L is for Luminous

  L is for Luminous

  Amity Cross

  L is for Luminous by Amity Cross

  Copyright © 2015-16 by Amity Cross

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All song titles, song lyrics, products, networks, TV shows, novels and brand names mentioned in this book are the property of the sole copyright owners.

  Cover Design © Amity Cross / Nicole R. Taylor

  Edited by Colleen Snibson @ Colleen Snibson Editing & Proofreading

  A LOVE LETTER

  This book is not dedicated to the divas, the riders of coattails, the fifteen minutes of fame-ers, the finger on the trigger paparazzi, the entourage of name-droppers or the hangers-on.

  This book is dedicated to REALITY not manufacturability.

  SPEAK YOUR MIND.

  BE REAL.

  BE YOUR MOST FABULOUS SELF.

  Because you’re a star…even if you can’t see it yet.

  * * *

  Episode One

  The Big Bang

  I stared at the cupcake on my kitchen bench and scowled.

  One single, lonely candle was stuck in the most obnoxious baked good I could find. Red velvet with a mountain of butter icing and sprinkles on top.

  “Happy birthday, Lux,” I said to myself. “So you’re twenty-five, single, alone and talking to yourself in the dark. How does it feel to be certifiably crazy?”

  The flame flickered, and I rolled my eyes. It felt great. Just great. End sarcasm.

  Locked away in my flat, chained to my laptop and writing about the life I wanted was pretty much the pinnacle of everything that was Lux Dawson.

  Who was I now on the eve of my twenty-fifth birthday? I still didn’t know.

  My reality wasn’t the typical Australian story of a perfect family with a dog, a sibling and ace parents who drove their kids to school and took them out for Sunday drives to the beach. I was given up for adoption as a baby, so I never knew my real parents. That whole white picket fence thing? That had never been my reality.

  I’d always imagine that I’d been the ugly baby that cried all the time and that’s why I’d been passed over. You know, there were more desirable models that were cuter and didn’t come with a set of noise-canceling headphones thrown in to sweeten the deal.

  Then, as these things usually went for women, the older I got, the less attractive I was to prospective families. No surprise it left me no other option than to be shunted from foster home to foster home until the day I was old enough to break free of the system. Moving families and schools every year or so didn’t do much for my developing social skills or the ability to form long-term relationships, so I lived life on my own. It wasn’t like I wanted to be so isolated, I wanted more out of life like you wouldn’t believe. There were plenty of times I’d cry myself to sleep or spiral into bouts of depression because I was just so damn lonely, but I just didn’t know how to break away from the cycle of everything I’d ever known and turn it around.

  The only thing I was sure I wanted was adventure and heart-stopping romance. I just didn’t know the path to take to get me there, so I made my own fictional universe where I could get whatever I wanted. Including all the happy endings I could think of.

  Growing up, most kids wanted to be doctors, firefighters, or police officers, and then there was me. I wanted to be an author ever since my grade four teacher, Mr. Sheehan, awarded me my pen license. My favorite stories to read and tell were the ones where the ordinary grew into the extraordinary, and the series of novels I’d been working on were exactly that.

  My main character, Scarlett ‘Scar’ Ravenwood, was an undercover detective on the trail of paranormal bad guys. Nasty people with nasty abilities like pyrokinesis and wild creatures that could shape-shift. She kicked ass first and took names later. She was confident, beautiful, and street-smart, with a bevy of handsome dudes vying for her attention. She was who I wanted to be.

  Since writing was the only thing I wanted to do, I submitted my book to an agent. Then I was rejected a day later in a form letter. For a chick who was rejected by life on a daily basis, it stung like hell…then I gave up. That’s right, after one attempt. Talk about negativity on a grand scale.

  It wasn’t until Melody, my only friend, suggested that I publish the books myself that I gained some traction. I got all my ducks in a row, packaged the stories up as best as I could afford, and put them out there. It was one step closer to being able to live life on my own terms, and I went all in.

  And then there were crickets. I wasn’t quite sure what I was expecting, but it wasn’t a big fat zero. Six months later, my rear wheel was still spinning, and I was tearing my hair out for some kind of visibility. I just wanted someone to take me seriously and read my stories, but nothing was happening. They were my heart and soul, my blood, sweat, and tears. Surely that had to count for something?

  Everything I strived for always seemed to be just outside of my stratosphere, like some secret club I hadn’t been invited to. I’d reach and reach, and my fingers might skim the surface, but I was never close enough to grasp it. The universe was laughing in my face while destiny was giving me the runaround. It was high school all over again.

  My gaze flickered from the cupcake and landed on the card on the bench beside it. Focusing on the logo for the comic convention that was happening in the city tomorrow, I began to squirm, nervousness flaring in the pit of my stomach.

  Melody was showcasing her comic book art over the weekend and had suggested that I volunteer, so I’d filled in the form and sent it away. I never expected to hear back, but I did, and tomorrow was D-day. Anchors away and all of that.

  Picking up the laminated card, I wrapped the lanyard around my fingers and stared at my photo. It was just as dorky as the reflection in the mirror. I wore my staple outfit of a plain black V-neck T-shirt, a long silver necklace with a crystal pendant and glasses with thick black rims. My long, almost black, hair was out and in my face, my heavy fringe sweeping across the top of my glasses. I looked like I was trying to hide.

  Thinking about the convention, I couldn’t deny that going along was a good idea. The biggest stars from the top rated Sci-fi and Fantasy shows would be there to sign autographs and talk on panels. There were a slew of comic book artists, writers, producers, tech experts, and others coming together to promote their stuff. Not to mention all the hardcore fans who turned up in droves and paid a mint to get autographs and merchandise.

  ‘Fandom’ was big business, and by volunteering, I had a chance to get close to the people who might be able to help me. That’s if I had the courage to ask in the first place, and if I did, there was no guarantee that they would even listen.

  Sighing, I placed the card next to my keys and purse, ready for the next day. The candle flickered, and I wondered if it was too dorky to make a wish. That stuff was for kids, right?

  Staring at the cupcake, I reckon I didn’t have anything to lose. The universe would listen or it wouldn’t, so I closed my eyes and made a wish, but it ended up being more like a statement.

  Tomorrow, things are going to change.

  Then I blew out the single, lonely candle and did the one thing that was in my control. I stuffed my face with cake.

  * * *

  Wheeling a trolley of bottled water through
the Melbourne Exhibition Center as the comic convention was in full setup mode, I swung past Artist Alley to see my BFF Melody.

  I’d met Melody not long after I’d moved to my current flat in Melbourne’s trendy suburb of St. Kilda. She was at the Windsor train station, yelling at the ticket machine, trying to top up her Myki card while the train was zooming into the platform. Considering the next train wasn’t coming for another thirty minutes, I’d given her the two dollars she needed without a word and walked away.

  Long story short, she made the train, sat next to me, and forced me to be her friend. I was kind of relieved that she did because I’d been floundering big time. I’d been trying unsuccessfully to go out and do things like actually meet people and go on dates and all of that. All my efforts had resulted in a big fat zero and a string of guys who’d led me on, and it’d made my already low self-esteem dip pretty close to rock bottom.

  Spying her head of wild, red curls, I came to a stop by her little booth.

  She reminded me of Merida from the Disney movie Brave and had the personality to match. She also had an enthusiasm for pushing me out of my comfort zone that always put me on edge, but the morning had been going great so far, so I had nothing to complain about…yet.

  “Hey,” I called out, and she turned around to greet me with a huge grin on her face.

  “Happy birthday!” she exclaimed.

  “Thanks,” I replied, giving her booth the once over.

  She’d put up a huge banner on the wall behind her that had her name and a drawing of the main character from her comic series, Half Tone. It was a crazy story about a psychedelic candy world that’s invaded by an army of grayscale soldiers that want to suck out all the color and keep it for themselves. If Pixar and the Hunger Games franchise had a baby, it would be Melody’s comic. It was ace.

  “Having fun yet?” she asked, straightening up a pile of comics.

  “So far, so good. This looks great.”

  Pointing to a pile of postcards, she said, “I’ve got your stuff here. I’m gunna give one out to everyone.”

  “Every little bit counts, right?” If I sold another copy of my first book because Mel gave out a postcard we slapped together last minute, then that was one more pair of eyes than I had before. I considered that a win for the team.

  “Atta girl! Hey, there’s a sexy Wolverine walking around,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows up and down.

  “Where?”

  “I saw him on the way in. Sexy as. If you see him, send him over here.”

  I grimaced at the thought of seeking out a stranger for a hookup, even though it was for a friend.

  “Here.” She flipped me one of her flyers. “Give him that, you reject.”

  “I better get moving,” I said, pocketing the piece of paper. “They’ve got me fetching water for the fancy people upstairs. Can’t have them dehydrating.”

  Melody’s eyes widened. “Really? Who’ve you seen?”

  “No one yet. I guess superstars like to sleep in.”

  “Well, I want details tonight.”

  Smiling, I said, “You betchya.”

  Wheeling the trolley through the maze of booths that were currently in different states of assembly, I felt the buzz in the air. It was kinda exciting being here before they let in ticket holders. It was like a VIP experience, even though I was only helping out for the day.

  In the main part of the convention, there was all kinds of stuff being featured. From memorabilia, merchandise, anime DVDs, manga, cosplay, books, and heaps of original art. As I walked past a tattoo booth, I shook my head at the convention special. Two for one Star Wars tattoos. They really did cater for everything.

  Wheeling the trolley through the door and into the theater, which was one of a few hosting panels and talks from actors and all the way to technical geniuses, I made my way to a volunteer at the back and left my mountain of bottled water with them.

  “Lux?” one of the coordinators called out, running over with her clipboard in hand. “That’s your name, right?”

  I nodded, bouncing on the balls of my feet, ready for my next job.

  “Cool name,” she said with a smile.

  “Thanks.”

  “Does Marshall have you doing anything right now?” she asked, looking at her clipboard.

  I’d blanked on the guy’s name already, so I was glad for the reminder. “Nope. I’ve just been fetching things so far.”

  She looked relieved. “Great. We need someone to run across the river to the hotel and grab a few things from a suite upstairs.”

  “A suite?” I asked, wondering if it was for one of the guests.

  The woman, whose name I’d already added to the list of the forgotten, rolled her eyes. “Yeah. One of the panelists for the CGI talk, Graham Howard, has left his flash drive behind. It has some things on it he wants to show for his presentation.” She sighed dramatically, like the guy had been a diva. “If you’ve got a moment, can you be a darl and run over and grab it for him?”

  “Sure.”

  “Fab. The panel isn’t until this afternoon, but the sooner we get it for him, the sooner he’s off my back.”

  “No problems,” I reassured her. “It won’t take very long.”

  “Here’s the key.” She handed me a white swipe card with the logo of the hotel across the river on it. “Room seven-fourteen. He says it’s on the side table and it’s shaped like Chewbacca.”

  I stifled an awkward laugh. Chewbacca? Damn, I was at a comic convention. Star Wars references went hand in hand around these parts, and I wondered if he’d go out and get a tattoo later.

  “Come find me when you get back,” she added. “I’ll be around here someplace.”

  Pocketing the card, I smiled. “Okay.”

  Not wanting to let her down, I strode through the Exhibition Center like I was on a very important mission and exited through the staff entrance. Outside in the lobby, there was already what looked like hundreds and hundreds of fans lining up at the main doors.

  It was a total rainbow of color in an otherwise gray space. Tons of people were dressed up in various costumes, from the traditional Stormtroopers and zombies to weird anime characters I’d never seen before. There were even a few dressed as Indiana Jones and an Optimus Prime from Transformers. I had to give it to the lot of them for actually turning up in the full kit like that. Riding the train into the city must have been a full on stare affair.

  I was actually a little jealous as I made my way outside. Dressing up like that wasn’t my thing, I’d never have the guts, but their commitment was pretty damn commendable.

  Making my way across the river and into the hotel foyer, I found the bank of elevators and pressed the call button. I was the only one to step into it as it arrived, and I went up to the seventh floor.

  Dodging a housekeeping cart, I made my way down the hall a fair way until I spied the right room number. I slid the keycard into the lock and opened the door. It felt weird going into a stranger’s hotel room, but I didn’t have to worry about it for too long.

  There it was. Chewbacca.

  The flash drive was on the side table like the coordinator had said, so I snatched it up, let the door slam closed behind me, and strode back to the elevator. That had to be a record, right? One less thing to worry about on their epic to do list for the day.

  Up ahead, I heard the ding that announced the elevator had arrived, and I sped up to a jog to catch it. A man stepped into the car in front of me, but I was too focused on getting Chewbacca back to the theater to be my usual self-conscious self. This volunteering thing was actually beginning to help, and I began to believe this was exactly what I needed after all. Maybe I could even do it again next year.

  Rushing into the elevator as the doors began to slide closed, I punched the button for the ground floor even though it was already lit.

  Blowing out a sigh of relief, I turned and almost had a heart attack when I saw who was in here with me.

  It was Jude Atwood. The
Jude Atwood.

  He was the guest of honor at the convention, what with being the superstar Aussie, heartthrob actor from the supernatural detective show Naturals. He was making a huge splash in America, and everyone fawned all over him like the sun shone out of his asshole. He’d won a ton of awards, was always in the tabloids, and had this air of the untouchable about him. According to the media, Jude Atwood could do no wrong.

  I’d seen the first season of Naturals, all twenty-four episodes, and he was great in it. So great that his character was my favorite and not just because he was handsome as hell with his cocky grin, messy black hair, and piercing green eyes… He was rugged and manly but had this boyish charm about him that had women swooning. Up close, and in real life, he was just as hot as he was on television and a little taller than I thought he’d be. He was casual in a gray button-up shirt, a black leather biker jacket over the top, and tight jeans. His feet were stuck in some fancy looking boots, and for a guy who was set to do an appearance, I wondered if he was underdressed.

  In Naturals, he played one of the detectives, the bad vampire turned good, who continually blurred the lines to gray while fighting the bad guys. His onscreen love interest, Tessa Donahue, was his real life girlfriend, and you could tell. The kissing scenes were the best. They locked lips like they meant it.

  As if on cue, Jude’s lips quirked, and I realized I was standing in the middle of an elevator gawking at the guy like a moron. I spun on my heel, and faced the doors as they closed. Now that he couldn’t see my face, I closed my eyes and bit my bottom lip, feeling the embarrassment flare in my cheeks. Awkward. Then the tiny space seemed to close in on me, and I couldn’t wait until we reached the ground floor so I could let the ground open up and swallow me. I was all for a disappearing act as long as what’s-his-face got his Chewbacca flash drive somewhere along the line.

  The number on the display flicked to six as we began to descend, and I willed it to go faster. Universe, please let me get back to the convention and deliver Chewie, then let the ground open up and swallow me.