Love in the Wild

Love in the Wild

By Asrai Devin

Copyright 2015 Asrai Devin

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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Title Page

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Epilogue

About the Author

Chapter 1

Bree Thomas bit her bottom lip. She turned to Bryce, her manager, and her fiance, the love of her life.

He lounged on the leather sofa in the living room area of their deluxe hotel suite. It was a far cry from the days when they shared a cigarette-scented motel room with her mother; now they had private rooms, separate sleeping quarters.

Beyond what Bree dreamed of when she started out singing in cheap bars.

Tonight, she needed to be brutally honest. Lately, her mother and Bryce held only disdain for her feelings and thoughts, leaving her needs utterly neglected. As if she was their puppet, their pawn.

She loved being Aubrey Diamond. She loved performing. She loved music, but she couldn’t keep going. There had to be something more in life. She was ready to be a little more settled.

I was thinking, now that we’re getting married next year, after that we would take some time off and move into a house, maybe have a baby or two. She twisted her engagement ring on her finger while she paced the length of the room. For Bryce, her anxiety was commonplace, so the look on his face didn’t change from unaffected.

That wasn’t exactly brutal honesty. She danced around the critical details: her feelings.

She acquiesced to what they wanted for years. At first, it made her successful beyond her wildest dreams.

Lately, it made her into a doormat for their greed. At first, she wanted to make them happy. Then she wanted to avoid confrontation. And right now, she was merely worn out, exhausted. Burnt out.

As she left the stage a few hours earlier, exhaustion seeped into her bones. She gave of herself to everyone. To Bryce, to her mother, to her fans, to her record label, to the media.

She picked up her wineglass and tapped her fingers on it. She should tell him her intentions. No asking. No hedging. No begging. She would give him a command.

At the very least, she wanted leisure. To enjoy all her money, the condo she purchased. She had a million song ideas in her head, she wanted to write at least some of the songs for the next album.

She shared her desire to write with her mom and Bryce before. They told her no. She could sing her heart out, but she didn’t write music, therefore she’d never write songs.

She brushed it off at the time. She promised herself when the tour finished, when they returned home, she’d press the issue. Or ignore the naysayers and write her damn songs.

Bryce sat up and looked at her.

That was something. He might take her seriously this time. She brought up babies and settling down a few times with him in the past weeks since the last leg of her tour started. Hope blossomed in her chest.

Having a baby takes nine months, Aubrey. And then time to raise it. You’re only twenty-five. The whole world wants you and if you disappear for two years, they will find someone else.

So what? I don’t need to make another album. We can live nicely off everything we’ve made in the last eight years. I could do a few small tours. I can write my own music.

Your own music? Bree, you are a singer. You need to focus on your profitable skills.

A pin jabbed into her hope. She wanted to crumple as it deflated inside her. She turned away to hide the tears that threatened her eyes.

Fuck, I don’t want to focus on singing. I mean, I want to sing. But I need a new challenge. I feel like a fucking trained monkey.  No one gives a shit about what I think.

She downed her glass of wine as she paced the room. She stopped at the side table and refilled her glass.

I think you’ve had enough.

Rage replaced her hope that he would understand. Or at least that he would take her seriously and listen to her desires. She turned around and stared at him while she gulped half of the wine.

Are you on your period?

His question left her breathless. She must be hallucinating. Was he serious?

She imagined punching him. Right in his charming face. With luck, she would break his nose and it would be crooked for the rest of his life.

Except that she’d end up in jail. There was bad press you could get out from under, but jail was something that you never lived down while you were in the spotlight. Even if the bully deserved to be socked.

Get out, she said. She kicked off her heels so she could reach the door faster. She hoped they would hit the wall, but she was too far away to get a satisfying thud, they merely skittered across the shiny floor.

Instead, she grabbed the door handle and flung the door open, letting it smack into the wall. She cringed, hoping there wasn’t any damage. She’d check later. Get the fuck out of my room.

It’s our room.

Not anymore. It’s over, Bryce. You don’t love me. You love Aubrey, the performer.

Aubrey, if you stop being such a drama queen—

My name is Bree. Seeing he wouldn’t leave, she turned on her heel and went to the bedroom. She slammed the door behind her and locked it.

I’m going to talk to your mother, he shouted, then slammed the door.

He was going to tell her mommy? That was his big plan?

She sat on the bed staring at her purse and small bag of personal items she always had. She thought about crawling into bed or the bathtub. She wished she was in her new apartment back home. Filled with souvenirs from traveling and personal comforts.

She had to get out of here. She could control herself in an argument with Bryce right now. If her mother got into the fray, she might capitulate.

If she endured this pace any further she would end up drunk at a beauty salon shaving her head. Or with an alcohol addiction.

Rehab was never good for the reputation.

She changed into her most comfortable clothing option: jeans and a T-shirt, with a hoodie overtop.

She scribbled a note, dropping the ring Bryce gave her ontop of the paper. She grabbed her bags and walked out of the hotel room. To avoid her mother and Bryce, she took the back stairs.

Outside, she looked up taxi companies on her phone. Her heart pounded as she waited for the car.

Where was she going?

She could get a plane to Vancouver, but then Bryce and Donna, her mother, would hop a plane and follow her. If she took the bus, then she’d have a day at least of solitude. She could use the space to determine her next set of goals.

A yellow car came to a halt. That was fast. She tossed her bags in the car. Uh the bus station, she said. Or actually a hotel near the bus station, I don’t think I’ll get a bus this time of night.

The driver appraised her in the rear view mirror. You okay?

Bree realized she still wore her concert makeup, which was probably running after her talk with Bryce since she shed a few tears.

It’s been a long evening.

Fuck Bryce.

I’m better now. She tipped her chin up and smiled. He smiled back.

She turned off her cell phone tracker as they drove. She had a habit of losing her phone seconds after setting it down. Bryce had installed one of those phone track apps, so they could figure out where she left it.

After she figured out the bus schedule, she powered off her phone. She scheduled a wake-up call with the front desk, then she crawled between the rough sheets.

In a day or so, she would be