She banged on the door again.

“Mr. Stephens!”

Well, she had to know that he was home. There wasn’t anywhere else he was supposed to be.

He got up and opened the door.

“Morning, officer.”

Wanda, the policewoman in questioned, gave him a stern look. “Good afternoon, Mr. Stephens. How are you doing today?”

“Uh…good.” He scratched the back of his head. He gestured for her to come in.

She walked through the door, took off her heat, and made a show of looking around. Jamie hadn’t had someone in his house that wasn’t Marshall for the last two years. The last time he’d seen Wanda was when she put this house arrest anklet on him. He was a little surprised he still remembered her name.

They’d talked on the phone last month to set up a time and date for her to remove the anklet, but still, he never remembered names often.

“We can do it over here,” Jamie said as he walked into the living room. It had high ceilings and large glass windows that overlooked the small pond in the yard. This was good land. Not too far away from the city, but far enough that he could have his space.

But the beauty of the house was countered with the mess of Jamie’s living. A chip bag was nestled into the leather couch—it wasn’t comfortable in the least and he wasn’t sure why Marshall had bought it in the first place—and the real wood coffee table was stained with rings. Jamie had never used a coaster in his life.

Wanda raised an eye to the mess.

Jamie fell back lazily onto the couch, threw up his leg, and lounged back. The sooner he got this thing off the quicker he could pop down to the store and get another pack of Lucky Strikes.

Wanda blinked a couples times, but this gathered herself once more and got to work.

Jamie liked Wanda because she wasn’t the type of cop that wanted to talk all day. She also couldn’t give a fuck who the hell he used to be in his old life. Celebrity or not, she treated him like any old Joe on the street.

It shouldn’t have been refreshing to be dwindled down to a nobody again, but after years of being chased down the street by young fans, it was easier to live like this.

Silent house. Silent street. Only ringing up someone so they could buy him a carton of milk and a bottle of whiskey. This wasn’t exactly the life he’d been searching for when he was young, but it was the one he had to deal with.

The moment the anklet fell from his ankle and onto the coffee table was like breathing again. The sore skin was reddened as hell, but it was there. For the last couple of months, he thought he was going insane because he swore his ankle was going numb. The exposure to the air felt strange at first. He had to twist his foot a couple of times before it started to feel normal again.

And then it hit him. He was a free man again. He didn’t have to stay in this god awful house anymore and he didn’t have to ask Marshall for shit anymore.

He cracked a grin that felt a little too evil.

The first thing he was going to do was go get wasted. Maybe shove it in Marshall’s face when he visited next month. That’ll show the little fucker what he felt about being treated like a kid.

Wanda caught the grin. “I don’t even want to know.”

Jamie jumped from the couch as she left for the door.

He was a little too forceful when slamming the front door shut, but it wasn’t anything personal. He didn’t like having anyone inside for longer than what was needed. It was easier that way.

The smile vanished from his face.

“Are you going to answer?” Heath asked. He leaned over the railing of the stairs.

“They hold my money, dip-shit. What do you think?” He pushed Heath aside as he went up to the second floor.

He could hear Heath following him.

“Oh, yes. Have to be good for the execs or they might dump you on your ass.” Heath mumbled something under his breath. “I thought you were going to be better than you’re old kissing ass self.”

Jamie gritted his teeth. He slammed the bedroom door in Heath’s face.

“Fucker!” Heath banged on the door.

Jamie locked it and then slunk away to crawl into his bed. There was a leftover glass of brandy by his bedside and he downed it. With a groan, he left the empty cup there and then pressed his pillow into his face. The darkness was enough to settle his nerves, his wired brain, or the questions that kept popping up.

He wished he could have absolute silence. The house was still too noisy. The hum could barely be heard, but it was still too much.

Sleep should have been the answer.

Even there, his dreams turned to nightmares and he was once again, chasing for peace.

But he didn’t get that luxury. Somehow, Heath had found his way into the room again. He stood over Jamie, breathing through his two front teeth, and making an annoying whistling sound. Jamie growled out in frustration and pushed the pillow further into his face until he had trouble breathing. He couldn’t see, but he could feel Heath looming over him like some creep.

“Go. Away,” Jamie mumbled into the pillow. At least it smelled nice. His sheets usually smelled as bad as the trash.

“They’re not going to want to see your drunk ass. You shouldn’t even take the call. They’re going to belittle you.”

“And how do you know that?”

“Com’ on. We both know that they only call when you’ve done something wrong. They like trash-talking you, talking down at you and shit. What do you think they say behind your back?”

“Heath, cut it out.” Jamie rolled over.

His phone shrilled.

“God fucking dammit!”

Heath laughed while Jamie rustled with the large comforter.

I need to get my fucking shit together, he thought as he answered his phone.

“What the fuck you want?” He almost screamed into the receiver. It wasn’t a good look, but he wasn’t too pleased to be interrupted again.

“Jamie. Good to hear you’re doing well as usual.”

Jamie rolled his eyes. “Thought you were out in New Mexico doing some movie shit.”

“Change of plans, bud. I’ve got work to finish up here.”

“It’s always a change of plans. Execs can’t ever make up their mind.”

“Cool it. I’m calling on behalf of them.”

Jamie sat up straighter. “What’s up, Eddie?”

Grant had warned him, but he didn’t know he’d be getting a call from Eddie with a message from the shits up top.

There was a sigh. “Adam’s called in a meeting. A mandatory meeting.”

Jamie’s heart dropped. “I’m not going, Ed.”

“You don’t have a choice. If you don’t show, they’re cutting you off. Everyone has to be there.”

He swallowed down the lump in his throat.

Everyone. That wasn’t good.

“Is there any way you can—“

“I can’t.” Eddie paused. “Tell you what, if you go, I’ll see what I can do about releasing some of your money.”

Jamie snorted. “Good luck with that.”

“It’s something, all right. I’ve got my hands tied behind my back.”

Jamie bit back his next words. He closed his eyes.

“Fine.”

“Marshall will pick you up.”

Of course. Lapdog Marshall doing everything he can to please management.

“Yeah,” he said. He was done with this conversation. There wasn’t much else that needed to be said.

He hung up. The phone screen was blurry to him. He merely stared down at it.

Heath moved to the bed. He grinned up at Jamie as he knelt down beside him. There were unspoken words between them. Jamie knew what was on Heath’s mind even though he didn’t say it. There were many things that they understood about each other that no one else did.

The phone fell from his hand.

“Jamie, the fucker who crept into the lion’s den.” Heath sang the taunt under his breath.

Jamie kept staring at the fallen phone. He swallowed down the words that were itching to come out. They clawed their way up his throat, but he was too weak to speak them. Heath took all the energy out of him when he was around.

When he laid back on his bed, a series of images flashed before him. Around they spun above his head, sketching across the ceiling. They couldn’t be real, but they felt like they were. He let them take him away from this world, away from the pain, and away from the person he’d become.

He would go to the meeting. He would see what they wanted and after that, he would come back home and live out the rest of his days being a nobody.

As he was born was how he was going to die.

He lit a cigarette and downed the rest of his brandy.

It was as it should be.