I sighed. I was all a mess. I didn't want to be in the middle of it. I'd never asked to be involved. They could take it all back – all the designer clothes and the fancy schools and the cars and the ponies. I'd much rather have a simple life, without the scandal and fuss. I'd been a princess but maybe it hadn't been worth it if this was the price I had to pay. Maybe it would've been better to live in an ordinary house with an ordinary life.
"So, what should I do? I got swarmed by press today. Can I sue them for defamation? Why do they keep after me when I don’t know anything?"
Frank paced the floor again. I'd feel much better if he'd just settle down.
"I think you should lay low for a while. Keep out of the public eye."
"The public eye! I just went out for coffee. I should stop drinking coffee? Never leave my house?"
They knew the area I lived in. They knew where to find me. Soon enough, one of them would follow me and find out where I lived. Then they'd talk to the people in the building – none of them would have the sense to keep away from the press – and there'd be photos of my squalid living conditions all over the paper. And I'd never have a minute's peace for them all being there.
"It'd just be for a week or so, until it blows over."
"I can't go out for coffee for a week? What about the band? I'm their manager. I can't keep a low profile with that. I have to go out and do things. This is such a mess."
"It's only a week. Do you have any friends you could stay with?"
I thought about that. I could hardly stay with Jack and Eric, after what happened the other night. I didn't want to be around Jack Colt when he brought chicks home with him. Plus, I couldn't ask him to sleep on the couch for the next week. Angie would let me stay but her flat was so tiny. I'd be in the way and we'd get on each other's nerves, which I really didn't want since she just started talking to me again.
I shook my head.
"You could stay here. I'd put you up in the spare room. It'd be fine for a week or so."
This may seem really awful, since Frank had never actually done anything and always acted so nice to me, but he creeped me out. Even when I was a kid and I didn't know about creepy "uncles", I didn't like being alone with him. He'd never touched me. He'd never even suggested anything wrong but there was something about him, a look in his eyes that I didn't trust. I'd much rather not stay with him. He'd already offered a few times before but I'd refused. It made me angry that he offered now but hadn't said anything about a beach house when I moved into my crummy room. I'd known he got off on seeing me poor and hopeless.
"I don't want you get into any more trouble with us, Frank. I'll manage. Maybe I could move out of my flat. I only rent by the week and it's not like it's a very nice place, anyway. Since all the press know I'm around that area, I'll get right out of there."
He nodded in agreement.
"That's probably a good idea. Maybe take a week off. Go on holidays."
"I don't have enough money to go on holidays and besides, I have manager work to do. We have some record company people interested in the band. I want get onto that before the idea goes cold."
Frank sat down on the sofa beside me.
"Hannah, they were interested before. When it was just a band that looked like it could make the big time. They are no longer that. They are connected to the scandal. I don't know if they'll be such hot property now. Have you heard from the record company?"
I shook my head. "But they might just be busy?"
Frank shook his head slowly.
"People like that are never busy if they think they'll make money out of you. They will say they’re too busy though, until they work out if this is a good thing or not. None of them will have the guts to make a decision until this all plays out. Maybe you'll add a touch of infamy, maybe you'll be the kiss of death…"
I gulped. That was the last thing I wanted to hear. The band was all I had. My livelihood, my friends, my reason for getting out of bed in the morning, were all tied up in that band. I didn't want to be the one to ruin it for everyone but, if I gave it all up, what would I do with my life?
"If you want to get away, I have a place down the coast. Maybe that's best, after all. It's very private, a nice beach right outside the door, and all the mod cons. Including a coffee machine."
He handed me an envelope with the keys and I put them in my bag without even thinking.
"There's a map in the envelope. I know the weather is bad at the moment, but you'd be out of all this and have time to think. Take a friend or two, it's a huge place. You might as well use it."
I nodded, still not convinced. How could I tell the guys about this? Of course, it made sense with Frank spelling it out like that.
"Hannah," he said as I was leaving. "At the moment, you are more of a liability than an asset to that band."
It was as though he could read my thoughts.
When I got back to the car, Jack was playing on his phone. I banged on the window and he jumped in fright.
"How'd you go?"
For a moment, I thought about telling him everything. Well, the bit about me being a liability to the band anyway. I really did think about telling him, and usually I'm not a coward but, as I looked into his brown eyes, so full of concern, I couldn't say anything to sever this connection. I'd think about it and tell him later.
"He wants me to go to his place by the beach. He says it's pretty secluded but I'm not sure. Do I want to go to a secluded place down the coast? It could be really scary." Secluded means axe murderers can get you, and your body isn't even found for months.
"Sounds like paradise to me." Jack grinned and brushed his hair out of his face.
"You need a haircut," I said.
"What? Cut the famous Jack Colt hair? Have woman all over this city fall into despondency? This hair is my fortune, babe. It's my ticket to pantie town."
I slapped his arm. He could be so cheesy sometimes.
"Why don't you come with me?" I asked, without thinking about all that entailed. "Oh, that's probably not a good idea, right?"
"Why not?"
"You're busy and you don't want to be stuck in the middle of nowhere."
"No, no. It's perfect. We don't have any gigs until Saturday and I can drive back for that. And I've got some new songs I've been working on. Some peace and quiet at the beach is exactly what I need."
My heart skipped. I didn't know what I was feeling though – anxiety or happiness or nervousness – or a volatile cocktail of them all. I mean, all alone in a shack in the middle of nowhere with Jack Colt? That had to be scary. What if he went nuts when we were there alone? But Eric had said it was only if he got disturbed in his sleep.
Still, what happened to "don't fall in love with me, Hannah"?
"Maybe we could all go to the beach. Eric and Angie and, well, I guess even Spud." That’d be okay. There’d be a buffer zone. There’d be no shenanigans with all those people around.
"Good idea. But I think Eric has a big project on at the moment. We could ask him but it wouldn’t really be fair… he might feel obligated…"
I sighed. I guess I couldn’t ask Angie to drop everything either.
We dropped by my place. Luckily, those reporters hadn't worked out where I lived yet. Because of the dodgy landlords, I had nothing in my name there. I paid rent in cash, I had no utilities connected and only had my mobile phone. I couldn't have picked a better place to live if I didn't want to be tracked down. I threw some clothes into a bag and got together some makeup and ended up back at the car in record time, just in case anyone was nosing around.
That went smoothly but then we got to Jack's place. I went in with him and waited for him to get his things together. He needed to pack his guitar and notebooks and everything he needed for songwriting. I sat on the couch and watched some daytime TV and didn't even notice Eric come in.
"Hey, Hannah, how's things?" he asked.
"I'm getting out of town. It's been too intense for me."
He sm
iled and sat on the couch beside me.
"Sounds like a plan. Anywhere in particular?"
"Yeah, heading down the coast to my uncle's beach house. Sounds like a good hiding spot."
Eric pulled out his phone and checked his messages.
"By the way, have you heard from the record company yet?"
My heart froze. I remembered Eric's support from this morning at the café. How he said he'd always stand by me. I should tell him the truth about the record company. I should let him know that I was destroying the band's future. But, yet again, the words wouldn't come out.
"Hey, I only called them today. Those guys must be all kinds of busy. I'll call them again tomorrow if I don't hear anything."
My voice sounded fake but Eric didn't seem to notice. He looked at me without making eye contact and started to say something but didn't finish. He was acting very weird.
He cleared his throat but, when I looked at him, he looked away.
I turned my focus back to the TV, to a story about a woman who became a hooker for Jesus. Was this stuff for real? To be honest, Eric didn’t seem as if he had any project he was working on if he could sit around watching this stuff. Maybe I should’ve told him he could get back to work.
"Hannah," he said and I turned again.
He gazed down at his phone, not at me. I waited for him to talk.
"Hannah, I need to tell you something, it's kind of hard for me…"
"Hey, ready to go?" Jack had his guitar slung over his shoulder and a small bag in his hand. He called down from the landing.
Eric looked up at Jack and then at me. All the muscles in his body went stiff.
"What were you going to say? We have to get going before dark."
I smiled at him encouragingly but he'd stood up. His eyes flashed darkly at me, almost as if he hated me. What had happened? All the muscles in his body had stiffened and he hovered over me like he wanted to speak but then he just walked off.
I didn't want to hurt Eric but I didn't have those kinds of feelings for him. I'd never met a sweeter guy or a better friend but the only guy who could touch my heart was Jack Colt.
Chapter 24
"We should stop here and get some groceries," I said, seeing a supermarket up ahead. "I think this is the last big town before we get there."
Our drive down the coast had gone well. We’d missed most of the after work commuters and had clear roads to drive and sing. Jack concentrated on his driving. He drove fast but not dangerously. I could relax with him behind the wheel. He didn’t want to talk, but in an easy way, not the usual sulky not talking way.
We pulled into the supermarket car park and went in to browse the aisles.
Inside the supermarket, country folk stood around chatting, getting in our way. When we passed them, they'd stop talking and look us up and down, silently judging then return to their conversation. I guess we looked out of place. Jack in his black skinny jeans and studded leather jacket. His hair tied back in a ponytail and a chain of silver rings on his fingers. Me in a cute dress and heels, instead sweat pants like everyone else.
I loaded up the trolley with tinned food and snacks.
"Can't you cook?" Jack asked, looking at the stuff I had.
"I can cook. It's just we might have to store stuff for a while." I thought I was being really sensible.
"Right, because the place won't have a refrigerator and we can't drive to get more food."
"You never know. It's always good to be prepared for an emergency."
"I don't think any emergency requires eating canned chicken." He picked up the can and read the label. "Is this stuff even edible?"
"Wow, and you call me a princess!"
Jack grinned and put the canned chicken back on the shelf. Instead, he got vegetables and a huge tray of steaks.
"We don't need 14 steaks."
"You mightn't. I'm a man."
"A caveman?"
He grinned. Sometimes, I wondered if he wasn't so far removed from a caveman. Except that he had that look in his eyes, the look that made girls practically swoon when he played guitar.
Jack grabbed some beer, so I got a couple of bottles of wine.
When we got back in the car, I turned the stereo down. It felt weird driving along without talking. He could damn well talk to me for a while.
"So, you're broke," he said, as he backed the car out of the car park.
"Way to state the obvious that is plastered all over the papers. I'm poor. Just like you." I sipped on a coke. Maybe poorer, I thought.
"You aren't like me. You were raised like a princess. Even without money, you still have that. You can't change what's inside you."
"I can change," I said. If I thought about it, I already had. It'd only taken a few short months for me to become a different person, for the whole pattern of my life to change. I'd had no option but to change.
"If I was still at uni, I'd be taking exams now," I said. "I'd be so stressed. I guess this is a blessing in some ways. I get to relax and hang out at the beach instead."
He snorted.
"If you had the money, you'd go running back to that old life in an instant. You can't say you've changed when you never really had the choice. You still wear the designer clothes, even if you do eat canned chicken."
I didn't tell him how I'd sold my designer clothes to pay for the video or how I had to eat things I didn't need to cook so the smell didn't get into my clothes in my shitty room. Designer clothes are protection. They get you places you need to go. People judge you on how you dress. I didn't make the rules but I knew how to play by them. I'd taken damn good care of the few precious clothes I had left. If he thought that made me a bad person, then screw him.
"I'd sure as hell move out of that room if I had money, that's a fact. It's not like you’re living in a hovel. You have it pretty damn sweet."
That must've been the wrong thing to say because he seemed to shut down after that. He turned up the music again as if to say conversation over. That made me mad. As if he was the one making all the rules and I didn't even know what they were. Things I could and couldn't say. Things I couldn't do. It's not as if it was my fault I was rich. It's just something you are born with, like being pretty or having good fashion sense.
I leaned against the window and stared out into the darkness, looking at the moon's reflection on the water and the lights of boats out to sea. Maybe being by the water would let me sort out all these emotions. Would I go running back to my old life? I wasn't so sure. I couldn't really go back, anyway. It seemed like a dream I'd had that had faded around the edges and in the reality of day, I couldn't distinguish the facts. The things that had seemed important then, like hanging out with the right people and getting good grades and shopping, had come to mean nothing to me. As for Jack Colt, I think money meant more to him than he let on. He seemed to have some kind of hang up about it, as if he was so much better for not having any.
We made good time getting to the beach town. The road had been clear and Jack drove well. Once we got to the town, I took out the map Frank had given me and navigated.
"You sure this is the right road?" asked Jack. "There doesn't seem to be much down here. And this road is wrecking the suspension on the car."
It was a pretty rough road but that was what the map said, the third turnoff after we left the town then a couple of kilometres down the track to the beach house. The town itself had been tiny. A surf shop and a couple of souvenir shops and a café. Then there'd been a big stone pub on the corner, the old style with big verandahs. That'd pretty much been it.
"There's a place," I said. "Must be it. Pull over just here, there should be a turn off."
In the lights of the car, it didn't look like much. Frank had said that it had all the mod cons and I'd expected something closer to the beach but this place was old and there was no beach in sight, as far as I could tell. Some of the boards were falling off the outside and the garden looked overgrown.
We grabbed our bags and hea
ded to the front door.
"The key doesn't work," I said. I wriggled it, trying to get it into the lock. It didn't even fit, let alone turn.
"Let me try. You must be doing it wrong."
Jack took the key from me and tried to get into the lock. Not that he did any better.
"There's not another house?"
"This looks like it's the only one. Wouldn't it be on the map if we had to drive past another house? Maybe there's another door?"
We walked around the house looking for another way in. I stumbled over a fishing net, left leaning against the side of the house. It was hard to see in the dark, trying to make my way through the long grass. The place had a strong smell of fish and a lot of weird stuff sitting around outside. Maybe Frank was into fishing.
"There's no other door. What should we do?" I asked but there was no answer. "Jack? Jack?"
I walked back around to the front of the house, calling out to him. This was like a bad horror movie, where someone goes to investigate something and they never come back and then their body is found all dead and grotesque. I really hoped Jack hadn't been hacked up. I'd be all alone, and I'd have to fish the car keys out of his jeans pocket and he'd probably be all blood-splattered and gross.
The front door of the house swung open. I screamed. It was the insane clown hacker dude, come to get me.
Jack stood in the doorway.
"What the hell are you doing? I thought you were the evil clown. Don't ever do that again." I beat my hands against his chest until he pushed me away.
"I got in through the window. This place is a little… rough… isn't it?"
I walked in and turned on the lights. He wasn't wrong. The floor was covered in worn lino and the walls were cheap chipboard. In some places, they weren't even lined. Frank had really talked this place up. The single room had mismatched furniture and the place was freezing cold. I couldn't even see a bathroom. There was more fishing stuff around the place – some fishing rods and nets. The whole place reeked of fish too. Dead fish that had gone rotten in the sun.
"I'm famished," I said. I went into the kitchen area and freaked. "What's this?"
I stared at a big monster of a stove. It looked like something you'd see in a museum.
Bad Boy Rock Star Page 17
