Dreamland

Published by EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ® at Smashwords

www.evernightpublishing.com

Copyright© 2020 Beth D. Carter

ISBN: 978-0-3695-0189-9

Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

Editor: Devin Govaere

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

DEDICATION

Thanks to Evernight for saying yes to this book.

Thanks to my editor, Devin.

For Mike.

DREAMLAND

Beth D. Carter

Copyright © 2020

Prologue

He was here to give these fucking people a show and by damn he would.

Dicen glared over the crowd of thirty thousand people, hating all of them, hating that his buzz was starting to wear off. The adrenaline of performing quickly burned off the cocaine flying through his brain, and all he really wanted to do was walk the fuck off stage and find another line to snort.

God, his head hurt. The words jumbled around in his brain, not making a whole hell of a lot of sense. Pissed off, he gave the finger to the audience, but it only made them roar even louder.

Jesus, what’s the next line?

He shook his head to clear it as he mumbled his way through the next verse. Fuck it, he’d always hated this song anyway. Stupid fucking melody. Tony had written it, and everyone knew Tony couldn’t write shit. Why had they recorded it? Dicen tried to get back to singing the damn song but he couldn’t remember it. He needed something to help him focus because he sure as shit wasn’t going to be able to perform for another hour if his buzz died off completely. He turned around and signaled to Kieron, the drummer, that he needed a moment.

Kieron nodded, understanding, and went into a drum solo. Right there, in the middle of the song, he just stepped up and took over, leaving Tony and Van to catch up. Dicen smiled and gave him a thumbs-up. Kieron always had his back.

Taking advantage of the opportunity, Dicen raced off stage, ignoring all the yelling and swearing the manager spewed in his face, running past roadies and sound guys and pyro nerds until he reached the band’s dressing room. With shaking hands, he dug out his stash and quickly cut a line. He inhaled the sweet powder, snorting it deep, and a burst of power and euphoria immediately raced through his blood. His eyes rolled back into his head. He loved the freedom that it gave him. Now he could sing, now he could rock. Now he could give all those fucking assholes out there a show they’d paid good money for.

He staggered to his feet, ready to go, and his gaze fell upon some tablets sticking out of Kieron’s bag. The little pellets of white snow begged to be taken so he grabbed a few and popped them into his mouth, washing them down with a hearty dose of whiskey.

That would ensure his high wouldn’t go away again. His friend. The only thing that made him not feel like shit every time he looked in a fucking mirror. No one else understood the demons taunting him, pulling him back into the pit of hell. He’d be damned if he’d go there willingly. If he had to live with them, then his friend would make him feel safe.

Dicen staggered from the dressing room. The band’s manager, Charlie, yelled at him, but the coke and pills kicked in to work their magic, because he didn’t hear a damned thing coming out of Charlie’s mouth. The music vibrated through his body, up into his head, into his soul. It was the only thing that mattered. The music.

His heart began to pound like crazy, and sweat popped out over his skin. Suddenly he didn’t feel so good anymore. Nausea churned in his gut. His high still zipped through his brain, but he started to shake, and he couldn’t seem to get a hold of himself. Charlie pushed him back onto the stage, and once again he was standing in front of thirty thousand people, all screaming his name, wanting a piece of him. Why the fuck didn’t they just leave him alone?

The music took off again. He felt it more than heard it as Kieron began pounding out the beat of another song. Next Van and Tony harmonized, and Dicen knew he was to come in on the next bar, but his chest hurt, like really fucking hurt, and it was hard to catch his breath. The world spun around him, the lights blinding as he stumbled.

The microphone fell with a sharp ping as he dropped to his knees. He was dimly aware of the music coming to a halt, the alluring vibrations ceasing as he fell face down upon the cold stage.

I’ve really fucked up this time.

It was the last thought that raced through his mind as oblivion took him.

Chapter One

Hey you, a soft voice commanded. Open your eyes please.

He tried to obey, struggling to push past the lingering darkness clinging to him like a second skin. God, he felt horrible. Like he’d been run over by a semi.

That’s it, she soothed. Open your eyes. Look at me.

Finally, he managed to raise his eyelids. An angel leaned over him, staring into his eyes. She smiled at him, so he smiled back. He had always thought it would be demons that would come collect him when he died, so it amazed him heaven came calling.

Ah, a set of beautiful baby blues, she murmured, stroking his cheek. Hello, handsome.

He opened his mouth to say something, but the words wouldn’t come. His tongue felt swollen, dry. He forced himself to swallow to try to get some saliva flowing.

W-what happened?

She cocked her head. Bad hooch I’m thinking. Gotta be careful of certain juice joints. Come, she said, holding out her hand. Let’s get you sitting upright.

He hadn’t realized he’d been lying down, but as she helped him up, he saw the halo around her head had been nothing more than the flickering of a streetlight accentuating the midnight hue of her hair. When his gaze stopped swimming, all of the woman’s features came into focus. Short bobbed hair held back by a headband made of crystal beads. Dark eyes that watched him from under thin, perfectly arched eyebrows. Her lips were a cupid’s bow, painted a deep red. Her skin a flawless pale shade that contrasted sharply with her heavily made-up eyes.

Like what you see? she asked.

He blinked. I always like my fans. Where am I?

One of those thin eyebrows arched. That hooch must’ve really made you balled up. You’re off Hollywood Boulevard, of course, belly up in an alley.

He looked around, completely baffled. How the hell did he get here? Where was the stage? The screaming fans? Kieron, Van, and Tony?

Do you have a name, handsome?

Yeah, sorry. I’m Dicen Burke.

He waited. He waited for the name to sink in, for her eyes to widen, for her to begin batting her eyes in an attempt to flirt her way into his bed.

Juliet, she said. Juliet Fox. I came out here looking for my brother, Thayer, and figured I’d find him upchucking, and instead I find a keen big six. Say, you’re no drugstore cowboy are you?

Excuse me? Her lack of a response to his name, along with slang he didn’t understand, threw him.

"You know, a guy who hangs around street corners looking to pick up ladies. Just so we’re clear on the matter, I ain’t that kind of girl, she informed him, the smile on her face lessening the harshness of her tone. Have you seen another man out here, by chance, throwing up?"

She confused him. He shook his head and then wished he hadn’t when it throbbed. God, I need an aspirin.

Sorry, don’t have any on me, she told him. Say, why don’t I help you get home?

I’m not from L.A. I’m visiting.

All right, what’s your hotel?

The Beverly Hills Hotel.

To Beverly Hills it is. Luckily for you I know how to drive my brother’s car, and it’s parked right at the entrance to this alley, although you might have to crank it. Come on, stand up.

She tugged on his hand, and slowly, he pulled himself up. It wasn’t until he stood next to her that he realized how tiny she was. The top of her head only came to his shoulders. He also noticed her old-fashioned clothes. The black, sleeveless dress fell to just past her hips, where it flared with long fringe that brushed her knees. The hint of a garter belt holding up her stockings peaked through the fringe. Her modest heals buckled over the tops of her feet. All in all, she looked like she’d stepped straight out of The Great Gatsby.

Are you at a costume party? he asked her.

She shook her head. I was getting ready to ask you the same thing. What are you wearing?

He looked down at his clothes. Black leather pants, a t-shirt with his band logo on the front, and biker boots. The usual.

What is the Dark Army? Are you a military boy?

What? No, this is my band, he answered and then braced himself again. Even if she never heard of his name, surely she’d heard of his band. They used to have the number-one-played song across most of the English-speaking countries for Christ’s sake!

Sounds like a militia group. Have you played around here? She raised a hand to whisper behind it. Perhaps a certain gin joint off Wilshire?

He stared at her, not quite believing her innocent expression. What game was she playing? Of course she’d heard of Dark Army! Everyone on the goddamned planet had heard of them!

Listen, I just need to get to my hotel, he said, suddenly beyond tired. Thanks for waking me up. I’m not quite sure how I ended up lying there, but I appreciate you not letting me wallow with the garbage.

He walked past her, heading toward the sound of the street. Beautiful she might be, but she obviously had a screw loose. She followed him, and he ignored her until he rounded the corner and stepped onto Hollywood Boulevard, and then everything inside him froze with shock. This…this was not Hollywood Boulevard! This wasn’t Los Angeles! Hell, this wasn’t even fucking real!

Telephone poles lined the road. Rail lines ran through the center of the street. Pedestrians dressed like Juliet rushed to and fro. But what made his stomach clench and sweat break out on his forehead were the cars. Every single one of them, from the ones parked on each side of the road to the ones zipping up and down the street, were 1920’s Model-T-looking vehicles. They were everywhere, one right after another. He couldn’t drag his gaze off them.

Something was horribly fucking wrong! He spun in a circle, now noticing other little details. The landscape, the clean smell in the air, the buildings, all of it was fucking wrong! With his head spinning, he shuffled backward, putting his hand to his forehead as he tried to take deep gulps of air.

Juliet’s arms came around him. Dicen!

He looked at her, saw concern for him shining in her dark eyes. Please tell me we’re on a movie set.

She frowned and shook her head. No. Are you an actor?

He laughed. He couldn’t help it. He looked back over the busy street, and he couldn’t stop laughing. He laughed so hard that tears poured out of his eyes and ran down his cheeks, and still, he couldn’t stop.

He slowly became aware of people staring at him strangely, and he half wondered if he should be admitted to a mental hospital because he felt like he’d lost his fucking mind. Juliet tugged on his arm and dragged him back into the darkness of the alley. He collapsed against the side of a building as his legs gave way. He landed on his ass, accidentally pulling Juliet down onto his lap.

He took advantage of the situation. Not because of