Burning Muses (Muse & Music #1) - J. R. Rogue Page 0,2

movie, hot on the heels of the second’s success, I stayed close to the set. The movies had remained beautifully faithful to my novellas, the female director of the films, becoming one of my closest friends. Months passed by in a blur and I was without a care in the world.

I attended red carpet premieres for the films, the first taking place where I lived, in New York City. I loved the glamour of it all. All day long I would be pampered by hair stylists and makeup artists dolling me up like a star. As a child, I always dreamed of taking the stage in beautiful gowns and singing before audiences of thousands, this dream was quickly forgotten when I realized I couldn’t sing worth a damn. This is the closest I would get.

The film’s sexy British star, Tristan, was my date for each premiere in the various cities we visited. He was the hottest celebrity in the world. When buzz began over the casting of the first movie, his name was thrown around more than others. My readers knew he embodied every physical characteristic of the lead in my books. I agreed. I fantasized about him starring in the film. I fantasized about other things, too. We were not dating, but walking the red carpet together sent tongues wagging. He was extremely private about his love life and would never bring an actual woman in his life to the red carpet. The speculation over if he was dating the beautiful author of the books was great for tickets sales. We maintained that we were just friends, the truth, but tabloids never believed it. It didn’t bother me. If the world wanted to believe I was sleeping with one of the most beautiful men alive, then go for it. It certainly wasn’t difficult to gaze at him adoringly for the camera.

The final premiere for film number two was to be just like any other. I was prepared for the onslaught of questions about my next project. I remained coy about the subject. I gave no details, mostly because I had none, but assured everyone I was hard at work. I didn’t feel at that time that I had writer’s block. I convinced myself I was merely busy, ignoring the fact that I had never gone this long in my life without at least filling my journal. I began writing as a young child to pass the time in our old country home. With no siblings to keep me company, it was one of the many ways I stayed busy. Still, the seed of fear was planted within me and I had yet to admit its presence to myself. I knew I needed a place to hide, but I never expected where I would find it that night.

I was never a particularly brave girl when it came to men without some liquid courage. Small talk was not one of my specialties, and flirting was not second nature to me; but give me a couple Long Island Ice Teas and I suddenly morphed into a much smoother version of myself. Give me too many Long Islands and I become a much sloppier version of that seductress, a mistake I learned the hard way.

I was always told I was too uptight, so a little bit of alcohol went a long way to calm my nerves. That night I got my hand on those drinks, and got in bed with Tristan.

Now, here I was. I stretched my legs out in front of myself in the shower. Letting the hot water beat down, soaking my hair, soaking my fear. I didn’t want to think about that night but I couldn’t stop myself. Memories from the night of my book’s movie premiere came flooding back to me.

I had downed three cranberry vodkas before we sat down to watch the film. I had been on set for most of the filming and viewed bits and pieces during pre-production, but this would be my first time seeing it in its entirety. I was nervous. I was tipsy. I was pissed that I hadn’t been writing and had been too busy with this damn movie. I wasn’t in the film industry. I was a damn writer. I found my seat next to Tristan just as the room went dark.

I write erotic fiction, yes, but that doesn’t mean sex doesn’t make me blush. I was sitting in a dark theater next to the man starring on the screen. I