Lost Boy

  It came with the title of being Skyler Bell.

  Besides, in the eyes of fame, if you weren’t being gossiped about, you weren’t really famous to begin with. Even the biggest stars in Hollywood with the most private lives, had some sort of gossip reported about them. Rumors were what made this industry stand-out, and so many celebrities start a lot of their own gossip.

  If not them, then someone on their team. Purely to have their face on highly publicized tabloid magazines or online media and blogger sites, but most importantly, the goal was to have their name blasted on the television screen. Where the potential to gain an excessive amount of exposure was remarkable and underestimated.

  Because there is no such thing as bad publicity.

  Though in my circumstance, the media made it out to look like I had a problem with drugs and alcohol. Which wasn’t the case. Sure, I did my fair share of drugs occasionally, but everyone in this industry did. My recreational drug use wasn’t even that bad compared to most of the celebrities I knew and hung around with.

  If I wanted to quit using, I could without any repercussions when in fact I definitely didn’t have a drug or alcohol addiction.

  My father on the other hand was an addict. He was what you called a “functioning alcoholic,” and had been since my mom died when I was six. It gradually began with a drink or two every night to cope and forget. Two drinks became four, four developed into six until eventually, he was downing liquor bottles on the daily.

  I hated it.

  I hated him.

  Regardless, I promised my mom I’d always take care of him, no matter how many times throughout the years he’d let me down. Over and over again.

  “Sky,” Keith coaxed in a familiar tone I’d been expecting. “You have to perform as soon as you arrive to the party. This man has paid two million dollars for you to sing one goddamn song for his guests tonight. Guests that include some very important people, including, Jackson Ellis.”

  I bit my lip, concealing the squeal coming from my throat. He was the director every actor dreamed of working with, and I was no different.

  “Oh my God! How do you know he’s going to be there?”

  “Because I know everything, Sky. It’s part of my job description. You want the role in his next movie, right?”

  “Yes!”

  “Then you need to be on point, at your best. I need you to work that Skyler Bell charm that lights up a room. It’s your twenty-eighth birthday, you’ve come so damn far. You don’t want to start letting anyone down now, do you?”

  “No,” I sighed, knowing he was right. I quickly unscrewed the vile before I changed my mind. Using the tiny spoon attached, I brought the cap up to my nose and snorted a bump up each nostril. Closing my eyes, letting the coke work its magic.

  “That’s my girl.”

  Swiftly feeling the drip in the back of my throat.

  Waiting.

  And just like that, I wasn’t tired anymore.

  “So, tell me. Who is this guy? The one who’s hosting the party.”

  “Some Albanian mogul. He’s apparently your number one fan.”

  “…borderline stalker.” I subconsciously internalized, thinking only of Noah.

  “What’s his na—”

  “Shit! I have to get going. I’m dealing with another client’s crisis over here in L.A. Why can’t they all just be perfect like you?”

  “Hardly.”

  “I wish I could be there with you right now, but I want you to have a great time tonight. Call me tomorrow and let me know how things went with Jackson. I already know you’re going to knock your performance out of the park. Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

  After he hung up, I couldn’t help but think about the past year of my life. Our birthday, always triggering our time apart. Setting the wheels in motion to trudge through all the other endless bullshit. Seeing as, just because I’d gone to rehab for exhaustion twice, didn’t mean I’d slowed down by any means. My career was my life, and no amount of time in facilities would ever change that.

  The trickiest part about fame no one tells you about, no one prepares you for, was how easy it was for society to forget that you were a human-being. A person with real feelings and real emotions.

  If you cut me, I bled.

  If you hurt me, I cried.

  If you left me, I just… felt dead inside.

  Life in the public eye, was by far one of the hardest lives to live. It made society think you were a super-human, above everyone else. A role model, an example, a goddamn target to judge, and criticize, and knock down.

  When in reality, I was just like anyone else.

  The worst part was, I never asked to be any of those personalities. I never claimed to be perfect, I never wanted to be put on a pedestal, I never wished to fall in love. All I ever wanted was to sing and act, except it all went hand-in-hand. Making me live out my life in front of a camera, was not something I was ever ready for.

  And now, I had the added pressure weighing on my shoulders to prove the media wrong. Shut down their false accusations that were at an all-time high.

  With Keith being Keith, he immediately started damage control. Using my exhaustion as a stepping stone to further my career. Humbling my persona to the press and my fans. Making everyone realize that I was actually a real person, who was flawed and made mistakes.

  Landing me more jobs…

  More roles…

  More interviews…

  More. More. More.

  Which was why Keith was still the best manager/agent in the business.

  The only real problem I had was that I was genuinely fucking exhausted in every sense of the word. Rehab became my only escape from the life I thought I always wanted to obtain and lead.

  Island Waves Rehab & Spa Facility was more like a five-star resort than a treatment center. Both of my stays lasted for a little over two weeks, and by the end of it I started wishing I could stay longer, but I had obligations to fulfill. I needed to get back to whatever Keith had booked for me months in advance.

  My first couple days at the facility were the worst, I didn’t want to be there. I didn’t want to attend group meetings and hold hands with random strangers who had it much worse than I did. Alcoholics, drug addicts, sex addicts, anger management, eating disorders, depression, everything a celebrity could possibly have, was treated there.

  However, as always Keith knew what was best and pretty much hauled my ass into going. For the first five days of my stay, I did absolutely nothing but sleep. Hard. Only waking up to use the bathroom, drink some water, eat some food, and pass the hell out again.

  On the sixth day when I finally came to, it was as if I’d been reborn or something. I felt amazing, refreshed, alive. Feeling like I’d been dead since Noah left me over four years prior at that point. I spent the next few days enjoying the resort, exploring the nature paths, walking around the remote beach. Savoring the sensation of the soft white sand beneath my feet and the hot sun beating down on my face.

  Sunshine and happiness.

  I even attended some mediation sessions and yoga classes to learn balance. Find my center and all that jazz.

  Completely loving and relishing in the fact that after all these years, I finally had some privacy. A foreign feeling I couldn’t remember the last time I felt. For the first time in well over a decade, there were no lights flashing in my face, no paparazzi hounding me, no one asking for my autograph or a photo, no prying eyes, no noisy ass people, nothing but peace and quiet.

  Although, I stuck to myself most of the time, I was never alone. There was always someone close by, offering me refreshments, food, and support, but none of that was what I needed. I spent a lot of my time on the beach alone, staring out at the endless ocean lost in my memories, feeling mostly hopeless and utterly lonely.

  Thinking about Noah Jameson. From songs that reminded me of him, to the people who reminded me of him, to motorcycles that reminded me of him, to me who reminded me of him. Even the treachero
us waves of the ocean reminded me of him. He was everywhere I went, and no amount of time could ever change that.

  One year didn’t matter.

  Three years didn’t matter.

  Five years later, and it still didn’t matter.

  I went to rehab to get away from it all, and Noah still unremittingly followed me there. Instead of focusing on myself like I’d came there to do, I found myself staring out at the ocean, analyzing everything. Knowing all along, Noah and I had always shared a deep connection, and I started to wonder if it could ever be broken. He had the power to make me feel the same way I did when I walked on stage and sang to a sold-out arena.

  Without the stage or my fans.

  Just him and I.

  Noah and Skyler.

  Our love acting as the fire that burned so profoundly there was no way or chance of ever putting it out. Even with us being apart, it still burned further and further into my heart.

  Only inflaming me with our memories.

  By the last couple of days of my first stay, I realized it’d been a blessing, and I couldn’t wait to go back.

  How fucking sad is that?

  “Sky, you ready?” my personal assistant, Pepper, questioned, holding open the limo door for me to exit.

  I nodded, shaking away my drug infused thoughts. Now was not the time, nor the place, to be reminiscing about the hold he’d always have on me.

  “That gown, Skyler. It’s breathtaking, you look absolutely stunning. I think this might be my new favorite look on you. That peach color accentuates your eyes.”

  “Thanks, babe.”

  “I swear, one of these years, you will not be working on your birthday. Even if it kills me, I will make it happen.”

  Smiling, I welcomed the cool breeze as I stepped out of the limo, picking up the hem of my dress. With my guards surrounding us, we made our way through a well-maintained courtyard full of greenery that went on for miles. Enclosing the immense property where I assumed the party was being held. We treaded over two sets of stair pathways, arriving at the main entrance, where several armed men were checking guests in at the gates.

  They nodded at us, stepping aside. Signaling toward the large doors of what appeared to be a nineteenth century gothic-style mansion.

  “Cecilia, the property manager is waiting for you inside. She will lead you toward the room where Miss Bell is performing tonight,” one of security detail informed.

  “Thank you,” Pepper replied.

  The closer we got to entering the mansion, the more my eyes drifted over the domain. I’d never seen a place quite like this before, other than in the movies. Peering up to the heavens, where two high pointed peaks joined together to form a steepled roof. Practically touching the night’s sky. I counted four stories of windows upon more windows, each giving off a soft glow with a burning candle illuminating in the night. You couldn’t see where the acres of land started or ended, they went on and on with the rolling hills.

  The whole ambiance of the estate gave off an eerie vibe before you even stepped foot inside. Leaving me to wonder what was in store for us once we crossed the threshold.

  “Pepper… what the hell?” I muttered under my breath.

  “I know, right? This estate is so beautifully creepy. We’re in the right place though, because one, the guards recognized you and two. I’ve already talked to Cecilia, so she’s definitely waiting for us.”

  “Well Keith said the man who’s hosting this party is a big fan of mine, but judging by his taste in homes, I can’t see why.”

  She laughed, shrugging. “Maybe he’s into BDSM or something.

  “Awesome. Not only is this place creepy as Hell, now it seems like this guy might be as well.”

  “Could be worse.”

  I looked at her.

  “You could be here without your bodyguards.”

  “Good point. Stay close and don’t wonder off like the girls do in horror films.”

  “And always, always turn on the lights when entering the room.”

  We both laughed, stepping through the double iron doors of the mansion. Into a huge open foyer with floor-to-ceiling walls lined with beautiful intricate hand-carved woodwork. Showcasing the most dramatic grand staircase I have ever seen that split at the top. Reminding me of the Titanic set replica I got to visit in Hollywood, but much creepier. There was a massive wrought iron chandelier hanging above our heads with real burning candles, illuminating the dark alluring space. Reminding me of medieval times when King Arthur ruled.

  What the fuck?

  “Miss Bell, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you. I’m Cecilia,” a busty woman in her thirties announced in a thick Albanian accent, shifting my attention from the two sculpted eagles perched on their own pillars, guarding the stairs with intense regard.

  Again, creeping me the fuck out.

  Only fueling my rampant thoughts of where the hell Keith sent me.

  “Thank you, I’m happy to be here,” I lied through my teeth, shaking her hand.

  “I know this place looks intimidating.” She gestured around. “But Mr. Jasari has a particular taste in architecture, as I’m sure you can see.”

  “It’s definitely interesting to say the least.”

  “You’re not the first to be alarmed, and I swear he loves doing that to people. But if you’ll just follow me, I’ll show you where you’ll be performing. The guests are already waiting for you, including Mr. Jasari.”

  She led the way up the staircase to the third floor, down a narrow hallway with portraits of men and women in compromising positions.

  Maybe Pepper was right, this had BDSM lifestyle written all over it. I chuckled at the thought as we made our way into a makeshift dressing room.

  “You can freshen up in here if you need to. There is some food and drinks all set up for you, so you help yourself over there.” She pointed to an elaborate set-up that was just for me. “Mr. Jasari will be giving a toast shortly and will announce you. All you have to do is walk through those double doors right over there and you will enter the stage. You have about ten-fifteen minutes. Please let me know if you ladies need anything at all.”

  “Thank you,” we replied.

  With that, Cecilia exited the room and Pepper handed me my glam bag. Touching up the dark circles under my eyes, I sat at the elegant vanity. Preparing for my last performance of the night.

  Keith was right. I sang one song, and I was done. Only envisioning the man I’d written it for, like I did every time I belted out those lyrics. It ended with yet another standing ovation from the crowd.

  “Sky! That was amazing!” Pepper exclaimed, closing the door to my makeshift dressing room, after I signed a few autographs and took several pictures. Talking to me while I fixed up my makeup for the rest of the party ahead. “Every time I think you can’t beat your last performance, you prove me wrong! Oh my God! Look! I have goosebumps!”

  Ignoring her ass-kissing enthusiasm, I asked, “Did you happen to see Jackson Ellis?”

  “Yes! He says he wants to meet with you.”

  I smiled, looking at her through the mirror. “Okay, give me a minute.” I finished reapplying my lip stick and freshened up my hair.

  Keith’s words repeating in my mind, “I need you to work that Skyler Bell charm that lights up a room,” as I snorted a few more bumps of cocaine from the vile he left me. Ready to put on my best performance of the night, for none other than Jackson Ellis.

  Fully aware this was an opportunity of a lifetime.

  From the moment I crossed the threshold, I knew what I had to do. Confidently striding over to the director, I beamed big and wide.

  Once again showing him…

  Why I was Hollywood’s shining star.

  FORTY-TWO

  NOAH

  The whole décor and allure to this place was ominous and disturbing. This was the first time I had been to this property, considering Vlad owned more estates than the fucking richest man in the world. Whoever the fuck that was. Every
room had the same vibe throughout—giving you the feeling you were being watched, and I don’t mean by the security cameras everywhere you turned, but by death looming around every goddamn corner.

  Especially in the underground basement where I was fighting.

  A heavy presence filled my lungs, making it hard to breath. Feeling the tortuous brutality these walls have seen for over a hundred years of existence. Which I’d be adding to after tonight.

  I walked around the underground, piece of shit basement, mentally preparing myself for another fight to kill or be killed on my birthday.

  Our birthday.

  Trying not to think about Skyler, although it was pointless. Today was always the day I thought about her the most. Hoping, praying, she was thinking about me too.

  Deep down knowing she was.

  I felt it.

  Grabbing the bag Aiden had prepared for me for every fight, I set out the gauze and medical tape on the table. Wondering where his ass was. And just as I was about to pull my phone out to call him, I heard a faint sound of a woman’s voice. Singing in the distance over at the estate.

  It couldn’t be.

  Like a moth to a fucking flame, I followed it.

  Bolting through the door, taking the uneven cement stairs two at a time. Rushing past the dark stone walls lined with moss, outside to the back of the manor.

  It wasn’t until I walked back inside Vlad’s mansion that the familiar voice echoing off the walls became louder and clearer. Inciting me to think I was fucking hallucinating. My head began spinning, one memory, one thought, right after the other.

  “Toxic me, hmm hmm… toxic you, hmm hmm… wild me, wild you, hmm hmm… am I hiding my light from you… or are you hiding yours from me, hmm hmm…”

  Each lyric that fell from her lips pulled, tugged, heaved me toward her. Dragging me further into the abyss of my own persecuting mind.