Stealing Gold (The Logan Series Book 4) (14 page)

Chapter
Fifteen

Adam
hailed a cab at the airport and went straight to Cole Tempest’s house. Stacy
hadn’t kept him in the loop, but he’d managed to learn from Apollo that they
were staying there.

It
was early evening. Late to call on someone without warning. But there was no
other option.

On
arrival, he gave his name to the security guard, and within minutes the ornate
golden gates swung open to allow them access.

Cole
met him at the front door. “You should have told me you were coming.” He
enveloped Adam in a bear hug. “Long time no see, man.”

“I’ve
come straight from the airport, and I’m hoping I can stay.” Adam looked at the
small suitcase at his feet. “If it doesn’t suit, though, I can grab a hotel
room.”

Cole
stepped back. “No way. You’re welcome in my home. I’m glad you’re here, she
needs you.”

Not
enough to meet him at the door. Adam swallowed his disappointment. Things would
never be easy between them. He needed to tell her how he felt, make her see his
point of view. He peered past Cole into the house’s interior.

“You
know she’s not here, right?”

Adam
frowned. “I didn’t.” He glanced around to see the cab’s taillights disappearing
through the gates. “I should have held the cab. I need to see her. Where’s she
staying?”

“She’ll
be back later. Come on in.”

He
followed Cole into a cavernous room with a sunken section in the middle
containing a square made up of three black leather sofas and a massive TV.

“Retro,
except for that TV.”

“Yeah,
good mix, sixties throwback and a state of the art curved TV.” Cole grinned,
and walked to the bar in the corner. “What’s your poison? Whisky, gin, vodka?”

“Whisky.
Hold the water.” He took the heavy, cut glass crystal Cole proffered, and took
a couple of steps to the seating area.

Cole
sprawled on the opposite sofa.

“So,
where is she?”

“She’s
in New York. I lent her my plane. She’ll be back later tonight.” He swallowed a
mouthful of his drink. “I know she’s been avoiding your calls—she told me.”

“I
wish she’d tell me.” When they were first married, Adam had been wary of the
way-too-good-looking backing singer in her band, but after getting to know him,
Adam accepted her protestations that they were only friends.

“I
know she wants you. She didn’t even have to tell me that, it’s written all over
her. But this thing with Lester…” Cole grimaced. “I’ve never seen her so shook.
She trusted him totally and he screwed her over. She’s still a mess. It’s only
in the past couple of days that she’s begun to get her shit together. She told
me she refused to let you accompany her. Apollo says she was spouting some crap
about not wanting to be broken. Not wanting to be needy.”

He
shrugged. Tossed back the remainder of the alcohol in his glass, and poured
another shot from the bottle he’d placed on the dark oak table between them. “She
doesn’t understand love. I’ve tried to tell her, but she doesn’t get that if
someone loves her they don’t judge if she’s screwed up. They want to help.”

For
a guy who rocked a commitment-phobe reputation, Cole sure had a good take on
love.

“You’re
sounding Oprah there, man.” Adam grinned and Cole put his hands up, palms out.

“I
don’t know. Things get confused. I thought it was great when you and Stacy got
married. I’d known her for years—even before I started working in the band, and
she lit up when she met you. She was really happy. You know when she first
signed with Star Records she lived in the house with Lester and his wife? She
was only a teenager and they were like these old, over-protective parents. It
would have been good for her to go to school, to make friends and graduate with
a class, but she had a full time tutor instead. Because all of the musicians
she worked with were so much older, she was never allowed to mix with them once
the gigs were done.”

This
was the first time Adam had heard about her teenage years and he found it
fascinating enough to divert him from the need to know what exactly she was
doing in New York.

Cole
gestured to the bottle, and raised his eyebrows.

Adam
poured himself another drink and settled back against the Aztec-patterned
cushions.

“I
remember we had to do a music video once. And the director produced a load of
bikes. He thought it would look cool if we were cycling around, singing along.
It was a damned stupid idea. You ever try playing a guitar while riding a bike?
Or playing drums? Anyway, it was doomed to fail from the outset. He wheeled out
a girly pink bike with silver and pink streamers flowing from the handlebars,
and I thought Stacy was going to cry. “Try it,” The director said, but she just
shook her head and dashed inside.

“I
went after her and found her crying in the kitchen. She told me she didn’t know
what to do. That everyone knew how to ride a bike, but she’d never even tried.
She was certain everyone would laugh at her.”

“I
guess she never had one.” Just like swimming. “She can’t swim either. I guess
all the things we take for granted in a regular childhood were missing in hers.”
And she’d spent years trying to hide that truth from everyone. She wanted to be
accepted, not shunned. That’s why she wanted to stay with Star Records—a
respected, established label. Because it gave her legitimacy in her eyes.

“Lester
did everything he could to undermine her. He never cut her any slack. She didn’t
go to after parties, and he barely let her out of his sight. The one time she
managed to sneak away was to that conference where she met you.”

“What
other people think means too much to her.” Their relationship should be
private, he loved her, he was pretty sure she loved him. But there was no need for
the press to know all the details.

“In
this business, public perception is everything. The movie’s in jeopardy because
of things people are saying about her. Her label dropped her because she doesn’t
fit her
country princess
image any longer. To Stacy, it matters.”

Cole
was right. The plan Adam’d thought so perfect had a few holes, didn’t deliver
all the things that would make her happy—give her closure.

Cole
glanced at his watch, and reached for the remote. “She’s on TV in ten minutes.
I’ll go get us some popcorn.”

*****

Stacy
refused the offer of a drink in the green room, needing to keep her wits about
her and hold her nerve for what was to come. When Jay Dix’s assistant came to
fetch her, her legs shook as she prepared to make her entrance. If only she’d
been able to speak to Adam—to let him know what she was about to do. She
smoothed the fabric over her hips and sent a silent prayer ceilingwards that he
might somehow, somewhere be watching.

Music
started—an upbeat, live rendition of Girl Boy, Your Toy. The assistant smiled
and urged her forward, and Stacy stepped onto the top of a staircase to make
her entrance.

The
audience went wild, but then they always did whenever a guest stepped onto the
Jay Dix Show. Jay stood and walked over to greet her as she descended the
staircase and walked over to the sitting area.

“Stacy
Gold, everyone!”

He
hugged her. Whispered, “Thanks for coming, Stacy,” in her ear.

She
sat on the plush guest sofa, and he sat in his usual place, a chair behind a
desk.

“You’re
looking great.” Jay grinned.

“Well,
thank you, Jay.” She smiled back.

“It’s
a bit of a coup to have you here tonight. It seems like everyone in the world
wants to know what’s going with you.”

Her
smile wobbled, but she forced it not to vanish entirely.

“First
off, I’m sorry about your manager.” A picture of Lester appeared on the big
screen behind him. “His sudden death must have been hard to take.” The
interviewer’s eyes glittered, as if he were softening her up, preparing to go
in for the kill.

“It
was.”

The
picture onscreen switched to a long shot of her dressed in black walking back
to the car with Cole at her side from the graveside.

“Rumors
are rife about what really happened.” The screen switched to a collection of
headlines ripped from the tabloids. All the really crappy ones. “Do you want to
tell us?”

She
clutched her hands in her lap. “There have been a lot of untrue things written
in the past couple of weeks.” She reached for the glass of water before her,
and swallowed a mouthful. “As you know, Jay, Lester Jones discovered me. He’s
been…sorry…he was my only manager through all the years I’ve been in the
business. I didn’t know he had a gambling problem, and he hid his heart
condition from everyone.” She shifted in the chair. “I don’t want to speak ill
of the dead, but in brief, he stole a lot of money to feed his habit, and escaped
the country.”

“And
flew to Bali.”

She
nodded. “Right. He succumbed to gambling again, was badly beaten, and then he
died.” She fought for composure. “It’s a very sad situation.”

“He
stole money from you.” Jay leaned forward. “I’ve read he sold your house, and
cleaned out your bank account.”

“He
took what he could get his hands on, yes.”

“But
you organized his funeral, and had him buried next to his late wife.”

“I
did.” She stared into the audience. “It’s hard to forgive someone when they
treat you wrong. I’m no saint. When I discovered he’d sold my house, I was
furious. But when it comes down to it, he was my mentor, he looked after me
when I first started in the business, he built my career. I’d made him a
promise he’d spend eternity next to his wife, and I couldn’t turn back from
that.”

“You
have supportive friends, I know Cole Tempest has helped you through this.”

“Cole
is one of my oldest friends. There’s nothing romantic going on between us, and
never has been.” She smoothed her hands over her flat stomach. “And, no. I’m
not having Cole’s baby.” A small cheer rose from the audience—probably from
Cole’s fans.

“There
are a lot of other rumors…”

“Yes.
There’s the question of my parents.” The audience went so quiet you could hear
a guitar string break. “Lester first saw me perform in a talent competition
when I was fourteen. My teacher had entered me, and lent me her guitar; I didn’t
own one.”

“Both
of your parents were drug dealers?”

“My
father was. My mother is an alcoholic.” It seemed weird to talk about them so
dispassionately. “They weren’t really interested in being parents.”

Jay
nodded, and there was compassion in his eyes, as though he realized how hard
this was for her.

“I
was just a teenager when I was offered my first recording contract. Lester came
to my home and asked my parents to sign on my behalf, because I was too young
to sign without a parent’s consent.” A long suppressed memory of that day rose
up. Her joy at the thought of the new, shiny future in her reach which had been
instantly dashed by her parents’ reaction. “They wanted to be paid for signing.
A deal was arranged in which Lester was made my legal guardian.”

“For
money?”

“For
money.” She felt dirty, now the truth of how she’d been effectively sold was exposed.
“My parents were airbrushed out of my background for a fee.”

“There
are those who say you abandoned them.” More headlines flashed on the screen
behind the host’s head.

The
instinctive urge to sugarcoat the truth welled up, but she squashed it down.
Tonight was about telling the truth. The whole truth. If the entire audience
and the viewing public rejected her, so be it, she couldn’t live a lie any
longer.

She
breathed in deep a couple of times to center herself. “After I recorded my
first album, I went home to visit, but my mother didn’t recognize me. These
situations are complicated—there’s always more to a story than that which is
recorded in the papers. My parents received money from my earnings every year,
but that arrangement is finished now. If my mother needs funds to get into
rehab, I’ll pay it, but that’s it.”

“You
were a kid in an impossible situation. I would have done the same.”

Murmurs
rippled through the audience, and then someone applauded. In seconds one clap
turned into hundreds, then the entire audience got to their feet, nodding and
clapping.

“I
think our audience agrees with me.” Jay grinned.

When
the audience sat back down, Jay took control of the show again. “You brought
some pictures with you. We’ve put them on our screen here. Do you want to talk
me through them?”

A
picture of Adam and Stacy on their wedding day appeared. They were the only
ones who knew it was their wedding day. He wore a blue suit, and she wore a
simple white dress. “This is me and my husband, Adam.”

“Your
ex-husband,” Jay corrected.

“Yes.”
She breathed deep. The screen changed. Three pictures appeared, showing Adam
with a woman. Even though she knew they were faked, she felt pain at seeing
them.