Rockstar Ghost PG-13 Version Page 4

  ***

  Meanwhile, at the same time, the arrogant rockstar, Blake White, was in his limo making his limo driver, Harper, drive the singer around the hood. Blake was so totally bored. The singer had threatened Harper earlier that evening with firing him if he didn't take Blake to the hood so that they could drive around looking for adventure or as Harper like to think of it: trouble. Blake enjoyed getting into street fights and even if the cops showed up, Blake could make any charges against him go away with his millions.

  Having just watched the latest batman movie: The Dark Knight Rises, Blake was curious about what it would feel like to be a vigilante, and so tonight in the back of his mind, instead of just finding some punks to pick a fight with, Blake was hoping he could save someone. Just for fun. Just for the hell of it. He was Blake White. He could handle it.

  Blake had a black belt in karate, and a personal Japanese martial arts sensei, Ren Yoshida. Thirteen years ago, Blake's parents, Pearl and Atlas White, had died in a mysterious fire that had consumed the family's mansion in Beverly Hills. The death of his celebrity parents had been reported as an accident, but Blake knew the truth. He remembered having entered the mansion, going to the living room, and seeing the burning bodies of his parents lying on the floor. He also vaguely remembered a figure standing over them and grinning like a madman. Unfortunately, Blake had passed out soon after because of the smoke, and couldn't remember anything else. But Blake was convinced it was a murder because of this.

  The best friend of his father, William Wraythe, had taken Blake in after the incident and raised Blake as his own son. Blake confided to William about his suspicions that his parents' deaths were not an accident but a murder, and William had expressed his desire to help Blake solve this mystery. Blake vowed to solve the case and find his parents' murderer, and when he did he wanted to be strong enough to kill them with his own two hands. Because of this the singer had been training in the martial arts since the age of twelve. Everything he did in life was for his revenge. If he ever did encounter his parents' murderer - he would kill them and avenge his parents.

  Harper let out a heavy sigh that Blake couldn't hear through the glass. Harper definitely wasn't too happy about this. When his arrogant boss made him drive around the hood looking for trouble, he was worried that a stray bullet would hit him. Who's looking out for me is what I want to know. Harper inwardly complained. Blake White was bound to get Harper into trouble. Spoiled, arrogant rockstar?

  Harper pressed a button and the glass that separated from front of the limo from the back lowered so that he could speak to his boss. "Mr. White, are you really sure you want to do this?" Harper questioned again, through gritted teeth. I'm not getting paid enough for this. Well, maybe I am. I have a six-figure salary, but?I might end up getting shot because of this spoiled brat! And then I won't even get to enjoy all the money I get for putting up with this jerk?

  "Yea, I'm sure, Henry. Don't make me repeat myself for like the 100th time. Geez?" Blake wanted to stop a bank robbery or?help some girl in distress. Something like that would probably make the headlines the next day and be very good publicity. Blake looked out the window and sighed. He knew it was highly unlikely to encounter a crime at random like this. It's not like he could expect to find some girl randomly in trouble and come to her rescue while getting to put his martial arts skills to good use. Life wasn't so convenient. What were the odds to be in the right place at the right time? Dreadfully low.

  Just as Blake was thinking this thought, the singer spotted a young woman dressed in an obviously expensive, designer, black and white dress being followed by a group of three African-American guys. The men were dressed like hoodlums in beanies, hoodies, ripped jeans, were wearing flashy gold chains around their neck and had glimmering earrings. Blake could tell the gold chains and earrings were actually real meaning these were true gangsters and not just posers or kids.

  Blake's eyes widened and he smirked. "You have got to be kidding me. A damsel in distress actually appears. Sweet. Henry, pull over." Blake commanded, imperiously.

  Harper's ever present scowl deepened. "Are you certain you want to do this, Mr. White? You don't even know her?"

  "Hell yea, I'm sure. Now hurry up and pull over, idiot." Blake groused.

  "Yes, Sir. Sorry, Sir." Harper sighed as he pulled the limo over.

  Blake hopped out of the limo and began to approach the hoodlums, a feral glint in his lavender colored eyes. This was going to be fun.

  ***

  Rosalie could sense that the people following her were right behind her and then just as she was passing an alleyway an arm shot out and grabbed her - a hand coming over her mouth. Ahhh! Rosalie internally screamed as the unknown man pulled her into the darkness of the alleyway.

  The three men who were pursuing her also turned into the alley to meet up with their friend. The three men blocked the exit of the alley with their bodies, standing side-by-side. A flickering street lamp shone enough light into the alley so that Rosalie could see the three men approaching her.

  "You got her, Bill? Good. She's not even resisting." One of the men spoke up as he approached. Rosalie couldn't see the young man's face since his purple beanie was pulled down extremely low and shadowed his expression.

  "Look at that expensive dress. She must be loaded." Another of the men was rubbing his hands together with an eager expression on his face.

  "Hurry up and check her purse." Beanie instructed. "She's got to have some credit cards in there." Beanie waved his hand forward and the man next to him, who was wearing a baseball cap, strode forward. He yanked Rosalie's purse off her arm and tipped her purse upside down so that an old hairbrush and an old leather wallet fell out. The thug leaned over, picked up the wallet, and opened it - a single white moth flew out and took off into the night sky heading towards the flickering street lamp.

  Baseball Cap held Rosalie's wallet upside down and shook it. "This white girl doesn't have any money on her. She must have left it at home. Crap." The man tossed the wallet angrily aside.

  "Are we going to let her go?" One of the other young men asked Beanie. This gangster was wearing a dark blue hoodie.

  Beanie looked Rosalie over from head-to-toe, taking in her curves and short dress. He licked his puffy lips. "And let that nice booty go to waste? She's not even making a peep. Let's have some fun boys. We'll take turns. Keep on holding her, Bill."

  Beanie and Hoodie chuckled in response.

  Rosalie paled. Fun? These men were going to take advantage of her?

  Bill still had one hand covering her mouth but his other free hand began to slide down Rosalie's side, down to her waist and then down towards her crotch. His touch felt revolting.

  Rosalie was rocketed back to her traumatic experience with Dr. Cole. NO! She inwardly screamed and bit down on Bill's finger with all her strength.

  "Ah! Little witch bit me!" Bill exclaimed as he let go of Rosalie out of reflex and grasped his now bleeding hand in pain.

  Run Rosalie, run! Rosalie thought to herself as she ran forward towards the exit of the alleyway. However, the three delinquents blocked her path as she tried to get past them. Rosalie tried to look for an opening but they spread their arms out to their sides and jeered and catcalled at her.

  "Where do you think you're going, sweetie?" Baseball Cap asked.

  "Guess I was wrong. She is a fighter?she's got some spunk." Beanie chuckled darkly.

  "This will be good?" Hoodie rubbed his hands together in expectation. Rosalie noticed the diamond earrings glinting in his ears.

  "Careful, she's a biter?" Bill warned his friends.

  That's right. If they stick it in my mouth I'll bite it off! Rosalie thought to herself ferociously as she glared at the delinquents with ice-blue eyes filled with hate.

  The thugs could sense her animosity, however, and began to look worried.

  "Guess, we just won't put anything important close to her mouth then..." Beanie decided.


  NO! Rosalie tried to push her way past the men again, but Beanie grabbed her arm and slammed her up against the brick wall of one of the buildings that made up the alleyway. Rosalie lashed out blindly with her short nails but Beanie quickly pinned both of Rosalie's hands above her head with one of his large calloused hands wrapping around her wrists.

  Beanie's friends cheered at their friend's success in entrapping Rosalie.

  Rosalie's ice-blue eyes burned as they began to fill up with tears. My life really is cursed. Why me? What did I do to deserve this? God?someone?help?

  She knew she should cry out for help but her voice was lodged in her throat. "H-H-Help me?" Rosalie squeaked softly.

  "What was that girlie? I couldn't hear you?" Beanie mocked, cupping his free hand to his ear in a mocking gesture, and leaning towards Rosalie's mouth.

  "Someone, please help me?" Rosalie murmured in an equally low tone.

  The gangsters all laughed loudly at Rosalie's plight. "No one will hear your pathetic little cry for help. Now, let's see what white girl's got on under her expensive dress?" Beanie purred as he reached his hand out towards the front of Rosalie's dress, prepared to simply rip the front of her dress off. However-

  "I heard her cry for help loud and clear, dumbasses." Came a pissed off sounding voice.

  A sudden hand on Beanie's wrist stopped him from ripping Rosalie's dress open. Beanie was suddenly yanked backwards and he had no choice but to let Rosalie go. Beanie spun around to glare at his assailant only to get a fist right in the face.

  POW. "Get off of her, you sicko!" Blake's fist slammed into Beanie's nose breaking it. Blood streamed down the man's face and lips from his shattered nose.

  Rosalie's eyes widened - she recognized that voice. Her heart skipped a beat. It couldn't be?

  Beanie made a choking sound as he fell backwards to the ground.

  The remaining three gangsters closed in on Blake White.

  "Who the hell is this guy?" "How the hell did he get past us?" "What is he some kind of ninja?" "Let's get him!"

  The three thugs attacked Blake White simultaneously. Not a smart move. Blake thought to himself smugly. The young man wearing the baseball cap threw a punch at Blake who dodged sideways and then brought his fist into the thug's gut. Baseball Cap coughed and clutched at his midsection in pain.

  Hoodie attacked next and kicked at Blake, but the singer blocked the kick by catching the thug's foot and pushing him backwards. Hoodie lost his balance and began to stumble backwards. Blake closed in and punched Hoodie hard across the face. He then put his hand on the back of Hoodie's head to bend the thug over and sent his knee flying into Hoodie's chest.

  Blake then tossed Hoodie aside and he went flying into several lined up trash cans that all toppled over as the thug collided with them. Hoodie landed in a heap on top of the now spilled foul-smelling garbage.

  "You're going to get it, punk!" Bill - the delinquent whom Rosalie had bitten - pulled out a switchblade knife and attacked Blake with it. Bill jabbed his knife forward in Blake's direction, aiming for Blake's stomach.

  "Blake!" Rosalie cried out, her stomach clenched in worry.

  But Blake stepped to the side and easily dodged the knife attack. Bill was not deterred by his miss, however, and continued his assault, slashing his knife at Blake again.

  Blake continued to avoid the vicious knife thrusts. Blake tsked and shook his head at the thug. "So slow. Much slower than sensei." He caught Bill's wrist when he brought the knife slashing through the air in a downward swipe.

  Blake closed his fingers around Bill's wrist until the man cried out in pain and dropped the knife. Blake continued to squeeze Bill's wrist until he bent it back. A sickening crack rang through the alleyway and Bill cried out in pain and agony. Blake had broken Bill's wrist.

  Blake cracked his knuckles and cracked his neck from side-to-side as he approached the gangsters. Angry fires flickered in Blake's lavender colored eyes making him look like a demon. "Who's up for seconds?" Blake drawled.

  "Who the hell is this guy? Is he some kind of vigilante?" Baseball Cap asked Beanie.

  "Hell if I know!" Beanie complained, "Crap?think he's a cop?"

  "Crap." Bill moaned.

  "Let's get the hell out of here." Hoodie put in. "That guy's a demon."

  The gangsters quickly helped each other to their feet and quickly fled the alleyway without looking back.

  Rosalie remained unmoving against the alley wall, her ice-blue eyes wide, her body trembling. She was still paralyzed with fear.

  But the reality that Blake White had just come to her rescue slowly began to sink in.

  Blake turned to face Rosalie and approached her, curious about the hot babe he had just rescued from those pathetic street thugs. He stepped in front of Rosalie and looked her over from head-to-toe. Yep, she was a total hottie. He grinned thinking about what kind of a 'reward' this babe might end up giving him. His schedule was conveniently open that night too. I'm so the man.

  Rosalie looked up and the light from the flickering streetlamp illuminated Rosalie's face and her distinctive round, cracked glasses.

  Blake blinked. He knew those glasses! "Ah!" He pointed his finger at her. "No way?you have got to be kidding me? Beggar girl?! You were the hot babe in distress? What the hell are you even doing in a place like this at this hour? And dressed like that?"

  Blake ran his hand back through his platinum blonde locks in a frustrated gesture. And here he thought he had just rescued some hot babe and it turned out to be the beggar girl. He had hoped it would be some slut, who would have been so grateful for his rescue that he'd take her back to his penthouse suite, and screw her brains out. But now?that was simply out of the question. He had just rescued the gloomy, prudish Rosalie. She was the 'beggar girl' and beneath him. He was Blake White. The number one punk rockstar in America!

  Rosalie watched Blake's frustrated gesture and saw the disappointment on his face, and her spirits fell. The tears she had been holding back began to slide down her face. Dressed like that? Dressed like that?! Blake's careless words hit her hard and she suddenly felt angry. Why does he think I'm dressed like this!

  Blake noticed that Rosalie had begun to cry and a disgusted and wary look formed on his face. He hated it when girls started crying. He never knew what to do. It was a bother. Women were much too overly emotional. That's why he enjoyed his 'arrangement' with Sadie Skellington - friends with benefits and no string attached. He took an unconscious step back.

  But then Rosalie suddenly began to approach him. "You!" She started, raising her fist. "This is all your fault!"

  Blake raised an eyebrow at Rosalie and steeled himself in case she was actually going to hit him.

  When she did hit him it was a pathetic little punch to his chest that had no real power behind it. "It's all your fault?I bought this dress at the Armani store with the Gift Certificate you gave me and men have been attacking me all day?dammit?" Rosalie began to beat her fists against Blake's muscular chest. "My life is cursed."

  Blake could barely feel her punches and just stared down at her in awe. The dress he made beggar girl buy had put her in danger? Whoops. He patted her back awkwardly. "My bad?but still you shouldn't be walking around this area at night alone, regardless of what you're wearing. You're a girl, you know. Have a little more self-awareness, idiot." Blake poked Rosalie's forehead with his index finger. "I'm Blake White. I have places to go and very important people to see. I had to stop and help you because of your carelessness."

  Rosalie's hands stilled on Blake's chest and she stepped back. She suddenly appeared abashed. "I?I'm sorry?"

  Blake rolled his eyes at Rosalie. "You had better be. I went out of my way to save the likes of you. I could have been seriously injured." A sly look came over Blake's face. "Yep, you definitely owe me, beggar girl. I just saved your life. Just how are you going to repay me, huh?" Blake crossed his arms over his chest and gave Rosalie an expectant look.

 
Rosalie chewed on her lower lip and looked at Blake completely at a loss of what to say. "I don't know?"

  "Well, I do, Rosalie." Blake purred her name as he approached her. Rosalie nervously backed up until her back hit the brick wall. Blake continued to approach her until he was standing directly in front of her. He slammed his hand next to her head and leaned forward to look into Rosalie's eyes. "You are going to be my slave."

  Rosalie crossed her arms over her chest self-consciously. "S-S-Slave?" She paled and began to tremble. "Y-Y-You're just like them?you're a pervert."

  Blake tsked and gave Rosalie an incredulous look. This girl sure had an overactive imagination. Blake jabbed Rosalie's forehead with his index finger. "Don't flatter yourself. You need to get that mind of yours out of the gutter too. You're not nearly attractive enough for me to want to sleep with. Allow me to explain. You're going to be my new Girl Friday. You'll run errands and clean my apartment for me. That kind of thing. Got it?"

  Rosalie nodded still in a daze and absentmindedly agreed to what Blake was saying. The singer had saved her and now she was going to be his slave. Hold on. Say what?! She felt a little indignant. But even though she was fuming on the inside she couldn't express her distaste of the situation outwardly. Why is my life so unfair?

  Why is my life so perfect? Blake reached out, grabbed Rosalie's wrist, and began to pull her out of the alleyway.

  Rosalie did not resist.

  "Come on, beggar girl. I'll give you a ride home. Be honored." Blake said in a haughty manner as he led Rosalie over to the parked limo.

  Rosalie's eyes widened as they approached the impressive, long, white stretch limo. Rosalie had never been inside of a limo before.

  Blake let go of Rosalie's wrist and opened the door. "Get in."

  Rosalie did as she was told and got inside the limo while Blake got in after her and shut the door.

  The inside of the limo took Rosalie's breath away. It had a long gray and black couch on one side and on the other side was a long bar topped with lots of glasses. There was a TV and an entertainment center for listening to music. The gray and white carpet that was on the floor had the band's name on it: Erotic Corpses.

  "Would you like something to drink?" Blake asked as he opened the mini fridge to grab himself a beer.

  "Er?" Rosalie tried to find the words to speak, but she was so nervous at being in such a nice place like that though: a celebrity's limo. It was like a dream. "A Coca-Cola please."

  Blake heard her soft voice with his keen hearing and pulled out a can of vanilla and cherry flavored coke and handed it to Rosalie. He opened his beer can and took a swig.

  Rosalie opened her coke can and took a small sip. For some reason her fear had fled. As soon as Blake had shown up in the alleyway her trembling had ceased and the memory of Dr. Cole had been flung far from her mind.

  Blake really was amazing. A tiny frown formed on Rosalie's lips. When he wasn't being an arrogant jerk that is.

  Blake whipped out his smart phone and brought up his contacts with a swipe and tap of his finger. "What's your cell phone number, beggar girl?"

  "Cell phone number??" Rosalie murmured, shifting uneasily in her seat and feeling uncomfortable in this strange situation.

  Blake gave Rosalie a pitying look. "Don't tell me you don't have a cell phone? You're living in the stone ages. How do you survive? Well, tell me your home phone number then?everyone has a hard line."

  Rosalie blushed. "It was cut off?I couldn't pay my phone bill."

  Blake looked at Rosalie incredulously and shook his head. He tsked and ran a hand back through his stylish platinum blonde hair. "Okay, fine, I'll just give you one of my spare phones." Blake reached into his trench coat, pulled out another cell phone, and tossed it to Rosalie.

  Rosalie fumbled to catch it.

  "I'll call you tomorrow morning and let you know when we should meet up so you can start your new duties as my slave. Oh and you should start calling me 'Master'." Blake chuckled amusedly. "Master Blake White, I like the sound of that!"

  Rosalie frowned. She wanted to be mad at Blake for his jerk behavior, but he had just saved her from getting taken advantage of, so Rosalie was still feeling particularly vulnerable when she said: "Yes Master" in a soft tiny voice.

  Blake stopped laughing abruptly and suddenly gave Rosalie an embarrassed look. He turned his face away from Rosalie and coughed. She could have sworn that she saw a pink tinge to the singer's pale cheeks.

  Rosalie looked down at the smart phone curiously. She had never owned a cell phone before, let alone a smart phone. She wasn't even sure she knew how to use one. She chewed on her lower lip nervously. "I've never had a cell phone before. I don't know how to use one?Master."

  "Huh?" Blake glanced back at Rosalie curiously. "Where have you been living? Under a rock? Idiot?" Blake scooted closer to Rosalie. "I'll show you how to use it. Here, I'll call you and you can practice answering your phone."

  "O-Okay." Rosalie nodded.

  Blake called Rosalie and her phone's screen lit up. She instantly began to panic as she looked down at the green button and red button and was unsure of what to do. "How to I answer?"

  "You use your finger to drag the green phone outside of the circle. That will answer the phone call. If you want to ignore a phone call you drag the red phone outside of the circle. But you better not ignore any of my phone calls, beggar girl. No one can ignore a phone call from Blake White." Blake's voice was smug.

  Rosalie tapped at the little circle with the tiny green phone inside of it with her finger, but nothing happened. "Er?it's not working?"

  Blake let out a heavy sigh and grabbed Rosalie's hand and guided her finger. "With your finger, you do a swiping motion. Like this." Blake guided her finger outside of the circle and the call was answered.

  Rosalie's cheeks were flushing pink due to Blake's touch and his closeness. He was so handsome.

  "By the way, I forgot to ask where you live?" Blake asked suddenly, letting go of Rosalie's hand and scratching the back of his head.

  Rosalie quickly told Blake her address. Blake knocked hard on the glass that was separating him from his chauffer Harper. Harper pressed a button and the glass was lowered. Blake repeated Rosalie's address for Harper's benefit. "We're going to take the young lady home."

  "Yes, of course, Mr. White." Harper groused. "Spoiled brat?" He muttered under his breath.

  Rosalie heard the limo driver though and tilted her head to give Harper a curious look. Had Blake White's chauffer just insulted Blake White? She had to smile at that. Apparently, not everyone worshiped the ground Blake walked on.

  As they drove down the street and deeper into the hood, Blake continued to show Rosalie how to operate her new smart phone. Harper noticed the bad neighborhood they were in and gripped the steering wheel more tightly until his knuckles were bright white.

  Blake whistled as he looked out the window spotting groups of hoodlums crowded around burning trashcans and broken down cars. "You actually live here? Just how poor are you, beggar girl? Don't your parents work for a living? Surely, you could afford a better place?" He sneered.

  "My mother left my father and I when I was six-years-old. My father has cancer and he's currently living at Good Samaritan Hospital." Rosalie explained in a dull voice.

  Blake gave Rosalie a surprised and apologetic look. "I'm sorry?I didn't know. If it makes you feel any better both my parents are dead?" Blake offered.

  Rosalie's head snapped in Blake's direction. She hadn't even known that. She quickly shook her head. "I'm so sorry?how could that make me feel better?"

  Blake shrugged. "Don't be sorry. I'll tell you who should be sorry. The man who killed them. I'm positive my parents were murdered, Rosalie. And when I find him?I'm going to kill him. Slowly." Passionate fires flickered in Blake's lavender colored eyes.

  Rosalie shuddered. She didn't doubt Blake's words. "G-G-Good." Rosalie said, surprising even herself.

  B
lake gave her an impressed look. He let out a breath of relief. "I can tell you're feeling better. You have spunk, Rosalie. I don't think I've ever met a girl quite like you. You're actually interesting. Rosalie, I-" Blake began as he looked deeply into Rosalie's eyes.

  Harper suddenly cleared his throat loudly. "We're here, Mr. White." Harper informed Blake and Rosalie as he pulled up in front of Rosalie's apartment building.

  Blake looked out the window at Rosalie's apartment building. "You sure it's safe to go in there??" He gave the rundown building a skeptical look. Several of the windows were even broken and the holes in the windows looked suspiciously like bullet holes.

  Rosalie laughed softly. "It's my home. I've lived here almost all my life."

  Blake nodded before opening the door and stepping out. He offered Rosalie his hand so that she could get out of the limo. Blake hesitated in letting go of Rosalie's hand but at Rosalie's questioning look he quickly let go.

  "I guess that's it then." Blake scratched the back of his neck nervously. "I'll call you tomorrow morning. You had better answer, Rosalie." Blake leaned forward to whisper in Rosalie's ear. "Or else I might just have to punish you, slave."

  Rosalie shivered but it was a pleasant little shiver, which surprised her. Blake pulled back suddenly and she was even regretful. She didn't mind his presence. "Don't worry, I'll answer your call, Master."

  Blake nodded before getting back inside the limo. He was just about to shut the door when Rosalie called out to him in a surprisingly loud voice. "Wait! Blake! Thank you for saving me."

  Blake poked his head back out of the limo and grinned at Rosalie. "Anytime, beggar girl." He then closed the door to the limo and it drove off down the street. Rosalie watched as the limo did a u-turn and then sped off in the opposite direction, exiting the ghetto like a bat out of hell.

  Rosalie watched Blake's limo drive away feeling like the whole thing had been a dream. Rosalie pulled her cheek. "Ow." It wasn't a dream. This was reality. She smiled. Blake White had come to her rescue. Of course, he had kind of ruined the moment by declaring that she was now his slave afterwards. This brought a frown to Rosalie lips. But then she shrugged. Life wasn't perfect. Especially her life.

  Rosalie made her way up to her apartment in a daze. She still couldn't really believe that what had happened hadn't been a dream. She entered her apartment, and was greeted by her five black cats. She bent down and petted them while still feeling dazed and went about feeding them. After her cats were purring contentedly from their filled tummies, she got ready for bed.

  Rosalie plopped down on her bed and reached into her ratty purse for the smart phone Blake had given her. As she lay down she held the phone over her head and inspected it. The smart phone was real. Blake White had really saved her.

  Rosalie set her smart phone on her bedside table gingerly and tried to fall asleep - but try as she might, sleep eluded her that night. Her mind was filled with thoughts of the handsome yet arrogant rockstar, Blake White.

  After a few hours of tossing and turning, Rosalie couldn't stand it any longer and grabbed the smart phone from her bedside table. She brought up her call history and decided to send Blake a text before trying to fall back to sleep.

  The text message read: Are you awake? Thank you for saving me. Good night. Sweet dreams, Master. (smiley face) Rosalie 1:10 AM

  Rosalie pressed the send button and chewed on her lower lip as she awaited to see if Blake would text her back. A few seconds later Rosalie's phone made a beeping noise as she received a text. Rosalie tapped on her phone and brought up the text message.

  It read: Idiot...I am now. It's late. Go to bed. You need a lot of beauty sleep, though I doubt it will help much. I'll c-ya tomorrow, slave. (winky face) Blake 1:15 AM

  Rosalie read the message and smiled. She clutched the smart phone to her chest happily. C-ya tomorrow. He had said. Kyahhh! Rosalie inwardly squealed happily.

  Rosalie was finally able to fall asleep but was plagued by a nightmare. In the dream she was chasing after a shadowy figure. She wanted it to stop, to warn it, but the shadowy figure continued to elude her and remained just out of her reach the entire night. Just when she thought she was about to grab onto the person they disappeared into thin air.

  She woke up early the next morning feeling frustrated and uneasy by how the dream had ended. Or had it been a nightmare? She showered, washed her face, brushed her teeth and decided to dress in another one of the Armani outfits that Carrie had helped her to pick out.

  This time she selected a nice pair of Armani jeans and a black t-shirt that had the words: 'ARMANI' in silver on it. It was amazing how such a simple outfit looked so much better when it was designer clothing.

  Rosalie thought about wearing her sneakers but decided against it. Instead she decided to wear her low-heeled, scuffed up, black leather, job-hunting shoes. She spent thirty minutes trying to tame her head of wild black hair, to no avail. She wondered if she should just pull it back into a ponytail or bun, and ended up pulling it back into a ponytail.

  After that she made herself some strong coffee and a piece of toast. Rosalie loved coffee. It was one of life's simple pleasures. Her five black cats watched her attentively as she used a pan to toast the slice of bread (since she didn't own a toaster) - in case the bread fell to the floor. The cats would be the first to get it! Her cats were so naughty but she loved them.

  Rosalie looked down at her old wristwatch. It was already ten o'clock AM. She frowned and wondered when Blake was going to call or text her?

  Rosalie decided to kill some time by finishing Exile (Book 2 of the Dark Elf Trilogy), and continued to immerse herself in the interesting story of the lonely dark elf, Drizzt Do'Urden. Currently, he had left the underground city of the dark elves, Menzoberranzan, and was traveling through the Underdark accompanied by a magical panther named Guenhwyvar as he searched for a new home, and a place where he could belong.

  Several hours passed and Rosalie was still deeply engrossed in her fantasy book, transported completely to another world. At that moment, she was in the wilds of the Underdark with Drizzt as he battled horrendous subterranean monsters called Illithids or 'Mind Flayers' - humanoid creatures with heads like an octopus that consumed the brains of their prey. Illithids had the power to probe a person's mind and control them. Rosalie shuddered at the thought.

  Rosalie looked down at the smart phone's screen. It was 3:00 PM already. Rosalie's stomach rumbled and she put a hand on her stomach. She didn't have anything in her fridge to make lunch and she had to save her instant cup ramen soup for her dinner that night.

  Rosalie's spirits fell. It looked like Blake White wasn't going to be calling or texting her after all. She figured it could be because he was busy?he was a celebrity after all, but?he had promised to call her that morning. For some reason it felt like Rosalie was being blown off. She felt rejected.

  "I should have known he wouldn't remember. Why would Blake White concern himself with a gloomy girl like me? He's right. I was being full of myself. Blake?you jerk." Rosalie grumbled to herself.

  Hopes dashed, Rosalie spent the rest of the day reading and trying to ignore her rumbling stomach. Around 10:00 PM Rosalie made her cup noodle soup and after she was finished she got ready to leave for her night shift at the 7-Eleven.

  Rosalie redid her ponytail, straightened the glasses on her face, and left her apartment - but not before saying 'goodbye' to her cats and patting them all on their heads. Rosalie walked down the sidewalk with heavy steps. It took her almost double the amount of time it usually did to reach the 7-Eleven but she managed to get there at 10:45 PM since she had been running a bit early anyways. Rosalie entered the 7-Eleven through the automatic doors and saw that Carrie was waiting for her with an anxious look on her face.

  Rosalie had a sudden sinking feeling in her gut when she saw that Carrie's face was as pale as death and there were dark circles under her eyes. She wasn't even wearing her usual Goth makeup. "Oh Rosalie!" Carr
ie ran out from behind the counter and made her way over to Rosalie before suddenly hugging her. "I'm so sorry! I saw the news."

  Rosalie stood frozen in Carrie's arms and was shocked by the Goth's sudden hug. She tried to get a better look at her friend. "What are you talking about?"

  Carrie reluctantly released Rosalie and looked back at her with a grim expression on her face. Carrie turned and pointed her finger at the TV that was on in the 7-Eleven and that was currently showing the news. The headline on screen read: Breaking News: Rockstar Blake White Commits Suicide. Beneath the headline was a picture of Blake White - a dramatic shot of him singing at one of his past concerts.

  Rosalie couldn't believe her eyes. Blake White had committed suicide?! Impossible?there was just no way. "Carrie, can you put the sound on, please." Rosalie said, her voice quavering.

  "Sure thing, girl." Carrie walked over to the TV and switched the sound on.

  A female reporter with puffy red eyes and who had obviously been crying was reporting on Blake's suicide. "Rockstar Blake White was discovered dead in his apartment last night at 1:40 AM. Police arrived upon the scene after having received a phone call about a gunshot. He was found on the floor of his living room, shot in the head. The gun was in his hand. The gun he owned was apparently for security. His time of death is said to have been 1:30 AM. That is the time the sound of the gunshot was heard inside of the Chateau Marmont hotel where Blake rented the penthouse suite.

  "Thirteen years ago, Blake's parents - the famous singer Pearl White and his father the esteemed actor and action hero Atlas White - died in a fire at their mansion home in Beverly Hills when Blake was only twelve-years-old. It was reported to have been an accident but Blake had always been convinced that wasn't the case. Because of this, Blake's death is now under investigation. Blake's legal guardian, William Wraythe, owner and CEO of Wraythe Records refuses to comment. Blake's funeral has been arranged to be a small private affair with only friends attending?

  "Blake White was twenty-five years old. It is a tragic loss to the music community to lose one of our best and most talented artists at such a young age." The reporter finished, sniffling. "Blake White?America will miss you."

  ?suicide?shot in the head?gun in his hand?

  Rosalie sunk to her knees as all of the strength in her body left her. Blake White was dead. He had committed suicide. "But that's?impossible." Rosalie breathed and pulled out the smart phone that Blake had given her. Rosalie quickly sent Blake a text.

  Her message read: Blake, where are you? Please message me back immediately.

  A few seconds later Rosalie's phone beeped and Rosalie jumped. She tapped on the message to open it. The blood drained from Rosalie's face as she read:

  Who is this?

  Rosalie began to tremble and a concerned Carrie knelt by her side. "Rosalie, what's wrong?"

  Rosalie shook her head. "He can't be dead, Carrie. Blake never would have killed himself. He wasn't that weak. Last night, Blake saved me from a bunch of thugs who tried to take advantage of me. He was incredible?like a superhero. He drove me home in his limo afterwards and gave me this cell phone. He told me that he would call me this morning?but he never did."

  Carrie frowned as she listened to her friend's broken story. "And he seemed fine last night? He didn't seem sad or anything?"

  Rosalie shook her head. "He was being his usual cocky, arrogant self. He seemed?happy." Rosalie remembered the shit-eating grin Blake had given Rosalie just before he closed the door of the limo.

  "Then there's only one explanation." Carrie began grimly. "Blake White was murdered."

  Rosalie's eyes widened in horror. "M-M-Murdered. You mean someone killed him? But who? Who would do such a thing?"

  Carrie shrugged. "It could have been anyone. We don't know Blake well enough to make a guess. The world he lived in?who his friends and family were?who his enemies were - we don't know any of that. And now we'll never know." Carrie shook her head and put her hands out in a helpless gesture.

  Rosalie texted the mysterious person who now had Blake's phone. Her message read: Did you kill him?

  There was no response. A chill went down Rosalie's spine.

  Rosalie worked the rest of her nightshift at 7-Eleven in a daze. She was still in shock that Blake White had committed suicide or as Carrie suspected - been murdered. But by whom? How? Why? Rosalie felt like screaming. Instead she greeted the next customer that walked through the automatic glass sliding doors with a creepy Wednesday Adam's smile on her face. "Good evening."

  The man screamed and fled the 7-Eleven.

  ***

  Blake blinked slowly and looked around at his surroundings. He scratched his head in a confused gesture. He couldn't remember for the life of him how the hell he had gotten to Rodeo Drive. Blake shrugged, figuring that he must be hung over. His head was throbbing after all and he could barely form a coherent thought. It was like he was stoned or something.

  He spotted 208 Rodeo Drive Restaurant and decided to get a coffee to soothe his pounding headache. Blake swaggered over to one of the outside tables and took a seat, crossing his legs. He took his sunglasses off and waited for three or four waitresses to descend upon him to see if he needed anything. He smirked. He was Blake White after all - such treatment was only normal for a top celebrity like him.

  Blake spotted a pretty waitress coming his way and opened his mouth to speak to her, but the waitress passed by his table and headed to another table instead to take the order of a lovey-dovey looking couple.

  What the hell? Blake's eye twitched. Were those bozos famous? More famous than him? That seemed highly unlikely.

  Blake ground his teeth as he waited for another available waitress to notice him. After a few minutes, another waitress passed by Blake's table and he called out to her. "Excuse me?" But the waitress rudely passed him by.

  Now this was really beginning to irritate Blake. He had been seated at his table for more than ten minutes and not a single waitress had come to take his order! This was unheard of. Ten minutes turned into thirty minutes and still they continued to snub him.

  What the hell?! Blake slammed his hands down on the table in front of him. The silverware upon the table rattled slightly.

  A few people looked his way and gave Blake a wary look. Blake just glared back. Hmph! Bunch of wusses! If 208 Rodeo Drive Restaurant didn't want his patronage he would simply take his millions elsewhere! He didn't have to stand for this sort of treatment! He was Blake White! Dang it!

  Blake got up from the table and stomped off. He put his folded sunglasses inside of his long, black leather, trench coat and opted to give the paparazzi a free photo opportunity. He also decided he'd do a little window-shopping at his favorite stores before finding a place to eat even though he wasn't all that hungry.

  Rodeo Drive was looking particularly inviting on this crystal clear, sunny day. Blake took a deep breath and looked up at the clear, blue sky overhead. Rodeo Drive had all the most well known designer stores: Dolce and Gabanna, Dior, Chanel, Louis Vuitton, Tiffany and Co, BVLGARI, the Judith Ripka Jewelry store, Valentino and of course Blake's favorite store: the Armani store.

  The street Rodeo Drive was famous for being known as one big fashion runway. Between the two-lane street palm trees had been planted, giving the street an exotic, tropical feel. Rodeo Drive had nice features like areas that had cobbled streets, ornate lampposts that had hanging plants with draping foliage, a dog statue, and a classy hotel. There were benches where people could sit and people watch. Rodeo Drive was definitely dog friendly and Blake spotted a lot of people walking around with their dogs. Everyone's dog had a cute, or expensive collar on. There were spiked, leather collars, collars with rhinestones on them, and collars with hearts. The designs were endless.

  But as Blake strut his way down Rodeo Drive, he began to notice something very strange. No one seemed to be paying him any attention, which was extremely unusual.

  A man passed Blake by dangerou
sly close and nearly ran into him. Blake sidestepped out of the big man's way feeling scandalized. He had never stepped out of someone's way before. He was Blake White! People were supposed to step out of his way automatically.

  Blake shook his fist at the retreating figure. "Hey, watch where you're going jerk!" Blake shouted after the guy who just ignored Blake and kept on walking, as if nothing were amiss.

  "Tch." Blake snorted and looked up ahead. Well, hello. Two cute, tall, blonde girls dressed in skimpy designer clothes were approaching Blake as they chatted happily.

  Well, Blake was about to make their Lucky Day! Young women always went nuts when they saw Blake walking around Rodeo Drive until he usually had a crowd of girls following him around as he went shopping. He usually got them to carry his shopping bags or sent them off to get him coffee. Maybe he'd be in a good mood and would give the girls his autograph. Starbucks coffee tended to put Blake into a very good mood.

  "Why, hello ladies. It's a lovely afternoon isn't it?" Blake greeted the girls as they passed and winked at them roguishly.

  But the girls continued to walk past Blake and totally ignored him!

  Blake's jaw dropped. Huh? This was impossible! Had the great, handsome Blake White just been ignored?!

  "Stupid, ugly girls?" Blake groused as he stomped off angrily down the street with his hands deep in his designer leather pants.

  He watched a Starline City Sightseeing bus drive by and noticed that they began to cheer and wave wildly towards him.

  Blake smirked. Finally he was getting the attention he so deserved. Blake turned towards the bus and turned his smirk into a more pleasant smile as he waved at the bus. This was a 'service' he didn't normally do. They should feel honored. Aren't they lucky? He hoped they put up a lot of pictures of him online today. His reputation for being a nice, friendly, down-to-earth rockstar would only skyrocket.

  "Look! It's Joan Rivers!" "Joan Rivers!" "I love you Joan!"

  Huh? Blake turned to see that Joan Rivers was standing directly next to him with one of her friends and her daughter's son - Cooper.

  "Oh my God!" Blake jumped back a few steps away from Joan. That woman was always so unpredictable?

  Joan had an urn in her hand and was sprinkling ashes all around Rodeo Drive. That was just wrong on so many levels.

  Blake shook his head in bemusement. That woman was crazy but?he didn't think that Joan was better liked than him. Blake found himself pouting childishly.

  Blake had had just about enough of all this! Why the hell was everyone ignoring him and acting like he was yesterday's news? A one hit wonder? Stale bread? Stinky socks?

  Well, he knew where he could go where he would not be ignored - his favorite store: Giorgio Armani. He spent thousands of dollars there! They had always rolled out the red carpet for him and treated him like a prince. The store clerks all knew him. He was their best customer and patron. Blake had even modeled for a Giorgio Armani ad in VOGUE magazine once.

  Blake took off down the street and headed for the beautiful and modern Giorgio Armani store. Blake took a deep breath before entering the clothing store.

  The store clerks were standing at attendance on either side of the entrance. Blake smirked and waited for the girls whom he recognized to descend upon him and ask him if he needed assistance, or perhaps a date later that night.

  Blake swaggered inside and opened his arms wide. Now, come to me. Blake thought.

  But nothing happened.

  The singer opened his eyes from his little fantasy and looked around. The female store clerks had completely ignored him. What the hell?

  Blake's jaw dropped. "You have got to be kidding me. Fine, be that way. Go ahead and ignore me. The next time I get interviewed by Rolling Stones magazine I'll give this place a stinking review! You'll live to regret this! No one treats Blake White like this and gets away with it!" Blake said firmly before storming out of the Armani store.

  Blake was boiling with rage, fires flickered dangerously in his lavender colored eyes, and he cracked his knuckles. He felt like beating the crap out of someone.

  What the hell was going on? Was there some kind of scandal that Blake didn't know about? Crap! And did everyone freakin believe it? Was that what was going on? How bad could the scandal be? Blake stroked his chin in thought. Did they suddenly think he was gay? That had killed Ricky Martin's career for sure?

  I'm heterosexual dammit. This is all Joey's fault?if he wasn't always so damned clingy all the time those rumors never would have started! I agreed to go out with Sadie Skellington since it would be good publicity. That should have put an end to the gay rumors. Blake saw a Chinese couple taking photos of everything but him and snapped. "What the hell? Think you're better than me? I'm Blake White, dammit! A photo of me is worth millions!"

  A huge, tan, buff guy walking his two tiny Chihuahuas passed by Blake next. "Tch?what's with those tiny dogs, idiot. It looks completely retarded. Why don't you get yourself a Rottweiler, idiot!" Blake called after the man, trying to start a fight.

  But the muscle-head with the Chihuahuas completely ignored Blake and kept on waking.

  Blake spotted a middle-aged, overweight man on a Harley Davidson who was covered in tattoos and had a beer gut next. The biker had a small fluffy white dog in his arms with its paws on the handlebars.

  "Hey fatass! That's animal cruelty, you know! Why don't you leave your pet at home! I'm going to report you to the state!" Blake shouted out at the biker.

  The biker revved his engine and tore off down the road.

  Blake spotted a fat woman wearing an extremely short skirt next and who was also walking a tiny dog dressed in a pink tutu. "Hey, you ugly hippo! You shouldn't try on your dog's clothes!"

  The woman simply passed him by. Not even a slap!

  Blake spotted a transvestite walking down the street after that. He was seven feet tall with the build of a football player, but dressed in a dark blue evening gown with sparkly sequins on it, a pair of high heels and a shoulder-length, wavy, brown-haired wig on his head.

  Blake got ready and took a deep breath. "Hey you! Everyone knows you're a dude! I can see your Adam's Apple!"

  But the smiling and happily oblivious transvestite didn't even flinch at Blake's horrible insult and continued to sashay down Rodeo Drive.

  The singer ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "Dammit?every single one of them?" When's somebody going to punch me already? Blake looked around at the people walking by, trying to pick his next victim when he spotted a very unusual sight for Rodeo Drive:

  First, his eyes spotted the muddy sneakers, then his eyes trailed up frayed jeans, and then a baggy t-shirt that had the picture of a cute kitten on it with overly big eyes that had obviously been digitally edited. His eyes kept moving up and he wondered if he were looking at a girl or guy now since her boobs weren't even visible because of that baggy t-shirt. He looked up at the person's face and all he saw were a pair of dorky, round glasses and a mop of unruly black hair.

  Blake got ready to insult this ugly girl next. "Hey, homeless chick, what the fuck do you think you're doing walking down Rodeo Drive? You're an eyesore! Go back under the bridge where you belong!"

  The girl passed right by Blake and continued to look down at her shoes, but then she abruptly stopped. "Excuse me?" She said softly before spinning around to confront the man who had just insulted her so cruelly and unjustly. "Who do you think you are to-"

  The woman gasped and put a hand in front of her mouth. "Blake White." She murmured softly.

  ***

  Earlier that day, Rosalie had been feeling suffocated back at her apartment. She couldn't even concentrate on Sojourn (Book 3 of the Dark Elf Trilogy), and didn't feel like going to visit her father at Good Samaritan Hospital since chances were high she'd run into Dr. Cole.

  On a whim, Rosalie decided to take a walk down Rodeo Drive. Something she had never felt like doing before. But Rodeo Drive had been a place that Blake White h
ad been known to frequent. One could say that it was his favorite hang out spot. Rosalie wanted to better understand the man she would now never get the chance to know.

  Rosalie had debated about whether or not she should wear one of her fancy Armani outfits but?she just didn't feel like herself in those clothes. Rosalie wasn't rich and she wasn't a celebrity. She was a poor girl, a nobody.

  Rosalie had put on her usual sneakers, jeans and a comfy cat t-shirt. There was a small spaghetti stain on the shirt but she doubted anyone would notice. She put her messy hair into a ponytail and had taken the bus to Rodeo Drive.

  She decided to walk to the Giorgio Armani store like Blake would have done?following his invisible footprints, so to speak.

  Rosalie was almost to the store and had been minding her own business when some jerk suddenly yelled out and insulted her: "Hey, homeless chick, what the hell do you think you're doing walking down Rodeo Drive? You're an eyesore! Go back under the bridge where you belong!"

  What the hell? Rosalie thought as she stopped in her tracks. How dare some stranger insult her so cruelly? Didn't they realize that she as in mourning? Rosalie clenched her hands at her sides and gathered the courage to speak: "Excuse me?" Rosalie spun around and looked at the man's feet first - his black leather combat boots and leather pants. "Who do you think you are to-" Rosalie looked up at the man before her and gasped.

  She brought a hand in front of her mouth. "Blake White." She breathed.

  There standing before her was none other than Blake White. He was dressed in a flashy, black leather, trench coat that had metal studs on it and the design of crosses on the coat's lapels. He was shirtless and the jacket was open revealing a good amount of Blake's pale, muscular chest and rock hard abs. Several silver, chain necklaces with macabre pendants dangled around his neck. He was wearing a pair of sinfully tight black leather pants and a pair of combat boots with lots of buckles. There was a snakeskin belt around his waist that had a skull buckle that was covered in Swarovski crystals. He had a few silver hoops in one ear and several rings on his fingers.

  Standing in front of Rosalie was Blake White in all his handsome rockstar glory.

  However, his body was transparent and Rosalie noticed the blood on the side of his head that stained his usually immaculate platinum blonde hair.

  Blake White was dead.

  Blake White was a ghost.

  Rosalie wanted to scream. She wanted to cry out Blake's name again and just scream in general. She felt dizzy, confused, afraid, elated. She swayed on her feet since she didn't know what she should be feeling. Blake White is dead and a ghost?I must be going crazy?I'm going crazy?I'm seeing things. That I wish I'd see?

  Blake narrowed his eyes at the homely girl until he slowly began to recognize her. "Ah!" Blake pointed his finger at Rosalie. "Beggar girl? What are you doing here at Rodeo Drive? Are you going to spend more of the Gift Certificate I gave you at the Armani store? And why did you come dressed like that, if so? You should have worn one of the outfits you already purchased." Blake scolded Rosalie. He was inwardly frowning at himself for taking so long to recognize the girl, but his head was still pounding. Wasn't I supposed to call her? Blake tried to remember the previous night but everything was a blur.

  Rosalie put both of her hands over her mouth. She didn't know if she wanted to scream, cry or laugh.

  When Rosalie didn't answer Blake gave her a concerned look. "Is something wrong, idiot? Beggar girl? Hey?"

  Rosalie shook her head. She then steeled herself and removed her hands from her mouth. "No, it's nothing." She looked around at the people passing them by on the street, a few had looked her way curiously since she appeared to be talking to herself and staring at thin air. Crap. She probably looked like a complete lunatic. This is so not good.

  Rosalie gathered her strength of will. "Blake, I need to speak with you. Alone. Please, follow me." Rosalie said as she took off, speed walking down the street. She needed to find an isolated area to speak to Blake privately.

  Blake shrugged and followed the socially awkward girl assuming that Rosalie didn't like crowds.

  Rosalie finally found an isolated spot on a cobbled street next to a lamppost with a hanging flower plant. She made sure that no one else was around before turning to face Blake once more. She opened her mouth to speak but then snapped it shut. She frowned. How the hell were you supposed to tell someone that they were dead? She had never actually had to do this before. She had always ignored the ghost that came after her.

  Rosalie chewed on her lower lip and looked up at Blake helplessly. "Blake, there's something I need to tell you. There's something you need to know?" Rosalie began fiddling with her hands nervously.

  Blake put his hands on his hips and arched an eyebrow at Rosalie as he gave her an impatient look. "Well, beggar girl, what is it? Come on, spit it out." Blake began to tap his boot upon the ground impatiently. He didn't have all day after all. He was Blake White. He probably had several appointments that he was already late for. Manager Brody is going to kill me.

  Rosalie took a deep breath, and looked Blake directly in his lavender colored eyes. Her expression changed into a pitying look. "Blake?you've been shot. What I mean to say is?you died?you're dead?"

  Blake blinked at Rosalie and froze. "Hah? Is this some kind of sick joke? Are you messing with me, beggar girl? Crap, I know, I must be on Punk'd - come on out, jerks! This isn't funny!" Blake yelled out as he spun around and glared at every shadowy corner he could spot.

  Rosalie shook her head despairingly at Blake. "On October 11 at 1:30 AM you shot yourself in the head. You committed suicide, Blake. They found the gun in your hand. That's what the news reporter said."

  "Suicide?" Blake rolled his head back and laughed heartily. "Do I look like the kind of guy who would commit suicide? I have everything a man in this world can possibly want. I'm a famous singer. I live in a penthouse suite at the Chateau Marmont hotel. I have a Maserati and a private limo driver. I have millions of dollars in my bank account. I'm on top of the world! I'm the Prince of Rock! I'm perfect. My life is perfect. I'm Blake White. I'm special. Killing myself?would be preposterous." Blake put his arms out to his sides dramatically and continued to laugh.

  "Blake?look at your hands." Rosalie suggested softly.

  Blake looked down at his hands out of reflex to the suggestion and his eyes widened when he saw his transparent hands. He flipped his hands over and back again - sure enough he could see right through them. Blake clenched his hands into fists. "No way?"

  Rosalie then pointed to Blake's head. "You were shot in the head. There's blood on the side of your head?I can see it?"

  Blake brought his hand up to feel the side of his head - it felt squishy and he could feel the hole in his skull where the bullet had passed through. He slowly pushed his index finger inside of the hole but felt no pain. He had a hole in his head.

  No?no?this can't be happening. This can't be true. I'm Blake White! I can't be dead. Just like that? To hell with that! It can't be true?it's all a trick?it just has to be?

  Blake removed his finger from his skull. "To hell with that?it's a trick?this is all a trick and-" Blake glared angrily at Rosalie, fires burning in his lavender eyes. "You're lying!" Blake burst out and moved to shove Rosalie back.

  Blake watched in horror as his hand passed right through Rosalie's shoulder.

  Rosalie shivered - it felt like a cold breeze had just passed through her.

  Blake shook his head, incredulous look in his face. "No?I can't be dead?lies?it's all lies!" Blake burst out and took off running down Rodeo Drive.

  "Blake!" Rosalie called out to the fleeing ghost. But he did not stop.

  ***

  It was only late afternoon and nowhere near the time Rosalie started her nightshift, but for some reason her feet ended up taking her to the 7-Eleven. Carrie had the dayshift that day and so as soon as Rosalie entered Carrie spotted her. Upon seeing Rosalie looking so pale and frightened, Carr
ie immediately became concerned and ran out from behind the counter to go to Rosalie's side.

  "Rosalie? What's wrong, hun? You look like you've seen a ghost!" Carrie exclaimed.

  Rosalie looked up and met Carrie's exotic, dark-brown eyes and nodded.

  Carrie's eyes widened and she gasped. "Oh no, you didn't? You really saw a ghost? Did you see Blake's ghost?" Carrie's voice had suddenly taken an interested edge.

  Rosalie nodded again.

  "Oh my Goddess, you saw Blake's ghost! What did he say?!" Carrie grabbed Rosalie by her arm and looked into her ice-blue eyes searchingly. "Say something Rosalie!"

  Rosalie tried to find the words and courage to speak. "He was angry?he didn't believe he was dead. He said that it would be preposterous for him to commit suicide."

  Carrie pulled back and nodded knowingly. She then stroked her chin in thought. "That makes sense. If Blake has come back as a ghost it is because he has 'unfinished business' in this Material Plane. His 'unfinished business' must be discovering his murderer and getting revenge." Carrie began to pace back and forth. "The fact that Blake's ghost has appeared proves it wasn't suicide but a murderer. Someone killed Blake White and in order for Blake to find peace and move on his murderer must be found. He needs help Rosalie." Carrie turned to give Rosalie a hopeful look.

  Rosalie gave Carrie a bewildered look. Help? What could she possibly do? "How? What can we do?"

  "First, we'll go to Blake's funeral." Carrie was already nodding to herself. "The people at his funeral are all potential suspects."

  Rosalie gave Carrie a confused look. "Why would Blake's murderer go to his funeral? Won't just his friends and family be there? That doesn't make any sense?"

  "Oh yes it does. If you're a murderer that is. Murderers love to go back to the scene of the crime or funerals to gloat about the perfect crime they committed and that they managed to get away with. It also helps draw suspicion away from them if they're properly grieving at his funeral. I watch a lot of crime dramas and it's always those closest to the victim that end up being the perpetrator." Carrie explained.

  Rosalie nodded her agreement absentmindedly. "That makes sense. I guess. But I thought it was going to be a private funeral?"

  Carrie gave Rosalie a mischievous wink. "You don't think I've ever broken into a cemetery before? Just what kind of Wicca witch do you take me for?"

  Rosalie gulped. She had almost forgotten just whom she was dealing with. First, she befriended a Goth girl and now she was seeing rockstar ghosts. Her life was slowly descending into the realm of fantasy. What could possibly be next?