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Another fifteen minutes after that, he was in his Viper and programming the drive to Carson into his GPS.

If the paps were hassling him, that probably meant they were bothering her too. She didn’t deserve that. So he’d just have to get to her place and try to convince her that maybe she would be better off staying with him until the furor died down.

And her son. Couldn’t forget the kid. God, they’d have to babyproof his apartment. Kids liked to stick their body parts into outlets, right? Plus, they tried to drink chemicals and chew on the carpet—

“Dude, she has a baby, not a Chihuahua. Chill.” He exhaled and gripped the wheel. Yes, he’d been reduced to speaking out loud to calm himself down. Whatever it took.

If he didn’t practice some serious Zen and fast, he was probably going to lose his shit.

To soothe himself, he turned on his satellite radio and tuned it to one of the coffeehouse stations. Last thing he needed was his usual head-banging stuff. Today, he’d try something more mellow.

He’d gone less than a mile on his lengthy journey to find Chloe when “In Your Arms” came on. Confused, he stared at the station information and saw it was called the exclusive “House of Blues mix”. What the hell was that? Had Lila worked her magic to get a single out from the show? “All Night Long” had basically had its run, but still, they normally promoted their asses off for a new single, with radio interviews and articles online and lots of screen time at events. All the usual stuff that came with a big media push.

And his stepmother was no dummy. If the press was rabid over all things Warning Sign at the moment, she’d do whatever she had to in order to get the focus back on their music. Of course she’d had to select the song he would now forever associate with Chloe.

He tapped the side of his fist on the steering wheel and flicked screens back to his GPS. He still had roughly five hundred million miles to go.

Damn, where did his new wife live?

Turned out she did live in a suburb of LA, but it was pretty much on the opposite side from his own place in Malibu. He also might have understated the impoverished area consideration.

The more he drove, the more concerned he became. No one was eyeing his extremely conspicuous Viper in an alarming way, or even acknowledging his presence at all. But Christ, there were numerous boarded-up homes in Chloe’s neighborhood. She shouldn’t be in a place like this. Of course he knew people did what they had to do to get by. He’d just never really seen this kind of struggle up close.

He knew he’d been lucky financially. His father’s money had ensured his lifestyle growing up was as cushy as could be, and yes, he’d taken some of that for granted. Too much. Paying his own way while working in a rock band—even a fledgling one—didn’t compare with what people in Carson did to make ends meet.

After a weekend in Vegas, Chloe had come home to this. She dealt with this life day in and out. So much for him having problems.

He didn’t even have the right to say the word.

It was just past three when he pulled up down the block from the address she’d written on the marriage license. Way down the block, because the street directly outside her home was clogged with media trucks and cars.

Damn, he’d been too late again. As usual.

Better look fast, dude.

From what he could see at this distance, she appeared to live in a two-family house, with flowers poking up around the weeds in the yard. Hers was the only place he could see that didn’t have chipped paint or any broken-out windows, at least not in the front. He craned his neck, taking in the sagging porch and the mailbox hanging sideways on the wall.

Overall, the place was cute, if small. The houses on either side were as well, but they’d lost any redeeming features years before.

He drummed his fingers on the wheel and fought the urge to turn the car around and go back home. She didn’t want him to bother her. Hadn’t she made that clear? His presence had created all this chaos. Those reporters had to be making her life hell.

Added to that, he was so out of his depth he felt like he was drowning. He’d been given all kinds of breaks in life, ones he didn’t deserve. So much had been handed to him. Sitting here in this car on her block, staring at all the houses in decline, he felt so fucking guilty he couldn’t stand himself.

How was he supposed to go see her and talk rationally about them figuring out how to proceed when all he wanted to do was grab her and take her back to his place?

Not just her. She has a little boy too.

The kid too, of course. That made it even worse. Jesus, Lila had intimated Nick was helping her financially. If so, he must not have done much or on any regular basis. How could he let her live there? She was so young and beautiful, and she was on her own with a child. It couldn’t be safe.

Maybe it was now, because no one could try anything with a camera crew outside her front door. But back before the paparazzi had flocked to her neighborhood, what had she done when she needed to run to the store for a quart of milk? She’d probably gone to that crappy place on the opposite corner that appeared to have bullet holes in some of the windows.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He was still sitting there, waiting for inspiration to hit about how the hell he was going to get close enough to talk to her—and also, how to get her to leave with him—when someone rapped on his window. Swallowing hard, he rolled it down. A woman with hair like steel wool and a shopping cart full of cans stood on the other side. “Um, hi. Can I help you?”

“You’re parked on the wrong part of the street. Red on the curb means no stopping. You’re going to get towed.”

“Oh yeah, right. Sorry. Thanks for telling me. I’ll move.” And go where, he had no idea.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
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