Page 100 of Fame and Obsession

Regret is killing me. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve picked up the phone to call her. I’ve dialed her number. I’ve gotten her voice mail. I’ve dialed it again, just to hear her voice. I’ve prayed she wouldn’t answer. I’ve prayed she would.

It’s a complete mind fuck.

After throwing her out of Helena’s office, I made sure to send one of the Surge security guards Surge to watch over Phoebe. I never asked for a report. I didn’t think my jealousy could take what he’d tell me.

A girl like Phoebe wouldn’t stay single for long.

Some guy had probably just been waiting for his chance and jumped at the chance to pick up the pieces of her broken heart.

Probably Nate Fucking Jacobs.

Glancing down at the phone in my hand, I dial her number again, this time letting it ring.

Two rings, three rings, four rings.

Fucking hell, where is she? Who’s she with?

Five rings, six rings.

Screw this.

I pull the phone away and hang up. Grabbing a towel, I head for the bathroom to take an extremely cold shower.

* * *

Rehearsal was uneventful. A few studio employees inquired about Phoebe, but I dodged their questions by turning up the amp and playing a few ear-shattering riffs on the guitar.

They quickly let the subject drop.

I keep telling myself that once I’m back in front of a crowd, I’ll be fine—antsy, but fine. I know Harlow is looking out for Phoebe. It’s the one thing keeping me sane. Things may have ended between us, but that doesn’t mean I’ve stopped caring about her.

Now, sitting in the studio, I practice the chords Zane wanted to change in rehearsal, when someone knocks on the control room door. The band isn’t due back from lunch for twenty more minutes, and I don’t care to move from my seat.

So fuck it.

Then the thought of Phoebe being on the other side creeps into my mind, and I trip over my own damn feet running to the door. Once I open it, I regret my decision and slam it just as quickly.

As I lean my head against the wall, Vivian’s contempt-filled voice fills my ears. “Jules, we seem to have forgotten our manners in the presence of a lady.”

“When I see one, I’ll be polite.”

A chuckle rumbles from the other side. “How fame has changed you.”

“Fame hasn’t changed me, Viv. I just got bored with you.” As expected, the door flies open, and she stands there, red-faced and fuming. “Get out, Vivian. I have nothing to say to you.”

She takes three steps toward me and cocks her hip. “Oh, but I’ve got plenty to say to you, baby.” Smiling, she brushes her mouth against my jaw. “Don’t test me. I can ruin it all for you. You’ll lose your career, your adoring fans—even your precious Phoebe. I have ways to ruin her you can’t begin to imagine.”

Hearing Phoebe’s name tossed casually in a threat throws me over the edge. A low growl rumbles in my chest as I grab her shoulders and move her as far back as I could get her. “If you go anywhere near her, I’ll make you regret it.”

“Threatening a woman, Julian?” she tuts. “That could be scandalous if it was told to the wrong people.”

“Tell the media whatever you want, Viv. That’s your style, isn’t it?”

“Watch it…”

“Haven’t you heard of karma? If what goes around comes around, then you’d better lay pretty fucking low.”

“A little respect, please, Jules. Words hurt.” Folding her hands over her heart, she puckers her lips and pouts—as if I’m buying any of this shit.

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