Fame by Meghan Quinn Read Free Book Online Page A

phone and was surprised to see it wasn’t from Cruz, but from another man.  

    Declan: Hey, gorgeous, I’ve been thinking about you. You want to meet up sometime, get a drink…

    Smiling to herself, she texted back because, frankly, she could. She and Cruz were just fucking, nothing more, and they allowed for themselves to be with other people, so she had zero guilt in texting Declan back.  

    Willow: Hey, handsome. I’m game. Let me know when and where. Tonight, I’m occupied, but I’m open Friday.

    His text back was almost instantaneous.

    Declan: Friday it is. Wear something sexy, I have plans for you.

    Willow: Mmm, I can’t wait.  

    Feeling spicy, Willow grabbed extra nacho sauce and headed for the checkout counter. She was in for a treat tonight, and then Friday, she was going to dabble in a little Irish eye candy named Declan.  

    **Rook**

    Journal Entry #162

    The smell of rotten trash and decrepit flesh keeps permeating my senses, to the point where I find myself dry heaving over a toilet most of my day. My therapist has strongly encouraged me to leave this house. He has told me that all it’s doing is stirring up deep rooted emotions that we are trying to overcome.  
    We, funny that he used that term. He acts like we are some kind of team, battling the demons that have been haunting me ever since I can remember, but all he does is talk to me, gives me his shit-tastic opinion of my life, and then sends me a bill. Yeah, he makes me talk about things I never want to talk about, but that’s all he does. They say talking is supposed to help, well fuck that shit because all talking has done in the past few months is fucked me up even more.  
    Nightmares of my dad beating the ever living piss out of me run rampant through my head every night. I wake up in a sweaty mess, reaching for that one person who will give me comfort, but she’s not there. She doesn’t love me anymore, and I should stop thinking about her, but I can’t; she owns my heart, my fucking soul. I feel so God damn lost without her.  
    And what is so Goddamn funny about my fucked up life is that, for once, I put someone’s happiness, someone’s safety before mine, and even though I knew I was doing the right thing, I hurt her. I hurt her so fucking bad there is no way she will ever take me back, and to top it off, the reason I hurt her, pushed her away, saved her in my own mind, died a few days after, so I fucked up everything in my life for nothing, for fucking nothing!
    Fuck, this headache won’t go away, maybe it’s because I sleep on the floor, in the closet of my old bedroom because it’s comforting. It was my space when I was younger and trying to hide. Maybe it’s because I’m slowly letting myself wither away. I wouldn’t mind dying, it would end the stabbing pain that is in my chest, and I doubt anyone would miss me; she surely wouldn’t.  
    There’s a pile of cocaine and heroin in the chest downstairs. I could do it tonight. I could end everything…join daddy dearest down in hell and be done with it.  
    The thought is tempting, almost too tempting…

    **Maisy**

    “That doesn’t even rhyme,” Maisy said, as she put her pen in her mouth and shook out her hair. She was going to drive herself crazy over lyrics with Kaid helping her.  
    “Blow and load rhyme,” Kaid defended himself.  
    “They actually don’t at all, and blow and load…really, Kaid?”
    Kaid looked at her for a second, and then realization hit him, causing him to throw his head back and laugh from the pit of his stomach.  
    “I guess talking about blowing a load in a love song isn’t the most appealing thing.”
    “You think?” Maisy said, full of sarcasm. “Why do I feel so blocked? I’ve never had a problem with writing lyrics, but the past six months have been torture trying to pull anything together.”
    Kaid nodded his head as he looked at his fingernails, clearly avoiding eye contact with her.  
    “What? Just say it.”
    With