Drake (The Powers That Be, Book 5)

by Harper Bentley

  A twelve-year-old girl with a brain tumor wants an audition with the Moscow Ballet. Hmm, that’s a little tricky in the current political climate. However, Nadia’s cousin is a trainer with the San Francisco ballet… maybe that could work instead. A six-year-old boy from Colorado with a degenerative lung condition wants to score a goal against his favorite hockey star. A ten-year-old boy with MS loves airplanes and dreams of being a pilot; my contact at Alaska Airlines can provide a complete tour, everything from the tarmac to the cockpit. Maybe we can throw in a trip to one of the flight schools, too.

  We work through the cases, discussing the merits of each and formulating initial plans. The children’s faces that peer up at me from the folder look happy and hopeful, but when I read their stories… I glance out the large window at the bright blue sky, blinking back tears. I hate that so many virulent diseases threaten so many young lives. So many futures at risk. So many poems and symphonies to write, or planets and species to discover. One of the children we see here could hold the key to solving the world’s greatest problems, but may never get the chance.

  Ever since I was fifteen, when I saw what cancer could do, I’ve wanted to do something about it. Science has never been my forte, so I knew I wouldn’t be the one who would find the cures. But I could do something to ease the patients’ suffering and bring a little joy to their lives, as well as the lives of their families.

  “You okay there, Abby?” I glance up to see April’s concerned face. We all have our moments when the stories and the kids behind them break through the professional veneer we try to maintain during these meetings. Last week it was Tess who’d had to excuse herself during the discussion of a six-year-old boy with Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma, who simply wanted to take his grandfather to Disney World. The grandfather had been an illustrator for some of the Disney movies back in the sixties.

  I suddenly become aware that I’ve brought the discussion to a halt. “Yes, I’m fine,” I assure her and nod at Nadia. “You were saying?” I smile encouragingly, and she continues, holding the last profile aloft.

  “Now, I think I sent to you the details on the meeting we’re having today a few days ago, Abby, but I haven’t heard your thoughts on it yet.” Nadia fans the pages out on the table. She takes a breath and slowly lets it out, her eyes lingering the last page.

  “This is Parker Jensen,” she begins, indicating the grinning blond boy on the top sheet. “Eleven years old with leukemia. He lives right here in San Francisco, and his dream is to enjoy a day as a rock star with…” She taps the second photo in the set, and there is a collective intake of breath around the table.

  “Oh, my,” April says appreciatively. “He’s aged well, hasn’t he?”

  “Kennedy Lane?” Duane questions. “Isn’t he a little old for the preteen crowd?”

  Nadia’s eyeing the photo like it’s a triple-decker hot fudge sundae. “He’s not that old,” she scoffs. “He’s only thirty-six. Apparently, Parker idolizes him. He’s learning to play the guitar and wants to be just like Lane when he grows up.” Her expression becomes wistful. “And I hope he has the chance.”

  We’re silent for a moment. The thought Parker may not get a chance to grow up sobers us. Then April sighs, a smirk curving her lips. “Well, Parker has excellent taste in music. I don’t remember how many awards this guy has won, but he’s incredible. And when you throw in that face…” She points to the publicity photo. “I think spending a day with Kennedy Lane would be my dream, too.”

  Tess giggles in agreement; Duane rolls his eyes at her. “Oh, please. Get over yourselves. You don’t see Abby getting all swoony. Besides, when was Redfall’s last hit? They’re never on the radio anymore,” he complains.

  “Abby never gets swoony. And, Redfall has a new album coming out soon,” April shoots back, peering at Duane over her chic cat-eye glasses.

  “Oh, what? I suppose the money’s running low, so he’s going to squeeze out something to make the teenage girls and their mothers scream? Then he’ll take his money and run back to wherever aging rock stars go when they retire?”

  “What’s got into you?” A frown mars Nadia’s lovely features. “We deal with celebrities all the time.”

  He shrugs. “I just don’t think he’d be a good influence, that’s all. The kid should idolize someone more worthwhile.”

  “They can’t all want to go to Disneyland.” April waves her hand at him. “And Lane is more than a rock star; he’s an artist. At least, he was.”

  Their sniping fades into the background as I peruse the two pages. Parker is adorable with bright blue eyes and an infectious grin. Lane is… Actually, I’m not sure what Lane is. Handsome seems inadequate when you consider his chiseled jawline and sensual pout. But, April is right; he’s so much more than his looks. The complex rhythms and cerebral lyrics that have always characterized his sound set him apart from his contemporaries. His band was a staple during my college years and beyond; in fact, I have dozens of Redfall’s songs on my playlists now.

  But how wise would it be fulfill this particular dream? Parker’s treatments have left him in a fragile state. Is Kennedy Lane the type of man who would understand—and respect—that?

  I’d started researching him as soon as Nadia had sent me the report, but had come up with mixed results so far. His older interviews revealed an intelligent, whimsical mind that appealed to me. He sounded like someone I’d love to sit with for a beer and conversation. His more recent comments in the press, however, had sounded so angry. Arrogance and negligence had replaced the whimsy and playfulness. Maybe he succumbed to the pampered celebrity lifestyle, or maybe it was just a bad day. Who knew?

  I flip the promo photograph over, focusing on the more recent paparazzi photos Nadia included in the packet. The photos captured him leaving a club with his entourage. He was obviously annoyed and probably drunk. But more than that, there was something in his eyes…something familiar in that glazed stare…

  I manage to suppress a shudder when a particularly unpleasant memory leaps to mind; a memory of screamed threats, desperate begging, and a final, terrifying good-bye. My ex, Lucas, had hid his addiction before finally slipping up. After months of pleading and empty promises of rehab, his inability to change led me finally to wipe my hands clean of the mess his addiction had made of our lives.

  It’s funny how having a gun pressed to your temple can make everything so clear.

  “Abby? What do you think?” My attention snaps back to the here and now, and I see all eyes trained on me. I take a deep breath to compose myself, and lock the past where it belongs—in the past.

  “Actually, Duane has a good point.” I ignore how he puffs up his chest at my comment. “I’m not sure if exposing a young boy to this scene is a good idea. You know, the whole sex, drugs, and rock ‘n roll’ thing.” I hold up a hand when I see Nadia getting defensive. “I know—it’s a stereotype. But, I’m honestly concerned why Lane dropped out of sight for so long. Was he in rehab? Or was he off on some spiritual journey meditating with the Dalai Lama or something?” I pause and thoughtfully tap the photos with my fingertips. “All that aside, granting wishes is our mission. If we can make this happen, we should. We’ll have a better idea once we meet with his team today.”

  “We?” There’s no mistaking the annoyance in Nadia’s voice. “Well I have an appointment with his manager and a representative from his record label at the Fairmont at one. The record label was very enthusiastic.”

  “Will Lane be there, too?”

  She adjusts her glasses, looking like the cat that got the cream. “There is that distinct possibility.”

  I share a quick glance with April; she cocks an eyebrow, and I know she’s also noticed Nadia’s odd demeanor.

  “I’m going with you.”

  “Oh, uh…” She falters, drawing my gaze up to hers. Nadia rarely hesitates. “Are you sure? You don’t usually attend these sorts of meetings, Abby.”

  “I know, but I want to ensure this goes smoothly.” A
t her sharp look, I add, “I’ve heard Lane’s manager can be difficult, and you might need the extra firepower.” I don’t want her to think I doubt her abilities. Nadia is extremely skilled at her job. I’m probably misreading her—she’s too professional to fuck around with a case, literally or figuratively. “And, given what we’ve just discussed about the potential negative influences in his lifestyle, I’d like to hear for myself if his team understands Parker’s situation.”

  She hums, sounding mollified, and peers at me speculatively. “This is one of those cases for you, isn’t it?”

  I sigh, knowing that she’s right. Sometimes, a dream fulfillment will hit you just the right way, and it becomes “yours.” And apparently Parker Jensen, with all his struggles and his soulful eyes that touch my heart, has become one of mine.

  “I guess you’re right.”

  “Okay,” she replies, with a touch of resignation. “I’ll send the appointment over to Tess so she can arrange your calendar.”

  Duane deflates with Nadia’s statement, and we quickly adjourn. I exit the room, pretending not to hear Duane calling my name. I’m not in the mood for whatever he wants to say, especially if he’s going to complain about my decision. I swear, the man can pout worse than a thirteen-year-old girl.

  Back in my office, I tuck a stray hair back into my perfect chignon and adjust the collar of my crisp cotton blouse. Not bad for thirty-four, but still, April is right. ‘Swoony’ is definitely not a word I subscribe to, not even for fuckhot rock stars.

  Sitting at my desk, I pull Lane’s promo photo out of the file and stare at it. Peering out from beneath a mop of thick black hair, those deep blue eyes seem to leap off the page to see right through me. It’s disquieting. Suddenly, the only word I can think of to describe Kennedy Lane is… dangerous… in more ways than one.

  But how can I say no when he’s a little boy’s heart’s desire?