fabric stretching over his taut frame. Athena knew the only thing he worked harder at than promoting his club was promoting his body. Unlike most in the entertainment field, Kensbrook accomplished it solely through weightlifting, protein bars and the best personal trainers money could buy. Bastard didn't even drink.
Shawn pecked Athena on the cheek and ushered her through the crowd to the DJ booth in the back. She shook hands with a guy Shawn introduced as DJ Stix, a lightskinned black man wearing sunglasses rimmed with diamonds. No doubt they were real. Kensbrook would want his employees to dazzle in every way, no matter the price.
Athena's manager, a twitchy man named Eddie, would be standing by in case she got the crazy urge to sing without proper electronic vocal support. Athena had an army of producers who made sure she sounded perfect in the studio.
Live, anything could happen.
After the current song ended, Stix turned down the music and Kensbrook picked up the house microphone.
'Ladies and gentlemen, kittens, cats and lions of all ages,' he said. 'It is my pleasure to introduce you to the Queen of all Media, her royal highness herself, the woman whose debut album drops this Tuesday, give it up, show your love, for the beautiful Athena Paradis!'
The crowd roared as Athena waved, blowing imaginary kisses, flaunting her body and striking glamorous pose after pose. She was a god among mortals. She knew it, they knew it, and they all loved it.
Suddenly a deep, throbbing bass began to reverberate through the club. Squeals of joy leapt from the lips of heavybreathing men and women. Then, after a dozen bass thumps, the synthesizer kicked in, and the club came alive.
The sweaty bodies congealed into a solid mass as the expertly arranged rhythm sent ripples through them, electricity making every person sway, every person bounce, every one of them belonging to her.
Sweat coated Athena's upper lip. She licked it, shuddered at the sensation, and knew the night would be a memorable one. The blue Missoni dress clung to her body, the fabric matted on her curves like tissue paper. The dress had been airmailed by Ottavio Missoni himself, specifically for Athena to wear tonight.
She could feel DJ Stix's eyes drinking her in. He didn't even pretend to look away. Even Shawn Kensbrook couldn't help but steal an eyeful as she danced and spun to the beat.
Athena looked at them with a seductive grin, then raised the volume a few notches, the bass thumping harder.
The music consumed the night. And then Athena jumped on top of the turntables.
The crowd stopped dancing, stared at her, cheered her on.
She ran her hands over her body, made every one of them feel like they could be her lover.
Athena owned them. Every single one.
Somebody handed Athena a clear glass. She drank it in two gulps. Vodka tonic. With a hint of lime. She could feel the ecstasy tab kicking in. The whole world became a velvet dream, soft, wet and inviting. She kissed the air, watched as her lips sent waves of passion through hundreds.
When the song ended, Stix took Athena's hand and escorted her back to her nine hundred pounds of bodyguard.
The lips pleaded with her to stay, reaching and pawing as she was led through the crowd.
Shawn Kensbrook ducked through the prying arms.
Athena's lead guard recognized him, parted the way. Shawn was dripping with sweat. She envied that he could experience such ecstasy while sober. He threw his arms around her. Whispered into her ear.
'Athena, hon, that was off the charts. '
'No,' she said. 'Come Tuesday, that's number one on the charts.' Shawn smiled, nodded.
'Look at this, I mean, will you look at it? All these people here for you…what's that feel like?'
She smiled at him, flicked her tongue into his ear. She felt him shiver. Felt him grow hard in an instant.
'You'll never know.'
Shawn watched as the bodyguards whisked her away. The bouncers parted the curtains, flung open the doors. Her limo waited just beyond the red carpet. It would take her to Nikos's
SoHo loft, where he'd have champagne, strawberries and other goodies waiting. They'd do it all night before passing out naked on his satin sheets. Tomorrow she would see her photo in newspapers across the city.
Athena stepped onto the red carpet and waved to her fans.
Her new fans. Her old fans. Fans who would give anything for her. She took one step onto the carpet. Smiled. And then a crack of thunder filled the air, and a bullet smashed through her skull.
And just like that, her blood staining the carpet an even darker red, the Goddess Athena died.
2
I woke up thinking that Amanda must have hijacked my cell phone. That's the only way my ring tone could have been changed from the standard and satisfying triple beep to an electronic version of that awful new Athena Paradis song, 'I
Want UR Love.'
And the only thing worse than hearing that song come from a tinny cell phone speaker was being woken by it at three in the morning.
Amanda grumbled. Her arm was thrown over my chest, but her sleep hadn't been interrupted. Figures I'd be the only one disturbed by her diabolical creation.
I reached across to the nightstand where I kept the phone, careful not to dislocate my shoulder since my other arm was pinned under Amanda. There are worse things in the world than having your arm stuck underneath a beautiful woman who loves you.
I covered the speaker with my thumb and checked the incoming number. Christ, not again; this was becoming a routine. It was Mya, my ex-girlfriend. Two-thirty in the morning. The third time this week Mya had called in the wee hours. I was having a hard time putting an end to it. I knew since last year Mya had been on a slippery slope. Calling from a bar, no doubt. I could practically smell the Stoli through the mouthpiece.
Mya and I dated for several years in college, a time I could hardly remember. When we met, I was smitten. She was tall, beautiful, with confidence like no girl I'd ever met. And for some reason she'd picked me. I don't know if I ever loved her, or simply loved being with her. Loved being with a girl I knew would be somebody.
We'd broken up a year ago. Right before my life had changed forever. Our relationship was probably doomed whether or not I'd been accused of murder, but after I nearly died and became a minor New York celebrity, she'd had a change of heart. Suddenly she wanted to give our buried love life another go.
She didn't love Henry Parker anymore. At least not the
Henry she'd met years ago. Not the Henry Parker she used to kiss behind the stacks in the Cornell library. She loved the
Henry Parker that had been invented by the newspapers and magazines. The indestructible one who'd survived a three-day manhunt, only to live and regain his job at the city's most prestigious newspaper. Not the Henry Parker who could barely run without feeling the pain in his side from where the bone shards punctured his lung. Or the Henry whose heart beat fast every time he heard a police siren or a car backfire.
That was the Henry that only Amanda knew. And I was happy she knew it. It felt real. Like it could last forever.
Mya loved the other Henry Parker. But that wasn't me.
That Henry was a creation, a monster created by ink. I wanted nothing to do with him.
At the same time, the year Amanda and I had been together had seen incredible changes. When I'd first met Amanda- 22
Jason Pinter when I'd lied to her to save my skin-she'd been as lost as I was. Her entire life existed in a trunk full of notebooks she'd kept since she was a little girl. Notebooks she used to catalog every single person she met, writing down superficial details, mirroring the abandonment in her real life.
When she picked me up in her car, thinking I was a student named Carl Bernstein, Amanda wrote down her
