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Blacklist
Alyson Noel
Everyone needs a lucky breakLayla Harrison, Aster Amirpour and Tommy Phillips always dreamed of the ultimate celebrity lifestyle.But Layla, Aster and Tommy never imagined it would come with a cost – their involvement in the disappearance of Madison Brooks-a story that's blinded the world like a starlet dazzled by paparazzi flashbulbs,Now, Layla is receiving mysterious messages from an anonymous source, Aster faces a looming murder trial and Tommy is retracing his steps as the last person who Madison saw alive.You can dig up dirt about celebrities that the tabloids miss if you search long enough. But when Layla, Aster, Tommy team up with an unsuspecting insider to unearth the truth, they will find that some secrets are best kept in the grave.
For Charlie and Rachel, my A-list friends
No man is rich enough to buy back his past.
—OSCAR WILDE
Breaking News: Discovery of Blood-Soaked Dress Leads to Arrest of Night for Night Party Promoter!
By Trena Moretti
Just in—Mere hours after teen heartthrob Ryan Hawthorne was called in for questioning regarding the disappearance of his former girlfriend, Hollywood A-lister Madison Brooks, Los Angeles police received an anonymous tip leading to a blood-soaked dress thought to belong to Night for Night party promoter Aster Amirpour.
While the official statement released by the LAPD states that tests are under way to determine the source of the blood, an LAPD insider assures us they’ve received confirmation that the blood on the dress is a match for the missing celebrity.
According to our sources, the dress was turned over to police when a W Hotel employee became suspicious.
“I was only doing my job, which requires me to double-check the number and type of clothes found in the guest’s laundry bag with the number and type of clothes the guest logged onto the form,” said the employee, who wishes to remain anonymous. “This is the same standard procedure we always follow before we send the laundry out to our vendor. You would not believe how many people don’t know the difference between a chemise and a dress. Anyway, in the middle of checking I noticed that a black dress had been improperly marked as a blouse. When I looked closer, I saw that the dress was covered in large dark stains that struck me as suspicious. It was then that I alerted my boss and they took it from there. If it really is the blood of Madison Brooks, then all we can do is pray for that poor young girl, because it really was an awful lot of blood. The dress was completely covered in it.”
At the time of writing, Aster Amirpour was being booked into LA County Jail. We’ll have more as this story develops.
CONTENTS
Cover (#uef5bb059-867b-5378-ac91-088e4f098b36)
Title Page (#ub9d3a1a5-a35f-5134-b354-36cdba6472af)
ONE: GIRL AFRAID (#ulink_cdea0c6d-81b7-5ca4-a7b4-6edda9b5506f)
TWO: HEART-SHAPED BOX (#ulink_7f0f1ad6-2804-5ff6-91da-7c12a9df9a39)
THREE: THIS SUMMER’S GONNA HURT LIKE A MOTHERF * * * * R (#ulink_56e011fd-a872-5248-bb2b-bf7cb97d0550)
FOUR: WHY’D YOU COME IN HERE LOOKIN’ LIKE THAT (#ulink_ba3013eb-6696-5127-950e-eaee3f71ee7b)
FIVE: I WOULD DIE 4 U (#ulink_fbe2233b-08d9-5ca8-bac0-996df6a209fe)
SIX: HOTLINE BLING (#ulink_7b9cb9f3-ee1c-5eaf-b361-708fd6a016ac)
SEVEN: THE BITCH IS BACK (#ulink_5a6b75b4-abb7-5e5d-bc8c-459fed6fb23e)
EIGHT: SHE SELLS SANCTUARY (#ulink_aeee9563-5b32-5d4a-b150-b5a9c52aed16)
NINE: ROCK AND ROLL, HOOCHIE KOO (#ulink_057588ce-418f-53d3-840a-c8ca62b6e5f0)
TEN: BEEN CAUGHT STEALING (#ulink_791bf72c-8d53-5af5-9352-1b0b840ac7c0)
ELEVEN: RUDE BOY (#ulink_fab12122-f556-54bf-90be-049c765c9805)
TWELVE: LOVE DROUGHT (#ulink_c78f3147-c400-52f8-8d76-e48a9b22f8e3)
THIRTEEN: CAN’T FEEL MY FACE (#ulink_a928fc91-1399-5c8b-8455-b2114627cde7)
FOURTEEN: WHISPER TO A SCREAM (#ulink_c732886a-0571-57d3-af49-c2a0fb7ef1b3)
FIFTEEN: ALL APOLOGIES (#ulink_dd97687d-1b67-5402-8aca-3a2229ed368a)
SIXTEEN: MUSIC TO WATCH BOYS TO (#ulink_1acd0c01-d896-5bdd-a9ad-6b0c74f4b2ed)
SEVENTEEN: ’TIS A PITY SHE WAS A WHORE (#ulink_0817ece6-651b-59a9-9920-317a4d6b1043)
EIGHTEEN: PAINT IT BLACK (#ulink_9e08b944-367c-5bb0-adbd-f3967247b633)
NINETEEN: BUILDING A MYSTERY (#ulink_1d706504-28cc-5ec4-984c-eee24f4543b8)
TWENTY: I KNOW WHAT YOU DID LAST SUMMER (#ulink_95b11b1d-02b8-5eba-ad28-50ca3f5865e6)
TWENTY-ONE: GUILTY FILTHY SOUL (#ulink_33e195ef-e41c-50ff-8b76-a2d37e69e9fc)
TWENTY-TWO: EX’S & OH’S (#ulink_7e04b300-7542-57c6-9864-16a36361bf3f)
TWENTY-THREE: USED TO LOVE YOU SOBER (#ulink_27f8b752-237c-5f7c-b7aa-605c7985279f)
TWENTY-FOUR: DRINK YOU AWAY (#ulink_adb1f1d7-d744-5dd4-9a62-b896e4918ab4)
TWENTY-FIVE: THE KILLING MOON (#ulink_1d60de9d-ef3d-5b39-8fe1-3b72d4224de5)
TWENTY-SIX: DEAR FUTURE HUSBAND (#ulink_1ea08f75-dbbe-522e-a594-4bd428de3015)
TWENTY-SEVEN: DIRTY DEEDS DONE DIRT CHEAP (#ulink_a1ef816e-17e1-5bc8-bee2-72ba63e696c9)
TWENTY-EIGHT: YOU SHOOK ME ALL NIGHT LONG (#ulink_81c00882-e109-57f0-985e-9e96702948bb)
TWENTY-NINE: OUR LIPS ARE SEALED (#ulink_76ab1802-0ac6-5081-8d68-936d56e20efa)
THIRTY: BURNING DOWN THE HOUSE (#ulink_2c99233f-e821-5d80-89d5-85de1b233438)
THIRTY-ONE: WALKASHAME (#ulink_be9c484e-918c-574e-b6af-ae788354e603)
THIRTY-TWO: VICTIM OF LOVE (#ulink_6f8f1ac8-edbd-5571-b556-36dce1d12491)
THIRTY-THREE: ENTER SANDMAN (#ulink_5012f9b5-93b2-5405-92e8-318e1cbb5aa6)
THIRTY-FOUR: CALLING ALL ANGELS (#ulink_a092f60b-65af-51f8-913f-989fc1ddcb9c)
THIRTY-FIVE: WATCHING THE DETECTIVES (#ulink_2096f77b-c598-5648-a902-52f813ad1516)
THIRTY-SIX: EVIL WAYS (#ulink_3e94c0e4-cd1b-5f3e-9766-2c71161ed390)
THIRTY-SEVEN: INTERSTATE LOVE SONG (#ulink_7f729eef-745d-5448-b77c-470732cd3f30)
THIRTY-EIGHT: ALL THE YOUNG DUDES (#ulink_3b2c2cd5-73be-5a91-9cbc-fb9216eca759)
THIRTY-NINE: JANIE’S GOT A GUN (#ulink_19eab2a4-0aae-53da-b6d7-faf4edddf7db)
FORTY: HIGHWAY TO HELL (#ulink_70d31131-2337-5b49-bf12-213f5684ebd3)
FORTY-ONE: HOTEL CALIFORNIA (#ulink_321f3304-250a-5fa4-b179-affb17dc5b4e)
FORTY-TWO: WELCOME TO THE JUNGLE (#ulink_07e4eb8f-5749-5d24-84b8-e4d5781c3bb1)
FORTY-THREE: FIGHT SONG (#ulink_5221418e-f164-5413-ad07-7941b07253ae)
FORTY-FOUR: GANGSTA’S PARADISE (#ulink_4d068e84-ff89-5284-adbc-1e9ee0004934)
FORTY-FIVE: DON’T FEAR THE REAPER (#ulink_15a39b6d-294e-513d-9cf8-0a980553f649)
FORTY-SIX: SUGAR, WE’RE GOIN’ DOWN (#ulink_3b9861ed-8074-5240-a17b-6ed6a30efb86)
FORTY-SEVEN: DIRTY LAUNDRY (#ulink_ced18c7d-4984-59d2-93ce-c242e13ed85a)
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS (#ulink_b774f1b5-5feb-54f4-89f1-ee0db4476a40)
Copyright (#ulink_9a2b455c-df1b-565f-a264-e39dd5228b69)
ONE (#ulink_160a49bf-8f0a-5e68-bb0d-90fd45c2bb84)
GIRL AFRAID (#ulink_160a49bf-8f0a-5e68-bb0d-90fd45c2bb84)
Madison Brooks grudgingly surrendered the fading remnants of her dream and blinked into the blackness before her. The room was soundless, still. The air hung weighty and stale. Despite the promise of sleep, her waking life remained a living hell.
While she had plenty of fears—fear of forgetting her lines during a live performance, fear of her secret past being revealed—a fear of the dark had never been among them. Even as a child she understood that the mythical monster dwelling under the bed could only pale in comparison to the all-too-real parental monsters getting high in the den.
And it was no different now.
She pushed away from the soiled mattress she’d slept on and crept toward the solid steel door, alerted to any hint of scent, sound—anything that might provide a clue as to who had taken her, where they had taken her, and why. Over thirty days spent in captivity, and Madison was no closer to answers than the night she’d been snatched. She’d gone over the incident countless times—the memory playing on a continuous loop as she searched frame by frame, hunting for revelations, some small but crucial detail she might’ve missed. Yet every viewing remained stubbornly the same.
She’d broken up with Ryan only to be rescued by Tommy, and after sharing a few beers (along with a few memorable kisses), she’d received a text from Paul instructing her to meet him at Night for Night, and she’d fled without question. Though she should’ve known the moment she arrived at the closed and empty club that something had gone terribly wrong. Paul was professional. Punctual. If he’d truly intended to meet her, he would’ve been there already. She’d walked straight into a trap, but that was all hindsight now. Yet another item to add to the long list of things she’d chosen to ignore until she found herself with nothing but time to second-guess and berate herself.
How could she have been so trusting? So naive?
Why had she continued to wait on the terrace, reminiscing about a past she was desperate to keep buried while ignoring her gut instinct that urged her to flee?
Last thing she remembered was a curl of wind at her back, the wisp of a scent she still couldn’t place; then a hand was clasped firmly over her mouth and time folded in on itself.
And now, several weeks later, she remained locked in a windowless cell that offered little more than a sink, a toilet, a bare mattress tossed on the floor, and a succession of bland, lumpy meals served three times a day.
Not a single sign of her captor.
Not a clue as to why she’d been taken.
Her diamond-encrusted Piaget watch, the hoop earrings Ryan had given her, the Gucci stilettos she’d worn, and the cashmere wrap she now used as a blanket served as the only reminders of her former Hollywood It Girl status.
If it was money they were after, they would’ve stripped her of the luxuries long ago. Allowing her to keep them seemed almost cruel. Like they wanted her to remember who she’d once been, if only to show her how quickly they could strip it away.
She sprawled on the cold cement floor with her legs splayed before her, wondering, as she always did, what was happening outside the cinder-block walls. Surely the whole world knew of her disappearance. There was probably even a task force specifically assigned to her case. So why was it taking them so long to find her? And more importantly, why hadn’t Paul directed them to her when he was the one who’d insisted on embedding the microchip tracker into her arm, just under the burn scar, in anticipation of this very thing?
Right on schedule, the lights switched on—sending the fluorescent bulbs flickering, humming, and washing the room in a garish green glow. A moment later, when the slot snapped open, Madison crouched right beside it, stretched her mouth wide, and screamed from the very depths of her belly.
But just like every other day, the tray of lumpy food shot past, the slot slammed shut, and Madison’s cries for help languished hollow and unheard.
She kicked the food aside and glanced around the small room, searching for something she might’ve missed, something she could use to defend herself with. Paul had taught her how to see past the mundane. Nearly everything has a dual purpose, he’d told her. Even the most ordinary item can be used as a defense. But even if she could fashion her stiletto heel into a weapon, there was no opponent—no one to fight. She was trapped all alone in her cinder-block cell.
With a frustrated sigh, she turned her attention to the pictures of her eight-year-old self spread across the ceiling and walls. The repeating image was occasionally spliced by a random strip of mirror meant to reflect the sorry state she currently found herself in. In the photo, her hair was tangled, her feet dirty and bare, an old doll dangled from the tips of her fingers as she regarded the camera with a deep violet stare.
It was the same picture someone had sent Paul as an unspoken threat.
The one he’d assured her had burned long ago with everything else from her past.
In the ten years since the photo was taken she’d traveled such a great distance, rose to great heights, only to come full circle and find herself as powerless, desperate, and filthy as she’d been as a child.
Everything Paul had told her was a lie. Her past had never been erased. It had been there all along, patiently waiting for just the right moment to remind her of the sins she’d committed on her rise to the top.
Someone had connected the dots between the hopeless child she’d been to the triumphant star she’d become.
Someone had uncovered the darker truth of her journey—the lies she’d told, the people she’d betrayed—and now they were making her pay.
While she refused to believe Paul was behind it—he’d been protecting her for too long to turn on her now—she couldn’t rule out the idea that maybe someone had gotten to him. Either way, it was clear she could no longer count on him to find her.
Absently, she ran a finger over the web of fresh scars that covered her knuckles and hands—a reminder of an earlier bid to escape that had resulted in a broken pinkie, a badly strained wrist, and the loss of three nails. She’d acted impulsively, allowed herself to be driven by fear. It was a mistake she would not make again. Her next attempt had to succeed. Failure was no longer an option.
She remained like that, staring at the wall and formulating a plan, the images of her past and present selves merging into one, until the last meal was delivered and the cell went dark once again.
TWO (#ulink_9414590e-8b2a-511a-a02b-5a5ad036ae94)
HEART-SHAPED BOX (#ulink_9414590e-8b2a-511a-a02b-5a5ad036ae94)
BEAUTIFUL IDOLS
Innocent Until Proven Guilty, Yo!
By Layla Harrison
Warning: If you landed on this blog looking to revel in the usual sarcastic celebrity snark fest, then you might want to get out while you can and save your clicks and comments for Perez Hilton, Popsugar, or wherever you go to fuel up on your daily dose of Hollywood gossip when you’re done reading me.
Don’t even try to pretend we’re monogamous.
