The Pop Star and the Dreamer

"We would like to interview Kiara."

"Sorry, she's not here. You should leave before I ring the police."

"Mate, we're not doing anything wrong. We just want to talk to her. Is she all right? There are rumors she's been kidnapped."

"She is here of her own volition. Now, I have asked you to leave. If you don't, I'm ringing the police."

"Are you on your honeymoon?" a female reporter yelled from the back of the growing mob.

"I've said all I have to say. You have ten minutes. If you're still here, I will ring the police and have you forcibly removed."

Slamming the door, I stormed back inside. Kiara rushed into my arms. "What are we going to do?"

I shrugged. "Have burgers, get drunk, sing and make noise."

"Waht about them?" she said, pointing out front.

"If they're not gone in ten minutes, then I will ring the police. You may have to talk to them if they come."

She nodded as the crowd out the front grew bigger. Thy obviously weren't leaving, there were people peering in windows, others banging on the front door.

I did warn them. The police arrived moments later, and they were all asked to leave the property. The police did want to talk to Kiara, but I said, "This place is leased to me. I am the person who reported the incident."

They were not happy, but did leave.

The news crews parked on the road across from the cottage. They weren't going away, but at least they had to stay off the property.

We watched the evening news as we ate our burgers, and drank our beers. When the footage of me asking them to leave ran, Kiara giggled. "Wow, you can be very forceful. What a meany."

"That's me."

"Honeymoon... Thy think we are married?"

"Well, that's one opinion. There are many more. Kidnapped, held against your will."

"Ooh, I like that one. Am I your prisoner?" she said jokingly.

"Yes, I'm forcing you to eat and drink."

"Is the drinking so you can have me? Is that your plan, to get me drunk?"

"As if. No, of I was going to take you to bed, I'd want you to remember it."

"Oh, a man like you. I'm sure it'd be memorable."

"You got that right." She smirked with an evil grin.

We finished watching some more of the news and slowly worked our way through the beer in the fridge. She was quite giggly. "Nash, I want to say thanks for doing all this for me. I'm not sure I would have survived of it wasn't for your intervention."

"That's crap. You made your choices, Kiara. You did this. I'm just a friend helping a friend."

Her hand slid into mine and she squeezed. "We are friends, and that means a lot to me."

"Yes, we are, best friends."

"I'm glad." She sighed. "You are my knight in shining armor."

"Then you are my princess. And I shall defend your honor till my death."

"Thank you sir knight," she said, holding her hand up for me to kiss.

I kissed her hand gently, lingering longer than necessary. "Anything for my princess."

We emptied the fridge, which was probably a good thing. Kiara was pretty drunk. As I cleared away the bottles, she asked. "Will you sleep with me tonight. I don't want to be alone."

"You know I sleep in the nude, right?"

She giggled. "Yeah, me too."

We cuddled up together on the bed, fully clothed. Just a light blanket for warmth. She was drunk enough, that she fell asleep right away. I lay there with her in my arms. It was an amazing feeling. I did love her. I couldn't hide from it any longer. It was time to be honest with not only myself, but her as well.

I made the conscious decision to tell her how I felt. The morning came too quickly for me. I would have been happy to lay there all night. With her in my arms, everything felt right.

Easing out from under the blanket, I set about making coffee, and pancakes.

When she emerged, her eyes mere slits, she sighed. "Oh god damn. That smells so good, if only my head would stop throbbing."

"Food, let's start with that. I'll grab some pain killers."

I pulled open the curtains, and the news crew were still parked up over the road. Kiara came over beside me, and as she took in the scene, she said, "We could go for a drive, get away for a few days."

"Yeah, good idea. Grab some clothes, and we'll hit the road. We could go up to the Marlorough Sounds. We did talk about it already."

"Yes, we did. Anywhere will be fine." She scampered about, packing a suitcase. I grabbed a change of clothes and picked up the stuff you wouldn't want anyone to get. Computers, and the like.

As we walked out to the car, we heard the commotion over on the road. They saw us, and were jumping in vans and getting ready to follow us.

I tried to take it easy, not get carried away, the news vans pretty much covered the road, making it impossible to move, that's when they swarmed the car, cameras in windows, reporters knocking on windows.

"Kiara, are you safe?" one stupid woman reporter screamed out loudly. "Has he hurt you?"

"Go back!" Kiara screamed, horrified at the hostility.

I reversed hurriedly back into the property, and called the police. I reported an accident, figuring that was the quickest way to get a response. I parked just inside the gate. It didn't take long. The arrival of the police quickly broke up their roadblock.

The officer in charge asked what happened. I explained we were trying to leave, and they blocked the road. They assaulted us, scaring Kiara."

The cop peered in the open window. "Is that right, Miss? Is that what happened?"

Kiara, who was still in tears, gushed, "Yes, they attacked us, banged on the windows, rocked the car. It was frightening."

The cop went back to the group, and chased them away. As the last van drove slowly away, he waved us out onto the road.

What utter chaos, They were lying in wait for us just up the road. The moment they saw us, one pulled out slowly in front of us, with a cameraman filming out the back door. The second van pulled out as we passed and we were trapped in the middle, cameramen filming.

Kiara, was almost hysterical. I jammed on my brakes, forcing the van behind to skid to a stop, and I quickly spun around and headed for home. At least we were safe there. Hopefully, they would just lose interest.

At home, I poured us both a glass of wine and we sat cuddled together on the sofa as I tried to console her.

Kiara had a long history with the paparazzi, although this level of attack was new, and she was frightened. We were just finishing the wine, when the door burst open, and Ralph barged in with cameramen on both sides filming his arrival

Kiara was stunned as he rushed towards her and pulled her into his arms. "My sweet, are you all right?" he announced loudly.

Kiara was frozen in shock, not knowing what to do or say.

"Don't worry, my love. You are safe now. We are here, and we will take you home."

I tried to intervene, but he wasn't alone; he had his usual muscle with him. "You, stay away from her. You've done enough harm." His eyes bored into me, daring me to try and do something.

"Ralph, stop it. Nash is my friend."

"No, my love, he has filled your mind with god knows what. He has poisoned you. We need to get you back home where you'll be safe."

"Ralph..." she spluttered hesitantly.

"No, I will not hear any more. We need to get you away from this besotted idiot. He is trying to destroy your career."

"No..." she gushed.

"Relax, we are here now. Haven't I always had your best interests at heart? Come, we have to get home, you will be safe there."

He waved the muscle to start packing her gear.

"Ralph, let her go. She is capable of speaking for herself, and making her own decisions."

"Get out, you toxic little shit. You should be locked up. You kidnapped her. Kept her prisoner, took away all her devices. You will be lucky to stay out of jail."

She stared at me in complete shock. Her mouth moved, but no words were forming. Ralph kept his arms around her, as if he was protecting her. "There, there, you are safe now. Just breathe, let me take care of you." he whispered loud enough so the cameras picked it all up.

"Kiara," I said firmly. "What do you want me to do? I can ring the police and they can be here in minutes."

"We already called them, you imbecile," Ralph growled. "Hopefully they'll lock you up."

Sure enough, the cops did arrive, but unfortunately for Ralph, Kiara was sober and straight. As the cops grabbed me. She screamed, "Leave him alone, he is my friend and he works for me. He has done nothing wrong. Let him go."

The cop, who had my wrists pushed up behind my back, let me go. "Sorry, mate. We were just acting on information given."

Ralph still had Kiara, and the muscle said, "We've got all her stuff, boss."

He turned back to Kiara. "Sweetheart, we have a private plane waiting at the airport, we'll get you back home. You'll be safe there."

She wriggled out of his arms and rushed into mine. "Maybe it's for the best?"

"Kiara, I always said, you're the boss. You do what you feel is right."

She nodded. "Okay, Ralph, we'll go."

"Sorry, my love. We didn't make arrangements for Nash. We weren't sure about what you would want."

I knew what his game was. He wanted to separate us. "Kiara, you go with them. I'll settle up here, finalize everything and be back in LA in a couple of days."

She slipped her credit card into my hand. "Use this, fly first class, and don't be late. I need to see you in LA at the house in three days, at the latest."

Ralph looked vexed, but he was clever enough not to make a fuss. Within ten minutes, they were gone.

I grabbed a beer and collapsed on the sofa. "What a fucking mess," I groaned to myself. I wandered around the cottage, checking to see what they took. Thankfully, they left the recording gear and Kiara's prized Roland. It gave me a chance to package them all up properly. It also gave me a chance to copy all the recordings. For some reason, I got a very bad feeling while I as copying them onto my laptop. That thought made me delete the originals. I don't know why, It just gave me the jitters.

With the equipment boxed up and the cottage cleaned, I booked my flight back to LA. Arriving at Kiara's place, I was surprised to see a security guard on watch. I swiped my card through the automatic gate control, but it failed. The security guard came over. "Can I help you, sir?"

"Yeah, my card's not working. Could you open up, please?"

"Who are you exactly, sir?"

"I live here. I'm Kiara's PA."

"Oh, I see. Sorry sir, but you will need to talk to Ralph."

Turning off my ignition, I called Kiara. "Hey, can you set this security guy straight? He's refusing to let me in."

"Nash, baby. It's so good to gear your voice."

She was as high as a kite. "Kiara, can you get this guy to let me in please?"

"Yeah, sure, babe, pass him the phone."

I handed the guard the phone, and he said all the right things, but when he disconnected the call, he slipped the phone in his pocket. "Sorry, sir, but you have been terminated. You no longer work, or live here. Your final check has been paid into your account. We will also be confiscating the car, it does belong to Kiara, doesn't it?"

I could see where this was going. Ralph the fucking prick. He had her back where he wanted her. Strung out and under his control.

The security guy said. "Look man, this ain't my idea, all right? I'm just doing my job bruh. Don't make me call the cops."

"It's cool. Give me a chance to get my personal shit from the trunk, and if you could call me a cab..."

"You got it, man. I'll call a cab now."

I grabbed my suitcase and my laptop. Just like that, it was all over. I was homeless. The mansion had been my home for eighteen months. I had lost touch with most of my friends. The only thing I could do was find a hotel.

I crashed on the bed, my mind swirling frantically. I couldn't get it to slow down. What the fuck was I going to do? Without my phone, I had no way of contacting Kiara. Maybe email would be the only way, although, if she was as high as I thought, she probably wouldn't check.

Logging into my bank details, I noticed that there was a twenty thousand dollar deposit. Old Ralph thought he could buy me off with twenty grand. Like hell. All I needed was some way to get in touch with her.

I wrote her a detailed email, explaining everything. I sent it to her official email and her private one. Checking her Instagram account, the passwords had been changed, but there were hundreds of fresh posts. Lots of posts about how she was pleased to be back and announcing a new tour.

Obviously, somebody else was now monitoring her account. I tried the other social media channels, but it was the same story. I had been replaced...

I tried for a week to get in touch with her, but it was impossible. She was gone, and it hurt. It was like getting dumped.

I was sure it wasn't her, but apart from breaking in. I had no way of contacting her.

What do you do in these circumstances? Well me, I found a job. Not a great job, but one that paid the bills. My bank account was flush. I mean, Kiara paid well, and all expenses were paid, so I pretty much had my whole year's salary banked.

I found a cheap apartment in Burbank and found a job with a local radio station, acting as a producer for a live advice show host. It was actually a lot of fun. The hours were good, and my life slipped into a routine.

I started playing in a local band, which was entertaining. When I played them my songs, it got interesting real quick. Suddenly, we went from being a shitty cover band, playing gigs for whatever we could get, to a band that had usable original material.

The first time I played them to the band, Larsen, the keyboard, slash singer, flipped. "Jeez, these are good songs man. We've gotta do something with them."

Sid, the drummer, was the most vocal. "Dude, these songs fucking rock. I mean, they are so damn cool."

We had to change the arrangements, and they sort of went back to the way I played them before Kiara got her sweet melodious voice around them.

Life was going smoothly. Yeah, my heart still ached and I felt pretty miserable about the way things ended, but hey, what can you do? It was either suck it up and move on, or become a bitter twisted alcoholic. I chose to move on.

Life, however, had other ideas. Nine AM on a Tuesday morning, I was roused from sleep by the pounding on my door. Swinging the door open, I was greeted by a couple of cops. "Nash Collins?" the tall one queried.

"Yep, that's me."

He handed me a document. "Sir, we believe you are in possession of a laptop computer that belongs to AGM records, is that correct?"

"Ah, no. I have nothing that belongs to AGM."

Do you have a Dell laptop, serial number 278435689?"

"Yes, but it doesn't belong to AGM. It belongs to Kiara."

"Sir, AGM, claims it is theirs. The have supplied the relevant documentation, and we believe it is their property. We have here a confiscation order." I tried to get my head around what steps I should take. Shit, it was just a laptop.

The cop, I think, picked up that I was unsure. "Sir, I can tell you this. We have been instructed that if you hand over the laptop, No charges of theft will be made against you. If, however, you choose to contest the order, they will be filing charges, and if we find the computer on these premises, we will be arresting you. Does that help?"

"Give me a minute. I'll go and get it."

After handing it over, ghe cop gave me a curt nod. "Good choice, sir. Have a good day. As they walked away, I tried to get my head around why they waited six months to get it back. And why did AGM say they owned it?

It made me damned happy that I backed up everything onto a hard drive. I was also grateful that I had deleted all my personal stuff, including the recordings from Queenstown. That's when my mind started spinning. Was that what they were after? No, surely not, the songs weren't something they would be interested in, and they were mine anyway.

It was a week later when Ralph phoned me. "All right, Nash. Where are the recordings?"

"What the hell are you talking about, dipshit?"

"The recordings you and Kiara made in New Zealand?"

"I have them. They are mine, I wrote them, and they are registered under my name."

"Don't fuck with me, Nash. I don't play nice. If you try to make this harder than it already is. I will fucking roast you alive. I will take everything you have."

"Good luck, asshole. What do they say on those cop shows? I'll see you in court." I disconnected the call. Fuck him, although I did wonder how he got my number.

Two days later, he called again. "All right, Nash. You caught me on a bad day. Let's try this another way. I don't want to ruin you. We are prepared to offer you fifty grand if you sign over the copyright of the songs Kiara recorded."

"Why the hell do you want them? They're not your usual fare."

"You are wrong there, kiddo. From the bits that Kiara played for me, it's something we think we can work with. Granted, we would have to completely rearrange them. They would need to fit in with the rest of Kiara's discography."

"You want to turn them into pop songs?"

"Yeah, of course. That's who Kiara is."

"Then fuck no. Now I am determined. You aren't getting your disgusting claws on them."

"Look, kid. Don't make me do this the hard way. I can and will make your life a living hell if you don't play ball."

"Yeah, what are you going to do, dipshit? I don't work for you anymore, remember?"

"Nash, push me and you will find out how hard I'm prepared to go. Once I file a court injunction, I will request all your accounts are frozen. I'll dry up your money. You'll have nothing left to fight with. I'll get the damn songs one way or another."

"Still no."

"Don't be a fool. Take the money. Tell you what, I'll make it seventy-five grand."

"Nope, not interested. I'm already recording them for release myself."

"Don't do that, son. I'm trying to play nice here, because for some goddamned reason, Kiara, likes you."

"Don't care." With that, I disconnected the call.

"Hey, Nash." Kiara's voice reverberated around my head.

"Hey to you. Long time."

"Don't get me started, Nash." Wow, she was wired, I could pick it up from her voice. "I'm still angry that you walked away. You couldn't even say goodbye. Do you know how much that hurt? I thought we were friends?"

"I didn't walk away, Kiara. That day I got to your place. The security guy wouldn't let me in. He confiscated my phone, he refused to let me talk to you. Gave me a letter of termination, which was signed by you, by the way."

"What?" she spluttered disbelievingly. "I never signed anything like that."

"It doesn't matter now, Kiara. It's done and dusted."

I heard the sniffles as they got louder and louder. "I'm sorry, Nash. I never knew."

She sounded confused, her words were slurred, hesitant. "Why did you call, Kiara?"

"The songs. I want to record them."

"They're mine, Kiara. I don't want to see them get turned into shitty pop, They mean something to me."

"Nash, they're awesome, I love them, but I don't have all the lyrics or arrangements, and now I only have some partial recordings. Nash, they could be hits."

"I don't care about that. They're mine, and I'm not seeing them destroyed."

"Destroyed?" She hissed in bewilderment. "Do you mean me?"

"Yeah, you and AGM. I'm not doing it. They're covered by copyright. They are my property. You have plenty of your own. Use them."

She was crying non stop, her words incoherent and irrational. I tried to hold on, to listen, but with every passing second, she became more incoherent. Thankfully, the call disconnected.

Wow, she was fucked up. I hated hearing her like that. Having watched the real Kiara emerge during our stay in New Zealand, this was heartbreaking. I had seen the happy, bright and sharp woman who lived inside that superficial skin burst out of her cocoon.