Sophie's Encore (The Rock Star Romance Series)

by Nicky Wells

  “Well, shelve those emotions. We’ve got to do something about this setup, and fast.” But what? I was running through options in my head. Think, Sophie, think.

  “I’ll write a refutation,” I suddenly burst out. “I’ll set the record straight. I’ll get the doctor to release a statement and…” Stroke of genius! Never mind I wasn’t working with Read London anymore, Rick would run it, I was sure. He had always run my articles.

  “You can’t,” Jack cut into my thoughts. “It wouldn’t work. For one, you’d be considered a biased source. And for another, you’d drop Dan right in it. The hospital would be swamped within minutes.”

  I didn’t even pause for breath. “True on both counts,” I conceded. “But something along those lines has to be done, and fast.” I sat up straight in my bed, trying to clear my head. The solution was within grasp, if I could only…

  “I know. I’ll write the piece, but I’ll get Rick to publish it under his own byline. That gets me out of the picture. And as for the hospital…let me ring them and talk to Dr. Smith, if he’s still around. There must be procedures for this kind of thing. Or maybe he has another idea. Anyway, let me get onto it. I’ll call you back.” I hung up and got busy.

  Tackling the most urgent job first, I rang the hospital. Miracle of miracles, Dr. Smith was still on duty and came on the line instantly. I filled him in, but he had already heard the news.

  “I was going to get in touch with you tomorrow,” he explained. “There have been phone calls, and a few reporters have been snooping around. Security has sent them packing, and we have made no statement. Yet.”

  There was my opening. “Do you think you should? Would? Could?”

  “It’s highly irregular. It breaches doctor-patient confidentiality, unless, of course, that is waived. Mr. Hunter isn’t really in a good enough condition to talk about this kind of stuff right now.” While willing to be helpful, Dr. Smith sounded doubtful.

  “What if his manager gave you the all clear to make a statement?”

  “Uh-huh, not good enough.”

  I changed tack. “Look, let’s have a think about what you might say, first of all. Evidently, the truth would be best. How about something like this…” I paused for a second, marking the beginning of my proposed statement for Dr. Smith with a small clearing of my throat. “‘I can confirm that Mr. Hunter was admitted to this hospital in the early hours of Sunday morning. Mr. Hunter suffers from severe pneumonia and is currently undergoing treatment, to which he is responding well.’” I petered out. “Let’s not even mention the drugs. This is simply a factual statement. I’m sure Dan will be fine with that.”

  Dr. Smith coughed uncertainly at the other end of the line. “I’d love to help. But I’m not authorized to make this kind of statement.”

  I suppressed a groan. “Who is authorized to make that kind of statement? It would be best coming from you, as his doctor, really. It’s the only way to put an end to the nasty rumors before they spread out of control.” There was no reaction from the doctor, and I tore at my hair. “Look, why don’t you ask him. He’s been in the business for years. He’ll know word will get out about something or other. He’ll want to set the record straight. Trust me.”

  Dr. Smith wavered. I could feel his resolve crumble through the telephone line. Alas!

  “It’s rather late.” He put up another obstacle. “He might be asleep. Patient care has to come first. I can’t wake him.”

  “Then don’t,” I was quick to retort. “But he might be awake. Why don’t you go see? Please?”

  A big sigh signaled the collapse of Dr. Smith’s resistance. “Okay. I’ll check on him now. If I deem him strong enough, I will ask him, as you suggest. If not, you’ll have to come up with something else. I’ll ring you back. Give me your number.”

  I rattled off my home number and thanked him profusely. I knew he was going above and beyond the call of duty, but he was clearly willing to interpret patient care in the widest possible sense here.

  While I was waiting to hear back from the doctor, I rang Rick on my mobile. He didn’t sound the least bit surprised to hear from me. In fact, his opening line was, “I’ll run it. When can you get it to me?” I could have kissed him, and I was grateful my old editor had enough faith in my rock star to know the vicious rumors were all bogus.

  Repeating Jack’s words about how I would be considered biased, I gently asked whether Rick could run my article as his own. If Rick was astounded by my request, he didn’t let on.

  “I’d have to speak to Jack, at least, to verify the story,” he mused. “Or to the hospital. It would be unethical to publish a piece that I hadn’t a hand in at all.”

  “By all means,” I agreed. “Substantiate away. Meanwhile, I’ll knock together my copy and email you. Oh, hold on a sec.” My landline was ringing. God, what a crazy night.

  Dr. Smith was back on the other line. He had talked to Dan briefly, and Dan had unreservedly agreed that the doctor could make whatever statement was necessary. He had even signed a piece of paper to that effect. Apparently, Dr. Smith had woken the legal department to get this all squared off. “I’m ready,” he said. “And so is the staff. I’ve issued instructions to repeat this statement verbatim, and nothing else. No press will be allowed in the hospital. Anyone trespassing will be escorted off the premises by security.”

  “Thank you,” I offered before asking on impulse, “why are you doing this?”

  “Let’s just say I may have been to the odd Tuscq gig or ten,” Dr. Smith whispered. I nodded even though he couldn’t see me.

  “Right, right.” I nodded some more, while considering the two phones I held in my hand, connected to two men who currently held Dan’s fate in their respective hands. Perhaps...if I could press the right buttons… I spoke before I had the idea clearly formulated. “Okay. Dr. Smith, I have the editor of Read London on the other line. He will be printing your statement. Would you mind if I patched him into our call?”

  “That was quick work,” Dr. Smith responded. “But yes. Might as well.”

  I spoke briefly to Rick and pressed the conferencing button on my landline. Please work, please work. It was an age since I had last made that happen, but there…yes. Rick was coming in on my landline, too. I was a genius.

  Afterwards, things happened very quickly. Dr. Smith made the statement exactly as we had discussed, saying neither more, nor less. Rick took note and ended his call. I thanked the doctor again and rang off, switching my laptop on at the same time and tapping away at the keyboard. Jack rang a few moments later to confirm he had spoken with Rick. All systems were go pending my copy. And so I typed. Short, sweet, and to the point.

  Dan Hunter Collapses with Pneumonia

  Don’t believe everything you read on the Internet. While it is true that lead singer of legendary rock band Tuscq, Dan Hunter, collapsed after an album pre-launch party at the Hyde Star Inn in London on Saturday night, drugs had nothing to do with it. Sources confirm that Mr. Hunter had been unwell for weeks and finally yielded to his illness in the early hours of Sunday morning. Mr. Hunter’s physician, Dr. Smith of St. George’s Hospital, offers the following statement…

  I closed the article with a quick, vague summary of Dan’s prognosis, and that was it. Go viral, I prayed when I submitted my copy to Rick, and work your antidote.

  By midnight, the small piece was already live on the Read London website and blog, adorned with a powerful image of Dan singing his heart out on stage. Rick had added a short and very clever comment from Jack, thanking Tuscq’s fans for their messages of support for their ailing rock star. Of course, there had been no such messages yet but…I chuckled despite the gravity of the situation. Jack really was the master of public relations. If this didn’t get the fans on our side, I didn’t know what would.

  Rick plastered the article all over Facebook and Twitter, too. The next day’s edition would lead with this news item blown up on the front page, and some of the other dailies would hopefully pick it u
p, too. The media would be awash with news of Dan’s illness.

  A swarm of reporters descended on the hospital within thirty minutes of news of Dan’s pneumonia hitting the social media, but was kept at bay by security. Jack instructed a private firm that very night to support the hospital’s cadre of security staff and contain the circus. As my refutation piece went viral, get-well messages from fans all over the world started pouring in, obliterating the smeary drug allegations. With a bit of luck, the crisis was averted. Now I only needed Dan to get better.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Needless to say, I was absolutely knackered from my second broken night in a row. I had stayed up until four a.m., monitoring developments on the Internet, and I slept right through my alarm on Monday morning. If it hadn’t been for Josh bouncing into my bedroom bright and early, I probably wouldn’t have woken until midday.

  Bleary-eyed and jelly-boned, I somehow managed to get the children fed and dressed and delivered to their respective educational establishments. After I waved Emily goodbye, I stood on the pavement uncertainly, competing priorities fighting for dominance with my conscience.

  I needed sleep. I was supposed to work with Richard in the studio. I had promised to go and see Dan first thing. I ought to somehow contact Dan’s sister, Jodie. She was bound to have seen the news by now. Ditto for Jenny; while she was ‘only’ the housekeeper, she was the pinnacle of Dan’s domestic existence, and she would worry and fret. I had to get some food shopping done, not to mention tidying the house. I really needed some sleep. I desperately wanted to see Dan.

  Feeling thoroughly overwhelmed and incapable of coping, I sat on the nearest bench and wept. People traipsed by and I could tell by the way their footsteps accelerated when they came past me that they were disconcerted by the sobbing creature on the bench. I probably looked like a loony, but I really didn’t care. Worry, exhaustion, and self-pity needed out, and out they poured in torrents.

  Eventually I sniffed. I had to get a grip. Some of the tension had drained from my body alongside the torrents I had shed, and I felt lighter, somehow. I only needed to blow my nose and dry my eyes and—

  “Are you all right?”

  The voice was full of concern, and vaguely familiar. A trace of a Northants accent with a hint of a transatlantic twang acquired in years of living in LA. Could it really be?

  I straightened up and raised my eyes just as Jodie sat down beside me.

  “You all right?” she repeated, smiling uncertainly.

  “Jodie,” I snuffled, perplexed. “I was thinking of you a minute ago. Do you know about Dan? What are you doing here?”

  She exhaled slowly and answered my questions in turn. “Yes, I read about Dan on Facebook. About the drugs, first of all, and next a brilliant piece from Read London which had your handiwork written all over it, even though it’s not your byline. Pneumonia, huh? How did he come by that?”

  “I’ll tell you in a moment. But…how come you’re here? I was worried I’d have to summon you all the way from LA.”

  Jodie was a fashion designer and spent most of her time jet-setting around the globe, dividing her not-traveling time between London and LA. Although mostly she lived in LA because the weather was so much better.

  Jodie smiled. “I’ve been in London these past few weeks, preparing a show.”

  “Oh God, you must think me awfully rude. Everything happened so fast. I was going to get in touch. I promise. I simply haven’t had a chance. How did you find me here, on this very bench?” My mind was all over the place.

  “I wasn’t quite sure what to make of all the weird news. I went to the hospital earlier, but it’s madness there, and I couldn’t face the photographers before I even knew what was going on. Isn’t that sick? Can’t visit your own brother in the hospital. Bloody fame. Bloody press.” She said that last utterance with considerable venom, then gave a start and grabbed my hand. “Sorry! Present company excepted, of course.”

  I squeezed her hand back and begged her to go on.

  “Anyway, I dropped by Dan’s house, after I’d not been to the hospital, to see if I could find out what was really going on. He wasn’t there, obviously. Jenny is most a-tizz. She said you would probably know for sure, you two having become…quite close again of late.” Jodie gave me a meaningful look, but pressed on with her thought. “Jenny pointed out the schedule that you’d stuck on the fridge about the kids’ school times and stuff. So when I couldn’t find you at home, I figured you’d probably be on your way back from dropping Emily off.” She waved her smartphone at me. “Google maps is a wonderful app. You can find anything, anywhere.”

  We chortled, despite the situation.

  “You look done in,” Jodie finally observed. “Why don’t I take you home, and you can fill me in and grab some rest? And I can go and brave the press at the hospital and see how Dan is.”

  I sighed. “I want to go see Dan, too. I promised I’d be back first thing in the morning.”

  Jodie observed me critically. “You’ll frighten him to death if you go looking like this.” She pondered for a moment before rising and pulling me up with her. “Come on. I’ll drive you home and initiate you in the Jodie Chase fifteen-minute-power-nap routine. When you’ve rested up, we’ll both go to the hospital together.”

  “I…I…well, I’m supposed to be working this morning, and I need to buy some food, and…” Confronted with a decision, my brain churned out all the other to-do’s on my mammoth list. Jodie was not perturbed.

  “Forget work, you have a crisis. Ring in and explain. Make me a shopping list, and I’ll get your food while you nap. No problem, come on.”

  She tugged at my hand, and I let myself be led to her car. I had barely fastened my seatbelt when Jodie drove off, nearly, but not quite, burning rubber in her great haste. She handed me her smartphone while she drove. “Shopping list. Dictate it. Go on.”

  I looked at her phone in confusion. I was a little behind the times, and my own gadget wasn’t nearly as fancy. “What do I do?”

  “Just talk,” Jodie instructed. So I talked to the phone, listing milk, bread, honey, Weetabix, and other critical foodstuffs I needed to restock, watching in stunned amazement as the items turned up on the phone’s screen, one by one. I knew phones were smart, but I hadn’t known they had become that smart.

  Jodie pulled up in front of my house, jumped out of the car, and solicitously opened my door. “Come on, come on,” she urged again. Together, we ran up the garden path, and Jodie clicked her tongue impatiently while I stabbed my keys at the front door lock. We were barely inside when Jodie took my handbag and coat, dumping both on the floor by the front door.

  “Jodie’s Power Nap,” she began. “One, thou shalt go and take a very hot, three-minute shower. Three minutes, no more, and as hot as you can bear. Two, thou shalt wrap yourself in a towel and climb into bed, wet as you are. Three, set your alarm clock for fifteen minutes hence. Four, pull the duvet up as high as you can. Lie on your back, hands beside your body, palms up. Close your eyes and breathe. Think about nothing. Five, rise refreshed. And we shall go to the hospital. Meanwhile, I’ll go shopping, as promised.”

  I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “A three-minute hot shower and a fifteen-minute nap in a wet bed? You’re kidding.”

  “I kid not. Trust me, it works. Now, off you go.” She made shooing hand gestures, but I remained rooted to the spot.

  “I must at least ring Richard. He’ll be wondering what’s going on.”

  That had Jodie’s attention. “Who’s Richard?” she asked, eyes wide.

  “He’s the sound engineer. I’ve been training to become one, and I’m due in the studio this morning.”

  For the smallest moment, my news left Jodie speechless. She rallied quickly. “Well, well, well.” She grinned. “What a brilliant idea. Stroke of genius. You become a sound engineer and you and Dan can…” She didn’t complete the sentence.

  “Dan and I can—what?” I prompted, reacting to the glint
of intrigue in her eyes. What had Dan been telling her about me?

  “Work together,” Jodie muttered. “Just work together. That’s all. And that’s all there is, right?” she teased, and I blushed.

  “Go on, ring your Richard man, and then have your power nap. I’m off shopping.”

  Jodie was like a whirlwind of activity, and I wasn’t sure whether she was simply driven by anxiety and eager to go and see her brother, or whether she was genuinely that hyper. Either way, she compelled me into action, and I did as I was told.

  Richard had seen the news, of course. He was incredulous at the drugs allegations and devastated to hear about the pneumonia. We agreed I would take a week or two off, and I promised to keep him in the loop on Dan’s progress.

  Still doubtful of the promised effects of Jodie’s power nap, I nonetheless trudged upstairs and stood under a hot shower for three minutes. Obediently, I went to bed barely towel-dry, lay back, and breathed deeply.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  “Oh. My. God.”

  Jodie and I were both shocked at the sight that greeted us when we approached St. George’s Hospital. The place was positively under siege by reporters, photographers, and a couple of film crews. However, the hospital security staff and the firm that Jack had hired were doing a stellar job of keeping the media contained behind barricades, and it looked as though they had the situation under control.

  We hung back out of sight while we had a little conflab about how to get in.

  “This is ridiculous,” Jodie seethed. “He’s my brother. I simply want to go see him without the world looking on.”

  I said nothing for a moment but observed the situation. “Look,” I pointed out. “There are people going in and out without bother. They must be relatives visiting other patients. Come to think of it…” I grinned, and Jodie regarded me with bemusement.

  “Come to think of it, I’m not exactly sure what the press is waiting for. They don’t know you’re his sister. They may or may not remember me. Dan has no wife or anyone who’s been in the spotlight who’s likely to turn up here. The other band members won’t go anywhere near the hospital right now. So I’m not sure what exactly they’re expecting. A miraculous appearance by the Rock God himself? Surely not.”