One Last Verse
The Encore Book Two
N.N. BRITT
Copyright © 2020 by N. N. Britt
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction. The publication/use of these trademarks is not associated with or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Cover Design by N.N. Britt
Edited by Shannan Saunders
Copyedited by R.C. Craig
Due to strong language and other adult content, this book is intended for mature audience only.
Created with Vellum
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
Epilogue
About the Author
Also by N. N. Britt
Chapter One
Malibu was famous for its glimmering, breathtaking sunsets. Never for its sunrises. Especially not the kind that came with bloodshot eyes and three cups of espresso.
I sat on the terrace and stared at the sun bleeding into the dark spread of the Pacific below. My head was a pounding vortex of endless questions and scenarios. My phone lay on my lap. Screen down. Sound off. I knew sooner or later, I’d have to look at it, but I was putting that moment off as much as my sanity would allow.
The world was raging after last night’s show. Hall Affinity’s first reunion concert marked the shortest set in the history of sets. And the unhappy fans and internet trolls were having a field day on social media.
Brooklyn was on the phone in the living room. The terrace door was cracked open and I could hear her throaty voice bouncing off the walls of the house like an unruly soccer ball. I caught bits and pieces of her conversation. Mostly agitated words that sounded serious but made little sense to me.
I had no doubt that being Frank’s assistant right now wasn’t the most wanted job.
The first rays of light licked the trembling water and danced along the curve of the tide. It was a beautiful sight—the one I loved the most. It reminded me of that first time Frank brought me to this house. The first time we were intimate and the first time we had breakfast together. That was the morning we jumped into a relationship that I could no longer separate from myself. Just like I could no longer separate myself from the man whose name half the planet was trashing online right now.
And it terrified me—the sudden bone-chilling dependency on another person.
After Frank fainted in the shower last night, the nurse set up an IV in his bedroom. The medication put him to sleep almost immediately while I tossed and turned next to him in the bed. My mind refused to shut up. I kept replaying the events of the entire evening in my head, trying to understand what had caused him to faint.
At first, I questioned if it had been his fear of not meeting the fans’ expectations. But the nurse explained, His blood pressure dropped again, and that opened up additional questions.
As I lay there beside him, my gaze drifted to the IV drip and I wondered if Frank felt the tube. Or if he felt anything at all. I wondered what was going to happen when he woke up. There were two more shows to play and he was dead set on going through with them.
I watched him breathe for what seemed like the entire night, until my eyes couldn’t remain open anymore. Then, at some point, exhaustion knocked me out and I fell into a strange state of temporary lethargy.
It was anxiety that roused me a few hours later.
“TMZ got a hold of it?” Brooklyn’s voice moved toward the door, snapping me out of my thoughts. A pause. “Okay. Good.” Another pause. “No. We’ll wait for Corey. I’m not authorized to make that decision.” Her heels clacked against the floor as she walked away. Did this woman ever sleep or wear sandals? People surrounding Frank seemed to favor official, well-put-together attire. Even Hannah. Since she was in charge of managing the household, she was a bit more relaxed when it came to clothes, but she loved looking photoshoot-ready. Makeup and hair always on point.
I pulled my legs up on the couch and rested my chin on my knees, fighting the urge to check my phone. The air was still crisp and dewy, but the morning fog had already vanished and the day promised to be hot. Figuratively and literally.
My heart raced from coffee overload when I finally mustered the guts to open my Facebook app. The feed was full of Hall Affinity videos and links to articles that were cheap, sloppy attempts to get more clicks. I knew this trick. Levi had taught me all of them. In today’s world of digital reign, traffic was everything. Traffic meant money and fame. The quality of the content was secondary.
Another set of footsteps, light and unsure, neared the door. It was Janet. She had a plate of freshly baked madeleines and a large mug of coffee.
“Good morning,” I said, straightening up on the couch.
“Good morning, child.”
“Did you get any sleep at all?” Janet put the food on the table and when she sat next to me, her flowery scent reached my nose.
“Yes, I did.”
“You should get some more.”
“In a bit.” I inhaled deeply and dropped my legs to the floor.
We sat in silence for a few minutes. Janet sipped her coffee. I checked my Twitter.
“Last summer, when he confessed he wanted to tour again, I told him he wasn’t fit for this
