by Susan Ward
“And we’re not asking you to,” Alan responds, amused. “Just to put up with us for a while. You can come and go as you please so long as you travel with the bodyguards, and not tell anything to Ethan until it’s time to. The tour’s over. You’re off the road. There are serious questions about if there’s a band anymore, which means most likely your job is over. Seems to me that this sudden change comes at a perfect time for a girl who might be unemployed and need to replot her future.”
Oh shit. Not once have I given a thought to what Eric being gone might mean to my circumstance or even my job. But, damn, Alan’s right. I’m soon to be out of work, practically broke, and living with my dads again.
As much as I adore my fathers, that’s not happening; I’m not moving home. Emmy is only a short-term solution at best. She’ll be itching to get me out of her guest room inside a month. She’s so intense about having her own space. And I don’t have an apartment of my own because I’ve never needed one. I’m either on the road or squatting at my sister’s.
Shoot, I’m not even sure I have enough money to get my own place. I’ve not checked my bank app, but I’m positive it’s not at sign-a-lease level. Blogging doesn’t pay well, not even when you’re successful at it.
Well, this is just awful. Somehow without my knowing it, my life went into the crapper with Eric’s. But to move in here with them?
I stare at Alan. “How do I explain it to my family? Me living here? They’re going to want answers, and I’m assuming telling them the truth isn’t an option.”
Alan rubs his chin with a finger, his brow crinkled thoughtfully. “You’re writing a book, aren’t you? About famous rockers, blogging, and your experiences.”
My lids shoot open to their fullest. How does he know that? I haven’t even told Ethan about this.
Kaley flashes a bright smile. “I would consider my parents famous rockers and most definitely an experience.”
“It’s logical that you should want to write about us,” Alan states graciously. “What’s your blog tagline? ‘Embedded and uncensored.’ Uncensored, we should be at least a chapter or two. Our thank you for you being a good friend to Eric. We’d be pleased to have you staying with us, and you could write full time here. Get that manuscript done faster. Practically a win/win for everyone.”
“Except that part about us being uncensored, Dad,” Khloe protests in impish horror with a shudder. “That one requires a family vote.”
Kaley and Bobby choke back laughter as Alan arches a brow at his youngest child. As they converse among themselves I allow myself a few moments to process this.
The offer blows me away. Solutions like this don’t drop into a girl’s lap every day. What music blogger wouldn’t want open access to write about Alan Manzone and Chrissie Parker? I’d be nuts to pass on their offer.
The more I think, the fewer reasons there are to resist, and then another tidbit breaks free: the entire family will be staying here for a while and that includes Ethan.
Oh no, what’s he going to think about my moving in with his parents? That absolutely crosses the line of just-starting-to-date territory. It smacks of stalker-girl behavior—something Emmy would do and use to her advantage without a pause—but nothing turns off a guy faster than crowding too soon. It could kill our relationship before it begins.
With all that in mind, it doesn’t really seem like there’s a way to refuse them, especially with how they’re staring at me. I gnaw on my lower lip. “I don’t see as I have a choice. I’m in this whether I want to be or not.”
Alan nods. “Smart and practical girl. Kaley, take Avery to her room. And the rest of you, go somewhere else to do what you do. It’s been an exhausting day. I need sleep. Get out of our bedroom.”
Oh fuck, their bedroom.
Did I crash a family meeting in Alan Manzone’s bedroom?
I thought this was the family room, and then my gaze shifts to the adjoining space and I see a massive king-sized bed invitingly positioned with a fireplace on one wall and a view of the ocean through the other.
Kaley crosses the room to me. “Come on, Avery.” She motions me ahead into the hallway and then closes the door.
Chapter Eighteen
“Avery”
I climb atop the bed in what’s surely the nicest room I’ve ever been given to sleep in, arrange my legs Indian style, and open my tote filled with my technology. After setting the laptop in front of me, my eyes shift right and then left.
God, the house got quiet so fast it’s creepy. Doing a little shake that spans both my head and shoulders, I chase away the jumping uneasiness that hasn’t left me since I got here, and attempt to marshal my thoughts into productive order.
As I wait for my computer to power on, I glance at the wall clock above the dresser and grimace. It’s only 1:00 a.m., not really that late, but I’m apprehensive about calling my daddy Sky at this hour with such a peculiar request.
Hi, can you do an act of cyber fraud for me? Nope, not your average late-night call from your daughter.
Groaning, I drop my head in my hands. He’s going to ask questions—both my dads are—and I’m short on answers I can give them. There must be a way to explain this that won’t stir suspicion, but a single creative gem doesn’t come to me.
Fuck, I’m a blogger. I should be able to think of a dozen in a half sec. My gray matter is disturbingly uncooperative. Not that I should be surprised by this. Even in my best devious childhood moments I never did the fibbing or keeping junk secret as well as Emmy did.
I pull the thumb drive from my pocket, shove it in the USB, then swallow the hard lump in my throat and switch on my cell. The number of notifications is disappointing given I wasn’t at the concert tonight. Swiping through them, I reach the bottom of the list and stare.
That wasn’t expected.
Not by a long shot.
Not a single text from Ethan since the show.
With one hand I open the drive with the press releases Kaley Stanton wrote for me to post, and with the other I scroll through reading Ethan’s earlier text.
When I’m finished, my tense mouth has melted into a gooey smile. Then I groan, rereading the last lines again—Something better. Like you’re hot to pick up where we left off three hours ago? A guy can hope, can’t he?—and a knot forms in my stomach because that message was hours ago, he’s off stage, and he hasn’t contacted me since.
Damn, he thinks I ditched him. And I did. Well, sort of. Unintentionally. But that doesn’t matter. He’s going to be pissed—my eyes fix on the wall separating the bedroom I’m in from his, or so Kaley made a note of saying in passing before giving me a stare and leaving me here—which brings to the top of the stack-of-difficulties list being a part of the Manzones’ deception with Ethan.
That one undoubtedly crosses the line of being involved too much, too soon. It’s girlfriend territory, and I’m a far way from that. You don’t collude with a guy’s family. Well, not if you’re not official, and I’m not even certain you do it then.
I exhale heavily since there’s not much I can do about any of the mess I’m in now. I’ve signed on for this, and I’m just going to have to roll with what the family wants while figuring out a way to get Ethan to still want me.
What was I thinking getting into the car with Eric? I know him well enough to know it could only result in crazy-time nonsense like this. If only I’d gone to the Bowl as I intended, instead of putting first being a good friend, I wouldn’t have messed things up during my first date with Ethan.
But I can’t deny it. I’ve blown it big time. Shoot, bruising a guy’s ego by being a no-show is never a good move before the second date. And jeez, what’s he going to think of finding me living with his family after that?
With all that turning in my thoughts, calling my dad now seems like a cakewalk. Fuck it. I hit the number and listen to it ring.
One ring.
Two rings.
“Hello?”
Great. Phone grabbed before thre
e rings. My dads weren’t sleeping. “Hi, Dad. How are you?”
“Avery,” Sean says in a long-drawn, very excited way. “I was wondering when you’d turn up. You’ve been back in LA for two days. Made time for Emmy and not your parents.”
My nose crinkles. “Sorry. It’s been crazy. The tour only finished tonight and I’ve been working.”
“You at Emmy’s? We can all meet up early tomorrow for breakfast.”
“Not exactly. I’m staying somewhere else for a while.”
“Oh.” How he says that—fatherly suggestive—makes my face heat, and, crud, I’m freaking twenty-four years old.
“Stop it. I’m staying with friends. You can’t be critical of me unless I give you a reason to.”
“And are you?”
“What do you think?”
“Calling home at 1:00 a.m. I’m guessing no.”
Breathing a sigh of relief, I push a laugh out behind it. “Hey, is Daddy awake?”
“What? Yes. He’s right here. Ready to get handed off this soon? That means you’re trying to avoid telling me something.”
I tense. How does he know that? “No,” I protest sweetly. “I’m still working, Dad. I have a technical issue I need to ask Daddy, and about a dozen things I need to finish before I can sleep. He’s the tech guru. You can’t even download an app on your own.”
Sean chuckles, unoffended. “Ain’t that the truth. Hold on. Babe, Avery wants to talk to you.” I have to move the phone from my ear because his is up against his mouth and his voice is raised. “She’s got some kind of computer snafu.”
I perk up and my brain kicks into overdrive at long last. Snafu. Oh, thank you, Dad, for giving me an idea on how to make this come out not suspicious or random.
“Avery Rose Hart. As I live and breathe. Our very own famous redhead on the phone.”
I roll my eyes. “Skyler Mathews Hart. As I live and breathe. I’ve got a problem.”
“Figured you did when you asked to speak to me in the first two minutes. What’s going on, bug?”
“I kind of screwed up tonight and I need your magic hacking skills to save my job. That is, unless you want your favorite daughter to be unemployed and living with you two full time again.”
“Would be fine by us, but something in your voice tells me that wouldn’t be fine by you.”
“Smart Daddy.”
He laughs. “Hacker skills, huh? Now I’m intrigued. What catastrophe do you want me to save you from this time?”
“Not a catastrophe. More of a screwup. I scheduled some posts that were priority to post on my blog and the band website before the show, and for some reason they didn’t post. I need to send them to you and you upload them.”
“OK. Not sure why you need that when you can post them yourself, but it doesn’t sound critical to me.”
“It’s very critical if you can’t help me with what I need. Which you probably can’t. I’m pretty sure it’s impossible. I probably shouldn’t even bother asking you.”
“Wait. Am I hearing things? You think there’s a technical problem I can’t fix? They don’t call me the guru without reason. What do you need?”
I start hitting the keys on the computer. “I’m sending you a file. I need to you upload it to the sites listed, exactly as written, and somehow get the time stamp—” I rapidly scan the document. “—9:00 p.m. yesterday. That’s the part you haven’t taught me how to do: alter upload time on the Internet. You can do that for me, can’t you, Daddy?”
A pregnant pause that feels like it lasts forever. “Actually I can do that, but I won’t.”
He can? Oh shit, I thought it was impossible.
“What do you mean you won’t? Daddy, it’s important. The press releases are announcements of a program change I was required to have posted online before the show. It’s a big deal if anyone finds out I didn’t post them. I could lose my job.”
He sighs. “Avery, any job you have to do the wrong thing for isn’t one worth having. Explain that you had an issue. People are reasonable. They’ll understand.”
“No, they won’t,” I wheedle. “I’ve worked really hard to get where I am. I don’t want to get a reputation for being fired or a screwup. It could ruin me. It’s not like it’s Wikileaks stuff. It’s a little band announcement, but really important to me. Please, I need help.”
Silence through the phone. Oh crap, did I overdo that? For Daddy Skyler—my head tilts side to side as I consider it—maybe just a smidge.
“It’s my blog and the band blog I manage,” I add. “I did schedule them. They just didn’t post. I’m only fixing an error.”
He does an annoyed growl and I smile.
“Fine. Send me the files. You’re pushing the limit this time, little girl. Don’t ask again because the next time the answer’s going to be no.”
I hit send. “I promise. Never again. Thank you, Daddy.”
“So are we seeing you tomorrow or what?” he asks somewhat absently, and I can hear his fingers hard at work on a keyboard in the background.
“Maybe. I have to see how my schedule goes. I haven’t even told Dad this. You won’t guess where I’m staying.”
More clicking sounds. “I get a news blast first? Fixing this problem must be a big deal for you.”
I laugh. “No, I try to be equitable.”
He laughs. “You sound excited about something. Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
“I get to finish the book I’m writing now that I’m off the road. But that’s not the best part.”
“No? Sounds pretty exciting to me.”
“It’s where I’m finishing it and who I get to interview for the final chapters.”
“Wait. Hold on. I’m almost done and you can have my undivided attention.”
“You’re almost done? It hasn’t been more than a couple of minutes.”
“Nothing takes long if you know how things work,” he states, then I hear the squeak of his desk chair. “Crisis averted. Damn, I’m good. Now tell me your news.”
When I surf my blog and find the posts there, my faith in the integrity of the Internet wobbles for a moment because I never expected it to be this easy. Not a good thing when you make your living on social media to realize how effortlessly someone with know-how can manipulate it.
“They’re there. Like they’ve been there all night,” I stutter in disbelief.
“I thought that’s what you wanted?”
“Yeah, but realizing you can do that, Daddy, is kind of trippy.”
Skyler laughs. “Avery, I don’t think I’m ever going to understand you completely. Something tells me not at all tonight. Are you going to tell me your news or not?”
I shake my head to pull from my thoughts. “I’m not going out on the road until I finish my book. That means I’ll be home more. And instead of staying with Emmy, driving her crazy, I’m squatting at Alan Manzone’s and he’s agreed to let me fill my final chapters about him. How’s that for pretty amazing?”
“That’s a joke, right?”
“No. And it was his idea.”
“Well, congratulations, bug. You never cease to amaze me. Can’t figure out how you managed that one. Alan hates outsiders near him. I’ve worked for his security firm for nearly two decades and I haven’t spoken more than a dozen words to him. Must be that Avery charm. I’m sure when your book is released it’s going to be a bestseller.”
“I hope so. Or at least sell well enough that I can finally afford to have my own place somewhere.”
“You can always live at home.”
“Nope. Not happening. Tell Dad I’ll call again tomorrow.”
“Will do, chickee. Enjoy yourself with the rich and famous.”
“Thanks for helping me out, Daddy.”
I turn off the phone and toss it aside before I lie back on the bed, resolved to stay awake until Ethan’s home. Part of me wants to call him now and part of me says wait to try to explain in person. Though I’m not sure what kind of an explanat
ion I can give him. Do I tell him I was with Eric? What if he wants to know details of what happened? I’m not sure how much of tonight’s events I can share with him without giving away more than his family wants me to. I eventually drift into an uneasy sleep, my thoughts turning and filled with all the things I wish were different.
Chapter Nineteen
“Avery”
The sound of Ethan’s laughter penetrates my dream then a loud noise startles me awake.
In my befuddled state, I quickly sit up in bed and try to figure out what woke me. The house is silent. Did I imagine those rich waves of humor I adore? Am I hearing things that aren’t there because of the dramatic events of the night?
I check the time on my phone. It’s very disconcerting that I’m so mentally fuzzy when I’ve only been asleep for twenty minutes, but gosh, it’s been a draining day.
Rubbing my eyes, I swipe open my phone. No text or calls from Ethan. Nothing. His sister said he was on the way home with Dillon. Shouldn’t he be here by now? Where is he?
I’m tempted to call him because the wait to find out how things stand between us is nerve-racking. Equally unnerving is the reality he might have gone to the tour wrap party tonight after the show. Mad at me and girls everywhere is not a great combo of things. What if he gets with someone else? I’d just die after finally getting to a point of believing we’re in the early stage of a relationship.
No, he wouldn’t do that.
He told Hugh we were a couple today.
Jerk moves aren’t his style.
He’d tell me off to my face first before he took step one in a new direction.
Groaning, I drop my face into my hand. God, listen to me. Emmy’s right. I’m almost a Gigi. But Ethan gets me that way. He always has when I’ve never been anything but grounded with guys. No runaway emotions. No chick delusional fantasies. No second-guessing of anything. None of that crappy female mental drama in my head. Not ever.
It’s irrational that this is what I’m consumed by considering the more significant things happening to Eric and this family, but where Ethan’s concerned, I don’t have a firm grip of my usual steady emotions.
