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“Should I approach that lady and ask her if she knows who lives there?”
“Can’t hurt,” he said.
I stepped down out of the RV when she got closer to us.
“Excuse me. Hi. Can you tell me who lives at that property over there . . . Twelve Via Cerritos?”
She tugged on her dog’s leash to keep it from moving and narrowed her eyes at me. “What, are you on some kind of sightseeing tour? The residents don’t appreciate your curious kind around here. My boss is one of them. I’ll have you know she’ll call her security if—”
“I’m not on a tour. I’m looking for a friend. Can you just tell me who lives there?”
“That’s Cole Archer’s house.”
“Cole Archer? Is he someone famous?”
“Yes. The lead singer of the band Archer.”
Archer?
“Not sure I’ve ever heard of them.”
An incredulous look crossed her face. “Have you been living under a rock?”
I laughed at the irony of that. “Basically, yeah.”
She looked behind me at Doc, who was now outside of the RV looking up at a tree. “Why does he have binoculars, then, if you two aren’t spying on the rich and famous?”
“He’s looking for birds, not Beyoncé.”
“Well, I suggest you move that RV off this street before someone has you arrested.”
“Thank you for your time,” I said before walking back toward Doc.
He put down the binoculars. “What did she say?”
“She said the person who lives there is named Cole Archer. He’s apparently a famous musician. Maybe Griffin works for this man.” As Doc and I reentered the RV, I said, “You brought your laptop, right? Can we connect to that hot spot?”
“Sure. Are you going to look up this musician?”
“Yes. I need to see who Cole Archer is.”
After he handed me the computer, I pulled up YouTube and typed in Cole Archer. A plethora of results came up. On second thought, I was pretty sure I’d heard of the band Archer, but since my taste in music tended to be less current, I didn’t know anything about them and couldn’t name any of their songs.
The first video I played was titled Archer Live at the Pavilion. Someone had taken professional footage of one of their performances. It looked like a smaller concert venue. The lead singer, presumably Cole Archer, was sitting on a stool and playing guitar while making love to the microphone during a slow ballad. His voice was powerful, hypnotic, and a little bit gritty. He was extremely attractive, exactly how you would imagine the lead singer of a band: thick hair that looked like he’d just had sex, chiseled features, and a great body. A few silver rings adorned his large hands that were wrapped around the guitar handle.
Since this video really wasn’t telling me anything, though, I went in search of another to watch.
The next one I clicked on was titled Archer Interview, Liam Stanley Tonight. The band members were sitting in a row answering questions from the interviewer.
“Tell me how you guys got together.”
Cole answered. “Well, not sure how much time you have. It’s a bit of a long one.”
I immediately noticed that Cole had a British accent.
Wait.
A rush of adrenaline ran through me. It was the first time I considered the unthinkable. No. It couldn’t be. Griffin couldn’t BE Cole Archer. Could he? No way. No how. The accent had to be a coincidence. At least that was what I wanted to believe.
“Have you found anything?” Doc shouted from the corner of the RV.
“Not anything that would lead me to Griffin’s connection to Cole Archer. I have to keep looking.”
I was reluctant to admit to Doc that I suspected Cole could be Griffin. It still seemed too crazy, and I had no evidence to substantiate it.
Over the next hour, I scoured the internet for any bit of information I could find on Cole Archer. His Wikipedia page did indicate that he grew up in England, which wasn’t news given the accent, but there was no information alluding to anything else that would lead me to believe this man was Griffin.
It wasn’t until I came across the comments section of an article in a music magazine . . . that I got my answer. It was clear as day right in the middle of an insulting jab.I don’t get the appeal. His voice sucks. It’s like he can’t decide whether he wants to sound British or American. Oh and his real name isn’t even Cole Archer. It’s apparently Griffin Marchese.My eyes were glued to the word.
Griffin.
Griffin Marchese.
Griffin Marchese.
Marchese Music.
Oh. My. God.
My body completely froze as all the blood in it traveled to my head. My heart was racing. Griffin IS Cole Archer? Cole Archer IS Griffin? Griffin is . . . a superstar? MY Griffin? I kept pausing the video at different spots to see if I could catch a glimpse of the twelve-year-old boy I remembered from that one picture he’d sent. There was one frame that truly sealed the deal. It was the same exact expression from the photo.
