Burning Hearts
Working as America’s former pop star Lya Bank’s assistant, Tara Klein is there to run errands and deal with superfans who want to burn them all down together. All on a day that she could not have off.
The problem with working under a pop star is that there are no days off. No holidays, vacations, or even when you’re under the weather. Snot-covered tissues were overflowing the cupholder in Tara Klein’s Subaru as she waited in the drive-thru at Starbucks for her client’s usual order. A hot, white chocolate mocha with no whipped cream and a splash of almond milk. She gets that every day.
“Good morning, Tara,” the guy at the drive-thru window greets her, “The usual for the Lya Banks.”
She moved over the tissues and started jamming them into the other cupholder, freeing up space. “Yeah, Thomas,” she said. Her hands felt disgusting, full of mucus and hand sanitizer. But an all-caps text from Lya stated that she needed her coffee, so here she was. “When is it different for her?”
He watched her move stuff around in the car, her red, dry nose, sniffing in her seat. “Sorry you have to work today when you’re feeling like this,” he said, handing her drink over.
“It doesn’t matter to her when she wants her coffee. I could be dead and still have to show up, drink in hand.”
“Maybe she’ll send you home early.” He gave her a hopeful smile, and she laughed at his sarcastic remark because why would Lya Banks give a damn about Tara? “Call me when you’re done with work. I can bring over some soup for you when I’m done here.”
She smiled, “Yeah, I would like that a lot. I’ll see you soon,” and drove off to Lya’s home.
A former mega pop star, Lya Banks, was in over her head in fame as Tara had watched it all spiral down throughout the years. Scandals and bad crypto sponsorships- Lya had tried it all to stay relevant. Now it’s “Coffee,” this, or “Can you believe these assholes,” that. Tara has been at her wits end with Lya, and this cold will not help her today.
Turning on Broadway Drive, the luxury mansion behind gold-plated gates is in view. If you were to picture hell as a home, it’d be Lya’s home, all up in flames. To add to the pain of getting out of bed, someone was parked in her spot, adding more walking for her. It’s a setback, but you never know who shows up here anymore, so she deals with the unwanted guests with a smile.
On her way to the house, coffee in hand, she realized her phone was still in the car. Ah, fuck it, she’ll just drop off the coffee and head on out, tell Lya that she’s too sick to stay. She could hear the music playing through the house. As usual, Burning Hearts, one of Lya’s songs that had made the charts, was playing. Typical narcissist, she thought.
Tara yelled into the house, hoping she would hear her through the music. But nothing. She sighed and went towards the entertainment room, where the music was most likely playing. “Lya,” she tried again, “you’re in here?” Still no response. Now, it was starting to get on her nerves.
When she entered the room and turned around the corner, she saw Lya, arms behind her back, mascara bleeding onto her cheeks. “Behind you!” Lya yelled out, but Tara could not react fast enough, for it all happened instantly; a hand holding a cloth, covering her mouth, knocking her unconscious.
She awoke later. Both hands and legs were tied, sitting beside Lya on the ground. Tara was already irritated by hearing Lya scream for help. “Will you stop,” Tara said. “No one’s around to hear you. You live a mile away from everyone, remember?”
“Well, it doesn’t hurt to try,” Lya rebutted, “Paparazzi could be outside my house. You never know.”
“Oh, get real, Lya.” When was the last time any paparazzi were at Lya’s home? In the last five years, no one has shown up to take pictures of Lya. Not even her.
The mysterious voice came up around the room entrance, “She’s right, Lya,” a man said, with a voice so shrill that they both winced as he spoke. “No one can hear you.” He smiled with his crooked, yellow teeth and the smell of the Starbucks coffee he had in his hands.
“Who the hell are you,” Tara asked.
“You can call me Sebastian,” he started, “Or Lya’s biggest fan.” He took a sip from his drink and smiled. “Thanks for the coffee. But you missed the part to leave it at the door.” He took another sip, “Lya sure does enjoy good coffee, don’t you agree?”
He had their wrists bound tightly; any slight movement would hurt them, but it didn’t stop Lya from attempting to free herself and yelling, “Let us go, you crazy fuck,” at their captor.
He moved on over to her. He pressed his finger onto her lips and said, “There’s no need to be upset, my Lya.” Brushing her hair aside from her face. She flinched when his grimy fingers caressed her cheeks. “Here,” handing her over the coffee, “Have some… It’s your favorite.” Slowly tipping into her mouth, she twisted away but was pulled back to face him for her lips to touch the top of the lid. “Just like a couple. Sharing a drink. ‘Our lips touching, hearts racing.’” Quoting her song, Burning Hearts.
“Let her go,” Tara shouted.
He got up to walk towards her to strike her across her cheek, and she fell to the ground. Lya looked away when he hit her, scared he would do that to her himself. “Don’t interrupt us again, you hear me?” He pulled a kitchen knife from the back of his pants, “Or I’ll kill you right where you sit. And you know damn well Lya doesn’t want to see that. No. She won’t like it much, so let’s not upset her here.” He didn’t blink; they were prisoners in Lya’s own, and he enjoyed it all — his power over them. Looking back over at Lya, “We’re too much alike. Blood makes my stomach turn, too, you know.”
“We are nothing alike, you disgusting stalker!”
“Lya, darling, we are totally alike,” oblivious to her distaste for him. “It’s fate, and I can show you that.” He got up and walked towards the entrance of the room. “And since your assistant wanted to be here so badly, she can stay while I show you by burning this house down.”
The two looked at him. “You don’t mean,” Lya said.
“Yes,” joyfully shouted. “I will set this house ablaze and take you home with me – where you belong. She,” pointing at Tara, “will just stay here and keep the house – warm.” He giggled and left the room, continuing his cheers and humming ‘Here comes the bride’ until he was out of range.
“I can’t believe I’m going to be burned alive in this house,” Tara said shakily.
“It’s better than going to wherever that – creep is taking me.”
“Oh, come the fuck on, Lya. You honestly don’t believe yours is worse, do you?”
“I don’t know where he lives or what he has.” Defending herself, Lya was naming every possibility of what Sebastian might do to her. She shivers at the thought, “Why is this happening to me?”
The irony of Tara calling Lya’s home hell is that this is where she’ll die, for Lya can only think of her fate while she deals with the worst of it all. She had to think of a way out of this mess. Lya wasn’t helping while occupied with the thought of being kidnapped. An idea came to mind when she saw blood trickling down Lya’s wrists when she struggled to free herself. It was a risk because he could have been lying to them, but she would need to act when Sebastian walked back into the room.
He announced to them when he walked in, “It has begun.” His gesture told them that time was limited. The house was now burning. “Shall we get going, my love?” He gestured his hand over to her, but she moved away.
“Why don’t you do us a favor and fuck off, will ya?” Tara demanded. His mood shifted from joy to irritation. And Tara was to blame for this.
He pulled the knife out from the back of his pants, “What did you say, you little shit?” Demanding she say it again.
“Go… fuck… yourself.”
When he got closer, he got right up to her face. For her to smell his breath was torture in itself, but she kept strong. Before he spoke again, she slammed her head right onto the tip of his nose, sending him backward.
He fell back to the ground, holding his nose after she headbutted him. “You little…” he started before he looked at his hands to see the blood. He retched at the sight and left the room, leaving the knife on the ground, just what Tara wanted. She had to act fast; she didn’t know how much time she had for him to return or when the fire would reach them. She could smell the smoke but didn’t see fire yet; time was ticking.
The benefit to working for a pop star that didn’t cook. Most of her utensils in the kitchen were mainly for show, especially kitchen knives. It took a little effort, but the rope tied to her hands and feet was free after she cut them off.
“Hurry,” Lya rushed Tara when she got to her. “What’s taking you so long?”
“Shut up; I’m trying not to cut you. Now, stop moving.” It took a little longer to free Lya once she stopped squirming around. There was one problem left once they were both free from the bindings.
“Stupid me,” Sebastian said, shutting the door after he walked in. “You need to let Lya go,” he sounded as if Tara was the one holding Lya hostage, not him. He walked closer to them, both hands in front of him in a sign of peace. “You’re not getting out of this, so just – put the knife down.”
Tara stood in front of him with the knife pointing at him while Lya was behind her. Her hands were shaking when he was walking towards them. Whether she was ready or not to face Sebastian, her decision was made up after Lya shoved her towards him, and the two collided.
Lya ran past them as they were on the ground; she yelled, “Sorry,” on her way out of the room. Upon impact, the knife made its way into Sebastian’s side. He groaned at the wound, and Tara tried to get up to leave herself but pulled her back down.
“You ruined everything,” his words were venom towards her. He had her pinned under him now; both of her hands were pressed under his. The time she had was quickly getting closer to the end as the smoke entered the room.
She tried to break free from his grip. He let go of her one arm, ready to strike her. The window she needed, she took. Her hand smacked the butt of the knife that was still in him and pressed harder in. He cried out and rolled off her, holding his side where the knife was lodged. The window to get out of was there and now. Sebastian didn’t get off the ground, and she ran for it.
The fire crackled through the house; she felt the heat from down the hallway, burning over to the room where she just was. Now it’s Sebastian who’s there. Her eyes burned as she rushed out of the house the way she came out, beating the fire spreading out to the front door. It was fresh air and sunlight that greeted her. And Lya, as well.
“I knew you would get out,” she hugged Tara. “Ugh, is he--dead?”
The rest of the house engulfed itself in flames shortly after Tara had made it out. If he were to have escaped, he would’ve been right behind her. There’s no way he got out. Tara's relief of seeing Lya quickly diminished when she reminded herself of the selfish act she had done to escape.
It came out quickly, but Tara pushed herself away from Lya. “Fuck you, Lya. I’m done with you.”
“Wh-what,” Lya was flabbergasted. “What are you saying?”
“You just left me there to die, you selfish-- bitch. I’m done working for you. Find your own assistant that you can exploit around. I quit.” She started walking past Lya towards her car. Nothing Lya could’ve said would’ve made her change her mind. It was all noise at the end when Lya called out for her, begging her to come back. But Tara was long gone already.
Driving out of the place, Tara saw a missed text from Lya; how she wished she had gone to get her phone; she would’ve left the coffee there and gone home. She also missed a call from Thomas and left a voicemail. She played it while driving through the gold-plated gates guarding the hell house for the last time.
“Hey, hun,” Thomas started. “Hope you’re feeling better and Lya isn’t too hard on you today. I’m just sitting here on my break, thinking about seeing you and bringing you some soup.
“I forgot to mention this to you, but my uncle is in town to visit, and there might be a chance you'll meet him. He’s a big Lya fan, like a big Lya fan. So, if you see an older guy there named Sebastian, that’s him. He can be obsessive but is completely harmless. If you happen to see him, tell him his favorite nephew says hi! He’ll know which one I’m talking about.
“Ugh, break time is over. I’ll talk to you soon. OK, love you.”
The voicemail ended, and she drove in silence for some time. She pondered how he would find out about his uncle, whether it came from her or the news. Fire trucks and police cars passed her to Lya’s home, so it wouldn’t be long before the news got out on what happened.
It will take years of therapy to get those images out of her mind and to let it all out on what a horrible boss Lya Banks really was to her. But in the end, she was finally free from the toxic, former celebrity lifestyle.
Eventually, she’ll get Lya out of her mind; when she’s singing the words to her song Burning Hearts in her car, she’ll say out loud, “Fuck you, Lya,” before continuing on.
“We’re just two burning hearts, beating along.
To the drum beats of our love song.
Burn it down, burn it bright,
Burning up our star-filled night.”