“The photo. I’d been sure you’d have seen it by now. Listen...” I could hear him panting into the phone, like he had been running or something, and my heart rate increased in response.
Whatever this was, it was serious.
“I’m taking care of it, okay? You don’t need to worry. I’ve arranged for someone to pick them up and—”
“Slow the fuck down for a second, Mick,” I cut in. “What the fuck is happening?”
But I didn’t need Mick to tell me because Alex was already there, holding his own phone between the seats this time as the three of us stared at the scathing headlines currently lighting up the internet.
The words were one thing, but the photo was worse.
Because there was my little girl, her sweet face splashed across the gossip sites for the world to see, and she looked heartbroken. The more Alex scrolled, the worse it got. Someone had started digging into their past, and there were pictures of both Wren and Cooper in their youths, stories about the young, destitute single mom, the desperate groupie who was determined to break up my marriage. They had been interviewing the people in town, getting dirt on Wren, her parents, her ex-boyfriend—the works.
It just got worse and worse, and I knew that this would only be the beginning.
“Charlie,” I said, meeting his eyes in the mirror. “To the airport. Now.”
Charlie only nodded, his speed increasing as he changed lanes, making for the next exit to get us on the freeway.
“Now, Hawk, hold on,” Mick’s voice was stern as it came out through the speaker of my phone. “You can’t go there now. Imagine how that would look?”
“It would look like a father going to his child when she needs him,” I barked. “It would look like me doing the thing I should have done years ago if it weren’t for all the fuckin’ people who insisted on getting in my way.” Taking a deep breath, I looked at Alex and Gavin, my best friends for over twenty years. Gavin nodded solemnly, but Alex was grinning like a loon, always ready to stir shit up. “Tell me you’re not gonna get in my way, Mick.”
“Hawk, there are so many things to think about right now. Don’t be rash. We are trying to build something here, and I need you to—”
“Mick, I love you. You’ve had our backs all this time, and I’m proud to call you my friend. I know I haven’t made it easy on you. But right now, for the first time in my life, I know what the right move is and I’m gonna fuckin’ make it. Now, I’m going to Minnesota, with or without your support.”
For a while he said nothing, and I could practically hear the gears churning in his mind.
“What if it was Brooke?” I asked, going for the low blow because the gloves were coming off. “What if it was your daughter, Mick?”
This time, his silence was much shorter.
“I’ll call the airline and arrange a charter for you and Charlie—”
“All of us,” Alex piped up. “This is a group project now, Micky boy.”
“Alex,” Mick started, but Gavin was too quick.
“I think it would show great band solidarity, Mick. Show that we’re a team and we are behind Hawk all the way.”
“You fuckers. Fine. I’ll get four seats on the first available private charter out of Van Nuys. But when I tell you to keep your heads down and your noses clean, I fucking mean it, you hear me? Our investors do not want a bunch of clowns ruining their opportunities here. You’re grown ups. Fucking act like it.”
“Mick, come on. It’s us.” Alex smiled, but Gavin just shook his head. “What could possibly go wrong?”
Chapter eighty-two
Wren
Present
“Thissucks.”
It was a phrase I had heard more than once over the last thirty-six hours from my mopey teenage daughter.
“I know,” was all I had to offer. Because she was right, it did suck.
Being stuck in the house, curtains closed and doors locked, for every hour of the day more than sucked. It was stifling. Looking at the same four walls of our home—a home I was sure I loved just a week ago, but now felt certain that if I had to spend one more day trapped inside it, I’d be happy to watch it burn to the ground—was the most claustrophobic thing I had ever encountered, mostly because the street out front was still packed with photographers and townsfolk alike, all hoping to get a look at the woman whom the internet had dubbedHawk’s Harlot.
