Nobody Knows (Razes Hell Book 1) Read online

  Nobody Knows © Kyra Lennon 2014

  E-edition published worldwide 2014 © Kyra Lennon

  All rights reserved in all media. This book may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form, in whole or in part, without written permission from the author.

  All characters and events featured in this book are entirely fictional and any resemblance to any person, organisation, place or thing is purely coincidental and completely unintentional.

  Photo by Lindee Robinson Photography

  Models: Chad Feyrer and Madison Wayne

  Cover Designed by Najla Qamber Designs

  www.najlaqamberdesigns.com

  Acknowledgements

  Whenever I get to this point of publishing, the part where I get to thank all the amazing people who have helped me – I feel humbled by the kindness of my friends who have taken time out of their day to read, make suggestions, answer my questions, and help me shape my novel into the masterpiece (I hope!) it was meant to be.

  Nobody deserves a bigger thank you than the exceptional Jolene Perry and Morgan Shamy. Jo, your belief in this story from the time it was a bit of a mess up until now has kept me going. Kept me believing. In spite of your always busy schedule, you still found the time to read, critique and advise AND answer my panicky, rambly emails when I doubted everything I wrote. I stand by what I said to you – one day we will meet in person and you will get the biggest hug you have ever had! And Morgan, your enthusiasm (and lack of notes!) was a huge boost as I battled the usual last minute publication nerves. I admire both you and Jolene more than I can ever express.

  To my other fabulous CPs and beta readers; Annalisa Crawford, Clare Dugmore, Cassie Mae, Leigh Covington, Molly Williams, Elizabeth Seckman and Nick Wilford – your input and support is always appreciated!

  The wonderful ladies at Concierge Literary Promotions – you have all been truly fantastic, and I appreciate the hard work you put in to the launch of Nobody Knows.

  Ker Dukey – for allowing Nobody Knows a little space in one of your fantastic books, I am truly honoured.

  Natalie Vanstone – for naming my fictional band within roughly thirty seconds after I’d spent days obsessing over it! I should have come to you first, right? Love ya!

  Next, I want to thank my Fozzy Family – because, hey, if you’re not rocking out with friends, what’s the point?

  Annalisa, if it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have met any of the people listed below. I’d still be sitting at home, wondering “what if?” Thank you for accompanying me on my first adventure in years. That day will always be one of my favourite days ever, and it wouldn’t have been anywhere near as much fun with anyone else.

  Jess, I am so happy to have met you. I can always guarantee enormous amounts of laughter with you (and Jamie) – here’s to many more gigs and carveries! (Oh, and the occasional bout of singing in the street!)

  Natalie, Jay, Harriet, Amy, Emma, Matt, Neil, Penny and Bob - I loved hanging out with you SO much!

  Chris, Rich, Frank, Billy and Paul – I wrote this book several years before I ever met you, however, it was seeing you live and meeting you all in person that inspired me to dust it off and publish it. Thanks for being the most genuine, talented, kickass band on the planet – Love ya!

  Dedication

  To Mum (and Dad)

  for showing me what’s important.

  I wedged my foot into a small gap in the wooden fence that ran around my back garden. I was a little too short to see over the top, and had to climb to peek at the boys next door. As I clambered up, I heard the sound of my jeans ripping at the knee. It was worth it though.

  Not bad for a girl.

  A skinny boy of eleven with scruffy blond hair bounced a basketball, while his older brother, a chubby, black-haired fourteen-year-old, tried to tackle him.

  “Come on, Drew,” the younger boy said, as he dribbled the ball just out of his brother’s reach. “Get it!”

  “I would if you’d give me a chance.” Drew lunged forward, but not fast enough to stop his brother’s shot being thrown straight into the hoop.

  “Okay, Jason.” Drew collected the bright orange basketball and threw it to his brother with a smile. “One more try. This time, I’m gonna get it.”

  “You wish.”

  Drew poised himself, waiting for an opportunity to tackle again. He followed Jason’s every move but still couldn’t get near. As he lunged for a second time, he tripped, crashed in to his brother, and they both fell into one of the rose bushes around the edge of their garden.

  A giggle escaped my lips, then my eyes widened as the boys noticed me. In panic at being spotted, I let go of the fence and fell backwards into my own garden, landing with a soft thud on the grass.

  “Are you okay?”

  The two boys, who had no need to climb the fence to see, looked down at me.

  I nodded, too shocked to move.

  “What were you doing?” Drew asked. His forehead wrinkled up, making him look like an old man. I thought he might shout at me.

  “I...”

  “What’s your name?” Jason asked. His face was a lot friendlier.

  “Ellie. My name is Ellie Hayes.”

  “I’m Jason. This is Drew. Want to come and play basketball?”

  “She’s too small to play with us,” Drew said. “She won’t reach the hoop.”

  “You might be bigger than me, but you can’t reach it either,” I muttered.

  Jason laughed, a sparkle appearing in his green eyes. “Come on over.”

  Beaming, I ran to the gate, and he let me into his garden, where Drew sat hugging his knees on the wide steps leading down from the patio doors.

  “Weren’t you supposed to check with your mummy first?” Drew asked, in a way that probably should have made me uncomfortable.

  I watched him closely. His shoulders were hunched and his foot tapped impatiently; his dark eyes gazed into the distance.

  “Ignore him,” Jason said. “Let’s play basketball!”

  Instead of joining him, I continued to stare curiously at Drew. This boy wasn’t a mean teenager. Drew and Jason didn’t have a mum anymore. Maybe he was thinking about her. Maybe he was sad she got ill and went to live in heaven. If my mum wasn’t around, I would feel sad and sometimes say not very nice things to people too.

  “Do you want to play?” I asked, softly.

  Drew turned his head towards me, still with a wrinkle across his forehead.

  “He does want to.” Jason picked up the basketball. “Drew, come on!”

  After a moment or two, Drew visibly relaxed and stood up. “Okay, I’ll play.”

  “For years he’s walked all over me, trying to get ahead. I snapped.”

  Snap.

  I rose from my chair and began pacing, unsure whether to keep listening or throw my Jimmy Choos at the tiny backstage monitor.

  “But what about that particular moment triggered your anger?” Danny Logan, the UK’s top TV interviewer questioned. “You were live on television on New Year’s Eve and you had the crowd rocking. What caused you to turn on your brother like that?”

  Drew Brooks shifted awkwardly under Danny’s stare. “I saw him in front of me on the stage, getting all the glory, pretending he’s the one behind our music. I couldn’t take anymore. New Year was supposed to be a new start for us but he’s still the same arrogant, selfish b… person he’s always been.”

  The sense of dread that had settled in my stomach since I found out this gimmick was going ahead had exploded into full-blown rage, and my temples throbbed with the tension. A few deep breaths eased the pain and I tuned out of the interview, unable to take anymore. I should have stayed at home, but no matter how much I hat
ed this fabrication, I couldn’t say no when Drew asked me to go along for support.

  That’s what best friends do, right?

  The ten minutes before Drew entered the dressing room dragged on forever. When he stepped through the door sweat glistened on his face from the studio lights. My glare stopped him in his tracks. “I can’t believe you went through with that.”

  “If I don’t do as I’m told, I don’t get paid.” Drew gave a half-hearted attempt at a grin. My lips remained in a tight, thin line, and he sighed. “Come on, Ellie. What was I supposed to do? Go on TV and admit this is all a lie?”

  “It’s not all a lie, this stuff happened! This is your life. You can’t blurt out years’ worth of Jason’s issues as if they didn’t hurt you. This is dangerous, Drew.”

  “You’re reading too much into it.” Drew tugged a towel out of his bag and wiped the sweat from his face with slightly more vigour than necessary. “You knew I’d be asked about him tonight. That was the plan, remember?”

  “The plan is for Derek to get rich by using your past as entertainment.”

  “If this works, we’ll all benefit. Derek will finally get paid for putting up with us, and we’ll get a real chance at making it in the music business.”

  Razes Hell’s manager, Derek Richmond, was everything I hated. Not content with securing a much coveted spot on TV on New Year’s Eve for the boys, he had to take it a step further and create controversy. “You’re in a rock band,” he’d said. “People expect this kind of explosive behaviour, and you have to give the people what they want.” Instead of letting them make their mark on the music industry through their talent, he’d dragged them down to his sleazy, get-rich-quick level.

  Bloody stupid Derek.

  “I don’t care about Derek. I care about what this might do to you. When you were talking tonight… you didn’t make that stuff up. Do you honestly think Jason won’t see what I saw?”

  “Why do you assume he watched?”

  The the note of bitterness in Drew’s voice didn’t pass me by, and his tone only proved my point. Whether he realised or not, after one week of Derek’s scheme, Drew’s well-buried resentment about always being the one to clean up Jason’s messes had already risen to the surface. Although the New Year incident was as fake as a Page 3 model’s boobs, the Brooks brothers had more than their fair share of crap to throw at each other, and Drew had just flung his first handful.

  “It was still a risk,” I said. “A stupid risk.”

  “Well, maybe it’s my turn to be stupid. Maybe it’s my turn to be selfish.”

  He shrugged off his shirt and pulled on a clean one. He’d actually dressed up for the occasion; he’d swapped his usual black t-shirts and jeans for… well… a black button-up shirt and jeans, but still, he’d made an effort.

  My eyes lingered on his bare torso for a second. I tore my gaze away before I had chance to take in the light scattering of hair across his chest; his strong arms and his soft, slightly pudgy stomach that made his hugs infinitely more comfortable than being pressed against hard, ripped abs.

  Okay, I took it all in and it annoyed me. There’s nothing worse than swooning over someone you’re angry with.

  “So, what’s the plan for tonight?” I asked, banishing those thoughts to the little compartment of my brain I’d kept especially for those thoughts since they first fluttered into my consciousness. Developing feelings for one of my oldest friends was right up there with moonwalking on the sun on my list of things I thought were Never. Gonna. Happen.

  Yet there I stood, shamelessly ogling him with his shirt off.

  “How would you feel about watching a movie in my hotel room?” Drew’s question shook me from my thoughts.

  “You promised to buy me dinner.”

  “I will buy you dinner, but in my room, not at a restaurant. Unless you really want to go out?”

  His deep brown eyes flickered; a silent plea I wouldn’t make him face the journalists who’d followed us around since we arrived in London. He wasn’t used to the craziness of the spotlight yet, and I had more experience of being shunted out of the way by crazy fan girls than blinded by camera flashes.

  “No. Room service and a bottle of wine is enough for me.”

  Actually, room service and wine was better. London had plenty of fantastic restaurants, but for a country girl like me, none of them compared to the quirky cafes back home in Cornwall. Plus, I didn’t have to get dressed up to spend the evening in Drew’s room. I could take off my one pair of trendy shoes that squished the life out of my toes, and slip into my trackie bottoms and a hoodie. Drew had seen me at various levels of disgustingness over the years; he wouldn’t judge me for drinking wine in my lazy clothes.

  Mainly because he still viewed me as the scabby-kneed kid who dropped into his life when I was seven years old, instead of the twenty-four-year-old woman who stood in front of him now.

  Drew pulled me into a one-armed hug; a gesture of thanks for not pushing him to deal with his issues. I tilted my head to look up into his eyes. “You’re welcome.”

  A small, appreciative smile crossed his lips. “Come on, Ells. Let’s get out of here.”

  Flashy London hotel rooms shouldn’t have been allowed to reach such low temperatures. With the heater on, and wearing a t-shirt, a baggy jumper, jeans and thick socks, I still couldn’t get warm. Drew added to the frosty atmosphere, pacing around while he waited for Jason to join us… once he’d finished his drink in the bar, of course.

  While we waited, I pulled out my sketchpad and some pencils from my bag.

  I made my living as an artist, a job that gave me satisfaction in every way. My need to be creative made me too restless for a desk job, and the idea of a nine to five caused me to break out in a cold sweat. Once I gained my degree, I began to sell my work to art galleries in and around St. Ives. Shivers still broke out on my skin when I spotted my art in the window of harbour-side galleries, and my small amount of local success allowed me the luxury of taking a step back to work at my own pace.

  I tapped my pencil against the blank page, waiting for the muse to strike; difficult since Drew’s nervous energy zapped at my concentration. I should have been working on the first draft of some illustrations for a children’s book; a story about a rabbit that gets lost in a supermarket. The thought of landing a job I’d wanted for so long made me giddy. Illustrating a children’s book since had been a dream of mine since childhood, when I used to illustrate my own, somewhat lame works of fiction. I hoped to be to a writer what Quentin Blake was to Roald Dahl. Of course, the chances of that were much slimmer if I couldn’t make a damn bunny appear on the paper.

  Instead, I began to sketch the outline of a face. With no-one in mind, I let my pencil do the work. As the face began to take shape – female, with huge curious eyes – there was a knock at the door.

  As he strode into the room, he grinned. His long hair - dyed dark brown with purple highlights and hints of his natural blond at the roots - was tied back for once, and a crisp white shirt and black trousers clung to his slim frame. Unlike Drew, Jason thrived on his new popularity. Regardless of what Drew and I did, Jason had probably already called some of his city buddies to hit the town, as if his biggest screw-ups hadn’t been exposed to the world. For the millionth time, I couldn’t help but wonder how he and Drew could possibly be related.

  Drew eyed his brother subtly, as if he didn’t care whether Jason had watched the interview or not; his stance was way too rigid to be carefree.

  “You okay?” Jason asked.

  Drew gave a single nod. “Yeah. Did you watch?”

  “Of course. I was only in the bar because it’s cheaper than cracking open the fridge in my room, and you took forty minutes to get back here from the studio.”

  “Well, that’s London for you.” I placed my sketchpad on the bed. “So, what did you think?”

  “I think our album sales are about to go up again.”

  Money, money, money. No concern for his brot
her, no questions about how he felt.

  “What? Didn’t you think it went well?”

  Across the room, Drew gave me an ‘I told you so’ look, and I said, “Drew made the feud believable. But I still think the whole thing is a terrible idea.”

  A spectacular understatement. Every torturous incident Drew had mentioned during his interview had wrapped around us all, choking the life out of what we used to be and moulding us into the people we’d become. Somehow, we’d come through those rough spots, but this re-hashing of events we’d all rather have forgotten was a harsh and unwelcome reminder of the hell we’d been through.

  “Relax, Ellie.” Jason sat beside me and slung his arm around my shoulders. “We’ve got it under control.”

  Maybe he thought he had this under control; Drew most certainly didn’t. I ducked out from under Jason’s arm, and stared into the curious eyes I’d drawn. They didn’t have the answers either, so I picked up a pencil and continued shading, bringing more life to her inquisitive features.

  “Drew, did you ask Ellie about next week?”

  “Not yet. I thought she might have had enough of us after today.”

  I lifted my head. “I’ve known you for seventeen years. I’m still here, aren’t I?”

  The smile Drew threw me awoke the butterflies in my stomach and I silently begged them to go back to sleep so I could speak. “Crazy woman. Do you want to come to Scotland with us next week?”

  I’d travelled around the UK and Ireland with the band many times. Each new place gave me a new experience, new inspirations to draw from. However, towards the end of last year work became my priority and I hadn’t been on the road since mid-November. I itched to get back out with them. Travelling with my boys was one of my favourite things, and I refused to let some media fairy-tale change that. The only obstacle was my looming deadline. When I said so out loud, Jason scoffed. “I remember when you left your uni assignments until the night before they were due.”