Trusting Gibson (Last Score Book 2)

by K. L. Shandwick

  The night the tour ended, Len and I sat talking right into the following morning. Previously, I had already told him that when the tour was over M3rCy was taking a break. Len looked shocked when I told him that I had decided that for me, my priority was Chloe, and I wasn’t going to do any band related stuff until I had a clearer idea of what she needed. What happened to Chloe was because of me, and if I hadn’t arranged to meet her she’d still be safe and anonymous in New York.

  “You can’t keep beating yourself up about this, Gib. It happened. The important thing now is what you do next.” What do I do next? I was still at a loss and hung around the rented house doing nothing for pretty much most of the day. Food arrived by courier and was dealt with by Johnny and Jerry because we didn’t want anyone to know what was going on. During this time, when Cathy came home from seeing Chloe, George and I hung on her every word.

  Three long, emotional weeks later, the pattern was still the same, except when Cathy came home she told me that Chloe was taking care of her own hygiene and dressing, and had fallen into a routine of doing this. Small steps but it was in the right direction. George and I still weren’t allowed to see her, and I was almost at my wits end without her.

  Every time Lennon came over I cried. Simon, Mick and him tried to take me out with them for the night, to take my mind off of her, but I was miserable company so I declined. I just lay on my bed listening to playlist after playlist coming through my ear buds. Bruno Mars was another favorite of Chloe’s and when the song “I Won’t Give Up” came on I could completely relate, knowing I would hang in there for her. Some days I wondered if Chloe would ever speak or I’d ever be allowed to see her again, and my heart ached whenever I thought about that.

  Week five, and the update from Dr. Owen was they had started to use music to reach Chloe. I was asked for a list of her favorite bands but the music couldn’t be anything of mine or M3rCy’s. Maroon 5, Bruno Mars, One republic, Daughtry and Ed Sheeran, her other favorite artists, were going to be used.

  Filling her head with music, they hoped to trigger some positive responses. They had the tunes playing in the background for most of the day. The doc’s assessment was that she was getting more responsive every day and the idea to use music in particular was gaining momentum.

  Chloe was left a pile of CDs and a CD player because these were more visible and tactile than a playlist on a digital device. The medical team wanted to try to bring her mind back to the present time.

  While all the news about Chloe was encouraging, my memories of how it felt when she touched me were beginning to frustrate me. The only thing I had, apart from some pictures, was her voicemail. I must have listened to that hundreds of times in the first few days, just to hear the sound of her voice.

  When I found a little tank top in the bottom of one of my bags that hadn’t been washed, I held it to my face with both hands and inhaled it deeply. It smelt of the perfume she wore. I used this during some of my darker times, and I wondered if we’d ever regain the closeness we’d started to share before her abduction.

  Two days after they gave her the CD’s, Chloe suddenly stood and walked over to them. Flicking through them she chose ‘Baptism’ by Daughtry and selected a specific track to listen to. Track two. “Waiting for Superman.” My heart almost burst out of my chest when they told me that because while it wasn’t significant to them, it was definitely a sign to me, because the song that she connected with me was the one she was listening to on a loop.

  Five weeks and three days into her therapy, and they gave Chloe a laptop. No Internet. Just preloaded programs of art and word processing software to see what would happen. Initially, Chloe barely looked at it, then during one of her music sessions she put on Ed Sheeran’s CD and played the song, “Give Me Love” and when Cathy told me that, I wondered if she was thinking of me. Was she trying to tell them something? Was she telling them she wanted to see me? So I listened to the words of the song and there was definitely something in that for me.

  I had another meeting with Dr. Owen and Chloe’s parents, and I almost lost my shit because he still wouldn’t let me see her. I was so fucking frustrated about that, and after some time he suggested the medical team would take some photographs to show me that she looked well and was relaxed in her environment. Her parents had to give permission along with me to allow them to take the pictures, because Chloe was a vulnerable person and didn’t have the capacity to give her consent.

  When I opened the door to the rental house and stepped inside without her again, I felt so fucking angry that I rang Len. “Get me drunk. I need to get the fuck out of here. I’m hurting so bad that if I spend another night in silence with the thoughts in my head, I’m gonna go fucking crazy.”

  Cathy and George understood where I was coming from, and encouraged me to spend time with the guys. George was particularly kind when he rose out of his chair and hugged me tightly. I was committed to helping Chloe and I knew I had to have a strong mental attitude when she came home to gain her trust. I was up for that challenge, but at that moment I needed something to stop my mind going around in circles.

  Len arrived, and he along with Johnny and Jerry took me to an exclusive club we’d been to a couple of years ago. Hearing the music lifted my heavy heartbroken mood and after a few drinks, Chloe was still on my mind, but my thoughts weren’t as overbearing as they had been since she’d been taken. When I updated Len, he was of the opinion that she’d be home in no time.

  Len goaded me a lot during the evening and even got me up dancing with a couple of great fangirls who couldn’t believe their luck at being invited to a completely different VIP do, when they came across us by accident. I was fine until some fucker started taking pictures and then I saw red. Furious at the loss of privacy when I was trying to do something normal, I threw a punch. I’m not proud of it and at the time the dude seemed apologetic and full of remorse.

  The next morning a repetitive noise dragged me from my unconscious state. I was instantly aware of the dull throb in my head, which wasn’t improved when I answered the phone and Charlotte informed me about the new article posted overnight.

  Is Gibson Barclay’s Competition Squeeze Chloe Jenner history?

  Bad Boy Gibson Barclay seemed to be back on the market last night as he partied with band mate Lennox and bodyguards late into the night in the VIP area of SPD nightclub. Sexy as sin, Gibson looked a free man without a care in the world when he celebrated his freedom with two unnamed beauties. Gibson was reportedly in a relationship with Chloe Jenner, competition winner, who caused a sensation when photographs emerged of the couple’s sex antics only a day after meeting each other. After spending several hours in the company of the females, Lennox and Gibson left with their security detail alone. The unknown females were unavailable for comment.

  After the altercation I thought that had been the end of it, but true to form he’d already sent the picture on to his email before he’d deleted it in the club in front of me. As if I wasn’t dealing with enough and now there was even more to explain to Chloe at some point.

  First I’d have to face her parents about it, so I got out of bed, stepped into my jeans and threw on a t-shirt, then padded barefooted into the kitchen. Cathy had already gone to see Chloe and George was sitting quietly on a wicker chair staring out of the large French doors at the landscaped garden. Pouring coffee into the mug, I interrupted George’s thoughts and he turned his head to look at me.

  “This is so draining. I’m out of my fucking head with grief about this. Sometimes my only thought is when Chloe gets out of this, I’m going hunting. The thoughts alone in my head would get my gun license revoked.”

  “Indeed.” I knew exactly what he meant. I’d had many of those exact same thoughts myself. I placed my coffee cup down and maneuvered around the counter to stand next to his chair. Both of us stared silently out of the window for about a minute, then I heard George sniff. When I turned to face him, George put his hands over his face and began sobbing. I knew
how he was feeling so without hesitation I bent down and hugged him tightly, absorbing the movement of his shaking body that wracked with distress.

  Several minutes later, he was more composed and we sat talking. I told him about my night out and the news headline.

  George waved it away with his hand like what I’d told him was nothing. “Gibson you have to ignore that stuff. I guess it’s an occupational hazard for you to have sneaky people pull stunts to have their ten minutes of fame. In your line of work I imagine you attract attention without even trying.”

  Just like that, he believed me.

  “Yeah, but it’s Chloe I’m worried about. She had a hard time trusting anyone because of what happened to her, and there are many that would say there’s no smoke without fire, especially with my reputation.”

  “Not my Chloe. That girl has always seen the good in people. When everyone else saw negatives, I could guarantee that she’d find the positive somewhere. Jeez, I remember when we went on vacation and were driving through an agricultural area, the smell of manure was almost knocking us out, but Chloe commented that it reminded her of flower beds because it was important to help make the plants grow.”

  I snickered at that because he was right, when everyone else had chosen to focus on the one thing about me, she had found another.

  George then spent the morning telling me what Chloe was like as a kid and the warm feeling I had inside made me feel near to her. As he was talking, the look Chloe gave me all those years ago came to mind, and my heart was bursting with love for her again. I had been losing sight of how we went forward and George’s stories were just what I needed to lift me and give me the motivation to keep going.

  Several hours later Cathy came home and when she slipped off her jacket she pulled a large manila envelope out of her bag. Placing it on the table, her hand tapped it and she smiled. “Chloe.” She then walked over to George and placed another in front of him, sat down beside him and took his hand.

  Just hearing her name and knowing that I was going to see her, even in picture form, set my heart racing. With shaky fingers I tore at the envelope, pulling out the photographs. There were five in all and the first one I saw was perfect. Chloe was sitting cross legged with a set of earphones on, her eyes closed and she had a beautiful smile on her face. She looked perfect. More importantly, she looked at peace.

  The second she was lying on her belly asleep, her hand placed on the bed level with her shoulder and a few strands of hair over her forehead. In reaction to seeing it, I held it to my heart because I missed her lying next to me.

  The third photograph made me smile and I’m afraid my dick stirred and went hard, because she was looking up and the picture had been taken from a vantage point above her. Those eyes reminded me of us during foreplay, all innocent but with the potential to be corrupted.

  The fourth picture she was sitting on a chair side on with her hands on her lap. She was staring ahead and Dr. Owen was staring back. This one must have been taken during a therapy session. I wasn’t sure what it told me, apart from he was working with her at least.

  When I got to the last picture, it took my breath away and my heart almost stopped. It was a close up of my beautiful girl and her huge, inky blue eyes were staring straight at me. Tears choked me and I swallowed continually as I fought them back.

  Tracing my finger along her jaw line and then across her full lips, I lifted it and pressed mine to hers, closing my eyes. I have to get her back. Retiring to my room for most of the day, I lay staring at the pictures. I wasn’t sure whether I felt better or worse for having them, but I consoled myself that on the outside Chloe appeared to be well and didn’t look distressed.

  When I emerged from my room, Cathy had made some kind of chicken pasta dish, it tasted bland—but everything seemed tasteless without Chloe.

  Cathy began talking about Chloe and told me that she had been given a laptop to communicate the day before and she had suddenly started to write a story about an ordinary girl who fell in love with a rock star. The story wasn’t the same as ours and the circumstances were different, but according to Cathy it was a beautiful romantic story full of emotional angst and amazing dialogues.

  Dr. Owen was excited when she began to write because he said that she was channeling positive thoughts, emotions and feelings. In his estimation this was remarkable progress. When I climbed into bed that night, my heart felt a little more settled. Hearing all the positive things and having the pictures made me feel that Chloe was on her way back to me.

  CHAPTER 22 - TESTING TIMES

  Gibson

  Chloe continued to write and the staff realized it was a book, not a story. Chapter after chapter, she poured feelings and thoughts onto pages that were both brilliant and inspiring. And because she was doing this, I felt I should pen a few things of my own. So I began by writing her a love song.

  Looking out the window,

  Staring at the cleansing rain

  Darlin’ I never felt so low

  My tattered heart’s in so much pain

  Every beat is like a shard of glass

  Ripping wildly at my soul

  I placed you in a different class

  And I need you here to make me whole.

  Waiting for a sign to know

  You remember that you’re mine…

  Used to writing lyrics that scratched below the surface, I was surprised at how difficult it was for me to put what I was feeling in my heart and the thoughts in my head, on paper. If I was having a block like this, Chloe being able to verbalize what she went through was unfathomable.

  Six weeks and one day after Chloe was found, I was sitting cross legged on the floor strumming my guitar and experimenting with a new piece of music, when my cell rang. Slapping my hand against the oak wooden floorboard, I reached across my guitar and checked the caller ID and saw it was the clinic. They never rang me, so when I saw it the feeling of panic made my heart speed up and imaginary fingers closed around it, giving it a squeeze.

  Working a swallow as I nervously swiped the screen to answer, my head filled with dread at how the conversation was going to go.

  “Mr. Barclay?”

  The sound of my name said in an official way always made me feel like I was in trouble. No one called me that. “Yes?”

  “Hello, this is Patricia from Chloe’s team. Please can you come over to the clinic? Dr. Owen would like to speak with you.”

  Cathy was there already and George was watching TV, I could hear the volume on the television in the family room. I was already slipping my shoes on and shrugging my jacket on over my shoulders. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” Johnny was in the kitchen making a pastrami sandwich. “Leave that— I need to get to the clinic.”

  Striding down the hall heading for the front door, I pulled it open as Johnny called in past the lounge room door and filled George in about what was happening. Johnny then came running after me, pulling his jacket on and clutching the sandwich in his right hand. I felt bad leaving George behind, but if he’d come with us, I knew it would only have torn him up more to be there and be refused access to her again.

  We had done amazingly well in keeping my whereabouts private, but it took forever to get over to the facility because of all the doubling back to check we were alone. By the time we got there my hands were sweaty and I’d stroked them through my hair so much that Johnny commented for me to sort it out before we left the car.

  Dr. Owen was dwarfed by his high backed swivel chair, in his office. Waving and motioning me to take a seat, he continued to dictate about Chloe into a voice recorder on his laptop. Nodding at Johnny, he stopped abruptly and commented about patient confidentiality and asked him to wait outside in the reception area.

  “Sit down, Gibson. I have something to show you.”

  Tapping his computer keyboard for a few seconds, his head moved slightly as his eyes scanned his screen. When he found what he was looking for, he clicked on it then turned the laptop around to me. A ci
rcular icon on the screen indicated that a video was loading. It seemed slow to process and I found myself becoming frustrated that what he needed to share with me wasn’t instantly available.

  Suddenly Chloe was on the screen. My heart thudded. The impact of seeing her moving image in front of me had the maximum effect. For over six weeks I’d been coming and going from this building and suddenly there she was on the screen, looking so beautiful it made my heart ache. Her level of vulnerability was almost too much to handle. It shredded me and I reached out, stroking my finger down the screen at her image and swallowed back my tears.

  “Keep watching please, Gibson.”

  He would have had to gouge my eyes out with a spoon to stop me. Transfixed on my girl, I waited with bated breath to see whatever he wanted to share with me. I didn’t really care what it was, if it was only this— then I already felt informed.

  Dr. Owen realized he had muted the sound to dictate and spun the laptop back to him again to rectify this. My heart sank instantly when I lost sight of her. Tapping another button, he turned the screen again and I watched from the beginning with sound.

  “Baptized” by Daughtry was just finishing and Chloe was sitting in front of the laptop they had given her. She was motionless, just staring at the screen. The track ended and “Waiting for Superman” began to play. Chloe reached up and began typing rapidly on her keyboard, and at first I thought that the song had inspired her to write a scene for her book. After several minutes, she stopped and I realized the track had finished. The video screen went blank and reset to the beginning of the recording.

  “That’s good, right? That she’s using a song to write, the song is stimulating her—inspiring her, yes? She’s inspired by it to write something? What does this mean?”

  Dr. Owen licked his bottom lip and pushed his spectacles up his nose with his middle finger, then pushed himself back in his seat. “Well, of course. Yes. But that’s not it, Gibson. I wanted you to see how she was responding, but I’m now going to share the screen she was writing on.”