Blackbird Read online

  Table of Contents

  1

  2

  3

  4

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  6

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  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

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  15

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  31

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  34

  35

  36

  37

  38

  39

  40

  41

  42

  42

  43

  44

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  BLACKBIRD

  by

  D.T. Dyllin

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

  BLACKBIRD Copyright 2015 by D.T. Dyllin

  Tik Tok Press

  The Tik Tok Press Logo is a trademark of Tik Tok Press

  All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the author is unlawful piracy and the theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  Cover Art by Lindsay Tiry of LT Arts

  Edited by Megan D. Martin

  Tik Tok Press & D.T. Dyllin Logos by Jordan P. Fremgen of

  Eye Of The River Media Design

  Interior book design by The Eyes for Editing

  ISBN-13 978-1-941126-45-5

  ISBN-10: 941126456

  For more information visit: www.dtdyllin.com

  The Edge…

  There is no honest way to explain it

  because the only people who really

  know where it is are the ones

  who have gone over.

  ~Hunter S. Thompson

  1

  ~Kylie

  I stepped closer to the microphone as the stage lights dimmed, just a single spotlight encasing me in its warmth. The faces in the crowd disappeared into the darkness. It was just me, my guitar, and the truth of my words. My eyes slid shut as I plucked the first chord to my song. The full sound vibrated my acoustic guitar, the richness of it penetrating into my chest causing a soft sigh of pleasure to whisper from my lips. I cleared my throat and began to sing:

  High on a hill I stare at the sky

  I see your face in the clouds passing by

  I wonder where it is you can be

  As for me I’ve been here

  Point in fact I’ve been here

  I couldn’t help but to think of him. His piercing blue eyes. His crooked smile. The tiny scar on his chin. How his lips always seemed to taste so sweet. The way his skin felt under my fingertips.

  I’ve been here when the sun sets low

  Without you where’s there to go

  I’ve been here at the dawn’s first light

  Getting through one more night

  Alone

  It was his song. Or rather, I’d written it about him. I always wondered if he’d heard it. If he knew it was about him? If he even cared…

  I tried so hard to reach out to you

  I said and did what you needed me to

  And yet you left no word where you’d be

  As for me I’ve been here

  Point in fact I’ve been here

  I missed him. Time was supposed to heal all wounds, wasn’t it? I missed him so much it physically hurt. I put all that pain into my music. I bled out for him on stage every time I sang his song.

  Tears in my eyes reflect bright ‘neath a star bejeweled sky

  They’ll disappear when you’re back, until then, life remains so unclear

  My fingers flew over my guitar, hitting the chords harder than they were meant to be played. No one but me would notice. The last few notes danced off into the dark, echoing in my mind.

  And then the song was over. The lights came up and the crowd went wild. I was surrounded by smiling faces…and yet I was alone…empty…lost. I wondered if I’d ever be found again. I blinked back tears and forced a smile to stretch across my face, bowing low to my fans.

  I had everything I’d ever dreamed of.

  Except him.

  I’d never been more miserable.

  My surroundings were a blur as I walked off stage, my guitar cradled in my arms. People said things to me, words I didn’t understand. I pushed past them not caring about what any of them really had to say. I slammed my dressing room door shut behind me, slumping against the cool wood. I inhaled and exhaled a few times trying to steady myself.

  Something was off—wrong. A horrid odor filled the air, burning my nostrils and causing me to gag. That’s when I saw them. Dead birds. Dead blackbirds. They were ripped open—rotting, scattered everywhere. I screamed and fumbled for the doorknob.

  Not again. Not again. Please not again.

  2

  ~Kylie

  “Kylie.” The tone of my manager’s voice caused me to jerk my head up. “Maybe we should—”

  “I’m not canceling any shows,” I snapped.

  “I wasn’t going to suggest canceling anything. Maybe postpone—”

  “No.” I slumped back into the couch in my hotel room. “I’m not going to let a few dead birds get in the way of my career.” It’s all I have left. But I didn’t say that part out loud. It would only have the opposite effect of what I desired. It had taken me ten long years to reach the pinnacle of my career. I was no longer a fresh-faced innocent in my twenties. I couldn’t afford to take any breaks at my age because I knew if I lost my momentum then I would be forgotten and kicked to the curb like yesterday’s trash. Much like Hollywood, in the music business once you hit thirty-five it’s all down hill for women. I was painfully aware that my thirty-fifth birthday was three hundred and sixty days away. I had to make the best of what was left of my career before it was gone forever.

  “If it were only a few dead birds…” Her voice trailed off and she cleared her throat. “Last time it escalated. You were attacked—”

  “And he’s still behind bars, isn’t he?” I already knew the answer to my question though. It was the first thing Marie checked after the birds were found in my dressing room. “Someone is just trying to rattle me. I won’t let them win.”

  “Who? Who would want to rattle you like this?” Marie challenged as she paced across the plush tan carpet in my suite, her stiletto heels sinking too deep, causing her to wobble.

  I waved my hand flippantly at her. “Tons of people. I’m number one on the country charts.” At least for the moment. Marie refused to accept that I would age out of country music soon as a female. Her job didn’t have the same type of glass ceiling. She was already in her forties but it didn’t matter because she had the tough as nails older businesswoman thing down pat. People respected her, feared her. It was different for me. It wasn’t like I was one of the truly great female country artists who defied any limitation put on them either. If I was, I could do no wrong. No, sadly, my looks—my age did matter, and I knew it.

  Marie sighed heavily as she pinched the bridge of her nose. “I had a feeling
you were going to be stubborn.” Her ruby red lips twitched up at the corners. “Probably because you always are. So you just remember that when I tell you what I’m about to.”

  I narrowed my eyes and studied her face for clues. By the way her gaze darted around, refusing to meet mine, I knew she’d done something I’d live to regret. “What did you do?”

  “If you don’t want to postpone any shows, we’re going to have to beef up security. I honestly don’t know who to trust anymore. What happened in your dressing room earlier shouldn’t have. I…” She cleared her throat. “I called him.”

  I gasped, my heart tripling in time. “What did you do?” I repeated with rising trepidation. She couldn’t possibly have called who I thought she did. “Please, Marie, please tell me you’re joking.”

  “She’s not.”

  My head swung around to meet his cerulean eyes. “How—how did you get in here?” I stammered. He quirked one dark eyebrow as if to say my question was stupid, and of course it was. Obviously he’d been expected, but I was flustered. It’d been years since I’d seen him. Not a day went by that I didn’t think of him—yearn for his touch. I swallowed convulsively. He’d changed. He’d always been handsome, and the attraction between the two of us had always been off the charts. But now he was absolutely devastating. He’d let his hair grow out. Dark messy waves hung in disarray drawing more attention to his masculine face. He’d filled out more too. He had the kind of muscles that a boy in his twenties could never quite build, at least not naturally. The dark flannel shirt he had on merely hinted at the masterpiece that I was sure lay beneath. Just seeing him, knowing that he’d changed—moved on without me, was the purest form of torture.

  I could scarcely breathe with Noah James—my Noah James standing so close to me. He’d always been and always would be the only man I truly loved. There’d been others since him, but none that could ever own my heart like him. I couldn’t give another man something I’d given to Noah when I was ten years old.

  I glared at Marie, trying unsuccessfully to ignore Noah. I didn’t have to look at him to feel his presence. It was like every molecule in my body hummed with the knowledge of his nearness. “He’s not going to be running my security. Get someone else. Anyone else.” There was no way I could take seeing Noah on a regular basis. It would break me in a way that nothing else could. It would be career suicide.

  “I’m sorry,” Marie said. “It’s either him or you postpone—”

  “No!” I ground my teeth together. I fought the urge to throw a temper tantrum like a teenager. To yell things like it wasn’t fair and she was ruining my life. I knew the only way Marie wouldn’t get her way in this was if I fired her, which wasn’t an option. I slid my eyes shut and counted to ten. When I opened them I met Noah’s dark gaze. He was watching me intently, silently. “Fine. Noah and his team can run my security.”

  Noah nodded as he uncrossed his arms, pushing off the wall where he’d been leaning. “I’ll get started right away,” he rumbled to Marie.

  “Good.” Marie responded without sparing me a glance.

  Noah turned to leave, his limp much less pronounced than it’d been the last time I’d seen him. Most people would never know that he was missing a leg and that a prosthetic was filling out the right side of his jeans from the knee down. I would never forget though.

  I would never forget because he’d never let me.

  3

  ~Kylie

  I clicked on the link that claimed to have pictures of me with my latest ‘fling’. Their words not mine. I slammed my fist against the desk. How the hell did they get these? Maybe it’s a good thing Marie called Noah because it seems like I can’t trust my current security at all. Sure enough, the online gossip site had pictures of Noah leaving my hotel room. Since no one knew who he was, the worst was assumed. I had quite the reputation thanks to social media. In reality, I could count the men I’d been with sexually on one hand. I’d given up protesting the sensationalized claims years ago though. It didn’t mean they still didn’t get under my skin a bit.

  Okay, a lot.

  I remembered a time when celebrities became famous for their talents alone. No one cared all that much about their personal lives. Celebrities could actually have personal lives. Privacy was respected, at least to a point. Now, everything was fair game. The public had a right to know everything about me. No detail was too minor or trivial. It was draining—exhausting. Sometimes I wondered if it was worth it. And then I would remember how lucky I was. I got paid to do what I loved…make music. So what if I was losing my soul to do it. At least with my money and power I could make a small difference in the world. Like with the many charities and causes I supported. Everything worth anything had a price. I guess, in a way, mine had been Noah too.

  I pushed away from the large oak desk in my hotel suite and lumbered over to the king-sized bed in the adjoining room. I flopped face down and groaned into the soft white pillow. Everything always circled back to Noah. Even after ten years of time and distance. I was beginning to think his memory would never fade away. And now I’m going to have new memories to add to the collection. More things to torture myself with.

  I groaned again and pushed myself off the bed. I had to get my mind off of him. The only way I knew how was music. I shuffled back into the other room and picked up my acoustic junker guitar. It had definitely seen better days, but I’d had it since the beginning of my career. It was loyal to me like nothing else was.

  I strummed idly, my mind wandering, not bothering to tune my guitar even though I could tell it was slightly off key. My gaze snagged on the mirror on the wall across from me. My reflection frowned. Words began to flow as a rhythm formed. I sang softly to myself.

  You always tell me

  I’m just not pretty enough

  You make me cry

  Then tell me I should be tough

  If I was just thinner

  And less of a sinner

  Maybe then I could pass your test

  Girl in the mirror

  Take it easy on me

  Cause I’m feeling fragile

  And I need you to be

  My closest friend

  Not my worst enemy

  Girl in the mirror

  You always tell me

  I’m not as smart as the rest

  I can do better

  Cause I didn’t give it my best

  If I had more education

  And more information

  Maybe then I could pass your test

  How could you be so hard on me?

  I strive for perfection

  But you give me rejection

  Is there anything I can do

  That could ever please you?

  Girl in the mirror

  You always tell me

  I’m just not pretty enough…

  “You always were your own worst enemy, darlin’.” Noah’s deep voice stopped me short, my fingers fumbling against the metal strings, causing an awful note to rent the air.

  Darlin’.

  I’d always loved the way the term of endearment rolled off his tongue with his Deep South accent. Having lived in Nashville, Tennessee most of his life, it’d softened a bit, changed. But it was still there, the thick rumbling cadence that caused him to pronounce things slightly different than most Nashvillians, a whisper of influence from his mama and daddy, who were originally from Alabama. All these years and he still hasn’t lost it.

  “Go away,” I muttered, looking everywhere but at him. Was it going to be this way now? Noah just popping in whenever he felt like it? As head of my security he could too. Just walk in on me whenever the urge hit him. When I was writing I was laid bare, ripped open. I didn’t want anyone, especially him to see me that way. At least not anymore.

  He was silent a few moments before he replied, “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?” The words tumbled from my mouth before I had a chance to think about them. But what he’d said… What exactly was he sorry fo
r? Interrupting me? Or the rest? The endless list of things that had ultimately culminated in the ruination of our relationship.

  “For interruptin’ you.” He moved farther into the room, closer to me, his eyes studying me as he approached. “I need to talk to you ‘bout some things.”

  “Oh?” My heart thrummed in my ears as I set my guitar down beside me on the floor. “What kind of things?

  “Security things.”

  Of course. What did I think he wanted to talk to me about? That he couldn’t take being apart from me one second longer? Ha! I really did live in a fantasy world. “So talk,” I mumbled, tucking my long blonde hair behind my ears.

  Noah stopped about a foot away from me to lean against the desk I’d just been sitting at a short time ago. I resisted the urge to ask him if he wanted to sit in case he took it as an insult. He used to take everything like that as an insult when he’d first lost his leg. As if I was saying he was weak just by being nice. “Some things are gonna have to change ‘round here. I know Marie hired the best that was available…aside from my team, but…”

  I couldn’t concentrate on what Noah was saying. Not when he was the closest to me he’d been in what felt like an eternity. A deluge of sexual images involving the two of us ran through my mind. Me riding him with my head thrown back, him slamming into me from behind, me taking his thick cock into the back of my throat while watching his face contort with pleasure… I remembered the taste of his skin like I would a favorite candy I’d long been denied. The ghost of his touch, the feel of his body against mine…they haunted me like a phantom limb of my very own. When he’d lost his leg, I’d lost a part of me too…him.

  “Are you even listenin’ to me, Kyle?” Noah snapped, his eyes sparking with anger.

  “Sure, I am.” Kyle. That name brought back memories. It’d been a long, long time since I’d heard anyone, let alone Noah, call me by that nickname. He’d stopped using it when we’d gone through our dark times. Did it mean something that he was using it again? Just the thought of those better days that had faded like old photographs swept me into the past. It was as if time itself fell away and I was hurtled back to when things were easier, happier. Of course as the saying goes… ‘You don’t know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone.’