by Tara Lain
Fred sounded placating. “We’ve already cut back on the length of tours so that you have time off in between.”
“You know that touring is what makes you a rock star versus just another recording artist. We’ve talked about that, Jerry.” Theoni gave a strained smile.
“Maybe I don’t want to be a rock star.”
The look of panic that flashed across her face before she got control of her expression said it all. People wanted the best for him, and they knew exactly what that was—it was whatever was best for them.
Fred might have been talking to a sulky child. “You say that now, Jerry, but just wait until your popularity starts slipping and your fans stop screaming. Then you’ll be yelling at me and Theoni because we let you do this to your career.”
Jerry stared at his brother. “How much do I pay you, Fred?”
Fred’s eyes widened, and he glanced uncomfortably at Theoni. He cleared his throat. “I receive a small salary plus bonuses.”
Yeah, bonuses he paid himself. Jerry smiled. “What about you, Theoni?”
She laughed uncomfortably. “You must know how much you pay me.”
“I can’t remember offhand. Remind me.”
“Uh, I make three hundred thousand.” She rearranged her flatware.
“Have you saved a lot of it?”
“What?”
He smiled. “It’s always smart to save for the future.”
Her lips turned up. “I’m only twenty-eight. I have time.”
“Umm. Time. We never have enough of that, do we?”
GABE HAULED another pallet of tile to the shelves and started stocking.
“You sure look happy.”
“What?” Gabe looked up at Mary, who’d come up behind him and he hadn’t even noticed. “Sorry, you startled me.”
“You were so absorbed in your happy thoughts.” She winked at him. “Must be somebody special.” With that, she bustled off down the aisle.
Special. Yeah. It was a sad commentary on Gabe’s present state of kidding himself, but having Jerry say he wanted to find a way for Gabe to be in his life had given Gabe a permanent sappy expression. If Jerry wanted it to happen and Gabe wanted it to happen, maybe the sheer idiocy of the idea could be overcome.
He hauled another armload of tile samples and stretched to place them on a high shelf.
A weird click behind him made him turn. A woman dressed in jeans and a suit jacket, carrying a large tote bag and a phone, smiled at him. He’d seen an expression like that on the wildlife channel just before the lion ate the wildebeest. “Can I help you?”
“Yes. What nice tile. What do you call it?”
He glanced at the name on the edge of the sample. “Summer Sunrise. Do you want some?”
“You’re Gabe Mason, aren’t you?”
He tried to keep the crease from between his brows. “Yes. How many pieces would you like?”
“You’re a regular employee here at ImproveMart?”
“Yes. May I ask why you want to know?”
She smiled. “Yes, I just wanted to know what it feels like for an improvement-store employee to know his daughter is the girlfriend of one of the world’s biggest rock stars. I mean, how did you work that out?”
“What in the hell are you talking about?” He slammed the samples he had in his hand back onto the cart he’d carried them on.
She widened her eyes. “Your daughter’s sleeping with Jet Gemini, of course. How old is she? I mean, isn’t she in high school?”
“I don’t know where you got the idea that my daughter is Jet Gemini’s girlfriend.”
“The same place everyone else did, Gabe. The pictures in the Daily Quest online. The same place I saw the picture of you and Jet cuddling away. So I guess the rumors about him playing on both sides of the fence must be true, right?”
“Get the fuck out of this store!” he roared, and the woman backed up.
“Don’t you have a comment for my blog?” She snapped a couple of pictures as she ran backward.
Two more people, one with a video camera and the other snapping pictures with his phone, raced down the aisle, and Harry and two of the guys ran behind them.
Gabe yelled, “Get these people away from me.” He took off running and made it to the stockroom, where he locked the door and flattened himself behind it. People yelled in the aisles outside the door, and Gabe couldn’t breathe. No. Can’t be happening. Can’t be. Over and over like a mantra, the words repeated in his head.
Hammering on the stockroom door made him press harder against the wall.
“Gabe, it’s Harry.”
Gabe unlocked the door, and Harry rushed in. “What the hell is going on, my man? What are they talking about? The whole store’s in chaos. I guess some of the employees saw the pictures of you and Ellie with Jet Gemini. I mean, seriously.”
Gabe shook his head.
“Is Jet Gemini…?”
Gabe nodded. “Your weird customer, yeah.”
“Holy fuck.”
Gabe’s cell started ringing. He pulled it from his pocket. Ellie. Sweet God. “Hi, honey.” He held up a finger to Harry.
“Dad, do you know what’s going on?”
“Yeah, a bunch of reporters showed up here at the store. Are they at your school?”
“When I tried to go to lunch, there were some reporters outside. I ran back in the school, and they won’t let them in, but I’m scared to go out to get on the bus.”
“I’ll come and get you.”
“What happened, Dad?”
“Remember I thought I saw somebody outside the wall at Jerry’s?”
“Damn, a paparazzi, right?”
“I think so, yes.”
She snorted. “And they decided from me swimming in that pool that I’m Jet Gemini’s girlfriend? Jesus, somebody’s desperate for a story.”
“Yes, I think you’re exactly right. Look, I’m going to leave here as soon as I can. I’ll text you. Meet me at the back of the school, and we’ll try to get home.”
Harry waved his hands and mouthed the words, “Alejandro wants to see you.”
Fuck. Alejandro managed the store, and he was usually an ally, but…. “I’ll get there as soon as I can, honey.”
“Okay, Dad. Hang in there.”
“You too.” He hung up and said to Harry, “Is Alejandro in his office?”
“I think so. He was helping to drive the reporters out of the store, but we can’t really keep them out since we can’t tell if they’re customers or reporters.”
“I’ll go find him.” He peered tentatively out of the stock room, saw no one who looked like they were about to take his picture, and slipped out, then circled through the lesser used back aisles to get to Alejandro’s office.
He tapped on the closed door.
“Come in.”
He opened the door. Alejandro was on the phone. He waved at Gabe to come in and was saying, “Thanks, Mac. I may need to call in a few extra security guards. Yeah, thanks.” He hung up and looked at Gabe. “What the hell is going on?”
Gabe ran a hand through his hair. “You know all the stuff I’ve been buying for this home renovation I’m overseeing?” Might as well prod Alejandro’s self-interest.
“Yeah. You mean my Christmas in April?”
Gabe nodded. “I didn’t know it when I started the job, but the client’s Jet Gemini.”
“What the hell? How could you not know it? The guy’s, like, famous.”
“I’d never heard of him until I went to the concert with Ellie. He disguised himself. Even she didn’t recognize him, and she’s a huge fan.”
“So what’s this paparazzi shit?”
“Ellie loves to swim. He has a big pool. He invited us over so she could swim in his pool. Some paparazzi must have found the house and taken the photos over the wall.”
“Yeah, well, what about the picture of you?”
Gabe gave a long, loud sigh. “He’s an emotional guy. He was happy about everything that
had been done in his house, and he gave me a hug. The photo leech caught the end of that. Then Ellie walks out to go swimming. It’s total crap.”
“I can see that.” Alejandro ran a thumb over his chin. “But I also can’t have the store being disrupted. Maybe you should take a few days off.”
Gabe shook his head slowly. “Come on, Alejandro. I’m saving my days so I can take Ellie to see colleges. I can’t—”
“Sorry, Gabe, I don’t have any policy that lets me give you extra days. You’ll have to use your vacation until this bullshit dies down.”
“Damn. Okay. Thanks.” He stood.
“You think he’ll be spending more money at the store?”
Gabe frowned. “I don’t know if he’ll ever be back to Oregon.” He stomped out of the office. Breathing hard, he pulled his keys from his pocket, decided to forget about his windbreaker, slipped out the back door, and ran to his truck.
For a second, he sat there and stared at the steering wheel. This was what Jerry had to put up with every day. Much worse for him. People chasing him, making up stories about everything he did. No privacy at all. What a crock.
He started the truck and drove out the back exit of the parking lot. Nobody seemed to be following, but what would it be like if paparazzi chased you down every street and each time you got in a car? What a nightmare.
When he pulled up behind Ellie’s school, she ran out and hopped in the passenger seat. Gabe said, “Duck down so they don’t see you.”
She did, and they managed to pull out of the school driveway without anyone seeming to see. No such luck at their house. A bunch of unfamiliar cars dotted the parking spaces all the way down the block, and there were a couple of people lurking on their front lawn.
“Shit.” He glanced at Ellie. “Excuse me.”
“I second the motion.”
“Okay, here we go. I’m going to pull into the driveway and hit the opener at the same time. Jump out, run in the garage, and as soon as I get in, close the doors.”
“Deal.”
He drove sedately up the street. He couldn’t drive into their garage since he’d converted most of it to his workshop storage, but the door still worked.
“Get ready.”
Ellie poised at the door.
In one move, he pulled into the driveway and hit the opener.
Ellie jumped out of the passenger door. The paparazzi seemed to come alive at the sight of her running into the garage, and they leaped out of their cars.
Gabe braked, piled from the driver’s seat, made a charge at the reporters who got too close, scattering them, and then ran headlong into the garage with the door closing after him.
Ellie slapped him a high five, and they gasped for breath. Outside the garage door, they could hear people yelling and milling around.
Gabe opened the door into the house and walked straight to the living room windows to close the blinds. “Maybe I should call the police to get them off our lawn.”
“Give them a few minutes and see if they leave. We can’t be that big a story. Who’d ever believe I’m Jet Gemini’s girlfriend? I mean, except for some of my stupid classmates. Seriously, my personal currency has never been this high. They think I’m denying it to be cool.” She snorted. “Was it tough at work?”
“Alejandro was pretty supportive, but he has to worry about the store. So I have to take vacation days until this thing dies down.”
“That’s craptastic, but maybe you’ll get more done at Jerry’s house.”
He flopped onto the couch, flipping on the light on the end table against the self-imposed gloom. “I think the reporters all know where Jerry’s house is now, which is sad for him. But going there’s pretty sure to put me directly in the paparazzi’s sights.” He shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck as the reality of the whole mess washed over him. “Now that everyone knows where the house is, Jerry may not want it anymore. After all, the place was about his having something of his own. Private. Remember how he kept saying that?” He glanced at Ellie and she nodded. “It sure doesn’t qualify anymore.” He swallowed hard against the tightness in his throat. The end of Jerry’s dream. Mine too, I guess.
Chapter Twenty-One
“HAVE YOU called Jerry?” Ellie put a warm hand on Gabe’s arm for a second.
“No. I’m not sure what that would accomplish. If he says something to the press about the photos, it’ll just assure that the story lasts twice as long.”
“But he could explain that it’s all a stupid mistake.”
Gabe rose, walked to the kitchen, poured iced tea, and snapped the venetian blinds shut there as well. He turned and faced Ellie, holding out the glass. She went over and took it.
Gabe spoke softly. “Have you seen the photos?”
“A couple kids waved them in my face, so I looked them up.”
“Are they bad?”
She pulled her phone from her jeans and clicked, then held it out to Gabe. Almost scared, he glanced at the screen. Ouch.
There were more photos that he’d expected. “Holy—they must have followed Jerry here when he came over after me.”
“Yep.”
The first photo was the one Gabe had expected. Him and Jerry standing on the pool deck, Jerry’s head against Gabe’s shoulder and Gabe’s arm around his back. But also as he’d guessed, the shot might have been midhug and could be explained as a moment of gratitude—if you didn’t really look at their expressions.
The next shot showed Fred and the musicians gaping at Ellie, who stood looking surprised and totally adorable in her modest bikini.
But then came a series of grainy photos taken through the front window of Gabe and Ellie’s house—Ellie and Jerry on the piano bench, the two of them dancing around the living room singing, her standing at the door welcoming Jerry with a big smile.
To Gabe, who knew what had happened, every photo looked innocent, but then he read the headlines and captions.
Does Jet have a new girlfriend?
Robbing the cradle?
Is Jet taking a page from the old Elvis and Jerry Lee catalog?
A reference, Gabe guessed, to the fact that Elvis and Jerry Lee Lewis married very young girls.
And then the huge cringe. Does Jet like father and daughter? Yuk.
He looked up at Ellie. She was trying to be strong, but she couldn’t erase the frown entirely. Gabe said, “I guess I better call him.”
“If for no other reason than to warn him not to go home.” She sipped tea. “I really feel badly for him. He wanted that house so much.”
Gabe glanced at his watch and dialed his phone. It rang three times, then went to voicemail. Gabe said, “Hey, Jerry, it’s Gabe. Call me, okay?” He clicked the phone off. “I didn’t want to say anything in voicemail. Don’t know his schedule at all. He’s probably rehearsing or traveling or something.” He set the phone on the counter.
Gabe moved to the front blinds and looked out. There were still a couple of strange cars, but no one was tromping on their grass. “I’m grimy. I’m going to take a quick shower and then let’s make some dinner.”
“Deal.”
He walked into his bedroom, trying to shake the feeling that someone had stuffed his head with cotton. Right, cotton soaked in hot sauce. The disgusting prurience of the stories wove in and out of the sappy optimism he’d felt that morning. Which one was more unreal? Had he honestly thought that he and Jerry had a chance? Maybe not, but he also hadn’t dreamed that just knowing Jerry could drag him and Ellie through the internet sewers.
As he turned on the water, he might have heard the sound of a phone ringing. For a second, his heart leaped, but the sound didn’t repeat, so he stepped under the water and did a quick wash. He didn’t shave, just soaped, rinsed, and dried. In his bedroom, he pulled on some sweats, brushed his hair off his face, then opened the bedroom door.
The sound of Ellie’s sobs slammed him in the chest. He almost broke his neck thrashing into the living room to find her crumpled on the flo
or beside the kitchen counter, the phone lying beside her.
He fell to the ground. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt? What happened?”
Ellie raised her red, puffy-eyed face to Gabe. “Mom. Mom’s taking you to court for sole custody. Child endangerment.”
JERRY FINISHED the last chorus and wiped his face with the edge of his T-shirt. “That’s good. We’ve got it.” He walked downstage and sat on the edge as the band milled around behind him. Out in the massive showroom, he could see Fred and Theoni with their heads bent together. They looked serious and intense. As usual.
Al, his drummer, sat beside him. “You think the sound’s okay with Swizzle?”
“Yeah, don’t you?”
Al, a tall, thin guy with red hair, nodded. “I like him a lot. He brings great performance value.”
Jerry nodded. “Just in time for us to end the tour.”
“I never got to tell you, I really like your house.”
Jerry wanted to frown, but he didn’t. “Thanks.”
“You going back there after we close in Vegas?”
“Probably.”
He barked a laugh. “You sure you’re going to like living someplace where the most exciting thing that happens is a performance of William Shakespeare?”
Jerry sighed softly. “We’ll see.” He liked Al and all of the band members, but he hadn’t chosen them. They weren’t like the Beatles or Queen. Fred picked musicians as they needed them for their tours, and the players changed as schedules and music changed. Jerry—no, Jet—wrote everything and was the draw. The guys were backup.
Jerry hopped off the stage, grabbed a sweatshirt to keep his muscles warm, and walked up the aisle toward Fred and Theoni. “Hey, guys, I’m starved. Let’s eat.”
Theoni glanced at Fred kind of nervously.
Fred said, “Why don’t I go get takeout?”
Jerry glanced back and forth between them. “Why? I like the restaurant in the hotel.”
“No point in doing all the autograph seekers and lookie-loos when you have to perform tonight.”
Jerry frowned. Fred always wanted to see and be seen. “I’m going.” He started up the aisle. Fred and Theoni scrambled to get beside him. Fred waved a hand at the two giant humans he’d hired to be Jerry’s bodyguards in Vegas, and they hurried over to join the parade.