11. Fame

We were all sitting around the table enjoying spiked coffee and a game of poker that I was kicking ass at when Boggs called. "Satellite radio interview in about... ten minutes," he said.

I blanched. "Thanks for the heads up," I replied sarcastically. I hung up the phone and swigged what had turned from coffee to pure Bailey's. "Apparently, I have an interview."

Ana eyed me as she dealt to all but me. "No warning? And he gets mad at you when you say crazy shit in interviews."

I was already started towards the door when my phone started ringing again. I had expected to be given a moment, but instead I answered my phone on live radio. LIVE. I swallowed a lump in my throat and lit a cigarette nervously.

"Liz Collins!" I was greeted by a voice I didn't recognize. "You're the newest victim on Ambush Interviews! Are you ready for this?"

"Um... I guess. Do or die, right?"

"Do or die, indeed. Now, here's the deal. We have fifteen minutes, I ask you questions and you give me answers. Got it?"

"Sure," I said, rolling my eyes.

"Now Liz, you don't have a Twitter account, do you?" he was talking like a guy at an auction house, every word running straight into the next.

"I do not," I answered.

"Well since almost everyone else does, some of our questions will be fan questions! Let's dive right in, Liz. We heard a little something about you yesterday after Loudwire interviewed Marilyn Manson. Have you seen it?"

I swallowed again; this lump wasn't going away. "Nope."

"What is your opinion on Marilyn Manson? Are you a fan, not really your style, do you fucking hate him?"

I laughed. "I love Manson."

"Favorite album?" he volleyed back immediately.

"Portrait Of An American Family, currently."

"Good choice," he complimented. "Let me play this byte from yesterday." The recording started and a reporter was asking Manson who he'd want on tour with him... and he said my band. Marilyn FREAKING Manson! "So, would you consider touring with them?"

"Fuck yes, I'd consider it." I was still in shock.

He laughed. "F bombs and all, guys. Does your band have any plans coming up as far as touring, recording, anything like that?"

"We just wrapped up a tour at the end of last week. I'm sure we'll be back in the studio soon, but we all need a little time to wind down and be at home. Back to real life."

"Are you close with the other members of your band? Have you all kept in touch since going home?"

I hated having to lie on the spot... So I didn't. "We're all close. We're also spread throughout the country so when we're not working we get space from each other."

"Who would you say is your closest friend within the band?"

Fuckers. That was a rude question and they knew it. That's why they asked it live, so I'd have to answer. "My relationship with each of them is different, I guess, but I love them all equally," I said, hoping that would be sufficient. The real answer was Joe; we went way back and he was my fucking homie. Bradley was cool, but he acted his age - which was nineteen. John was a dick sometimes.

"Nice dodge," he complimented. "We're going to use the last few minutes for Twitter questions. At DFD two two three says, Liz, what are you wearing right now?"

Really? "Ummm... I'm wearing pants and like five shirts and a big ass hoodie, because it's January."

"No nipple tape at home, huh?" he laughed. "At one more again posted the question, where did you go? You disappeared."

"I live in a small town and I've been chilling at home for the most part. But I'll be back... at some point."

"At beautiful disaster five oh five nine asks what are your biggest musical influences, and what is you favorite album?"

"Well, favorites are really difficult to me. I listen to so much different stuff and switch around so often. Lately, I've been listening to a lot of the stuff that originally made me want to get into rock n' roll, like Deftones, Manson, Korn, Acid Bath, Superjoint... but I go through periods of time where all I listen to is Nirvana and Joy Division and The Animals, or like, nothing but Townes Van Zandt, Dax Riggs, Noah Gundersen and Bowie... I'm kind of all over the place musically. Today I've been listening to Deftones Saturday Night Wrist and Massive Attack's Heligoland and it's been fu - I mean, it's been mind blowing."

"We only have time for one more question, so at titty lover oh nine wants to know if you really super-heroed some kid named Tate, and if you're single."

I giggled. "Yes to the first, no to the second."

He made a whistling sound. "Who's the lucky guy?"

"Someone... very special and very secret."

"Great interview with some very honest - and some very vague - answers from the one and only Liz Collins, singer and guitar player of Desperate Attempt everyone." Everybody in the studio clapped and I was turned over to a show producer who told me they'd be sending me some shirts before we hung up.

"What are you wearing?" Seth mimicked from behind, making me jump. "People are ridiculous."

I spun around and let my eyes roam up and down his form. Even fully clothed, you could see the sharp lines of his muscles. "We should get out of here for a few days. Rent a cabin or something."

That definitely piqued his interest. He moved closer to me, put his hands on my hips. "Just me and you, no distractions..."

My phone started to ring again.

"Like that," he said. He kissed me and then stepped back about a foot.

"Hi, Moira." I was trying not to sound grouchy; the timing wasn't her fault.

"Hello, honey. How have you been?" Moira was my manager and one of the nicest people I knew. She was in her fifties and rock and metal were definitely not her scene, but she was good at her job and often came across as motherly to me. I was pretty sure if anything ever offed me, she'd be more upset than my actual mother.

"Pretty good. Glad to be home. How are you?"

"Getting older but hanging on," she laughed. "I just got a call from Paul Bannister, a Seattle based manager. He had an offer for you."

"I don't want a different manager." And I didn't.

"That wasn't the offer. He's offering you a spot at a Noah Gundersen show. An acoustic set. He said you're more than welcome to bring a band but that the atmosphere is intimate, so singer-songwriter and folk music. Interested?"

I made a squeaky excited noise. "Wow! Awesome, sign me up."

"Great, thank you Elizabeth," she said happily. "I'll talk to you soon and I'll email you all the details."

"Thanks, Moira. Bye." I jumped up onto Seth and moved my lips against his for a few incredible moments before hopping down and running inside. "ANA!" I yelled. "Do a show with me!"

The next morning, I woke to sunlight streaming onto my face from the large window of an unfamiliar room. I was so warm and cozy wrapped up in all of these blankets, but I rolled myself free of them and dragged my ass out of bed. I pulled on a white fleece robe and some fuzzy slippers before making my way down the stairs to the kitchen.

"Mmmmm," I said as I inhaled the scent of the room. Eggs, bacon, gravy, and biscuits were positioned like a Better Homes and Gardens spread on the table and my mouth was watering.

"I was going to bring you breakfast in bed," Seth said as he popped a couple of biscuits on a plate.

"We can still do that if you want." I wandered over to the huge kitchen window and put my knees on the seat in front of it. We were high in the Cascade Mountains and the landscape outside was so intensely beautiful, like a snowy scene from a Thomas Kincade.

"You look pretty comfortable over here," he said as he set a loaded plate in front of me and slipped a fork into my hand.

"You're the best," I smiled. "Thank you for breakfast."

"Figured I owed you for giving up your phone for a few days."

"I don't mind not having my phone... I prefer a few quiet days with you." Though honestly, with no one else in this house with us, things hadn't been quiet except for the five or so hours I'd spent sleeping.

"Is this becoming a thing with us? We can only have sex in rooms that aren't ours?" he joked.

I rolled my eyes. "Once Josh and Ana go back to living at their house..." It's fucking on. Having sex in a house with other people in it is a challenge; having sex in a house with a werewolf - and not wanting them to hear everything - is impossible.

"I know," he smiled. Then his eyes abruptly darkened and his gaze dropped quickly to his plate.

"What's going on with you?" I finally asked. Seth was being Seth, but he kept having these little moments where I could see something negative hit him.

"Nothing, baby." He took a few more bites but he was visibly shaken.

I tried not to be a pushy person, I really did. But it drove me INSANE to feel like I was out of the loop, especially when it came to Seth. "Please talk to me."

"Are you finished?" He pointed towards my plate. His forehead was scrunched in too serious a manner and it was freaking hot. I nodded and he took both plates to the sink. He started to busy himself with cleaning up when I began to pout.

"Babe..."

"You're not the only one allowed to have secrets," he snapped.

It really caught me off guard. I'd traded words with people that were a million times worse, but coming out of Seth's mouth, it sounded so harsh and mean.

I walked over to the sink full of dirty dishes and placed each of them into the dishwasher silently. I started up the load and went back upstairs in search of my most recent poetry slash lyrics notebook. "Soaking in the sun with you is so divine. Anger would be such a waste of time. Pour your secrets into me when you need an ear. We can lie in pitch black where there's nothing to fear." I drew little swirls and loop-de-loops around the four lines I'd written.

"I'm sorry," I heard his soft voice from behind.

"I am, too." He came over and sat down in front of me. "When I don't tell you something, it's because it's embarrassing, or I know it will hurt you. But I don't want to be that person that hides things."

"I don't either," he said, placing his hand on my knee.

"So..." I figured I'd take the initiative on this one and come clean first, but I was dreading it. "When I was in West Virginia - "

"Wait. Is this about you and that guy?"

"Kobe?" I asked, confused. "No, you mean Chino."

"Who the hell is Kobe?!"

"He's my friend. Just... no, it has nothing to do with any guy. It was just me." It was hard for me to pick at the details that led to my death. "So like, early in the day, I was given this myriad of substances to keep. And I did a little ecstasy around five o'clock. Rolled and had a good time for a few hours before I had to perform. I went back to Mom's for a little bit but I couldn't sleep, so I walked down to the Main Street Tavern with what I thought was some coke. I did a line of it and realized... I'd made a little mistake with identifying my shit."

He looked totally clueless as to where I could be headed with this.

"It started to hit me really weird and I went outside. Puked all over the place, and then I faded out."

"You passed out in the street?"

I sighed and braced for impact. "I didn't pass out. Well, I mean, I did at first. But then my heart stopped. They had to revive me in the ambulance. I was dead for a few minutes."

He just stared at me, anger and concern flashing intensely behind his eyes. "I don't even know what to say, Liz."

"Probably something like, Liz you're a fucking idiot?"

"Something like that," he grumbled. "Except I know you're not an idiot. You just act like one sometimes."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Do you feel okay?" He picked me up as gingerly as he could and placed me into his lap.

"I feel great," I promised. "Like nothing even happened." That part wasn't completely true. I felt better than I had in a long time, and I was like ninety nine percent sure I had stuck my hand into fire without burning it, but that was too weird to say out loud. Not a secret, just a possible hallucination.

He sighed and laid me down on the bed as he got up. He pulled the curtains closed until there was barely any light left in the room and he laid down next to me. "I killed someone."