Free Domination by Lyra Byrnes

nonononono.
     
    Hey Spanky, nice report from the field. Ever wanted to go
viral? Send me the lyrics for the new album, all notes, etc., in Hunter’s own
writing or you’ll get your wish. And next time include pics. Just kidding.

Chapter Twelve
     
    Claiming cramps and a sudden migraine, Josie fled back to
the hotel. She hated to end the evening with him, especially when she had been
on the verge of admitting her feelings. More than feelings—a complete change of
worldview. Her career, her ambitions, all of it shrank to pinpoint importance
when she was with him. She didn’t want it anymore. She wanted only him.
    But would he listen? And would it matter anyway if she
protected herself by betraying him?
    Fuck it, she thought. Fuck this whole shark-tank of a
business. She had a party to get to.
    Industry parties were the worst—she wouldn’t know anyone or
be able to get any decent quotes. At least she had brought the right clothes.
Most junkets involved one of these tedious affairs, so her go-to little black
dress got a heavy workout. It was flattering, safe and anonymous everywhere
from L.A. to New York. After a shower and a time-consuming struggle with her
hair she pulled on the dress and regarded herself in the mirror. Her eyes weren’t
getting any bigger but the brown-rose lipstick suited her wide mouth and the
heels looked sexy—not too pinchy as long as she didn’t walk much. That was
hardly an issue. As usual she would haunt the food table, nibbling carrot
sticks and wishing herself elsewhere.
    The venue wasn’t too far, so she left early and clicked her
way over by herself, hoping to catch some industry suit before he started
having too much fun to talk to a reporter. She looked up at the squat Creole
cottage and back down at her invitation. This was the right address. What a
weird city.
    She crept up the stairs and turned at the landing. It
creaked and a light popped on, illuminating a fat man smiling hideously. Josie
let out a bleat of shock. He wore a black suit and held a tea tray in welcome,
his grin yellow-toothed above folds of jowls. Wax, of course, since she was in
a wax museum, but it was still unsettling. Nothing creeped her out like these places
full of inanimate figures frozen in dramatic postures, their artificial skins
shiny. Except maybe clowns. She edged past the butler and continued to climb,
hoping New Orleans didn’t have any famous clowns in its history.
    The upstairs help was mercifully free of wax figurines, not
counting the industry scavengers who had arrived as early as she had to tuck
into the free booze and food. None of them spared her more than a glance. After
taking in her tight dress and high heels they seemed to realize she was nobody
important and turned away. She helped herself to some strawberries and a glass
of wine.
    How had Warren gotten hold of Adventures in Submission ?
It couldn’t have been Melanie. She wasn’t terribly bright but she had a good
heart and would never do anything to compromise her friend. Perhaps Warren had
hacked into her account and dug it up but that made no sense. He wouldn’t
bother taking a shot in the dark in the hopes his star reporter had secrets
chained in the dungeon of cyberspace. After all, he wanted to profit from her
work, particularly since her tour blog was bringing in viewers and revenue.
Destroying her career would only backfire on Rock Star and, by
extension, him.
    Someone had found it though. Someone with the means of
rummaging around in her room, her laptop and her darkest desires. She had an
inkling of who that might be. And now she was faced with an impossible
choice—firebomb her life or betray Bram to secure it?
    Put it out of your mind. It’s a party. Fun, fun, fun.
    But it wasn’t much fun, despite the energetic brass-band
music and the fabulous food. A half hour anxiously picking at shrimp and
pretending she felt comfortable seemed more like a year.
    More and more suits drifted in. Who knew there were this
many