Fairytale Remix: Blayze & Ash Read online

  Blayze & Ash

  (Fairy Tale Remix)

  Jessica Sorensen

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  About the Author

  Also by Jessica Sorensen

  Blayze & Ash

  Jessica Sorensen

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright © 2017 by Jessica Sorensen

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.

  No part of this book can be reproduced in any form or by electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without the permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  Any trademarks, service marks, product names or names featured are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if we use one of these terms.

  For information: jessicasorensen.com

  Cover Photo: Regina Wamba ©MaeIDesign and Photography

  Created with Vellum

  Chapter 1

  It’s Friday night, and while most of my friends are hanging out at parties, I’m chilling with my dad, reminiscing about my mom and how I got my beautifully strange name. I’ve always thought my name was odd, but then again, I’m kind of a strange girl.

  “It’s why we named you Blayze, because we knew you were going to blaze through the world like a wildfire and do great things.” A faraway look crosses his expression as he stares at the flames hissing in the fireplace. “Your mother wanted to name you Wildfire, but thankfully, I talked her out of it.”

  I’m not sure if I agree with him. Sometimes kids at my school make fun of me because of it. I wouldn’t change it for the world, though.

  I hug my legs to my chest. “Why’d you guys give me the middle name Beauty?”

  My father tears his attention away from the fire. “Because the name’s so fitting. You truly are a beautiful girl, Blayze.” He smiles, but pain floods his eyes. “That, you get from your mother.”

  It’s been over four months since my mother died of cancer, and my chest still constricts whenever she’s mentioned. It’s hard to think I only had eighteen years with her, but I’m grateful I got them.

  “What’s wrong?” my father asks, noting my sullen expression.

  I shake my head, suck back the approaching tears, and force a smile, not wanting to burden him with my problems. “Nothing. I’m just tired.”

  “You haven’t been sleeping well?”

  “It’s finals week at school.”

  He nods distractedly and stares at the fire again.

  My dad used to be a healthy-looking man, but lately, he’s been paler, lost weight, and has permanent bags residing under his eyes. I know something has been troubling him, but every time I ask him about it, he just tells me not to worry.

  He abruptly rises to his feet. “I’m going to my study to get some work done. If you need anything at all, please come talk to me, Blayze. And don’t stay up too late studying. I love that you love to get good grades, but I don’t like you wearing yourself out so much.”

  When I nod, he hurries for the door.

  “Oh, and if your sister shows up, tell her I want to talk to her.”

  “All right, I will,” I reply, even though it won’t do any good to pass along the message to my older sister.

  Ivy never listens to anything anyone says and throws a fit whenever she doesn’t get her way. The only people she kind of listened to were my mom and occasionally Max, my older brother. However, he’s traveling around the world right now. With his absence and my mom’s death, Ivy’s inability to follow the rules has gotten even worse.

  I spend the next half hour watching the fire fizzle out, allowing myself a few moments to cry in the privacy of the living room. Then I collect myself and head for my room.

  Right as I’m crossing through the foyer, the double front doors swing open and in Ivy strolls.

  She’s only a year older than me, but we look like total opposites. Ivy is short, blond, and curvaceous, while I’m tall with long, wavy, brown hair and a body type that some call modelesque. Me, I think of it more as gangly.

  “Oh, my God, I had the worst night ever,” she whines, dropping handfuls of shopping bags onto the floor.

  All the bags have designer logos on them and probably contain jewelry, shoes, or clothing. Ivy loves pricey … well, everything. Thankfully, my father is one of the wealthiest men in the city.

  “Is everything all right?” I ask as she kicks the door shut.

  “No, Blayze, everything isn’t all right.” She dramatically huffs as she shucks off her jacket. “You know I’ve been wanting to go out on a date with Leo Brallmin, right?”

  I nod, sinking down on the bottom step of the marble staircase, knowing this conversation has the potential to carry on for a freakin’ long-ass time. Any conversation about Leo Brallmin usually does.

  Leo’s dad, Lyle, is the wealthiest man in the city—maybe even in the country—which makes him the target of Ivy’s dire need to marry a rich man. My dad actually works for Lyle, and that’s how Ivy met Leo.

  “He totally blew me off.” She kicks one of the bags and shakes her head. “We were supposed to go to his dad’s club tonight, but he didn’t show up and left me standing in line all by myself. When I finally made it to the front, the bouncer wouldn’t let me in. It was so humiliating.”

  “I’m sorry you had a bad night,” I say as she sulks toward the sitting room and flops onto a sofa, melodramatically draping her arm over her head.

  “A bad night? Blayze, this was more than just a bad night. I was humiliated. Do you even know how that feels?” Without giving me a chance to respond, she snaps her fingers at me, beckoning me to come to her.

  Sighing, I push from the stairs and take a seat on the sofa across from her. For the next hour, I listen to her go on and on about how Leo is a jerk. By the time she finally pauses, waiting for me to say something, I’ve almost dozed off.

  I clear my throat and try to console her. “I’m sorry he was so rude to you, but maybe this finally means you can be free.”

  Her brows knit. “Free?”

  “Yeah, you know, from this crush you’ve had on Leo.” I kick my bare feet up onto the coffee table. “I mean, you’ve had a crush on him for practically forever. Maybe it’s time to move on to someone who will treat you better.”

  She gapes at me like I’ve suddenly sprouted a unicorn horn between my eyes. “I’m not just going to dump Leo because he ditched me one night.” She continues to stare at me like I’m some sort of foreign creature she doesn’t understand. “Do you know how wealthy his family is?”

  “Money isn’t everything. There are plenty of happy people who don’t have everything.”

  “You’re so naïve sometimes. I could never be poor and happy.”

  “You don’t have to be poor, but don’t you want to be with someone you love and who loves you?”

  “We’re not living in a fairytale, Blayze. Love’s not going to make you happy.”

  I feel so sorry for her at that moment.

  “Mom and Dad were happy, even back when they were poor.”

  “If you really believe that, then you’re more naïve than I thought.” She gets to her feet, smoothing the wrinkles out of her green, fitted dress. “If they were so happy, then why’d Dad end up taking his job, huh?” When
I don’t respond, she grins. “He’s not a saint, and you know it. He does bad things for a lot of money. He pretty much sold his soul for wealth.”

  I don’t agree with her. While my dad may do some questionable things for work, it doesn’t mean I believe he’s a bad person.

  Leo Brallmin’s father, on the other hand … That dude is seriously scary. I’ve heard so many rumors about what he does to people who piss him off: burning off their skin, cutting off their tongues, just to name a few.

  Instead of arguing with Ivy, I pass along his message to her. “Dad wants to talk to you. He’s up in his office.”

  She only laughs. “I’m sure he does.”

  After the depressing conversation with my sister, I go up to my room, crank up some music, and lounge in bed. Music has always helped me relax, and even though I don’t possess any musical talent, I hope to one day pursue a career in music by opening up my own vintage record store. I spend a lot of time now browsing around at the local shop, working on my collection. I’m even taking a few business classes come fall when I officially start college.

  My dad and Max love the idea, but Ivy thinks it’s silly. She keeps telling me it’s a pointless dream to chase and that I should just find someone rich to marry, like she has been trying to do. Ever since she graduated a year ago, she’s done nothing except chase Leo around, waiting for a ring to be put on her finger. Unlike me, her whole world centers on guys.

  I’ve been out on a total of two dates, one of which my friends set me up on and the other was with a son of one of my dad’s business acquaintances. Both were a disaster. Despite the fact that the guys were attracted to me, something they both told me toward the end of the date, they just didn’t click with me, which is basically code for I’m too much of a weirdo.

  How do I know this?

  Because it’s the story of my life.

  So beautiful, I’ve been called many, many times.

  But so different has always echoed the compliment.

  Different, because I don’t love designer clothes, fixate on my looks, or spend all my time trying to impress guys. So nice, so polite, so caring and compassionate. Like those are bad things. They’re not.

  At least, my mom always said so. She used to tell me all the time that it was better to have a big heart and compassion to share with the world than to have beauty and wealth to share with yourself. That, one day, I’d find a guy to share my big heart with, and I’d come to love him so much I’d do anything for him, even when he challenged me and pissed me off. That I’d love him so wholly. I’d love him more than myself.

  The kind of love my parents had.

  Something I got to see every day back when she was alive.

  Bang! Bang! Bang!

  “What the hell was that?” I bolt upright in bed, my pulse soaring.

  Holy shit. Was that a gun shot? No, there’s no way—

  Bang! Bang! Bang!

  Right as I jump to my feet, my bedroom door swings open.

  My dad barges into my room, red-faced, sweat beading his skin, and his fingers are wrapped around the silver handle of a gun.

  “We need to go. Now.”

  I round the bed toward him. “Dad, what’s going on?”

  He’s breathing so heavily I’m worried he’s going to pass out.

  “I messed up,” he says, pushing me out the door.

  “Messed up how?” I ask as we rush for the stairway.

  Without looking at me, he utters, “I’m so sorry for ruining everything, Blayze.”

  His words feel ominous. I can feel it in the pit of my stomach that nothing will be the same again. It’s the same feeling I got when my mom told me she had stage four cancer.

  Seconds later, I realize my feeling is correct, because at the bottom of the stairway, lying in a pool of blood, is Lyle Brallmin.

  Chapter 2

  The next few weeks rush by in a stream of chaos as we travel out of the country to a small town in Scotland that I’m now supposed to call my home.

  As it turns out, my dad’s extra stress was stemming from the fact that he was going to testify against Lyle Brallmin to help the police put him behind bars. My father, Ivy, and I were supposed to be going into witness protection, because more than likely, Lyle Brallmin would have a hit put on him. It wasn’t supposed to happen for a little while, but apparently, Lyle found out what my dad was up to.

  He was planning to kill my dad when he confronted him that night, but my dad killed him, instead. The police still put us in witness protection, worried the people who work with Lyle will come after him. Thankfully, Max is everywhere and anywhere, constantly on the move, so he’s safe from all the chaos.

  For the most part, I’ve been handling the change okay. I mean, it’s difficult getting used to my new last name and the thousand square-foot cottage we now call home. However, I would honestly be okay with the cramped living quarters if I didn’t have to listen to Ivy cry and complain twenty-four-seven.

  “God, this place smells,” she gripes every morning at breakfast. “I miss our old house and my old bedroom and my old clothes.” Tears spring from her eyes and stream down her cheeks into her oatmeal. “I should’ve gone to college. Then I wouldn’t be stuck living in this shithole.”

  After almost three weeks of crying, I’m starting to grow a bit concerned for her. She didn’t even cry this much after my mom died.

  “Hey, Ivy.” I put my bowl in the sink. “I’m going to walk around town. You know, get some fresh air and check out all the sights. I was wondering if you wanted to come with me.”

  “What sights? There’s nothing here but a crappy little house and a stupid store that sells secondhand clothes. Second hand!” She begins to cry even harder. “How am I supposed to wear clothes someone else has already worn? And getting stuff shipped out here is practically impossible without paying a fortune, and since Dad can’t get ahold of most of his money, we can’t afford it!”

  “Maybe there are more stores than what we saw driving in,” I say, trying to entice her to go with me. “It wouldn’t hurt to look, right?”

  She gapes at me like I’m a raving lunatic. “How can you be so happy about all of this? Our lives are ruined, Blayze. No more money, no more designer, no more Leo Brallmin.”

  No more house that carries memories of our mom, I think to myself.

  Tears pool in my eyes, but I suck them back. “Things will get better.”

  “No, they won’t.” She pushes back from the table. “But I’ll go to town with you. Anything’s better than staying here with Dad.” She says Dad’s name venomously.

  She’s been hard on him about what happened and tells him every day how much she blames him. I hate that she’s treating him so poorly. Yes, it’s because of my dad that our world got turned upside down, but he was trying to do a good thing by testifying. It just backfired on him.

  I say good-bye to Dad, who has been spending a ton of time online, looking for a new job in town.

  “Be careful,” he warns, looking exhausted, pallid, and way too thin. “And keep your phone on you at all times.”

  Nodding, I slip on my leather jacket, bulky black boots, and wave good-bye. Then I head on foot to town with Ivy.

  She managed to bring a few pairs of glittery four-inch stilettos with her when we took off to Scotland. She’s wearing a pair now, along with a tight dress and a fur coat. Back in the city, she fit right in, but here, she stands out like a disco ball in a Goth club.

  “God dammit, my heel keeps getting caught in the cobblestones,” she complains as we wander up and down the streets lined with shops, cafes, and ancient looking churches and museums.

  “I don’t even see any clothing stores around.” Ivy wiggles her heel free. “Face it, Blayze, from now on, our lives are over …” She trails off, her gaze drifting toward the corner of the street. A grin curls at her lips. “Okay, I take that back. Maybe this place isn’t so bad.”

  I track her gaze to find her staring at a tall, lean guy with hair as
black as ink and golden eyes as fierce as the sun staring in the window of a store. He shoves up the sleeves of his jacket, seeming deeply engrossed in whatever’s inside the store. I hate to admit it, because it makes me feel so shallow, but I think he just might be the most gorgeous guy I’ve ever seen.

  “I wonder where he buys his clothes,” Ivy mutters from beside me. “They look designer. Oh! I bet he’s rich!”

  I don’t really know how she can tell since all he’s wearing is a jacket, a pair of dark blue jeans, and boots.

  As I’m standing there, openly gawking at him, he turns his head and looks at me. His gaze sweeps me up and down, making me feel exposed. When our eyes meet again, his lips quirk to a cocky smile. Then he turns away and steps inside the store.

  Ivy snatches my hand and strides down the sidewalk with determination burning in her eyes.

  “Where are we going?” I ask as I stumble behind her.

  “I’m going to ask him where he shops.” She stops in front of the store and adjusts her boobs before marching inside.

  Sighing, I trudge inside after her.

  My mood instantly lifts as I take in the music posters and memorabilia on the walls and the rows and rows of records lining the aisles.

  “It’s a record store!” I exclaim loudly.

  A few customers and the cashier stare at me with confusion, but I hardly notice because I’m in a record store again!

  “See, this is why you never go on second dates,” Ivy hisses from under her breath.

  I shrug her off and hum along with the song playing from the store stereo as I wander toward the aisles.

  “It smells gross in here,” Ivy remarks. “Like old, smelly stuff.”

  “Well, records are old,” I tell her as I begin flipping through section L.

  “Whatever. I just need to find that sexy eye candy so I can ask him where to shop and slip him my number. Then I’m so going home.” She pauses, glancing around the store. “Wait, where’d he go?”