Run to You

by Clare Cole

  "Congratulations, Rick, on your award. Does this mean the end of Beautiful Losers?"

  "Thanks, Shelley. No, probably not the end. But I think it's pretty fair to say we are on permanent hiatus for the foreseeable future. Sorry to rush, got to go."

  As the car pulled away, I turned to Rick. "That's going to ruffle some feathers."

  "What?"

  "About the band being on hiatus. We hadn't made any comments about it up until this point."

  Rick kissed my cheek. "I don't care. Right now I want to show off my woman and get completely shitfaced."

  "Your woman?" I gasped in mock indignation. "I didn't realise I was up for ownership."

  "You're not. That's why you're mine and only mine."

  "Sexist pig," I giggled. "You just set back women's rights by about fifty years at least."

  "About time someone did. Everything went to hell the moment we gave you lot the vote. Oh, here we are."

  I playfully slapped him as we stepped out and into the Skybar. As we made our way past the paparazzi and into the club, Rick gently placed a finger under my chin and closed my gaping mouth. My jaw had literally dropped when I saw who was in the room.

  "Try to remain calm," he said. "They're just people."

  In addition to the dozens of industry managers and producers, I tried to pull myself together when I saw the huge stars around the room. Alicia Keys, the Dave Matthews band, Miley Cyrus, Lionel Richie…not all of them were the most rock 'n' roll of stars, but my mind was officially blown nonetheless.

  "Lionel…that's Lionel Richie…" I stammered.

  "Yup, it is. Go and say hello. Ask him if it's you he's looking for."

  "Shut up," I laughed. "I'm not used to shit like this. It's Lionel fucking Richie, for God's sake!"

  "Even better. Let's go and say hello to Lionel fucking Richie. He'd appreciate you using his full name."

  My encounter with the former Commodore was going to have to wait until another day. Jake Walker, the manager of Beautiful Losers, pushed his way through the throng of people in front of us and slapped Rick on the arm.

  "Rick! Congratulations on the win."

  "Thanks, man."

  Jake looked me up and down. "Amy, you look gorgeous as always. Do you mind if I steal Rick away for a second?"

  Before I had chance to answer, Rick interjected. "No, if this is about business you can wait. I'm here to party, Jake."

  "Well, it's just about something slightly concerning that a little birdie told me a few minutes ago."

  "And what little birdie would that be, Jake?"

  He pulled out his smartphone and held it up to Rick's face. "The kind that goes tweet, tweet. Fuck, Rick, it's all over Twitter! Apparently you told some Entertainment Weekly reporter that you were quitting the band."

  Rick shook his head. "I didn't say that. And it was Entertainment Tonight."

  "Weekly, Tonight, whatever. Rick, don't kill the cash cow! Let's get this little solo thing out of the way and then we can get back in the studio and start organising the next tour, yeah?"

  "There won't be a next tour," Rick sighed. "I'm done writing songs for other people for the time being."

  Jake moved in closer, his eyes narrowing. "Those other people are your bandmates, Rick. Don't let your ego get the better of you. After your little vanity project has come to an end, we could make an absolute fortune by reforming the band."

  Rick's tone changed. He was starting to get irritated. "My vanity project, as you put it, just netted me three million album sales and a Grammy. Meanwhile, what's your brother written lately? Or is he too busy getting high off my song royalties to put together any new tunes?"

  "Rick, you bastard!"

  The room audibly gasped as Sean, Jake's brother and the band's lead guitarist, stumbled through the crowd. "Right on cue. Speak of the devil," Rick said, gently moving me behind him. "He's high as a kite, Amy," he whispered. "Just stay back, okay?"

  "You son of a bitch. You've just told the world that the band is finished! Do you know how that makes me feel? Do you know what that means for my income?"

  Jake held his arms between the two men. "Whoa there, gentlemen. Let's all just calm down a little, okay?"

  "Keep your brother under control," Rick scowled at Jake. "Written anything lately, Sean?"

  "Fuck you!"

  "Eloquent as ever," Rick sneered. "You've just reminded me why I write the lyrics."

  Sean lunged forward, staggering on unsteady legs. "You're nothing without my hooks. You're just a poor man's John Lennon. All words and no tunes."

  "Yeah, no one remembers 'Imagine' or 'Instant Karma', do they? Christ, Sean, what happened to you? You used to be so talented. Now you're just a washed-up junkie."

  "I may be washed-up," he growled. "But at least I'm not pissing my career away writing soppy acoustic shit for some bimbo with big tits."

  The next thirty seconds were a blur. Rick jumped forward, slamming into his bandmate and crashing through table after table. Drinks and white powder flew through the air, as Jake and several members of security pulled the men off each other. As the dust began to settle and Sean was dragged away and thrown out of the club, one of the bouncers shook Rick's hand. "I'd throw you out as well but luckily for you, you won a Grammy tonight."

  "Thanks," he smiled. "Appreciate it."

  I walked over to him and wiped some of the mess off his vintage suit. "Are you okay?"

  "Never better."

  "Well done, Rick. You're going to be on the front page of every entertainment blog on the planet within the next five minutes. Did you see how many people were tweeting photos and videos of you pair?"

  Rick looked sheepish. "Damn. There goes my reputation as the housewives favourite."

  "Are you kidding?" I laughed. "No publicity is bad publicity. You'll probably sell an extra hundred thousand albums because of this alone."

  "Well, that was my intention, obviously."

  I kissed him gently. "And here was me thinking you were defending my honour, my knight in shining Hugo Boss."

  "Oh I was, absolutely. No one disses my woman and gets away with it."

  "My hero," I giggled, fluttering my eyelashes.

  "Come on," he replied, grabbing my hand. "Let's get out of this shithole. I've had enough war for one night. Let's go make some love."

  Chapter Four

  "My God, it's so peaceful up here. You wouldn't believe all that chaos going on down below."

  I looked around the garden of Julia and Michael's stunning, hilltop house high above Los Angeles. Getting up here would have confused even the most sophisticated of GPS systems, but luckily Rick knew the way perfectly.

  "That's why so many celebrities live here," Julia smiled, pouring me a glass of wine. "These hills are like a rabbit warren. They help to keep out both the press and the crazies."

  "So how did that pair manage to get in?" I joked, glancing over at Rick and Michael, running around the garden firing toy NERF guns at each other. Luke, a typically vivacious five-year-old boy, shared his dad's good looks. The recent revelations about Rick's fatherhood in the media hadn't filtered down to Luke just yet; Michael was still very much his dad, although "uncle Rick" had now become his second, rock star father. At this point in his life, it was simply something cool to tell his friends at school.

  "Well, Amy, it's official. You're a sex symbol and certified babe, whether you like it or not."

  Julia handed me her iPad. There I was, splashed over all the Grammy Awards news feeds along with Rick brawling with his bandmate. I rolled my eyes at some of the headlines.

  RICK'S THREE BIG HITS - HIS GUITARIST AND HIS GIRLFRIEND'S CHEST

  MAXIM AND FHM BATTLE FOR ROCK BABE AMY

  PLAYBOY WANT CURVY BEAUTY AMY TO BARE ALL

  RICK TAKES HOME GRAMMY AND TWO GOLDEN GLOBES

  "I can't believe they used the Golden Globes line," I sighed. "So predictable."

  "Never mind that," Julia replied, sipping her wine. "Which offer are you going t
o take - FHM, Maxim or Playboy?"

  I shook my head. "I'll let you know as soon as they get in touch...which they haven't, incidentally. Seriously, why do they make this shit up?"

  "So people click on their web site and they can charge for advertising. Welcome to LA, baby."

  Rick ran over to our table and took a swig from his already opened beer bottle. "See?" He smiled, gesturing at Julia's iPad. "Told you us men don't like skinny girls."

  "So, you don't have a problem with Amy getting her bits out for Playboy?" Julia asked, folding her arms.

  "Absolutely not. Hey, you got to work with what God gave you. Besides, she could probably earn enough to finance my next album."

  I slapped him playfully on his ass as he began to walk away. "Sexist pig. Go and be a role model for your son instead of a misogynistic asshole to the rest of us."

  "He's a sweetheart, really," Julia grinned. "He thinks the world of you, you know."

  I felt my cheeks blushing. "I still can't believe this is all happening to me."

  "Don't be so quick to believe you're the lucky one. You're the best thing that ever happened to him. Anything that gets Rick off the Beautiful Losers treadmill has to be a good thing."

  I was puzzled. "Do you think Rick should go back and reform the band?"

  "No," she replied, topping up her wine. "Why should he? He is the band. Tell me, Amy, what have the other band members released since they went on hiatus?"

  I thought for a minute and came up blank. "Nothing that I know of."

  "Exactly. They're good musicians, but they couldn't write a sentence let alone a hit song. I don't know why Rick has carried them for so long, to be honest. Now he has a Grammy and a bestselling album under his belt, he really can do what he wants. That's partly why we've asked him if he's interested in doing a soundtrack for the thriller we're working on."

  Michael had written a screenplay which, after several years in development, had finally got the green light. Julia was producing the movie and had already signed up a big-name director and A-list actors. She wanted Rick to write the entire musical score and come up with an iconic hit song for the theme.

  "Rick's pretty excited about it," I smiled. "I'm not going to lie, I'm just giddy about meeting Emily Blunt. You have signed up Emily Blunt, right?"

  Julia laughed. "Yes, Amy, we've signed Emily Blunt. I find it so funny how starstruck you still get when you're going out with one of the biggest celebrities on the planet. Maybe that's why you and Rick are so perfect together. You keep him grounded. He's had nothing but 'yes' men and bimbos around him for years. It's about time he fell in love with somebody from the real world."

  Fell in love. It still seemed so bizarre, yet so perfect, that she was talking about Rick's feelings for me in that way.

  "He's already got an idea for the theme song. He said he wanted to do something massively bombastic, like a Bond theme but without being too similar."

  Julia leaned forward. "Adele won an Oscar for Skyfall. That could be Rick next year. Cool, huh?"

  "Absolutely," I replied, chinking my glass against hers.

  Julia lowered her voice. "Between you and me, the band has run its course anyway. It's dead in the water. They could sell five million albums if they got back together, but Rick will have to split the money. He just doesn't need to do that any more. Besides, the further away from some of those clowns he is, the better."

  I sensed an element of genuine concern in her voice. "Why? Are you saying they're bad influences on him?"

  "Let's call a spade a spade here. Rick's had some pretty wild times. He was a bad boy – but a good bad boy, if you know what I mean." She smiled at me knowingly. "Luke is the by-product of that lifestyle, albeit a wonderful one. But some of those guys…" She shuddered. "There's no artistry left in any of them. It's only a matter of time before one of them winds up dead, either from wrapping his car around a tree or snorting one bad line of coke too many. Rick's in a good place now. He doesn't need to wind up a part of any disaster caused by being in that band."

  I paused for a moment, wondering if someone who'd lived such a wild life I barely even knew about could really change. "Do you think Rick wants to leave that life behind?" I asked nervously.

  Julia reached over and placed a palm on my hand. "Don't worry, Amy. Like I said, he adores you. Remember that Guns N' Roses album, 'Appetite for Destruction'? That's the rest of the band. An appetite for destruction – self-destruction, that is. But every great artist has to grow up at some point. Look at Jagger, Bowie. You can't live like that forever and maintain a career. Rick's broken the mould – now he just has to stay away from temptation."

  Our conversation was disturbed by the buzzing of a toy helicopter flying erratically around the garden. We looked up to see the three of them wincing as it narrowly missed tree branches, zigzagging its way across the lawn before landing in the swimming pool. "Shit!" Michael screamed, running over to his toy as Luke and Rick burst out laughing.

  "Boys and their toys," Julia said, shaking her head. "Michael is such a geek. Anything designed for children under the age of 12 and he's on it like a shot. He's gadget crazy."

  "I noticed. Rick said he has all your music streaming around the house via an iPad."

  "32,728 songs to be exact, Amy. I don't have a clue how to use it, of course. I'd rather pop in a CD, but I guess that makes me an old fart in this day and age. He even uses voice recognition to write his screenplays."

  "Really? Now, come on. That's impressive."

  Julia burst out laughing. "You think? It would be if he didn't spend more time talking to the computer correcting its mistakes than he would have spent just typing the damn thing in the first place. And let's not get started on what an idiot he looks walking around with this gigantic headset on. Keyboards were invented for a reason, you know."

  Luke came bounding over to me, his curly dark hair swaying in the breeze like a miniature rock star. "Miss Amy, will you take a photo of me with Uncle Rick?"

  I burst into the widest smile at his cute voice and big blue eyes staring up at me. "No problem," I replied. "But I'm going to show you a clever trick, okay?"

  I pulled my camera from my bag and walked over to where Rick and Michael were standing before setting it down on a nearby wall.

  "Now, Luke, see this button here?" He nodded his head. "That's what you use to take the photo. But this little picture of a clock will set the camera on what's known as a timer. Do you know what that means?"

  "It tells the time?"

  "No, not quite," I chuckled. "If you press that button first, the camera will wait for you to run in front of it so you can be in the photo too."

  Luke stood with his mouth wide open as if I had just explained quantum mechanics to him. "Wow!"

  "Wow indeed. So do you want to be in a picture with everybody?"

  He nodded his head. "Will you be in it too?"

  I hesitated for a moment before Julia shouted over. "Yes, Amy. You have to be in it! You're part of the family now as well."

  Rick shot me the sweetest smile as I nervously pushed some loose strands of hair behind my ear. "Of course, Luke. I'd love to. Now, you press the button and when I say go, we're going to run as fast as we can over to the others, okay?"

  Luke positioned his tiny finger on the shutter release and pushed it down.

  "Go!"

  We ran laughing over to Rick, Julia and Michael and got into position as the red light on the front of the camera began to flash quickly, warning us it was about to take the photo. I felt Rick's hand gently slide around my waist and my heart began to beat a little faster in that perfect moment. With a loud click, the photo was done.

  "Let me see!" Luke shouted, running over to look at the camera's LCD screen.

  "It's a little small," I smiled. "This is a very special camera. It's got Wi-Fi built in, so I'll send it to your dad's smartphone. How does that sound?"

  Michael seemed thrilled at the mention of anything remotely technical. "Wow, that's brillia
nt Amy. I'll just give you a hand if you want…"

  "No problem," I smiled. "I used to do this all the time when I was working at the magazine. There…done."

  Suddenly, I noticed Rick looking concerned. He was on his phone, nodding his head and gesturing for me to come over. As I made my way across to him, I caught the tail end of the conversation.

  "Okay, okay…calm down, Jake. Just chill out, okay? He probably just needed to clear his head. We'll find him, don't worry. We'll head over now."

  "What is it?"

  "Sean's gone missing. Nobody's seen him since he was thrown out of the club last night."

  "Doesn't he behave erratically quite often?" I asked.

  Rick shook his head. "No, he normally goes back to his mansion or hotel, takes loads of drugs and sulks. But he hasn't been back to his room. Jake has already checked and it's untouched since yesterday."

  Julia walked over. "What's wrong?"

  "Sean's disappeared," I said. "Nobody's seen him since his brawl with Rick last night."

  "Do you think he's done something stupid?" she asked.

  "Don't know," Rick sighed. "Only one way to find out I guess." He kissed her on both cheeks. "We'll pop over again tomorrow before we leave, okay?"

  She nodded. As Rick walked away, she gently grabbed my wrist. "Remember what I said earlier about being around those guys? Jake's as bad as any of them. He has vested interests too. Just be careful, okay? I don't want you getting hurt either."

  As we drove to Jake's mansion in Bel Air, my phone bleeped to notify me of an incoming email. It was from Michael's smartphone, with a message from Luke. "He's sent us the photo," I smiled. "Luke wants to know how we all look."

  I stared at the picture of the five of us, like one seemingly too-good-to-be-true happy family. As I looked at Luke, I saw Rick's eyes looking back at me. Then the hairs on the back of my neck stood up as I came to a terrible realisation. At first, I thought my mind was playing tricks on me but the more I stared into that child's eyes, the more certain I became. He looked nothing like Julia. Nothing like her at all.