Wreck of the Day (Love Me, I'm Famous Book 3) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by M. H. Soars

  Wreck of the Day

  Love Me, I’m Famous Book 3

  M. H. Soars

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by M. H. Soars

  Wreck of the Day © 2017 by M. H. Soars

  All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

  One

  SAYLOR

  The flight from Honolulu to L.A. is one of the hardest of my life. I keep my sunglasses on the entire time just in case I can’t bear the pressure that’s caving my chest in and I can’t hold the tears back. I manage to keep my eyes dry, but barely. Damn it, I already miss him so much.

  When the plane finally lands in sunny L.A., I have made another very important decision. If I’m going to depart from this world prematurely, I’m going to leave my mark on it, no matter what. Which means Wreck of the Day will no longer only be a garage band, even if I have to sell my soul to achieve that.

  I grab a cab and pull my phone out of my purse to call Tabatha. It rings a couple of times before her sleepy voice comes through the speaker.

  “Saylor?”

  “Hey, Tabby. Did I catch you at a bad time?”

  I hear the sound of sheets rubbing together. Tabatha is definitely in bed.

  “No. What’s up?”

  “I’m on my way to your place.”

  “Wait? Aren’t you supposed to be in Hawaii?”

  “Change of plans. I caught an earlier flight. I really need to speak with you in person.”

  “Okay.” Tabatha’s tone of voice changes, mirroring my own. “Is everything okay, Blue?”

  “Yes and no. I’ll tell you once I get there.”

  I end the call and slouch against the seat of the car, letting my head fall backwards and closing my eyes for a brief moment. I feel my phone vibrate against my lap and my heart skips a beat. I fumble with the device, but when I don’t see Oliver’s name flashing on the screen, disappointment overflows my bruised heart.

  The call comes from a private number, so I quickly reject it and look out the window. The afternoon sun is bright and annoying. I wish the weather was bad so it would match my mood.

  On my way to Tabatha’s, I get a text from Emma saying that she got all my stuff from my room. She doesn’t mention Oliver. When I called from the airport in Honolulu asking her for the favor, I was adamant I didn’t want to talk about him. She’s respecting my wishes for now, but it will be a different story once she comes back into town. Emma doesn’t know when to let a subject drop.

  It takes over an hour to reach Tabatha’s place in the busy L.A. traffic. In hindsight, I should have gone home first to freshen up, but I was afraid that if I postponed this conversation, I would chicken out. I pay the cab, get my suitcase, and I make a beeline to the side of the house where there is a small wooden gate. It opens to the path leading to Tabatha’s apartment. Like me, she lives in the guesthouse behind the main structure.

  I knock on the door, pushing it open when Tabatha tells me to come in. She’s sprawled on the couch still wearing her PJs and watching something on TV. When I come closer, I see that one of the Harry Potter movies is on. It’s the one with the guy from Twilight, but I can’t remember the title for the life of me.

  “Haven’t you seen this movie before?”

  Without glancing my way, she replies, “Yes. But I can’t help it. Every time there’s a marathon on TV, I have to watch it.”

  “But you own all the DVDs.” I take a seat next to her.

  “Not the same.”

  “So you like watching commercials.”

  Tabatha mutes the TV and turns to me. “You didn’t catch an earlier flight back home just so you could give me shit about my weird habits. What’s going on, Blue?”

  I stand up, feeling nervous. I’m not sure where to begin, so I start with the easiest topic. “I want to give Wreck of the Day a real shot at something great.”

  Tabatha’s eyebrows almost reach her hairline before she furrows them. “I thought that’s what we had been doing for the past eight months.”

  “No. We were playing at being a band. We got lazy. We tolerated Damien for far too long. We were content to play at stupid frat parties.”

  “Those stupid frat parties helped pay the bills.” Tabatha crosses her arms in front of her chest and flattens her lips.

  “I’m not saying this to criticize your management skills, Tabby.”

  “Are you sure? That’s what it sounds like, Saylor. What happened to
you in Hawaii?”

  I avoid her gaze and stare at the floor instead.

  “This has to do with that manwhore popstar you were screwing, right? I saw the tabloid pictures of you two.”

  My gaze snaps up. “This has nothing to do with Oliver. I’m just sick and tired of being a garage band.”

  “Well, I’m sick and tired of that, too. But what do you want me to do?”

  “We need to find a new drummer.”

  “No shit, Sherlock. While you were frolicking with your boy toy in paradise, Remi and I were busy looking for one.”

  “And did you find one?”

  Tabatha shakes her head. “Not even close.”

  “Fuck! We need to find a new drummer.” My sudden irritation comes out of nowhere and I bite my lip to keep from spewing more offhanded comments.

  “I’m trying okay? What’s the fucking hurry? I’m not going to just pick anyone this time. It’s not like we have any gigs lined up. We have time to be more selective.”

  “No, we don’t have any time!”

  “What are you talking about? Don’t tell me this need to make Wreck of the Day a hit A.S.A.P. is just so you can impress your new boyfriend. I thought you were bet—”

  “I’m dying!” The words leave my mouth before I can stop them. I planned to tell Tabatha the truth but not like that. I take a seat on a chair nearby and put my head in my hands. “I’m fucking dying.” My throat burns and at the same time, I feel hot tears stream down my face.

  “What are you talking about?” Her voice comes out as a heavy exhale.

  I take a couple of deep breaths and try to keep new tears from forming. Even so, my answer comes out choked. “I have a blood clot in my brain. I have an expiration date.”

  I keep my head down, but I hear Tabatha move closer right before she crouches in front of me. I glance up. Her face is a mask of coolness, but in the depths of her eyes, I see the shock she’s trying to keep bottled in.

  “Why didn’t you tell me before?” A hint of betrayal manages to seep into her question and my heart clenches, hard.

  “I-I couldn’t.”

  Tabatha’s jaw locks tight as her eyes narrow. “Is that why you were getting migraines?”

  “Yes.”

  In a jerky movement, she stands up, and begins to pace. “Did you talk to another doctor? There must be something you can do. I mean, they could take the clot out. Did he say you couldn’t have surgery, because I call bullshit on that.”

  “Tabby, stop. The doctor offered me that route. I refused.”

  She spins around and pins me with the mother of all glares. “You refused? Are you out of your God damned mind? You have to operate.”

  “No. I don’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because there are too many risks and I don’t want to turn into a vegetable. I’d rather die.”

  “No. I won’t accept that.” Tabatha gestures with her hands, giving more emphasis to her words.

  “You have to. We’ve made a deal.” I lock gazes with her until she gets the meaning of my words. Her expression changes from pissed off to stunned in a split second.

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “Of course I’m serious. Seven years ago, before your heart transplant, you asked me to turn off the machines if you went onto life support because you knew your parents wouldn’t have the guts to do it themselves. You asked me to basically help you die and I agreed. Now it’s my turn.”

  Tabatha stares at me without blinking. I don’t think she’s even breathing. A minute passes by, but it feels like an eternity. She doesn’t say a word before she breaches the gap between us and engulfs me into a tight embrace.

  “Why, Blue? Why?”

  “You know why.”

  I hear a sniffle and my vision becomes blurry. Here come the water works again. I pull back and see that Tabatha’s gaze is bright. She’s on the verge of losing it like me. She doesn’t cry though. She holds it together because she’s a warrior. She doesn’t show weakness. She’s fucking Ripley.

  “Are you sure that’s what you want? What do Liv and Mandy have to say about this?”

  I walk away and turn my back to her. “I haven’t told them. Actually, you are the only one who knows.”

  “Why do I have the feeling you aren’t planning on telling anyone?”

  I look over my shoulder and give her a rueful smile. “Would you do it if you were in my place?”

  Tabatha takes a deep breath before replying, “No, I wouldn’t.” She runs a nervous hand through her ebony hair. “How long do you have? Did the doctor say?”

  “A year at least,” I lie. The doctor said I had from a month to a year, but I won’t voice that out loud. I refuse to acknowledge I might only have one more month to live. No, if I believe I have a year, I’ll get a year.

  “Fuck. A year? That’s nothing.”

  “Great things can be accomplished in a year, Tabby. If I’m being kicked out of this plane, I want to go out with a bang.”

  “With Wreck of the Day.”

  “Yes.”

  Tabatha’s face breaks into a toothy grin, even if her eyes are still sad. “Nothing like a death sentence to motivate our asses. We’re making Wreck of the Day the biggest fucking band that ever was.”

  “But we need a drummer.”

  “And she will be the luckiest woman on the planet because we are gonna rock.” Tabatha raises her hand for a high five and even though she doesn’t say it with words, I know we are sealing our pact. She will take my secret to the grave.

  Two

  OLIVER - A week later

  I stare at the TV but see nothing. I feel nothing, not even the cool rim of the vodka bottle on my lips, or the usual burning sensation as the clear liquid drains down my throat. I’m exactly at the point I wanted to be when I started my binge earlier. Numb. My eyelids are heavy and I let them drop, surrendering with pleasure to the reprieve only deep slumber can provide.

  The sliver of sunshine poking through the blinds is what awakens me. I blink my eyes open and rub them for good measure, just in case my mind is playing tricks on me. I push the covers out of the way and jump out of bed, reaching my window faster than Harry can say hot chocolate, his favorite drink in the whole wide world. I part the heavy curtains and stare at the bright blue sky.

  “Yes!” I say before I quickly change clothes and run out the door.

  I fly down the stairs and I’m two steps away from the front door and freedom when my father’s booming voice calls my name from the dining room. Bugger. And here I thought I could escape unseen.

  I trudge back and find Dr. Frank Best, sitting at the head of the long table with his face behind the newspaper.

  “Sit down and eat your breakfast, Oliver.”

  Against my will, I do as he says without a peep. I can’t risk him grounding me today of all days, when the sun has finally decided to make an appearance after an entire week of stupid rain. Mrs. Connelly appears a second later with a plate of beans, eggs, and sausage. She pours me a glass of milk and leaves the room as quickly as she can. No one likes to linger too long in my father’s presence. He’s a beast.

  I’m almost done eating when Harry comes in, his brown hair sticking out in all directions, and still wearing his PJs. Without a word, he takes his seat, and like magic, Mrs. Connelly reappears and puts a full plate in front of him as well. I don’t know how she knows exactly when we need something.

  “Where are Mother and Charlotte?” I ask.

  “Out.” Dad doesn’t glance up from his reading.

  “Louis and Eddie invited me to go fishing today,” I say.

  “Really? Can I come?” Harry asks, his eyebrows almost reaching his hairline.

  I’m about to say ‘no’ when my father cuts in. “Of course you can join your brother. I’ll have Lawrence drive you after breakfast.”

  Bloody hell. I can’t do anything without Harry tagging along.

  Twenty minutes later, our driver Lawrence drops us off at t
he Larrington’s stately home. The white building looks more like a fairy tale castle than anything else. My mother says it’s disgustingly beautiful. I don’t know what she means by that. How can something disgusting be beautiful?

  My friend Louis meets us outside. “Couldn’t get rid of the baby, huh?” He nods in Harry’s direction.

  “No, Dad made me bring him. Where’s Eddie?”

  Louis moves closer and whispers in my ear. “He’s by the lake, on the lookout.”

  “Lookout for what?”

  “You’ll see. But we’ll have to get rid of your brother.” Louis turns to Harry who is busy throwing rocks up in the air.

  It’s embarrassing that I have to bring him with me everywhere I go. Louis is right. He’s a baby. No ten-year-old should be forced to hang out with his six-year-old brother.

  “Hey, Harry. Do you like hot chocolate?” Louis asks.

  “Yeah.”

  “Go on inside then. Our cook just made some.”

  Harry dashes into the house, no questions asked. That was easy.

  “Come quickly.” Louis motions for me to follow him. We take the path that leads to the property’s lake.

  “What’s going on?”

  “My cousin Lucy and her uni friends are spending the weekend with us. They like to swim in the lake,” Louis pauses for effect before continuing, “naked.”

  “No way.”

  “Way.”

  Ten minutes later we find Eddie, Louis’s older brother, hiding behind some bushes by the edge of the lake. We crouch next to him.

  “Any tits yet?” Louis asks.

  “Not yet, they just got here.”

  We only have to wait a few more minutes before Lucy and her friends get ready to remove their clothes. My heartbeat accelerates. I’ve never seen a naked girl before, at least not in the flesh. Lucy takes her bikini top off and we’re about to be rewarded with a spectacular view when Harry comes running in our direction, shouting my name at the top of his lungs. The girls scream and put their clothes back on as soon as they discover our hiding spot. There goes our chance.

  Harry stops in front of us, his face covered in chocolate, and something inside me snaps.

  “You idiot! Look at what you’ve done.”