Infamous (Beautiful Idols 3)

Ryan hesitated, trying to make sense of it. “I’ll say one thing, Ira sure knows how to make a dramatic impact.”

“But where is everyone?” Aster whispered. Except for them, the room was empty. She turned to ask James, but the door was shut. “On a scale of one to ten, how worried should I be?”

One look at Ryan’s troubled gaze provided the answer. Still, he tried to ease her alarm by saying, “I’m sure they’re around here somewhere. Let’s take a look. See what this place is all ab

out.”

Aster grasped his hand tightly in hers and walked alongside him to an area that consisted of a long white hallway flanked by a series of doors on either side.

“This reminds me of a hypnosis session I did once.”

Aster glanced at him nervously.

“Whatever door you pick is supposed to reveal some hidden part of yourself that gives you better insight into how to conduct your life, or provide guidance, or something like that. It was a while ago.”

“Well, it’s freaking me out,” Aster whispered. “Why would Ira build this? Who would actually pay to come here?”

“Plenty of people,” Ryan laughed. “Anyway, we’re here. What’s the worst that can happen?” Seeing the look on her face, he said, “You’re with me, and I’m not going anywhere. So, go ahead, pick a door, any door. Which one is calling to you?”

Aster gathered her courage and approached the second door on the left. But when she tried the knob, the door was locked. “Did that happen in your hypnosis session?” She frowned.

Ryan looked a bit shaken, but tried not to show it. “When at first you don’t succeed . . .”

Aster screwed up her nerve and tried the door across from it. The knob turned, the door swung open. Tentatively, she stepped inside.

“I’m not sure I get it.” She squinted at what appeared to be a big, white box of a room. “What is this supposed to be? What is this place?”

She turned to Ryan, but he was nowhere in sight.

“Ryan!” she cried, only to have her words echo right back as the door slammed shut, locking her inside.

THIRTY-SIX

WHERE HAVE ALL THE GOOD TIMES GONE

“Hello?” Layla stepped deeper inside the club and looked all around. The way her footsteps echoed on the white concrete floors gave her the chills. It wasn’t like she’d expected a crowd, but the absolute emptiness of the place left her wondering just what exactly she’d agreed to.

In an instant, the colored lights switched off and a series of spotlights kicked in. She blinked against the sudden brightness and looked toward the far side of the room, where an image of a hand was projected onto a wall, pointing in the direction it presumably wanted her to go. Not knowing what else to do, she followed. Ira said he wanted RED to be an experience—the ultimate performance space—and so far, she had to admit she’d never experienced anything like it.

She found herself staring down a long hallway offering various doors to choose from. Ira had told her about this part as well, claiming some of them would be auditory, some visual, and all where you could choose your own ending.

At the end of the hall a pair of eyes stared back, seeming to beckon her closer. Once she’d reached a certain point, the eyes veered in the direction of the door on her right. So Layla grasped the knob and stepped inside.

The first thought that came to mind was how creepy it was.

The second was that she had no intention of staying.

She turned, eager to flee, when the door slammed shut and locked from the outside.

THIRTY-SEVEN

ANY OL’ BARSTOOL

Tommy crossed the large, cavernous, all-white space and approached Ira sitting alone at the bar.

“What do you think?” Ira turned on his stool and swung an arm wide, gesturing toward his latest creation.

Tommy looked all around. “Well, it’s really, really white.”