by Megan Lowe
“I’m not doing anything to Knley. I’m just here supporting her.”
“You’re tearing her apart.”
“How?”
“By forcing her to go against her family.”
“I’m not forcing her to do anything, and I’d never force or even ask her to go against her family unless it was something she wanted to do.”
“You’re manipulating her.”
“I’m encouraging her to be who she really is. I’m sorry if that’s someone you don’t like, but I love her and I’m not going anywhere.”
Helen looks at me with disgust. “You and your father are cut from the same cloth. Neither of you will be satisfied until you’ve torn my family apart.”
“I’m nothing like my father, and if anyone is tearing your family apart, it’s you, by forcing Knley into something she doesn’t want to do. Look at her.” I point to where Knley’s leaning over the audience. “She’s a freaking force of nature up there, probably among some of the top performers in the world. How on earth do you think I could have any influence over something so powerful as her?” I shake my head. “No, Helen, the only person here who’s trying to shape McKnley into something she’s not is you.”
She storms off.
“I hate that you can’t stay longer,” Knley says as we lean against my rental car after the show.
“Me too, love, but I’ve got stuff to do back in Victoria, and you’ve got stuff you have to do here.”
She sighs.
“Hey.” I lift her chin so she’s looking at me. “We’ll see each other in a few days. Once the season’s started, hopefully I’ll have more free time and I should be able to get out more.”
“I know, I just miss you, miss who I am with you.”
“It doesn’t have to be that way.”
“What way?”
“One person with me, another with your family.”
“Cole.”
I hold my hands up. “I’m not going to push. I’m just saying that, if you wanted to change the way things are, it’s within your ability to do so. I just want you happy, love, and I’ll do anything to make it so.”
She sighs. “I know.”
I look at my watch. “I better get going soon if I want to make it back to Perth.”
She reaches up and kisses me. “I love you,” she says when we break apart.
“And I love you. I’ll see you soon.” I hop into the car. I watch her in the rear-view mirror until I can’t see her anymore.
One of the downsides to being one half of an “it” couple—not that I consider Knley and me an “it” couple, I’m just going on what the tabloids say—is that when you’re picking up your other half at the airport, there’s cameras on hand to document your every move. Kn is one of the first off, the perks of flying business, I’m told, and is straight into my arms.
“Hi, love,” I say into her hair, the familiar scent of apricot and honey invading my senses.
“Hey, handsome.”
“How was your flight?” I ask as I grab her and we walk through the terminal, trying to ignore the fuss going on around us.
“Fine, you know, typical air travel.”
“How’d the shows go this week?”
“They went.” She sighs. She’s still stuck in her rut and refusing to do anything about it. I know I shouldn’t push her on this, but I hate seeing her so worn down. It’s only going to continue the longer she refuses to do anything.
She doesn’t have any bags, so we’re able to avoid the bag claim and make our way to the car park. Outside the terminal the media crush gets noticeably larger. I take Knley under my arm and forge our way to the car park. She’s tense and I don’t blame her given our luck with paparazzi scrums. The questions fly thick and fast.
“Trying to rekindle the relationship, Knley?”
“Is this relationship just to increase publicity for Cole’s new team?”
“Knley, are you taking a break from Places?”
We ignore them all and leave them behind once we get to the car. Knley is visibly shaking when we get there. I’d take a minute to let her catch her breath, but I can see the paps running to their cars so they can follow us. Fucked if I know why; it’s not like we’re going to be doing anything other than making the three-hour journey to Booker, but if they want to waste fuel on chasing us, then it’s their money.
I pull out of the car park and immediately six or seven vehicles that were waiting on the side of the road for us are on our tail, the photographers in the front seats taking photo after photo. Probably shouldn’t have thought about a chase; I may have jinxed us.
“Fuck,” I mutter as I leave the airport and merge onto the freeway.
“What?” Knley asks. Her arms are wrapped around her torso, the colour drained from her face.
“Some of the paps are following us.”
“Are you kidding?” she asks as she spins around in her seat.
“Wish I was.”
“Why the fuck are they doing that?”
“My guess,” I say as I swerve between the other cars on the road, my speed nudging 140 km/h, “is because we haven’t been seen together recently. They’re keen for shots of us, either confirming we’re still together or we’ve broken up.”
“Ugh!” Knley says as she’s slammed against the door as I make a particularly violent move.
Even though it’s obvious where we’re going, I don’t want them following us all the way home. Surely the photos of us in the airport are enough for them. What more can they gain on the three-hour drive to Booker? I hate that this is sport to them, that these pictures of us will be beamed around the world and people will see them and be reassured “Coley” is still together. Never mind the fact that this is my life, Knley’s privacy and mine they’re invading. I know she hates this part of her job, and if I can make her feel better by getting them out of our faces, then that’s what I’m going to do.
“Sorry, love,” I say, glancing in the rear-view mirror. I’ve managed to lose a few of the chasing pack, but there are still three following us.
“I don’t get the big deal,” Knley says. “I’ve been on tour and you’ve been preparing for the NRS. Naturally we haven’t been together.”
“Never claimed these guys are smart.” At the last minute I take an exit. Ignoring the irate horns from the cars around me, I smile as I watch two of the pap cars sail past us. Now we’re down to one.
“How many are still there?” Knley asks.
“Just one, he’s a stubborn fucker though. Thought getting off the freeway would get rid of him, but it didn’t.”
I circle the roundabouts at the exit before merging onto the freeway again. This time, the pap speeds up and pulls up alongside us, the guy in the passenger seat aiming his massive camera in our direction. We watch as the driver takes all kinds of crazy risks to keep up with us. A few times he even manages to get in front of us.
“That guy’s crazy,” Knley says as he slows right down in front of us.
“Mmm,” I agree. Horns are blaring around us as I try to get around him, but he moves with us.
“We’re not even doing anything.”
I glance at Knley quickly and see she’s close to tears.
“It’ll be okay, love.” I squeeze her leg gently. I’m trying to shake him, but he mirrors every move I’m making.
“Why are they doing this?” she asks again.
“No matter how much we don’t think we are, or consider ourselves to be, some sections of the media think this relationship is a big deal, something they can exploit to sell more copies or get more traffic to their website.” I speed up in order to get in front of him, but he darts in front and cuts me off again.
“It’s fucking bullshit. We’re just ordinary people.”
“You’ll get no argument from me, but when people look at us they don’t see ordinary people. They see a rock goddess and a shit-hot motorbike rider. In their eyes that makes us fair game.”
“Ah!” Knley y
ells. As much as I hate myself for thinking it, the picture of that is going to attract a lot of attention and endless amounts of speculation.
Up ahead I can see some congestion, not unusual for Melbourne at this time of day. We’re in the left lane, a car to our right. I’ve backed off a little to give us space just in case something happens, and lucky I did. We’re still driving fast, the pap car more than me at this point. The driver isn’t concentrating though, and is too intent on us. I back off further and can see the photographer yelling at his driver when all of a sudden they brake, the tyres smoking. The car in front of them had slowed with the traffic and they didn’t notice. With nowhere for them to go, they end up on the shoulder. They bump over the debris from the freeway and I see one of their tyres explode. Serves them right. We cruise past them a second later. Both men seem irate. With no more paps following us, I’m able to take one of the ring roads that will lead us to the east side of Melbourne and in the right direction for Booker.
“I hate that,” Knley says.
I grab her hand. “I know, love. I wish we didn’t have to go through it.”
“The questions they were asking and the chasing?” She shakes her head.
“I know.”
“Those questions though, where do they come up with such bullshit?”
I have my suspicions. Some of the questions hit just a little too close to home to be original. I don’t say anything.
“You think my mother plants them, don’t you?”
I chew the inside of my cheek. “I think she has very close relationships with the media,” I say diplomatically. Well, as diplomatically as I can when it comes to Helen Rhodes.
Knley sighs. “You’re probably right. That question about whether we’re a stunt to get publicity for Ryan Racing has my mother written all over it. But enough about her evilness. How are things with you? How’s the training going?” She turns in her seat so her back is to the door and she’s facing me.
“It’s been going well, I think. It’s a bit of a change from the 800cc I rode in Supermoto to the 1000cc in the NRS, but I think I’ve got the hang of it.”
“And how’s it been working with the Ryans?”
I smile. “It’s been incredible. There’s so much knowledge in that family, it’s crazy, and not just from Nate and Jay. Mav and Jax get in on everything, too. It’s no wonder they’re at the top of their game. Add that to Bria’s PR mastery, and they’re unstoppable.”
“How’s she managing with Avery?”
“She and Reed are like some super couple or something. They split everything so that one of them is at home with her. Not that they need to. I’m convinced Bria could run the government with a laptop, two blue pens, and a phone.”
“So things are good then?”
I grab her hand and lace our fingers together. “They’re better now you’re here.”
That gets me an eye-roll and a chuckle, the drama of leaving the airport now figuratively and literally behind us. We spend the rest of the drive talking and generally shooting the shit. It’s one of the things I love about our relationship, how we’re comfortable just talking. We don’t need to be clinging to each other 24/7.
We’re met with cheers when we wander into the yard of the Ryans’ home, sandwiched between the diner and Bria and Reed’s house. I take a bow and Knley curtseys, to everyone’s amusement. Knley automatically heads to where Bria has Avery on her hip, while Parker hands me a beer. We chat about the footy for a bit before the sight of Knley holding Avery takes my breath away. It also makes my dick hard as fuck, but I’m trying not to think about that while my surrogate family surrounds me.
I make my way over to her. “You look good with a baby in your arms,” I whisper in her ear. I see the goosebumps rise on her neck, and suppress a smile.
“Yeah well, don’t get any ideas. My mother would have a heart attack.”
And there goes my erection.
“I dunno, I reckon you’d be a great mum. Hey princess,” I say to Avery. “Would Knley make a good mummy?” She giggles and flaps her arms. “I think that’s a yes.”
Knley shakes her head.
“Now, now, that’s not the attitude to have.” I reach over and take Avery from her. “Come on, princess, let’s show Aunty Knley how much fun we can have.” Which is a good idea in theory. In practice, the minute Avery leaves Knley’s arms, she starts to wail. With hearing like a bat, or an overly protective papa bear, Reed bellows from the other side of the yard.
“Matthews, are you making my daughter cry?” In a flash he’s by my side and taking her out of my hold.
“Shh, princess, it’s all right,” he says, rocking her and kissing her head. “Big, bad Matthews is going away now.” He glares at me.
I hold my hands up. “Hey man, we were only trying to show Knley how much fun we have together. It’s not my fault you’ve poisoned your daughter against me.”
“What the eff ever, man,” Reed says. “My daughter is perfect. If she doesn’t like you, it’s clearly because you’re dodgy. Isn’t that right, princess?” he asks the now laughing and smiling baby.
I point at her. “This is all a conspiracy. You lot are just trying to get in my head before the weekend.” Avery just laughs some more.
“Come on, handsome,” Knley says, threading her arm through mine and leading me away, “let’s get something to eat.”
“You know that was a set-up, right? Kids love me,” I explain to her.
“I’m sure they do.”
“They do.” I spot Christian, Parker’s son, and yell out to him. “Hey, Chris!” He stops and turns to us. “Come here, buddy.”
“Why?”
“I want to show Knley something.”
“Okay.” He shrugs and comes over.
I bend down so I’m on his level. “Tell Knley how much you like hanging out with me.”
“Uncle Cole’s cool,” he says.
“See!” I say triumphantly. I don’t know why it’s so important to me for Knley to see I’m good with kids, but the image of her and Avery is seared into my brain.
“And what do you like to do with Uncle Cole?” Knley asks.
“He lets me play games on his PlayStation,” Chris says, a huge grin on his face.
“Does your dad let you play games?” Knley asks.
Chris shakes his head. “He says staring at da TV will make my eyes square. Will it really?”
“If your dad says it will, you better believe him,” Knley says, ruffling his hair before he runs off.
“Good one, Cole, making a child doubt his parent.”
“Okay, so that was a bad example,” I say, slinging an arm around her shoulders. “I promise I’ll be better behaved with our kids.”
Coley Clashes and Crashes
There were more Coley paparazzi clashes today when the couple was spotted leaving Melbourne’s Tullamarine airport. With six or seven cars trailing them, Cole, who was behind the wheel, demonstrated some creative driving manoeuvres. At one point, a source tells us, speeds reached 140 km/h.
While Cole’s skills on the track are unquestionable, we at Rocking Rumours firmly believe that’s where they should stay, and once again question the fitness of him in McKnley’s life. We believe it’s hardly fitting for Australia’s queen of rock ‘n’ roll to be seen with such a dangerous driver who puts her in such precarious situations. Don’t you think, Mongers?
Chapter Nineteen
Knley
This is my fifth race day, but it never gets easier. I know Cole is a professional and has a great team behind him, but guys have died while racing. Hell, people die riding bikes on the public roads when they’re obeying the road rules, not getting anywhere near as fast as Cole does during a race.
“You okay?” Bria asks, obviously taking note of the fact I can’t stop picking at my nails or stand still for longer than five seconds.
“It’s just a dangerous sport, you know?”
She nods. “I don’t know what I’d be like if it was
Reed on the bike.”
“It’s hell, but what can you do? It’s what they love, and I’ve never seen Cole as at home as he is when he’s around a bike.”
“Except when he’s with you.” I blush at her words. “But Cole’s a smart rider. He doesn’t take crazy risks. He rides with his head.”
“It’s the other guys I’m worried about.”
“It’s a solid field,” Bria says. “Of course, there’s always one or two who are out to make a name.” She squeezes my arm. “Cole will be fine.”
The start of the race is frenetic. Bikes are going everywhere as everyone tries to get the hole shot. Cole qualified in ninth, which he was sorely disappointed with, but he’s determined to move up and challenge for the podium. After a few laps, the race settles into a rhythm. Liam is out front leading with a three-second gap. Cole has moved through the field to fifth, and is in a three-way battle for third place.
“Come on, handsome,” I urge as I watch his progress on the monitors in the pit. Several times I’ve seen him take a look in an attempt to pass the guy in front of him and move up to fourth, but he hasn’t quite been close enough. This time around he is and overtakes cleanly. The bikes whizz through the next set of corners, and Cole is able to hold his position.
A few more laps down and Cole is faring well. He’s been able to hold off the rider behind him while not letting the rider in front of him get away. Beside me, Reed clucks his tongue.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Robinson, the guy behind Cole, is getting frustrated. He wants to pass, but Cole rides late on the brakes, which makes him hard to pass.”
“Is Cole in danger?”
“Not if Robinson holds his nerve, but I’m worried he’ll do something idiotic.”
“So Cole’s best bet is if he moves up to third?”
“That’d be good. Ideally I’d like him to be challenging Liam for first, but we’ll take this for the minute.” I hold my breath as Cole sneaks a peek at passing the guy in front of him, but in the end thinks better of it.
We’re down to the final laps of the race and Cole is still in fourth. So far Robinson hasn’t done anything stupid, but time is quickly running out. The bikes come down the straight, all three side by side. It’s going to come down to who has the sense to brake first. As much as I want Cole to podium, I pray he’s the first to slow down. Like he can hear me, he does, slipping from fourth to fifth. That changes however, when both Robinson and the rider in third run wide at the first turn, allowing Cole to slip up the inside and take the final podium spot. Robinson recovers first and slots in behind Cole.