Plebeian Reborn

By Debbie Lum

Lauren Hayden has been thrust into fame she didn’t want, cornered by danger, and constantly challenged by the love of the man she’s always wanted. Now she faces her biggest challenge: her mistakes from the past.

Her band Plebeian has just reunited and already they are falling apart. Lauren is struggling to repair the damage from her ex-boyfriend Johnny’s untimely love confession when tragedy strikes. Now Johnny’s life is at risk and his cure lies in a secret that Lauren hides. Just when everyone is on the road to healing, a shocking confrontation with a killer reveals a bigger surprise. Lauren unravels in a downward spiral, questioning her choices, her loves and her life.

Only one man can save her, and Plebeian, now. And it’s not her husband.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Debbie Lum
• Release date: Jun 28, 2018
• ISBN: 9781944463052

Debbie Lum

Debbie K. Lum is a romantic suspense author of five novels. She’s an unlikely author, a non-reader who was inspired by a self-esteem ad campaign encouraging little girls to dream big. Her novels feature fun, flawed characters with steamy and complicated relationships (and plenty of surprises!) Lum’s latest novel is I CAN HANDLE HIM, which BlueInk Reviews called “A fresh, enjoyable tale that should have great appeal to new adult fiction and contemporary romance fans.” Her 2017 novel, THE DOCTOR, THE CHEF OR THE FIREMAN, was called “A quick, satisfying romantic mystery.” by Kirkus Reviews. In 2016 she released PLEBEIAN REVEALED, PLEBEIAN IN DANGER and PLEBEIAN REBORN, a three-book story about a married woman finding sudden fame with her ex-boyfriend. Her novels are available in paperback and eBook.

Book preview

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

There is a natural fear to challenge yourself to do something you know little about. I had that fear when writing this book and the two that came before it, but thankfully my fear was eased with the help of some amazing friends.

Karen Cowan, for your special area of expertise.

Dr. Brandon Faza. You are amazing, thank you.

Keri Kiefer Riegler and Amber Marcellino, thank you.

Lori Henderson Schultz and Beth Dix: wasn’t this fun?

Mandy Schoen, I have learned the most from you. Thank you for being the best editor on the planet.

And Jill Reagan Healey, the number one Plebeian fan. No one can unseat you and your love for these characters.

To Carl, Ashton and Alexander. West!

[ ONE ]

Muffled applause echoes down the backstage hall. An ON AIR sign bathes the musty passage in an eerie red glow. She stands alone, her clutched arms unable to stop her shivers. And right now, this dark, cold hall is the best place for Lauren Hayden to be.

Plebeian’s lead singer rests her head against the cinder block wall, one black peep-toe boot propped up for balance. Good thing this wall is here. It’s helping to keep her upright.

Two stagehands run past her, preparing for reset. There’s not much time between segments on the New York Live television set and the comedy skit now on-air has several props to be removed. Her frown follows the stagehands as they pass. Please…slow…down. Plebeian is the musical act tonight, and after what just happened they need every precious second before playing their next song.

Another shadowy figure approaches from the end of the hall. As he steps into the glowing light, she smiles. Oh, you are a sight for sore eyes, she says to the show’s guest host, television actor Josh Spencer.

I had to the leave the green room too, Josh says, leaning his head of loosely curled hair close to her.

What’s happening down there now?

The perky actor cracks a vibrant smile. I never knew Davis had such an aggressive vocabulary. He always seemed like such a nice, calm band manager.

Davis was a nice, calm manager, until one of his band members showed up drunk for tonight’s live show. She leans back, hitting her head on the concrete wall. She winces. Whatever. She’d rather smack her head on concrete than be in the green room with the others.

You okay? You look so tired and now, whacking your head?

Josh’s wit always softens her bad mood. My whacked head is fine; you are sweet to ask. There’s just a lot of stress swirling around me right now.

I’d say. Your band has more drama than the last soap opera I was on. And thanks to that waiter at the Riverside Resort telling everyone what happened at your birthday party, the world knows your dirt.

Rocker’s Husband Hits Her Ex, she moans, repeating the headline that captivated social media for days.

See? I knew it was good that you and I never dated. He softly presses his head against hers. Andy might have punched me just as hard as he hit Johnny that night.

Her eyes roll. It was an innocent ‘I love you’ blurt. Johnny was temporarily emotional, happy that the band was getting back together. It was all overblown just because Johnny and I used to date.

Hey…hey…you don’t have to explain it to me. I was there, remember?

Of course Josh knows. But she’ll repeat the story to anyone who will listen. Especially if it helps get Johnny off the hot seat and keep Andy’s angry fist in his pocket.

Their attention is drawn down the hall to more people approaching. Maybe she should talk louder so these strangers can overhear her side of the story too. She squints and sees there’s no need; it’s just the other guys in the band.

Keyboardist Michael Casper’s large frame fills most of the small hall. He stops beside Lauren and rests a hand on her shoulder. Hey, do you think we can destroy our next song as good as we did our first? he asks, the white teeth behind his snarky smile contrasting with his African-American skin.

Good chance, mumbles Doug Maggio, gazing at the floor. Their short, quiet drummer doesn’t talk much, so he must be upset to mumble out two precious words.

The untamed blond curls of guitarist Max Burgess bounce in sync with his steps. Plebeian’s newest, youngest member wears a simple smile, unbothered by drama. He stands next to Lauren, clutching his guitar. Maybe no one noticed.

The hall darkens as the red ON AIR light turns off. Plebeian’s production manager Trent Driscoll steps into the hall. Three minutes and you’re live. He hands the Gibson bass guitar to Michael. Doug reaches to take the Fender lead guitar.

Lauren breathes deeply watching their exchange. Usually a big breath calms her stage fears. Now it’s all she has to calm her building panic. Doug’s eyes look just as frightened as he hands her his set of drumsticks.

Josh looks down to the sticks Lauren holds. It really was a good idea you had, he says, patting her shoulder. "Mixed Up is a great song. Having everyone play a different instrument was a brilliant way to reintroduce the band."

Her wide eyes disagree. Brilliant…until we hear the intoxicated slurs from the guy on lead vocals.

Down the hall, the green room door opens. Johnny Fulton, Plebeian’s lead guitarist and Lauren’s ex-boyfriend, steps into the hall. Behind him stumbles the tall, lanky frame of bassist Oliver Brinks. Their band manager Davis Perkins follows, scowling.

Johnny stands next to Lauren and doesn’t say a word. He hasn’t spoken much to her since her husband’s fist met his cheek last month. She nervously twists the silver ring on her right hand. Enough of this silence.

Are we going to make it? she whispers.

What, you and me or this band?

Johnny, stop. You and I have history and will always be friends, no matter what crazy things you say or what stupid things I, or my husband, do. We’ll get past all of that.

He breathes deeply, his eyes searching the hall. He’s probably checking to see if Andy is around before he speaks. He sure doesn’t need to look for his wife. He hasn’t seen Amie since she threw her dinner plate at him and stormed out of the party last month. His quivering hands run through the waves of his thick, black hair. Since college Lauren has loved watching him run his fingers through his hair. But now, his hands are shaking and it’s making her nervous. He takes another deep breath. Then your question is if this band is going to make it. And right now it depends on one bagel, two cups of coffee and the threats Davis and I just gave Oliver.

Johnny and Lauren glare at Oliver.

What? Oliver says. I’m cool, I got this. His bony hand reaches to take the microphone from Trent.

Of all the times we can’t hide him in the back, Davis mumbles, eyes glazed in panic.

Oliver’s bourbon-soaked body sways uneasily but quickly self-stabilizes. I’m a better lead singer than Mrs. Logan-Hayden-Mitchell-Hayden here.

Lauren’s grip on the drumsticks tightens. Would she hurt the sticks if she smacked them across Oliver’s head? His dig against her singing aside, he knows damn well that’s not her name. She’s only been married twice: to Cory Logan and now Andy Hayden. She was tricked into a brief, seventy-hour affair with Shane Mitchell and never married him.

Michael leans into Oliver’s face. No one’s a better lead singer than Lauren. But I sure have turned out to be a better bassist than you, he says, strapping on Oliver’s beloved Gibson.

Doug and Max stand quietly, gripping their guitars. Lucky for Max, he’s the only one who didn’t have to switch positions. Lucky for them both, no one is mad at them.

This is one marketing idea not worth the record sales right now, Johnny says.

Trent points to the stage door. One minute. Take your positions now, princesses.

Lauren lowers her head, clutching the drumsticks, and softly steps on stage. Her petite body feels smaller than ever, swallowed by the fear of this impending disaster. She wasn’t this nervous when Plebeian took the stage as unknowns at the Academy Awards the night they revealed themselves to the world. Back then, if they blew it, no one would have cared. Now that Plebeian is a popular alternative rock band, they’ll be toast on social media and lose fans if they screw up tonight.

She stands behind Doug’s drum kit, lays the sticks on the snare and brushes back strands of her straight brown hair as she squats on the stool. Although she’s never been confident in her appearance, at least she’s confident in her percussion skills. Her seventeen-year-old son Aiden has been teaching her how to play. And since Aiden learned from Doug when Doug was his high school band teacher, she knows she’s learned from the best.

House lights warm the stage but Lauren’s blood starts to boil watching Oliver in front, fumbling to put her microphone in the stand. Who knows, maybe he can pull this off. After all, no one knew he was drunk during the first performance, until he wandered off stage. Maybe they should have given him a microphone with a tight cord to keep him in place for this next song. Truth is, sober Oliver actually sounds good. Fear is: Oliver isn’t sober.

Johnny steps behind Michael’s keyboard, his throat moves with a nervous swallow.

Lauren looks out into the audience just as the producer counts down the last few seconds until they go live. Lights shine brighter, making it harder for her to see the faces in the audience. Normally, she’s afraid to even look into crowds. Sometimes she still wears sunglasses on stage, depending on the gig and how she’s feeling. Weird people staring at her always creeps her out, a fear that kept Plebeian from touring in their early days. Then her shooting by a stalker heightened that fear. When she finally got brave enough to do Plebeian’s world tour, she fell for the ruse set up by their former record company president Shane Mitchell that lured her into his bed. She later worked with the FBI to get Shane’s confession for a murder. To this day, the guys in the band think Shane quit the business and just disappeared on his own. And still to this day, she doesn’t trust many people anymore.

Still, her eyes strain to search the crowd, searching to find someone before they start.

Five…

Then she sees him. Front row. Joy bursts inside her just seeing his magnificent smile. She bites her lip so he knows she’s found him. The look from his alluring hazelnut-olive eyes warms her body from head to toe, the same way it did back in high school when he’d glance at her in the hall. His straight brown hair slightly covers his cheek and he moves it off his face with a head swing she’ll never tire of seeing.

Four…

Seeing Andy releases her stress like a needle piercing an overinflated balloon. Confidence straightens her shoulders. Let Oliver look like a fool. She’s gonna lick this drum kit like a badass and impress the man she cares about most.

Three…

Then there’s movement beside Andy and someone sits next to him. It’s Frank Allen, her head of security. He leans in to Andy, whispering. Andy’s face goes blank, his smile erased with Frank’s words.

Two...

Andy’s eyes go wide and then flash to her. Oh my God—what? She quickly looks to Frank, trying to see if he’s sending her one of his something is wrong blinking signals. Gobo lights flash, dimming her view.

One…

Plebeian is live.

And many things are wrong.

[ TWO ]

Goodnight! Josh exclaims, waving to the applauding audience as the closing music rolls.

The cast of New York Live stands with Lauren, Johnny, Doug, Max and Michael, happily waving their goodbyes. The only one missing is Oliver. Davis yanked him off-stage when Mixed Up finished.

As soon as the music stops and they’re off-air, Josh pulls Lauren into a hug.

I take it you guys aren’t coming to the cast party, he says.

We should leave fast to contain the damage. Her arms wrap around Josh but her eyes search the dispersing audience for Andy and Frank. She pulls back to face him. You did a great job as host tonight. You have a funny way of being right where I need you when I’m in the middle of a crisis.

Keep me posted on the next round of drama.

Well then, I’m sure I’ll be talking to you soon. She squeezes Josh’s hands and heads off stage. Two steps into the hall, she comes face-to-face with Andy.

He grabs her in a strong hug, his arms a force-field protecting her from the troubles of the world. His squeeze feels so comforting and the scent of his spicy leather cologne is so Andy. The warmth of his body soaks through her clothes and she is nowhere close to letting him go.

Oh my God, what a night, she whispers, squeezing him. Is something going on? I saw you and Frank whispering.

Andy pulls back, his eyes tightening as he scans the busy hall. Baby, we can’t talk here. His chilling words replace the warmth of his arms. He grabs her hand and leads her towards the exit, Frank falls into step behind them.

Her heart thumps with every step. Lee? Aiden? Brittney?

Kids are fine. We’ll talk as soon as we’re alone. He squeezes her hand. If that was supposed to reassure her, it didn’t.

Just ahead of them, Davis releases Oliver from his green room imprisonment. Their departing group is moving so quickly down the hall, no one has even bothered to stop for their usual post-performance huddle. Ryan is downstairs with the cars, Frank yells and the group moves faster.

Oliver yanks a chewed cigar out of his mouth. We’re not staying for the after-party?

No! everyone yells.

Frigid January night air greets them as they step outside. Frank’s security assistant, Ryan, stands beside two black Chevy Suburbans. Andy quickly pulls Lauren towards the first SUV and Frank follows. Johnny dashes to the SUV Lauren and Andy will not be in. The others follow Johnny, but Max and Doug get in with Andy and Lauren. The SUVs roll.

With Doug sitting in the third row and Max sitting beside her, Lauren can’t ask Andy what is going on. She squeezes his hand but he looks down. What the heck is it?

You happy with our performance tonight? Max asks Andy, his tone a little tart.

There’s no way to sugarcoat it: the first song was a disaster, Andy says. Oliver wandering off stage while he played distracted everyone.

I think he needs to be replaced, Max says.

Lauren swings her stare towards him. Oliver needs to get help, not get kicked to the curb.

Everyone is replaceable. We should have the best people to have the best band, and right now Oliver is not the best.

Max? That doesn’t sound like you, she says.

Max remains unflustered. We need the best front office we can get too.

Andy leans over to look at him. You have a problem with Hayden Productions?

"It’s just…I think the pricing on Mixed Up was a mistake. We gave the single away."

Lauren’s eyes flutter. Is she dreaming? What’s up with Max’s fresh mouth right now?

"I thought the pricing strategy matched the whole Mixed Up gimmick and it all worked," Andy says.

Look, Lauren says to Max. Plebeian is Hayden Production’s first signed act, and Andy is doing the best he can right now to run the company. I know you grew up in the business, and your dad was a legend in the industry, but even your dad started somewhere.

Plebeian is a little big for a start-up record company.

You want to take a crack at running Hayden Productions? Andy asks.

I could if I was given the chance.

This simmering argument gives her a sinking feeling in her stomach. To one side is the love of her life, trying to justify some of the mistakes he’s made in just one month running their new record company. To her other side is a young, talented guitarist, robbed when his father Robert Burgess was murdered by Shane Mitchell. Robert was Plebeian’s first record company president, a smart businessman and talented record producer. Max grew up in his dad’s shadow and also Shane’s. As a close family friend,