by Susan Ward
“It’s exactly the same thing as what we did tonight,” Graham points out harshly. “You went behind his back so we would know about his problems then lied to his face you were keeping his secrets. And you also lied to Ethan.”
“That’s not true. I would never lie to Ethan. I didn’t tell him, but that doesn’t mean I’ve lied to him.”
“Omission is a lie of sorts. Probably the one people use most often. The lie of omission.” Alan steps to the SUV. “I need to get home. My wife’s waiting to hear how this went.”
“That’s it? We’re all just going to go back to our night like nothing happened here?”
A husky laugh passes from Alan’s lips. “I hope not. That would make what we’ve done pointless.”
“I’ll drive Ethan’s car back to his house,” Graham says.
“Thank you, Graham, for everything.” Alan stands watching over the top of the door as Graham Carson climbs into the Chevelle, and I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do now. Half of me wants to run to Ethan and half of me is afraid that this part of my life has been changed by tonight’s events.
What will Ethan think of me when he finds out everything I’ve kept from him and my part in this?
“Get in the car, Avery,” Alan commands.
I’d rather not since I’m unsure how I feel about everything, but short of calling an Uber, I don’t have any other way out of here.
“My wife is going to want to speak to you. To know that Eric’s all right, and you’re the last one to see my son.”
My indecision must have shown on my face. I follow Alan Manzone into the SUV when I’m sure I should be heading to Ethan instead. From what I heard from Graham, E’s had a terrible night, being put through his own version of Manzone tough love.
The car door is closed behind me, and as we maneuver down the road, Alan reaches for a bottle of scotch and fills two glasses.
“No, I don’t want that,” I say when he offers me one.
Alan smiles and leans back in his seat. The minutes tick by in silence as he sips his drink and assesses me with a thoughtful expression on his face. I want to grab my cell and text E, but what’s radiating from him keeps me from doing it.
“I have something for you to do tonight for Ethan,” he announces abruptly, startling me. My brows hitch up. “Do you know how to post something to the Internet with a false date and time stamp?”
My eyes flare wide. It’s a strange request, one I wasn’t expecting, and even stranger how he said it, conversationally as though of no importance yet somehow not. “Excuse me?”
“You’re a blogger. I thought you might have other skills.”
“No. I don’t even think it’s possible.”
“Your father Skyler is a tech wizard and hacker. I bet it’s something he knows how to do,” Alan presses thoughtfully.
I tense, sensing I’m not going to like where this is going. “I don’t think it’s possible to do.”
“Would you find out if Skyler knows how? Ask him to post a few things on your blogs and elsewhere? To help Ethan?”
I stare down at my fingers folded in my lap. His request floors me almost as much as my unsureness that I’ll refuse. Would I do something like that to help Ethan? No ethical request could possibly follow such an unsavory question. It’s tantamount to cyber fraud. And why do I get the feeling this has something to do with Ethan’s dose of Manzone tough love via Alan?
I meet his gaze evenly. “I don’t know. It depends on the circumstance.”
“Ethan was put through his own charade tonight. Basically, the same story we fed Eric, minus the harsher element of thinking Rochelle is tied to what happened to Krystal. He thinks he pretended to be his brother on stage tonight to help him get a head start on running. I pushed Ethan to a limit I believed he wouldn’t cross. I never thought he’d do it. But I assumed wrong. And maybe it’s better that he did. Perhaps now he’ll realize it isn’t good how far he goes enabling his brother or that he shortchanges himself each time he puts Eric first before him.”
“You mean you’re planning not to tell Ethan what you did to Eric?”
“No, I intend to tell him. Eventually, but not at first. I don’t want him to get it into his head to chase after Eric. Not until Eric’s stood on his own feet for a while. It’s critical that doesn’t happen. It’s equally important you don’t tell Ethan what you know before the time is right to tell him everything. That secret is better kept between us for a while.”
I’m tired—beyond tired—confused, and I don’t want to hear more. Not if it’s additional things I’m going to have to keep from Ethan, not if it pulls me deeper into this dishonest web Alan’s weaving around his sons, and not if it’s something that might hurt the relationship I hope to build with Ethan.
“If what you’re going to ask me to help you with involves lying to Ethan, I don’t think I can do it,” I mutter, unable to look at Alan. “It’s already making me queasy that you expect me to hold back the truth from Eric and Ethan of what you and Graham Carson did. I don’t want to add more lies on the pile. It’s too much as it is.”
“I know you’re an honest person and an ethical blogger. I’m also aware you care for Ethan—quite a bit, I think, unless I’ve gotten too old to read accurately what I see on a girl’s face as she watches a guy on stage.”
The way his eyes gleam brings a blush to my cheeks, and Alan laughs. “You shouldn’t be embarrassed or surprised. It’s not a look from a girl I’m unfamiliar with and it’s not hard to see. Honest people wear honest emotions on their face and in their eyes. Ethan does, too. I’m confident how you feel about him is returned, and I couldn’t have asked for someone better than you being close to Ethan as he adjusts to not having Eric around sucking the oxygen out of his life.”
The compliment floods me with warmth—and makes my head spin. Am I really alone in a car with Alan Manzone telling me he likes me and giving me an odd sort of blessing to date his son? This strange day seems determined to get stranger by the minute.
“Ethan and I aren’t really anything yet. We’re only starting to figure out things about us.”
The rumbles come louder and fuller from his chest. “That sounds like Ethan. But I take you for a girl who figures out things quickly, what she wants, and doesn’t let anything stop her.”
The heat on my cheeks amplifies, because before this day, wanting Ethan never amounted to anything, and the second we began moving in the same direction together, the unexpected stepped in to stop it.
I frown. “I don’t always figure things out fast. I haven’t figured out what you want from me.”
“Nothing awful, love,” he assures charmingly. “I wouldn’t ask anything from you that compromises who you are. I like you who you are. But to do the right thing at times you have to do a little wrong.”
“Like you did tonight with Eric?” Apprehension makes my voice sharper and more critical than I intend, but if Alan notices that it doesn’t show on his face.
“Like I did with both my sons. I tossed Ethan into the fire earlier and I need you to pull him out quickly so only the lesson’s learned and remembered and no harm is done.”
My brows furrow deeper. I still don’t know where he’s going with this and I’m reluctant to give an impression I’m on board. “And you want me to help you with that?”
He takes from his pocket a flash drive and hands it to me. “My daughter Kaley is an excellent blogger. She reads your blog. She knows your style. She’s written some posts for the Roaming Redhead and a few press releases to be uploaded to the band website and tour PR firm. But I want them posted with the time stamp noted in the files. Not the actual upload times.”
I take the thumb drive and stare on it. “Do I want to know what’s on this? Or just give it to my dad and see if he can manage what you want?”
That amuses him. “These aren’t top secret government documents. No need to look so apprehensive. It’s the standard sort of press release announcing that Eric has gone into rehab
, that tonight Ethan replaced him on stage with Black Dawn, an offer for a ticket refund should anyone think it deserved—though I doubt anyone will with how Ethan tore up the stage in Eric’s place—and some fluff about how excited the management is over the change. On the off chance someone figures out the boys switched places, I think it’s in the long-term interests of both that those get uploaded now and back time-stamped. We didn’t actually lie to anyone tonight. But I did omit having an announcement made, and that should probably be fixed.”
My mouth drops as I put together what he hasn’t said, and before I can decide if I should or shouldn’t do this for him, the SUV is parked in front of the Manzones’ sprawling estate in Pacific Palisades.
One of the security guards opens my door, and I spot Chrissie Parker standing on the stoop looking anxious as she waits for her husband to take her in a firm embrace. The way they hold onto each other is both beautiful and heartbreaking, like a couple madly in love weathering an unbearable storm together, but seeing it doesn’t help me one iota to do what I know I should and, to my own disbelief, not to do what I’m considering.
Chapter Seventeen
“Avery”
Chrissie and Alan are no longer on the front stoop by the time I rally enough to climb from the car. As I walk up the steps to the door, my insides are jumping. I haven’t been inside this house since I was eight, I don’t remember any details, and this time I’m curious about where Ethan was raised.
I don’t have much of a relationship with his parents beyond what happens in casual passing backstage. They’ve popped in during the tour to see their sons, they’ve been kind to me, but the truth is I’m a meaningless player on the fringe of their lives. A small-time blogger trying to make it big in the highly competitive music industry, though quite a few bands credit my mentioning them on my blog for getting them signed. But that all pales being here, and my own insignificance is pushed front and center in my mind the second I pass through the front door.
Holy cow.
You’re not in Kansas anymore, Avery.
Hell, this isn’t even Newport Beach, the affluent coastal community I was raised in.
The entry hall is a giant marble-tiled, high-ceilinged space that could have gobbled up my parents’ house. It’s that large and austere. Pristine white walls are covered with art and so much memorabilia marking the history of this iconic rocker couple that they would keep any music fiend fascinated for eternity. At least it would keep me fascinated; I could stay in this room forever.
My gaze rapidly darts around. Where the heck did they go? It’s a little frightening being in here alone, and I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do. Am I to follow or leave them alone until I’m sent for? Alan did say Chrissie would want to speak to me and that’s why he had me come with him to the house.
All right, I guess I have to wing it on my own. I need to first get the discussion with Chrissie out of the way—that’s going to be rough no matter how it unfolds—find a computer to send the content of the flash to my daddy Sky, then find Ethan to try to salvage things with him. Game plan in place, and I’m feeling less anxious. Now how do I find Chrissie?
There’s a double stairwell on the far side, and a step-down formal living room on the left, and in the other direction…I don’t peek where that goes because I hear voices on the main floor deep from within the house.
Following the sound, I make my way down the maze of hallways to the back of the house to another giant open space before a wall of glass revealing the rolling acres out back and then the ocean.
Pausing mid-step, my stomach flips. Jeez, it’s all of them. The entire family is here—sisters Kaley, Krystal, and Khloe, and the older girls’ husbands, Bobby and Jacob—huddled around the petite figure of their mother curled up in the center of one of the sofas.
My heart clenches at the picture Chrissie makes. She looks worried and afraid, and by the puffiness of her eyes, she’s cried more than her share of tears tonight. Not that I blame her; by all accounts she’s a devoted and excellent mother, and Eric’s predicament would hit hard any mother.
“Mom, you’ve got to listen to Pop this time,” Kaley says vehemently, clutching her mom’s hands. “What we’ve been doing hasn’t been working. I don’t like deceiving the twins, but Dad’s right. There’s no other way. Not anymore. And that’s Eric’s fault, not ours.”
My lids shoot wide. The entire family is in on the lie fed to Eric. All of them—and me—except Ethan. I’m not sure how I feel about being pulled in further to deceiving Ethan when I want nothing more than to open my heart to him.
Chrissie runs her fingers through her blond hair, and her disoriented-looking gaze searches the room. “Where’s Ethan?” My heart jumps from the panic in her voice. “I told you, Alan. I want the other four children here tonight. You promised me they would be.”
“Mom, we’ve already told you he’s on his way,” Krystal assures her, slipping an arm around her. “Dillon is bringing Ethan here. He’ll be here soon, Mom. And we’re all going to stay here with you until you’re of a mind for us to leave.”
Relief whispers through my tension-racked limbs. Ethan’s going to be here.
“I give it a day,” Kaley teases, “with all the grandkids tearing up the house before you tell us it’s time to go.”
The family laughs in that strange way people manage humor in sadness. Movement captures my attention. “Avery, come here, love,” Alan states, and all eyes in the room fix on me.
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t sure if I should wait,” I mutter quickly.
Kaley springs to her feet. “If you wait for one of us to have manners you’ll wait forever.” Tall, stunningly beautiful with her father’s looks from head to toe, she gives me a brilliant smile as she closes in.
“Kaley’s World, right? I’m a big fan. You’re the reason I decided to become a blogger.”
“I’m a fan of the Roaming Redhead,” she replies, and the compliment makes me blush. “It’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you—from Ethan.”
“We’ve all heard a lot about you from Ethan,” Khloe announces dramatically, her blue eyes twinkling, causing everyone to laugh and my cheek color to darken since there isn’t a way to misinterpret how they meant that.
Kaley gives her sister a sharp look. “That’s Khloe, in case you haven’t guessed, and my sister has no filter whatsoever. Lets rip every thought in her head.”
“Just like Pop,” Krystal pipes up.
“No, just like Kaley,” Khloe counters.
The closeness of this family surrounds me like a physical entity and their interaction is so strikingly normal given who they are that it knocks me off-kilter again. I’m not sure what I expected them to be like. Knowing Eric created one picture in my head and Ethan a different one, but they hold the feel of my family. Noisy, spirited, fun-loving togetherness through good times and bad, with a hint of what the British would call stiff upper lip.
“You’re the last one who saw my son before he left with Jamal, aren’t you?”
That question causes me to whip my head in the direction of Chrissie. “Yes.”
Her golden brows furrow. “I haven’t seen Eric for months. I only want to know one thing. Is he in as terrible shape as his father says he is?”
Oh Christ. Things change so quickly here it’s hard to keep up—from lighthearted to deadly serious in a blink—and the ravished blue eyes of a mother are studying me.
I slowly step toward Chrissie to give me time to determine how I should answer that, then an image of how Eric looked in the car flashes in my head. “He’s the worst I’ve ever seen him. In a very bad way. I don’t know what I’d do if he were my son. I only know I’d do everything and anything I could.”
Her lower lip quivers as she nods. “And what about Ethan? Do you think if he knows where his brother is, he’ll follow after him and try to help him?”
I debate how to answer that, feeling the heavy pressure of stares on me, but only for a millis
econd. “Yes. There isn’t anything he wouldn’t do for his brother. You’ve raised a man who’s loyal and loving.”
A slight smile claims her lips. “Sounds like you know Ethan pretty well.”
The color on my cheeks burns hotter. “We’re very good friends, but even if we weren’t, it’s impossible to miss the kind of man he is.”
Chrissie lets out a ragged breath. “Then Alan’s right. Eric’s not left us a choice in this. Neither has Ethan.” She motions for Kaley. “Baby girl, show Avery the bedroom we’ve put her things in.”
Bedroom? “Wait? My things?” I say, confused.
Chrissie’s blue eyes widen. “I thought Alan explained why he brought you home with him.”
“To talk to you, I thought.”
She glares at her husband, and Alan stares back at her for several seconds, expression one of silent communication, before he calmly turns toward me.
“You’re a little bit more involved in what we’re doing than that, Avery. For this intervention to work to its fullest benefit, we need to continue for a while as if there really is a threat to our family because of the trouble Eric’s in. All of us living here in crisis mode. We do from time to time when there are situations that warrant it. And since you were the last one with Eric and part of the events in Houston, it would seem odd for us not to extend our protection and home to you. To make this believable, we must do what we always do as though there is danger from Rochelle and Gray. That means you staying here with the rest of our family until enough time has passed for Eric to get on his feet on his own and to tell Ethan the truth. Anything short of that Ethan will see through, and this is as much about helping him as it is Eric.”
“What?” Like that, no discussion, they’ve moved me in. And how the hell did they get my things? Did they send someone to Emmy’s and did my sister hand them over? “I can’t live here. I have a family. A job. A life. I can’t just put that on hold.”
