my mind and opening the freezer to pull out a bottle of Trotsky Vodka instead.

  “Fuck,” I mutter when I’ve poured a glass and lifted it to my lips. My boss is gonna have my head for this. I already have to fight for respect in that office, having it come out that Lisa Russell is Leisel Marx and I didn’t know is going to ruin me professionally. They already treat me like a dumb blonde, this will prove them right. I’ll be laughed out of the office.

  I groan, pressing the glass against my forehead as I imagine Brent Baker tormenting me endlessly in staff meetings. He’ll mansplain every little thing to me now. God help me.

  Just as I’m about to down the first of what’s to be many glasses of vodka, my phone lights up with Lisa’s name.

  “Speak of the fucking devil.” Slamming the glass onto the bench, I grab for my phone and swipe to accept the call. “What the fuck happened tonight?” I demand the moment our call connects. It sounds weird, like she’s in a car or something. She’ll be in the wind by morning… Jonathan Masters would know.

  “Oh Sandra. I know I’ve fucked up big time, and I’m so sorry. But I need your help.” She can’t be serious?

  “My help? You just caused the biggest fucking calamity the music industry has seen since… well, you went nuts last time. How could you not tell me I’m best friends with Leisel Marx?”

  “It’s complicated. And I promise to explain. Just not now, please?” The stress in her voice has my anger fizzling like a snuffed-out candle. I’m terrible at holding a grudge.

  I sigh. “Girl, you better spill your guts like you’ve been disembowelled when I see you. I want to know everything, and I think it’s only fair that I get the exclusive interview.” It’s seriously the only thing that will save my career after this.

  “Whatever you want. Just please, help me out.” Her pleading tone has me calming even further. I am such a pushover.

  “What do you need?” I ask, picking up my glass.

  “Take care of Perry for me?” Perry is her golden retriever. “I don’t know when I’m going to be able to go home, and if the press is at my place, he’s probably freaked out by now.”

  “Oh god. Of course.” I put my glass down straight away, glad I didn’t get a chance to drink it as I grab my bag again. “Poor Perry. I’ll go there now to get him.”

  “Thank you, Sandra. You’re saving my arse right now.”

  “It’s fine.” I head for the door, pausing as a strange thumping sound comes over the phone. “One question though. Is that a helicopter I can hear?”

  “The paparazzi found me.” Oh shit.

  After talking Lisa through her helicopter chase, I headed over to her place to collect Perry, finding myself in the middle of a paparazzi storm myself. The moment I got out of my car, they chased me to the front door, cameras flashing as they fired questions at me left, right and centre. Where is Leisel? How long have you known her? Why has she been hiding? Is she planning on making a comeback? Are she and Jonathan Masters back on? What’s her connection with Marcus Bailey? Is she blackmailing him with sex tapes? All I could do was clamp my mouth shut and barricade myself inside with Perry.

  Which is where I’ve stayed.

  “Did you know who she was?” I ask Perry as I sit in Lisa’s backyard the next morning, throwing Perry his ball. He was huddled under Lisa’s bed whimpering when I found him. Poor dog had no idea what was going on in his front yard. I practically cuddled him all night, sleeping on the couch with him curled up next to me.

  Perry drops the ball at my feet and whines, lifting his head and sniffing the air. “Yeah. I hope they go away soon too.”

  His ears lift and he whines louder before letting out a bark. Then his tail goes up and he rushes to the side fence, barking louder as a ruckus develops out front. The front door slams, and voices sound inside the house. Perry rushes back to me, ready to race into the house, but I stop him, scared it’s an intruder. Those paparazzi can get impatient and dangerous.

  “Stay here, buddy,” I say, sliding through the backdoor and closing him outside. My eyes dart around for a weapon of some sort, and all I can manage is a broom. It’ll have to do…

  Creeping through the laundry and into the hall, I strain my ears to hear the conversation.

  “Ok. So I guess they were hiding,” a male voice says.

  “Thank you…again. Seems like you’re my rescuer today,” Lisa replies. Oh, thank fuck. Breathing a sigh of relief, I prop the broom back against the wall.

  “If I’d been a better person in the
beginning,” the guy says. “I wouldn’t need to save you now. Consider it all a long overdue gesture.”

  “Lisa, is that you?” I call out to let my presence be known.

  “Sandra?” she asks.

  “Yeah,” I say as I step into view. “The press were everywhere when I got here, and I couldn’t get out with Perry so I just stayed. He’s in the backyard…” I pause as my eyes take in who she’s with. Jonathan Masters. Great. Our first impression of each other wasn’t the greatest. And then I think he tried to hit on me…

  “You…you’re… oh wow. I’m sorry for yelling at you last night,” I blurt, feeling my cheeks heat involuntarily. Fuck, he’s good looking. I didn’t get much of a chance to appreciate him up close last night since we were snapping at each other and all. But in a less stressful setting, I can’t deny the reaction I’m having. It’s worse than that flutter you get watching him on the big screen. In real life, the man oozes sex appeal. Probably why he finds it so easy to cheat on his fiancées. Fantasy over.

  He chuckles as his lovely blue eyes meet mine. “Seems I bring it out in a woman.”

  I smile, curious as to why he’s here and what Lisa is doing with him when she went to great lengths to escape him last night. But then, not a lot about this situation makes sense. Lisa is Leisel Marx. Lisa is dating Marcus Bailey when she assured me she wasn’t interested. And now Lisa is standing in her living room with her ex-fiancé whose car she totalled while trying to ram the guy….yeah, not a bit of sense at all…. “You have a lot of explaining to do, young lady,” I say to her. My head hurts.

  “I’m so sorry.” She winces. “I promise to tell you everything as soon as we’ve gotten out of this.”

  “The inside scoop?”

  She nods. “You’ll be the only one I talk to.”

  “Wait. What?” Jonathan asks, leaning forward like he didn’t hear right.

  “Jonathan, this is Sandra. She’s a reporter, so be careful what you say,” Lisa says with a wink for my benefit, causing me to roll my eyes.