Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
W hile Jenna’s getting dressed upstairs, I draft an email to the PR team outlining her idea. It might work. Looking for real estate is always a good way to sideline the press. Who knows? Perhaps it’s time for me to put down roots?
Roots?
Aroostook does have its charms, considering King and Angie are a cool couple. Not to mention whatever is going on between Jenna and me. And her mother’s sweet. The more I think about the idea, the better it feels. I prefer this coast to LA, although my rental out there was lit. I bet the Hamptons could offer something just as nice. If not better.
Before Jenna returns, I’ve tossed the ice pack onto the plate and managed to get into my clothes from last night. Looks like I’m the one doing the walk of shame today.
If only. Doctor’s orders be damned.
Dressed for the day, Jenna bounds down the stairs. Smiling at her from across the room, I say, “Let me check outside to see what we’re dealing with. ”
“What do you mean? You don’t think the reporters figured out where I live, do you? I’ve moved since?—”
“I’m not sure.” I turn to her. “You didn’t move because of Darren, did you?”
Her lips purse. “Not entirely. The reporters left after a few weeks, so it wasn’t them. I thought I needed a do-over.”
I open my arms wide. “Come here.”
She hesitates for a minute, then walks over to me. My arms close around her. For once, I don’t want to ravish her, but make her feel protected. Well, a little ravishing wouldn’t hurt either. But I mainly want to give her comfort for my recent failure.
I step back. “Let me take a look.” Walking-slash-quasi-limping to the front door, I peer through the sidelights. Sure enough, at least ten cars are parked outside. Shit. My shoulders slump.
From across the room, she asks, “How bad is it?”
I have to tell her the truth. She deserves this much from me. Besides, it’ll be impossible to hide when we get outside. “Only a few intrepid reporters.” My mind whirls with how we’re going to get into her car. Plus the fact I have to appear one hundred percent healthy doing it.
“Not awful.”
Ten could turn into fifty in the blink of an eye. “Change in plans.” I hope she’s okay with this. “How about I call King and Angie now and let them know about our little scheme. Which may not be so far-fetched after all.”
Her eyebrows raise. “No?”
“Turns out Aroostook has its appeal.”
She beams at me, making me think I made the right decision. I know better than to get my hopes up, though. Lissa taught me that lesson back in high school, which only reinforced Mom’s refrain. Still, I deserve a quick shot at fleeting happiness.
I dial Russo Real Estate. Angie soon is on the line, joined by King at my request. I outline our idea and ask them to find me a house in the ten-million-dollar range. They agree and promise to be at Jenna’s house within the hour, not without receiving a warning from me about the media swarm awaiting them here.
We sit, and Jenna forces my right leg up onto the sofa. “At the very least,” she says, “you’ll get to see more of my beautiful town. Even if you don’t buy anything, you’ll enjoy what the Huntes have to show you.”
“Us,” I correct her.
Her head tilts.
“If you think I’m going to buy a house without a second opinion, you’re crazy. After all, it was your idea I do this in the first place.”
“Only as a way to throw off reporters.” She wags her finger at me. “It was all you who decided to make this real. Besides, I need to get to the office.”
“You’re the boss. You deserve the morning off.”
“Oh no,” she protests. “I have a meeting.”
“When?”
“At two o’clock.”
I toss my head backward. “We’ll be done well before then.”
I can tell I’ve won the argument, but she doesn’t back down easily. “You’ll have to do your two sessions of physical therapy back-to-back.”
“Small price to pay.” Spending all day with this woman is not a hardship. Learning more about King and Angie and the town is a bonus.
A honk outside announces their arrival. Ignoring the paparazzi, they pull into the driveway, next to Jenna’s car. King opens the driver’s side and rushes to open the passenger door, where Angie steps out. To the screams of the paps, they approach the front door.
“I think you should stay hidden,” she says.
Jenna’s thoughtful comment warms my soul. “I think you should too. Just open the door and step back.”
The swing of her ponytail signals her assent, and soon the couple sweeps into the small foyer, the front door slamming shut behind them. Angie’s brown eyes sweep over Jenna before landing on me. “Are you two all right?”
I raise my hands. “Been better, been worse.”
King chuckles. “One way to look at it. When you warned us about some reporters here, I thought you were exaggerating. Felt like my dad was in town.”
At least he has some familiarity with their tactics.
“We rushed out here and didn’t check the internet,” Angie explains. “What’s going on?”
I fill them in on the press reports about Jenna, who disappears into the kitchen to bring refreshments. “So, I need to rehabilitate her reputation while not giving away my true reason for being here. We thought checking out properties would be a good cover. Although”—I notice their hunched postures—“The more I consider this idea, the more I like it. If you show me a property that wows me, you might have a sale.”
Angie’s the first to recover from my two truths. She stands taller and rubs her hands together. “In that case, we’re going to give you a choice you can’t refuse.”
Jenna enters the room. “Is that a bad Godfather reference I hear?”
“Seems like it,” I quip.
Jenna slants me a quick glance as she puts a tray of coffee mugs onto the table. In a flash, I’m back to our initial meeting at the club, debating the merits of the first versus the second film in the iconic series. How our normal conversation made me feel seen for the first time in ages. How the real woman in front of me stirred something long forgotten deep within me.
How is she doing it again?
King lifts a brown bag I hadn’t noticed. “Picked up some bagels that will go great with your coffee.” He looks at his wife. “Angie’s taught me never to go to someone’s house without some food.”
“Awesome!” Jenna reaches over and takes the bag. “Let me get a platter and some plates, and I’ll be right back.” She disappears into the kitchen again .
“Let’s have a seat and talk about the properties,” Angie suggests. “And discuss how to handle the media.” Her eyes dart toward the window.
Once we’re seated with drinks—Jenna brought me another tea—and bagels, we strategize about how the morning’s going to go. Angie shows me listings for a few different properties, and I pick two to visit, mindful of Jenna’s time. We also decide to go in two different cars as a diversion and because Jenna needs to be at the clinic for her meeting.
I test my leg, which feels relatively normal. For recent days. “I’ll drive.”
Jenna crosses her arms. “I was in no state to drive last night, but I’m capable today. I don’t want you to put more strain on your leg than absolutely necessary.”
I counter, “How will it look to the reporters if I let you drive?”
We’re at a standoff.
King suggests, “How about this? Bennett, why don’t you come with us? It’ll look like we came here to pick you up to scout houses. Jenna can meet up with us. Might even throw the vultures off.”
I consider his idea, but don’t like how it leaves Jenna vulnerable. I’ve been dealing with paps for years. She hasn’t. “No. I don’t want to leave Jenna to the wolves.”
“What if we switch up the order?” Angie queries. She addresses me. “You can go with King, and I’ll ride with Jenna. You two can even speak with the press while we leave first. I bet none of the reporters will follow us when the story’s talking with them.”
Her idea makes sense. We can be the decoy, so to speak. I’ll put out the story that I’m checking out properties. “I think it may work.”
We sit and make small talk, getting to know each other better over our makeshift breakfast. My mind, however, runs amuck with a potential fly in the ointment—how do I account for being with Jenna? No way am I telling the reporters I’m here for physical therapy after my stupid jump onstage. Nor am I discussing Darren. Perhaps he can provide cover, though ?
When the ladies take the dirty dishes into the kitchen, I turn to King. “Hey, the paps will want to know why I’m here with Jenna. Since I need to keep my physical therapy off their radar, do you think they’d buy I’m catching up with Darren’s ex-girlfriend?”
He winces. “I’m not sure about that one. The best decoy tactics are closest to the truth, at least that’s what Dad always says.” He goes silent while his biceps flex. “How about saying you came here because of our television show and ran into her in town? Then you went out to dinner to catch up?”
“You know, that might work. It’ll loop you guys into the press, since it’ll appear I came here to seek you out. Will that be a problem?”
He grins. “Nah. Call me a media whore.” We’re chuckling when the ladies return into the living room.
Angie takes one look at her husband and says to Jenna, “Don’t ask.”
King and I laugh even harder. This relative normalcy is unusual. I like it.
All too soon, Jenna and Angie prepare to go to Jenna’s car. “Wait,” I stop them. “How about we all go out together and I divert their attention with our cover story. In the meantime, King can help both of you into Jenna’s car and then you drive off? We should be only five or ten minutes behind you.”
We can see them off, then monopolize the press. As we put on our coats, I ask King, “How are your evasive driving tactics?”
He wraps a scarf around his neck. “I don’t get to brush them off too much anymore, but I’m sure it’s like riding a bike.” He puts a hand on my shoulder. “I’m ready for them, don’t worry.”
About as prepared as we can be, I open the door and walk out of the house. Taking my time—both to allow King to help the women into their car as well as not to let on about my injury—I draw the reporters’ attention. The screaming begins, questions being hurled at me from all sides.
“Does the rest of UC know you’re out here? ”
“Does Jenna have anything to do with your appearance?”
“Are you dating the Black Widow?”
No one takes notice when Jenna’s car starts. After the ladies pull back from the driveway, King joins me.
“I didn’t think my appearance in Aroostook would cause this much of a ruckus,” I say. “Must be a slow news time for you all, being winter and all.”
“What drew you to the Hamptons?”
My gaze takes in the clear blue sky. “I came out here to check out real estate.” I turn to face King. “This guy has a show on television, if you didn’t already know, and it makes all the homes out here seem like the place to be. So, I took this little break before Untamed Coaster’s tour starts next week to visit for myself. I heard you all don’t bother celebrities much in Aroostook.” I give them a pointed glare.
“We are excited to show some properties to Mr. Hardy,” King picks up the mantle, allowing me time to verify all the reporters are still here with us and not following Jenna’s taillights. At least this part of our plan worked. I tune back in to hear King explain, “We’re off to look at houses. Because these are private properties, I don’t expect to have you travel with us. That is, unless you’re ready to shell out some of your money to buy a house yourself. In which case, give my office a call.” He chuckles.
Gotta hand it to King. He knows how to handle these vultures. We turn toward his SUV when the same pap as before screams, “What about the Black Widow?”
I stop and turn toward the firing squad. “Her name is Jenna Westfield. She was my bandmate’s girlfriend, which means she’s part of the UC family. I didn’t know she lived here until I ran into her in town, and we decided to go out to dinner last night to catch up. Nothing more.”
I leave the gaggle and concentrate on taking normal steps toward King’s Audi. My entire body’s strung so tight, all I want to do is ram my fist into the reporter’s face. But I know the deal. If I show his questions annoy me, the rest of them will jump on the bandwagon. Not for the first time, I’m grateful Faith had to duck out of dinner early. She doesn’t need any of this hell raining down on her.
As soon as my ass slides onto the black leather seat, I slam the door shut. King turns on the SUV, locking the doors. I push the seat back as far as it will go in order to stretch out my right leg. We reverse out of the driveway at a snail’s pace. I force a smile and wave at the reporters as we finally get onto the street and pull away. When we’re out of their line of vision, my head slumps against the headrest.
“Thanks, man. You did great out there.”
King replies, “Sort of like I’ve done this before, huh?”
I check the sideview mirror. “How many are following us, do you think?”
“I’d say more than half. Ready?”
My hand grips the grab bar, my knuckles turning white. King floors it and we race down the residential side street with an angry group of reporters on our ass. I don’t bother to turn around. In fact, I keep my eyes shut as he races over the roads like the pro he is.
When we stop at a red light, I turn my face toward him. “You’ve had more than your share of opportunities to evade them.” Not a question.
“I didn’t lie. I know my way around their antics. Plus, after a couple of years as a real estate agent in this town, I know these streets like the back of my hand.” He makes a quick turn. “Jenna’s lived here her whole life. I’m sure she took evasive maneuvers although none of the paps were following her and my wife.
“Thank God. I can handle them on my tail, not theirs.”
“I hear ya, bro.” We ride in silence for a while. “Jenna seems nice.”
I appreciate King’s not-so-subtle question. “We’re not together. She was dating the keyboardist for my band until he died a couple of years ago.” I swallow the lump in my throat. “I like her.”
Why did I confess this to a near stranger? Braxton Hunte’s son or not, I don’t know him. Hell, I don’t know his father too well either. Or his brother Trent, for that matter .
“Hey, no worries with me. I get it. Before I met Angie, there was no way I was going to settle down.” He makes a quick right, then a left. “When you know, you know. Until then, enjoy the groupies.”
I grin at his remark. With a father as infamous as his, I’m sure he’s seen more than his fair share of my lifestyle. Women throw themselves at me on the regular. It just happens none of them compare with Jenna.
King turns into a long driveway and pulls behind an oversized house, where Jenna’s Lexus is parked. Both she and Angie are outside, chatting as if they were old friends even though they’ve only met at professional functions until now.
I gather my strength and open the door, meeting King near the headlights. “Fancy meeting you here,” he quips, then kisses his wife on the cheek.
I appreciate the security. “This house allows me to hide from the paparazzi, so that’s a plus already.”
We walk through a fence and tour the backyard first. Angie begins her description of the property, pointing out the view of the water from here. It’s quiet. A far cry from LA or New York City, appealing to me in a way I never expected.
Angie addresses me, “Want to go inside?”
I check with Jenna, who admires the park-like backyard, with its dock. We have some time to kill. “Why not?”