Owning Beauty (Taking Beauty Trilogy 3)

“That’s where you’re so wrong, Julian,” she said, beaming at me as she withdrew a newspaper from her purse and handed it over to me. “You’re the talk of the town, love. Everyone’s looking for an exclusive about how you were taken advantage of.”

“And why the hell would I want to tell the world all about that?” I asked her. “Hell, I don’t even want to think about what happened over there, much less relive it after that circus you put together before we left. All I want is to be left well enough alone.”

The headline of the paper read Bad Boy Rocker Can’t Be Tied Down, and it was accompanied by the most horrendous side-by-side of me at one of my old concerts juxtaposed against one of Liz, her makeup streaking her face in the middle of the hotel lobby. Just the sight of it was enough to make my stomach lurch and tighten. Suddenly I felt sorry for her. Even after all that she’d done to me, I still couldn’t stand the sight of her in tears.

“That is not an option,” Tessa said, her voice suddenly serious. “You’ve got an interview with three different late night talk shows and a charity event to perform for in a few weeks! Everyone’s eating this up—your love-life has got the whole country talking. You’ve never been more popular!”

She pushed the paper into my hands. “I honestly think that this fiasco might end up being the best thing that’s ever happened to you,” she continued, tapping the headline with one of her well-manicured nails as if I hadn’t seen it. “Women are all commenting on the Internet about how sorry they feel for you. You’ve never been sexier!” A grin split her face wide. “This is fantastic, and we haven’t even dropped the date-rape-drug bombshell yet! That’s going to be making news for months!”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, my jaw sagging as Tessa kept going on and on about how the sales figures for even my older albums had jumped through the roof since this scandal had hit the air. I could feel my chest starting to tighten, heat rising at the back of my neck with every word out of my manager’s crimson lips, her stupid cat-that-ate-the-canary grin growing wider and more disturbing with every syllable. What in the hell was happening with my bloody life? Was this all I was now—some pathetic knob people took pity on?

“Get out,” I said, my voice barely audible even to me, though apparently loud enough to give Tessa pause.

“Excuse me?” She squinted at me and the smile dropped from her lips. “I’m sorry, I must have misheard you. For a second, I imagined you’d said—”

“I said to get the hell out of my flat!” I growled, taking a step toward her that made her almost stumble back against the wall behind. “Fuck right out of here, Tessa. Now.”

Much to my surprise, she didn’t argue. She only snatched the paper from my hand before she made her way out the door, though I could tell from her expression she wasn’t at all pleased.

But what the hell did I care? What did I care about any of it? After losing what I’d never known I’d wanted all this time—love I’d found in the place it wasn’t supposed to be—what the hell did some publicity matter to me anymore? I was so tired of all the stunts and the interviews. All I wanted was what I could never have: someone who cared about me for more than my financial worth.

I picked the bottle back up from the floor, a little over half its contents still streaming through the grout. I couldn’t even muster the effort to give a damn about cleaning it up. It could sit there for the rest of my damned life, for all I cared. The only thing I wanted to do now was drink the rest of that bottle, or however much it took to blur my thoughts into a blue haze. Plenty of rock stars had drank themselves to death, guzzled and guzzled their way into an early grave. What did it matter if there was one more?

“You’re nothing but someone else’s paycheck, mate,” I said to myself, putting the mouth of the bottle to my lips once again before I took a long draught. “And sooner or later, they’re going to try to get everything they can from you. Take every last bit of you, chew it up, and spit it out. Once you’re not good for anything else, they’re going to leave you to rot on the side of the road.” Then I chuckled mirthlessly as a set of rather iconic lyrics came to mind.

“It’s better to burn out than to fade away.”

Ah, Neil Young. Now there was a rocker who knew the score.

I threw the bottle, watching it shatter against the far wall. To hell with it. To hell with everything.

Elizabeth

It took a special kind of friend to dish out the money for a round-trip ticket to the UK. The kind of friend you don’t ever take for granted. Jen was as selfless and noble as they came, to be sure. But the fact that she had been implicated in this whole scandal sure helped her make the decision to finance my vindication.

The only real problem had been getting from the suite over to the airport without alerting the sea of press that had been stationed outside ever since that stupid story broke. Thankfully, the room I was in had been paid for in advance and included another day, so I had at least a little while to plan how I would get the hell out of Dodge and over to JFK in time for my flight.

Much to my surprise, my saviors had come in a form I hardly expected. The security guards who had escorted me up to my room worked for the hotel, and they were absolutely ready to get rid of me and all the craziness happening just outside the doors to the hotel. With their help, I was able to sneak out around the back and get into an Über that Jen had paid for to pick me up. I honestly couldn’t have asked for a better friend, and I knew that if I made it out of this with a penny to my name, minus the legal fees that surely faced me in the future, I would have to take her out to dinner.

I’d arrived at the gate just in time to catch my flight across the Atlantic. I thanked God I had managed to grab my purse before I was taken away from Billford. The passport inside was nearly expired and had never seen a single foreign stamp. I’d gotten it thinking I might travel some day, and I guess now as as good a time as any. Practicality for the win, I thought to myself.

We touched down in Heathrow airport some twelve hours later, and thankful for just how uneventful my flight had been, I made my way through customs and out toward the pick-up area to try to hail a cab that would take me to Julian’s flat.

I had Jen to thank for the address—leave it to a bunch of obsessed fan girls to have their favorite rock star’s address plastered across the Internet for anyone to find. That only made my life that much easier.

I did my best to relax in the backseat of the cab, glancing out the windows as one of the most historic cities on the planet rushed by. I was amazed at how the cabbie didn’t even have a GPS or anything to help him find where he was going.

The cabbie rattled off some landmarks and talked about some of the history behind it all as we went, our progress slowed by the kind of heavy traffic that reminded me a little of New York. My driver was something of a history buff and had a habit of talking the ear off of anyone who would listen to his countless tidbits of trivia. If I hadn’t found it fascinating—and a worthy distraction from the worry growing in my gut—I think I’d have tuned him out before we’d even gone a block. The sound of conversation was comforting, and for once I’d met someone within the last few days who wasn’t constantly blathering on about my current romantic entanglement with a rock star.

It took about an hour and a half to get across London to Julian’s flat, and by the time we’d arrived, I was already sorry to see the cabbie drive off. I felt like I’d lost a friend just before I was about to step into a dragon’s lair in the hopes that maybe, just maybe, I’d find something good to take away from all this—even if I left with my heart ripped out.

I had to take a risk. I’d always told myself I’d be willing to do so when it mattered. Well, it mattered now. Maybe more than I’d been willing to admit, at first.

It was insane to think I’d fallen in love with him after such a short amount of time, but the moments we’d shared had so much weight to them. I had to keep reminding myself that stranger things had happened, that I wasn’t a compl

ete idiot for feeling the way I did. Every time I started to drift into that territory, I remembered the look on Julian’s face when he’d seen the ultrasound screen, what he’d whispered against me as he kissed the trails of my tears away. If that wasn’t love, I wasn’t sure what the hell qualified.

By the time I found myself standing outside Julian’s apartment, it was nearly evening. I looked up into the golden glow of his windows on the third floor and hoped that he would be alone. At first I thought that my biggest concern in that regard was Tessa, but suddenly the idea of Julian tangled up with some woman he’d picked up at a pub or something popped into my head, and the sting of tears at the corners of my eyes began in earnest. Part of me wanted to run, to hide at the thought that I’d probably already been replaced, and likely by a woman he hardly knew. Then again, wasn’t I some woman he hardly knew? What made me so different? So special?

Well, for one thing, he got you pregnant, I thought, setting my jaw as I mounted the steps to his stoop. And for another… you’re pretty sure you’re in love with him.

But the moment I touched the door, I thought that I might have a heart attack. Right there in the hallway was the one person who could ruin everything.

Tessa.

My heart hammered as I looked for someplace to hide, lucky as hell that I hadn’t been spotted just yet.

In a desperate rush of movement, I ducked behind a car parked along the curb, peeking through the windows as Tessa stepped out onto the street, her expression set in its usual state of mild, stony annoyance.

I held my breath, feeling utterly vulnerable as she stopped to check her phone. She stood there for what seemed like an eternity before turning and heading in the opposite direction of my impromptu hiding spot, allowing me to breathe once more.

Now’s my chance, I thought, rushing back up to the door and pressing one of the call buttons in the hopes that a resident might fall for one of the oldest tricks in the book.

“’Ello?” a garbled voice asked through the speaker on the third try. I put on the most polite voice I could manage and hoped to God they wouldn’t suspect anything.