Strike (Sphere of Irony 2)
The little spinning hourglass that appears has me sitting on the edge of my seat—literally—drumming my fingers on the corner of my desk. Then finally, the results are in.
I click the first one. It links directly to CelebCast’s website where you can watch the episodes for free.
Episode 1
Only one episode has aired so far. Holding my breath, I hit play. The scenes begin to unfold, each one more horrific than the last.
People actually watch this?
That’s my first thought as cameras follow Lila as she shops, gets her nails done, and does more shopping. My second thought is to wish for a lightning bolt to come out of the sky and strike Lila dead because there it is.
Lila and Dax. On the screen. Together.
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The clips of them are short, never more than a few seconds here and there. Dax hardly says more than a word or two. Yet there they are, arm in arm in one scene, Lila cuddled up to his side in another where she honest to god blows Dax a kiss as she leaves his recording studio.
The rush of emotions that flood my system are near paralyzing. Not because I’m sad. I should be, but I’m not. No. This time, I’m good and fucking pissed off.
I slam the lid of the computer shut, fuming with anger. Fuck Dax Davies and fuck Lila Griffin! They can have each other. And fuck Adam Reynolds for not telling me about it while I was pouring my shattered, broken heart out to him.
First thing tomorrow, I’m getting a new mobile number. Maybe Ellie was onto something when she disappeared. Those sodding Hackney arseholes just aren’t worth the pain.
Dax
I grab my leather jacket and the keys to my bike, a custom built Ducati Monster I bought with our first big paycheck. L.A. is no place for a car, but with the Ducati, I can slip through even the worst traffic jam in no time.
“Oi! Where are you going?”
My back stiffens at the sound of Adam’s voice. Using an extraordinary amount of control, I school my face and turn to face him. Then, I lose my composure.
“Fuck, Adam. Your neck.”
Adam winces when he gently touches the dark bruises that wrap around his throat. Bruises I put there yesterday.
“No worries, yeah? I’ll be fine.” As usual, Adam brushes off his own health, giving me a weak smile. “But you, you look like you feel worse than me, mate.”
“I’m just brilliant,” I say sarcastically, glaring at Adam.
“You’re going to see her, aren’t you?”
Adam looks… tired. Twenty-one years old and he looks like he’s been to hell and back. That still doesn’t give him the right to ask me questions.
“Can we skip the interrogation? I don’t answer to you.” I grip the keys tightly in my fist, the jagged edges digging into my palm. I have to find Kate. I need to see with my own eyes that she’s okay.
Adam drops down into one of the hotel chairs. Both of us have been living in hotels since Gavin and Hawke each moved out and got their own places. Neither of us could bring ourselves to put down permanent roots—most likely for the same reason.
Adam brought me to his room last night to crash since I was in no shape to be alone.
“Go. You should,” Adam says, nodding. “I didn’t fight hard enough to win Ellie back. At least you still have a chance.”
My mate’s eyes go vacant, the way they do when he’s thinking about having a drink. I know that the minute I step out of the room, he’ll either clean out the minibar or head straight for the nearest bar for an all day - all night piss up.
Sighing, I drop my keys on a table in the foyer and slide onto the chair next to Adam. I can’t leave him like this. Hell, I don’t even know if Kate would want to talk to me. For all I know, I’ll make everything worse.
What’s best for Kate? I realize I don’t have a bloody clue. Instead of barreling ahead with my own actions—actions that are purely selfish—I make a suggestion.
“Maybe…maybe we should use this.”