Dazzled (25 page)

“It’s fine, Miles,” I said, quietly. “Just tell me where to meet you.”

He scribbled down an address and I squinted, trying to decipher his horrible handwriting.

“Pack some clothes,” he said. “Nothing fancy.”

That I could do.

“And bring my sax.”

Miles left with Rhonda shortly after that. It had taken him all of two minutes to toss some clothes into his gym bag.

Reverently, he had placed the black case containing his sax by the door, and I looked at him questioningly.

“I’ll need my music,” he said, softly.

I nodded my understanding, kissed him quickly, and watched him take a deep breath before opening the door.

Rhonda gave me a long, measured look. “Take care of him,” she said.

A few seconds later the volume of noise increased tenfold. I could hear the assembled reporters yelling their questions in a heated frenzy. I didn’t dare peek out of the window, but I could imagine Miles with his sunglasses pulled over his eyes, hoodie up, head down, being escorted into Rhonda’s waiting car.

I knew it wasn’t the smart thing to do, but I was desperate to see what was happening. I risked a quick peek out of the window as the car engine revved threateningly. I half expected to see bodies flung left and right like in some adventure movie. Instead, the tank-like SUV edged its nose through the massed bodies while photographers pressed their camera lenses up against the car’s windows, hoping against hope that the tinted glass would reveal something.

Then Miles was gone. Almost instantly, the street in front of the building was empty. Only a few abandoned paper cups and cigarette butts showed that anyone had ever been there.

I waited 45 minutes, then headed out carrying Miles’ backpack stuffed with my spare jeans and a few t-shirts, and his precious sax.

Having it in my hands made me feel connected to him. And I knew why he’d wanted me to take it – he didn’t want
them
to have that little extra piece of him that would have reminded them he was a musician. Maybe some other day, but not now. He was trying to hang on to himself – and I hoped he was strong enough to do it.

The cab office was only a short walk, as Rhonda had promised. Luckily, a driver was available immediately and he didn’t give me a second look as I gave him Earl’s address.

I climbed into the back seat and sent a text to Miles that I was on my way.

His reply was immediate.

Be safe. Mx

The cab driver made an illegal U-turn in the street and headed out to Earl’s place in the quiet suburbs of
Bellflower. The whole town was on a much smaller scale than anything I’d seen before in LA, and it felt like a real community, not just a bunch of people who happened to have bought a house in the same area. It reminded me a little of an English market town, as we passed farmland stretching out into the distance.

After a short journey, I climbed out and paid the driver, but before I could walk up to the front steps, a woman with a dignified air and warm smile opened the door.

“You must be Clare. I’ve heard so much about you. I’m Maureen. Welcome to our home.”

“Thank you so, so much! Thank you for helping Miles,” I babbled. “It’s just so crap what’s happened to him. Oh, sorry, I mean, it’s just rubbish and…”

She smiled and her eyes sparkled.

“Don’t worry, honey. I have two teenage children, plus I live with Earl. That man cusses like a walrus with toothache. Come on in.”

Miles was waiting inside, still on edge and making sure there was no one waiting to snap a quick photograph.

“Clare,” he breathed.

“It’s okay, I wasn’t followed.”

Bloody hell – now I was sounding like some rubbish cop movie.

He pulled me into a tight hug and damn if he didn’t smell just sooooo fantastic. I couldn’t hug him back because I had my backpack in one hand and his sax in the other. I nearly dropped it on his foot because he’d cut off the blood supply to my arms.

“Umph! Suffocating here!” I gasped.

“Sorry! Sorry!” he muttered, loosening his grip a little. “I’m just so fucking glad to see you.”

Maureen raised her eyebrows and gave me a conspiratorial smile.

Earl was in the living room, nodding along to some smooth jazz. I listened for a moment.

“Art Porter? ‘
Lake Shore Drive’?”

Earl looked up, surprise on his face, and Miles smiled at me with pride.

“Oh, come on!” I said, “I’ve known Miles since we shared our first pram together! He practically gives me a written test on anything to do with jazz!”

Earl snorted, and Maureen laughed out loud.

“Can I get you a coffee, Clare? Cream? Sugar?”

“Oh, yes, thank you! Just the cream, please.”

She came back a few moments later and handed me a milky coffee, as well as a black one for Miles. Then I wondered how often he’d visited before because Maureen clearly knew how he took his coffee. Had he come here with Lilia?

Oh my God! Now I was getting jealous of a married woman who made him a cup of coffee! I seriously had to unbung my head from that dark pit of despair I called my arse.

Earl scowled. “Where’s
my
darn coffee, woman?”

“You can have decaff or water, old man!” snapped Maureen.

Earl grumbled for a moment then agreed he’d have decaff. Maureen winked at me.

“So,” I said, sitting back on the large couch. “What’s the plan?”

Earl grinned. “You want to tell her, son?”

Miles managed a small smile.

“Earl said we could borrow his campervan. Well, his son’s campervan, so we can just take off. Road trip – what do you think?”

His expression showed excitement – mine probably showed horror.

“Camping? As in, not having a place to stay.”

I wasn’t too keen on the idea. I mean, you know, now showers and flushing toilets had been invented, I didn’t really get the whole ‘back to nature’ vibe.

Miles rolled his eyes. “You were all up for doing the beer festivals in Germany last summer.”

Yeah, not quite how my memory replayed that conversation.

“Besides,” he said, quietly, “if I don’t check into a hotel, there’s less chance I’ll be found.”

There was no way I could refuse him after that – and he knew it. Git.

“Okay, but you’ll owe me for this Stephens.”

His smile was tinged with relief, and I felt bad for making such a song and dance about it. After all, it wasn’t camping with tents – God, what a horrible thought – at least we’d have a roof over our heads, even if we’d be sleeping in a tin can instead.

“The things I do for you,” I said, shaking my head.

He blew out a shuddering breath. “I know. Thanks,” he said, quietly.

Maureen patted his shoulder, her eyes sympathetic.

“Did you call your mom yet?” she said.

My head snapped up, and Miles groaned.

“Shit, no, I haven’t. Ah hell, I’d better go and do that.” He looked at me. “What am I going to say to her?”

“The truth,” I said. “That Lilia… let you down. That you’re okay and we’re going to get out of town for a few days.”

He nodded slowly.

“If you want to make your call in the backyard…” Maureen suggested, gently.

He nodded again and headed outside.

I sat listening to the soothing music, sipping my coffee. But inside, my emotions were still churning from the rollercoaster ride of the last couple of hours.

A few minutes later Miles returned, his face stony. My heavy heart sank a little further.

“How was it?”

He hitched one shoulder. “She cried.”

I didn’t know what to say after that, and the silence was profound.

We all jumped when music started pounding through the walls upstairs, and Maureen’s voice could be heard yelling from the kitchen.

“Turn it down, Deena! Don’t make me come up there and tell you!”

“My daughter,” said Earl, his face glum. “She likes Justin Bieber.”

“Oh, um, that’s nice,” I said, trying not to gag. “He’s, um, very…”

“Popular,” Miles suggested, raising his eyebrows at me.

“Yes, that’s the word!” I agreed, brightly.

Wow! Miles’ media training was really paying off.

Earl gave a small smile. “My boy, Freddy, he likes jazz.”

“Oh, thank God,” muttered Miles.

“You said it, son,” agreed Earl, with a nod.

The music lessened by a fraction and we could hear loud thumps, as if someone was tossing heavy books onto the floor above us. Maureen’s lips narrowed as she walked back in with Earl’s decaff, and she muttered something under her breath that I couldn’t hear.

“Excuse me a moment.”

She stomped up the stairs, and Earl grinned at our startled faces.

“God loves a feisty woman, and it sure makes life interesting.”

He winked at me, and I wasn’t certain if it was an insult or a compliment. But as the latter was rarer than hen’s teeth, I just smiled back.

A few moments later we heard raised voices, then the music cut out suddenly.

Thundering footsteps were heard on the stairs as Maureen’s voice sliced through the silence.

“Deena,” she hissed. “We have guests!”

A sulky teenage girl sashayed into the room. She stood with one hand on her hip, surveying her realm. I was in awe – half a ton of attitude, a pound of opinion, and an ounce of concern caused the girl to frown at Earl. Then she saw me, and she looked taken aback. I smiled tentatively and she blinked.

But when she saw Miles, her jaw dropped open, and her eyebrows shot up so far that I thought her eyes would topple out of her head. Which was pretty much what happened with most females when they met Miles. And a few men.

“This is your daddy’s friend Miles,” said Maureen, with a hint of suppressed amusement in her voice, “and Miles’ friend Clare.”

“Hi,” I said, trying not to laugh at the poor kid’s reaction.

Hormones are just crap when you’re a teenager. I remembered when I saw a guy I liked – I was so embarrassed, even my arse was blushing.

“Hi, Deena,” said Miles, calmly. “It’s nice to meet you at last.”

I thought she was going to burst into tears, but she rallied quickly, and soon Maureen was busy taking photographs of the two of them. Deena chattered away about what a big fan she was of Laura Dorien and how she’d
just
die
when she saw the movie, and she thought the trailer was
awesome
and
boom ting
, and the promotional posters
amazing
.

And even though it was the worst day of his life, and even though his private life was being dragged through the mud, Miles had smiled at a young girl so he could make her day.

I was so proud of him. And so in awe.
And so in love that it made me want to puke. If I had any balls, I’d have kneed myself in them.
God, pathetic much.

As soon as Deena had raced upstairs to post the photographs of Miles on her Facebook page, Earl took us out to the garage and showed us the campervan. It was a totally cool, beat-up old VW – the kind of thing my mum would have called ‘a passion wagon’. God, I hoped she was right.

“Freddy will be home for the holidays, but you’re welcome to keep the van for a couple of weeks,” Earl said, stroking the rusty chrome logo. “She’s got everything you want – pull out beds, two ring gas stove…”

“Shower and loo?” I muttered to myself.

“Oh, and he keeps his wetsuit in the closet. You could borrow that, too – you’re about the same size.”

Miles nodded. He looked a bit nervous at the thought of driving such a large vehicle. After all, he’d only got his license about seven months previously.

“So, you’ve got a full tank of gas…” said Earl.

“Half a pack of cigarettes?” I suggested.

Miles smiled. “It’s dark and we’re wearing sunglasses.”