Murder on Stage

hapter 1

Phoenix Hood

I sat calmly, lost in thought as the train hurtled through the night. My eyes darted from one window to another, taking in the commotion outside. The stars sparkled like jewels against the dark canvas of the sky, their brilliance only eclipsed by my racing anticipation. My sweaty left hand clutched onto the stubborn leather handle of my guitar case, its familiar weight bringing a sense of comfort amidst the chaos.

But even as I tried to focus on the view outside, my stomach couldn't help but loudly protest its hunger. Despite my best efforts to ignore it, my concentration was broken by a violent shaking in my knee. Glancing over to the next row, I spotted a dark figure lurking in the shadows. Instinctively, I reached for my phone and turned it on, the soft glow illuminating the otherwise dim aisle. My heart pounded as I noticed multiple missed calls and texts from Queenie, my best friend.

Desperate for a distraction, I quickly turned off my phone and stuffed it back into my pocket. But it was too late; the stranger had already made his way closer, his black hoodie swaying with each step. From his tall stature and slight limp, I could tell he was a man. As he came into view, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of fear creeping up inside me.

His piercing green eyes, sharp as daggers, met mine with a steady gaze. I recognized the man before me, but couldn't quite place him. His features were like chiseled marble, discharging an air of power and mystery. A thick British accent laced through his words, drawing me in with its alluring charm. My body instinctively shifted, blocking his path as if protecting myself from a dangerous predator. Despite the familiarity, I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease around him. And then he spoke again, his voice sending shivers down my spine. My mind raced to uncover the mystery of his identity as I responded to him, trying to hide my surprise at his sudden appearance.

His voice was low and smooth, tinged with a hint of curiosity. He leaned closer to me, his green eyes sparkling with interest as he took a seat next to me in the row. I scooted slightly away, determined not to let him sit too close.

"Are you from Washington?" he asked, his tone plaited with defeat as I had refused to let him sit directly beside me.

I hesitated for a moment before answering truthfully, "No, just visiting." Though every fiber of my being wished for this encounter to last longer, I knew I couldn’t let it. A pang of disappointment settled in my chest, but I quickly brushed it aside.

As if sensing my thoughts, the man's expression changed. His brow furrowed in confusion and then realization dawned on his face. It was the last straw for me, unable to bear the risk of him recognizing who I truly was. With a swift movement, I yanked my guitar case over my shoulder and shuffled away from my assigned seat before he could ask any more questions or make any more connections. The cool breeze carried the faint sound of music playing in the distance as I hurriedly made my escape through the bustling train.

Being a singer is both a blessing and a curse. The world sees fame and fortune, but they don't see the constant struggle to keep some sense of normalcy in your life. People think that becoming famous is the best thing that could happen to someone, but they don't realize the sacrifices that come with it. At only 18 years old, I shouldn't be on this train without a security guard by my side. But I can't stand living every moment of my life under watchful eyes and constant scrutiny. So I sneak away from my security whenever I get the chance, much to their displeasure. It's become a well-known habit of mine in Hollywood. Today, I've gone incognito with a blonde wig and blue contacts, disguising my natural dark brown eyes. It's not ideal to hide my true self, but if I walked onto this train as myself, I would already be swarmed by fans and paparazzi. So for now, this disguise will have to do as I relish in the rare opportunity to have a day to myself without being constantly followed and watched over.

A sudden, unexpected voice interrupts me, causing me to whip around in surprise. My eyes widen as I see the same guy in the black sweatshirt standing behind me once again.

Did he follow me? I tried to play it cool, but my heart was racing and I could feel my cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

“Are you ok?”

"Of course," I stammer, "I-I was just looking for my boyfriend.”

Avoiding his intense gaze, I can't help but wonder how someone with such dazzling green eyes can make me feel so exposed. As a person who constantly has to disguise herself, you would think that I'd be better at lying about my true identity or lying in general. But no, I'm a terrible liar. There's something about this guy that makes me want to tell him everything, even though I know I shouldn't.

"Hm," he replies in a way that makes me think he doesn't believe me.

“You have a boyfriend?” He says with the most sarcasm I’d ever heard in my life.

“Uh…yes. Of course I do.” I say, trying to sound intelligent.

“Hm.” He says again, making me feel very uncomfortable.

Trying to change the subject, he casually mentions, "It's hot in here." Without hesitation, he lifts his hood to let some air in. Curiosity getting the best of me, I steal a glance at him and finally allow myself to take in his appearance. His features are sharp and defined, giving off an air of mystery and danger. But there's also something soft and vulnerable in his expression that draws me in.

Suddenly, I realized that I did recognize him. Realization must’ve dawned on my face because he then asked, “You recognize me too, don’t you?”

I finally took a minute and fully studied his face. It looked very familiar to me, almost like we had met before.

“I guess we just both have that kind of face,” I said, shrugging and looking down at my Converse.

I could feel his eyes watching my every move, still studying me as he tried to figure out if we’d ever known each other. Then, he finally asked if he could sit next to me and I hesitated for a second and finally said ‘yes’ when I realized he wasn’t going to give up.

“If you’re not from Washington, where are you from?”

“Well, I was born in Washington, but I live in LA.”

“Really? Me too! What part of Washington?”

“Monroe.”

“No way!”

I laugh at his perplexed face.

“My parents are producers so I had to move to LA when I was 14.” Theo says, scratching his neck.

Suddenly, He looks embarrassed. “I…I don’t tell a lot of people that…”

“That's ok, I can keep it a secret.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, of course. I’m Phoenix. What’s your name?”

“Theodore Brooks, but all my friends call me Theo.” He says before awkwardly sticking his hand out for me to shake it. His warm hand feels like a nice warm fire compared to my ice-cold ones.

I glance down as our rings collide against each other as we shake.

“Nice to meet you, Phoenix,” Theo says with a smirk.

“You too,” I mumble, as my phone buzzes loudly and I pull it out of my pocket. It’s Queenie, again.

“Excuse me,” I say, answering the call.

Theo pulls out his phone and I glance at it as he does. They’re classic rock stickers from Billy Joel to Bon Jovi all over his phone case and I smile.

“Why haven’t you been answering my calls?” screams Queenie into my phone’s speaker. I turn the volume down and reply with a shrug that I forget she can’t see.

“What happened?” I finally ask.

“Your new tour crew list has been released!”

“Oh?” I ask, uninterested.

“Nix, this is a big deal!”

“Why?”

“Well, first of all I’m on that list! Second of all, there’s two guys your age on it too.”

“And?”

“You can finally get a boyfriend!” She says excitedly, “Maybe we can go on our first double date together.”

I roll my eyes and hang up. Although she is my best friend, Queenie gets on my nerves. We’ve been roommates for years so I’ve learned to get over her nonsense.

“Scam?” chuckles Theo.

“Something like that.”

Chapter 2

Theodore Brooks

She was gorgeous. I thought Phoenix was the coolest girl I’d ever met. She was nice but shy and so pretty. I’m not usually into blondes but this girl was different. Her blue eyes would never look me in the face for more than five seconds. She was one of those people that you could tell was hiding something. And I was determined to find out what it was.

“I’m tired. Do you mind if I take a quick nap?” she asks after a long awkward silence.

“No not at all, I’ll get us some snacks.”

“You don’t have to…”

“I heard your stomach grumbling earlier, don’t even try to pretend you’re not hungry,” I smirk as I watch her face turn a light shade of pink.

“I’m not hu…”

Right on queue, her stomach growls.

I grab my wallet and stand up, pulling my jeans down slightly. I tuck in the shirt I was wearing underneath my sweatshirt so I could tug off my hoodie. I stretch, letting my “Led Zeppelin” shirt come up a little, slightly revealing my abs. I tug it back down over my jeans, smirking at Phoenix who pretends not to notice.

“What do you want?”

“You pick. Let’s see if you can get something right.”

“Oh, so that’s how it is?”

“Yup,” she says, finally closing her eyes.

“You can use my sweatshirt as a pillow if you want,” I say before walking away.

I don’t turn back to see if she took my advice. I already knew she probably did. It feels like Phoenix and I have known each other forever although we just met.

I make it to the snack car and look around. There’s a variety of candy and sodas. I finally settled on a big pack of skittles and two Dr. Peppers. She can hate skittles all she wants but if she’s a Coke person I know our relationship will never work out.

As I walk back to first class, I realize something. Phoenix was traveling all alone. She had to be my age so I needed to make sure she got home safe.

I try not to react when I see Phoenix curled up next to the window. She looked so peaceful as she slept, like she had no cares in the world.

Man, I’m a creep. I realized before sitting down. I was staring at her for a few moments and I hoped no one saw.

I carefully put the drinks in our cup holders and the skittles in my backpack. I unlock my phone and realize there’s a few texts from my mom.

Phoenix stretches and I quickly put my phone back in my pocket. She realizes that I was back and hands me my sweatshirt.

“Keep it for now. You look cold.”

“I am, thanks.”

She pulls it over herself and I smirk at how big it is on her.

“I got you a Dr. Pepper.”

“Thanks! I love Dr. Pepper.” she smiles and gulps a lot of it before pausing to thank me again.

“Oh and I got a big pack of skittles for us to share.”

She takes one and pops it in her mouth.

“So, you never told me what you do in LA," I say, trying to keep the conversation going. Phoenix hesitates for a moment, her eyes darting away. "Oh, um, I'm a student. Studying music at uh…a university."

"That's cool," I reply, noticing her reluctance. "What instrument do you play?"

"Piano and guitar mostly," she says, seeming to relax a bit. "What about you? What do you do?"

I shrug. "I'm kind of between things right now. Trying to figure out what I want to do with my life, you know?"

Phoenix nods sympathetically. "I get that. It can be tough to find your path."

We fall into a comfortable silence for a few minutes, munching on Skittles and sipping our Dr. Peppers. I can't help but steal glances at her, admiring the way she tried to seem so cool. I figured she was one of those tough girls who hid their emotions even when they were falling apart.

“So…where’s your boyfriend?”

She stares at me for a minute, and then seems to figure out what I was talking about.

“He’s uh…in the bathroom?” she asks like it’s a question.

“Want me to go look for him?”

“Uh…why don’t I come with you?”