Unmaking Hunter Kennedy (50 page)

“So you think you can just rip it away from me now? You’re way off, lady. You’ve just admitted to me that you wanted to kill my career. If I truly have to finish the year here because of what you’ve done,
GuardeRobe
is over. And that will mean I’m finished. Or timed OUT!”

She nodded. “Maybe. Probably. I still hope so.”

He flung his arms wide. “How did you ever get Martin to agree to this? Why haven’t I heard from him about your bullshit sabotage?” He leapt off the table and headed for the door. “I’m out. I’m going to call him.”

She hopped out of her chair and blocked his path. “I tricked him. I made him believe I was doing everything in my power to get you back to LA. I actually have to credit Martin for part of it, though. He came up with the last piece of the puzzle for me. He invented the disguise idea. Once that was in place, I knew you’d have a chance out here.”

When he met her gaze he knew it was true. “Let me get this straight. I didn’t really have to come here? You lied to me, played me and Martin for fools, and ruined my career on purpose. Is that all of it?”

“No. Well, yes. If you put it that way. If only you’d read that letter.”

The pounding in Hunter’s head had started to slow. He worked hard to understand all that she’d said. He tried to walk in her shoes as Aunt Nan had suggested he do, but this was too much to handle. “What was in that letter that would make any damn difference between us now?”

She sighed. “I thought I was going to lose you, like I lost your father. The letter I left you was about him. How he died.”

His mom gasped back a breath, holding back tears.

“Keep talking if you can. It’s time for both of us to do this.”

She nodded, sucking in another breath. “I’m surprised I beat Martin here. I know he’s coming. He must be losing it, especially if none of us returned his calls. Aunt Nan told me you’d turned off your cell. That move bought my plan an extra week.”

“I hope Martin’s losing it. I hope to hell he’s on his way right now. I
so
, need a real rescue from you and your insanity!” Hunter shouted now, “Why in the hell didn’t he call me, here? He had the number!”

“Martin did call here. A lot. Nan’s been hanging up on him,” she said. “She kind of hates the guy. Don’t blame us too much.”

“Aunt Nan...?” Hunter couldn’t breathe. His entire body hurt. “I will blame the hell out of anyone I please. Now tell me about Dad. What happened with my real dad?” Hunter’s voice cracked.

His mom looked directly at him. “He killed himself. I can’t prove it, but I think he did. He got really depressed and he got drunk just like you did.” She blinked, holding back tears. “He went out driving and he crashed his car into a tree. I think.” She gasped. “When you wrecked your Porsche and then I found you all cut up and drunk...” She choked on a sob. “I flipped. I did what I had to do. I felt like I had to save you....”

“Mom...no...I didn’t. Fine.
I did
.
I did.
” Hunter shook his head and looked away, unable to meet her gaze. His mom’s words poured over him.

He suddenly got it. Got
her
.

Got why things had become so broken between them.

She went on, “Martin figured the whole thing out last week, right when you called me. When you asked me to come, I thought you’d read the letter. And that you knew. I hoped you’d made your choice, and that you were inviting me out to stay for good. I guess I should have called you first. I’m sorry. I just got a plane ticket and came. I wasn’t thinking. I only wanted to see you. To hug you.”

Hunter risked a glance deep in to her eyes. She was sincere. Afraid. And as sad as he’d been all along.

She also had huge, dark circles under her eyes like she hadn’t slept much...in months. He understood where she was coming from now, but it still didn’t make him feel any less messed up. Didn’t make what she did right?

Or...did it?

She was his mom, after all. A mom, protecting her son the best way she knew how. Aunt Nan was all he and his mom had ever had. It made sense that she’d send him here.

His throat tightened and his eyes grew heavy with his own unshed tears. “You should have told me. You should have talked to me about Dad’s possible suicide years ago. We should have talked about him. About what happened with me and the intern two years ago.”

She nodded. “I never knew how to bring up the topic of your dad. I thought it would hurt you. As for the intern...and that dirt bag I married. I’m sorry, but it wasn’t the easiest topic to bring up. Plus you were on tour that whole year.” She sighed. “I thought you wouldn’t listen.”

“I guess I probably wouldn’t have. I was so pissed off at everything after they left.” Hunter let out a deep breath and sat back at the table. His fury had completely disappeared leaving behind a raw feeling, but he had to acknowledge the it was a
full
feeling instead of the emptiness he usually felt when he talked to his mom.

He leaned his head on a hand and met his mom’s gaze. “You have no idea how impossible and freakish my life has been, masquerading as
Dustin McHugh
.” Hunter took in a deep breath, trying to set the information his mom had given him into some sort of order inside his mind.

“You have no idea how ugly and terrifying your agent is when he’s angry. This whole time I’ve been only a few steps ahead of him, playing this game from the other side. It’s been hell for me too.”

“What did you mean when you said you thought I’d
chosen
?”

His mom sighed and sat next to him. She was taking small, short breaths, obviously still trying not to cry. “When Martin shows up, he will most probably have his lawyer in tow or, at the very least, some emancipation papers for you to sign. He’s been working on them since the day he figured out my scheme. If you want me to sign them, I won’t contest it.”

Hunter shook his head. “Mom. He’s been working on that since Falconer. He tried to get me to sign something long ago.”

“Oh.” She paled. “I guess I underestimated him. I should have understood how difficult it would be for you to be an imposter for the long term. I’m happy I got to talk to you before he got here. I can imagine how Martin would have twisted this story and made me look like the bad guy.”

Hunter nodded, thinking about that. Martin would have made his mom sound like a psychopath. One who surely drove his real dad to his death. Sadly, Hunter, most probably would have believed Martin over his own mom. But not anymore. Not after today. He owned his part in it.

“Well. At least we’re communicating again,” he said quietly. “Even if this plan totally sucked.”

“You understand why I did it? Why I was so afraid?”

“Yeah. And
shit
, I’m angry about it, but I get why you went this far. I also get how a possible suicide about a dad I can’t even remember would be hard to bring up. We’ve never talked about deep stuff like that. That would have been one crap conversation between us. I was a kid...so yeah.”

She nodded, and moved his hair out of his eyes. “But you’re not a kid anymore. Are you?” She smiled tremulously. “When did that happen?”

He shot her a small smile back and shook his hair back down. “It’s a recent development. Your whacked plan kind of worked. I’ve got a completely different perspective on life. Even thought it’s only been a few weeks, this place has changed me.”

“You do? It has?” Her eyes filled with hope. Happiness, and what looked like relief.

Hunter nodded. “Parts of me. Yes. You’d really sign those emancipation papers? Just let me
go
like that?”

“I never want to let you go. Maybe it’s time for me to admit that I might not be very good at keeping you, though. After this latest screw up regarding your life, I’m thinking you’ve earned the right to make your own decisions. At this point, I only want what you want. I will support you. But you’ll have to think it over. Choose on your own. You’re almost eighteen.”

“Why do I feel like I’m fifty right now?” Hunter snorted.

“I suppose our Los Angeles years have been like dog years, huh? They age you fast.”

She looked over, still seeming really forlorn.

Hunter just wanted her to smile, that same smile she’d had for him on the porch just an hour ago. “You know, if I’m fifty, then that makes you like 350, right?”

She smiled up at him, but he could see tears filling her eyes. “I know. I know. I feel older than that. God. I’m so sorry. Will you ever forgive me?”

Hell. Total backfire. Again.

I fail at communicating with women.

He let out a long, heavy sigh, unable not to think of Vere, crying the same way when he’d tried to make a joke at the wrong time.

Hunter stood. He could not sit around and watch his mom cry. He also wasn’t quite ready to go into the bigger conversations and apologies that needed to come from him. He needed time to think.

A lump formed in his throat. He had to get out of here. Hunter nodded again and looked away. “Guess I better go plug in my cell phone, huh? Read Martin’s emails. Hear his side of all this.”

His mom nodded. “Yes. Please do that. It’s only fair.”

**

Hunter walked through the hallway and up to his room to drag out his phone and plug it in. His mind flying again to Vere. Wishing he could talk to her. Hear what she thought about all this. Without thinking, he dashed back down the stairs and put his hand on the doorknob.

The hall clock said 10:30.

Could she be home already? Would she even agree to see me?

Probably making out with Curtis right now, you idiot.

He let his hand drop off the knob.

The party’s probably ramping up, not ramping down.

A soft, tentative tapping at the front door startled him. It stopped and started up again. Someone was knocking!

His heart raced. Who else could it be but her? Maybe she’d been thinking the same thing! That she wanted to see him. That they just needed to hash things out a bit more.

The tapping grew more insistent, and then turned into a loud, firm knock.

“Don’t answer that, Hunter. It’s late. Let me get it.” His aunt called down the stairs, sounding agitated. “I’m just getting a robe. Don’t you open that!” she shouted.

Hunter shot a startled look up the stairs.

His Aunt Nan was obsessed with home invasions. She was probably getting out her baseball bat to haul down here. It was way past her bedtime. No one ever knocked after eight.

“I’ve got it. It’s probably Vere,” he called up to her.

The phone rang then. Hunter had to laugh. More chaos? No one ever called after nine. Not in this town.

Maybe that’s Vere too. Calling from her cellphone while on the porch!

“I’ll just get that phone then and be right there. Don’t you open that door without me,” Nan yelled again from the top of the stairs.

The knocking continued.

It had to be Vere. The girl had no patience.

“I’ve got it, no worries!” Hunter grinned, thinking of her cute elfin face all scrunched up and annoyed that he was taking so long. He swung open the door.

Blinding flashes of light overtook him. Startled, he threw his hands up in front of his face as though he’d been struck.

Every ounce of air whooshed out of his lungs.

“It’s him! He’s in here!
Hunter. Hunter Kennedy!
This way, turn this way. Just one shot. Hunter!”

More flashes and someone started up a noisy generator that put a floodlight on the porch.

Hunter was totally unprepared for the sight of his aunt’s front lawn with at least fifty reporters on it. Not to mention the entire neighborhood that had come out to stare at the house.

Hunter realized he wasn’t wearing one part of his disguise. No glasses, no cap, and his retainer was sitting upstairs in the bathroom, resting in a dish of mouthwash. His plaid shirt had been tossed, forgotten onto his bed. He only had on a pair of canvas pants and a short sleeved, grey tee-shirt.

He felt totally exposed.

The questions fired at him like bullets. He felt each and every one hit him in his chest, slamming out more of his breath, as the flashes from the camera held him frozen.

“Is it true you’re hiding out here disguised as a dork?”

“Are you really attending Palmer Divide High?”

“Let us in on it.”

“Why are you here? Have you quit
GuardeRobe?
”

A man rushed up onto the porch and flashed about 20 fast shutter pictures. “Who’s Dustin McHugh?” he hollered as he fought back the mob of paparazzi all pushing in to take the very same shots.

Hunter managed to close his mouth and throw on his best media smile. “Just visiting my aunt. Little family time, that’s all. Don’t know what all the fuss is about, dudes.” Hunter gave a quick wave and tried to shut the door, but was blocked by a big guy who had at least seven cameras slung around his neck. He’d wedged his boot into the doorjamb, snapping shots of him relentlessly.

The man pressed his camera into Hunter’s face and Hunter felt like he was suffocating. He had the odd sensation that he actually might faint because he’d truly couldn’t breathe normally right now. The burning feeling in his chest hurt so much it threatened to make him black out.

Hell. I’d forgotten...

Hunter realized just then that he hadn’t forgotten, he’d never actually thought about all this in a coherent, detached way before. He was thinking about it now, though.

And he hated it—from the bottom of his heart.

He stood still and did something he learned from watching Vere get through her panic attacks. He closed his eyes. After a moment, he no longer had to make himself breathe. He heard the cameras going off all around him. It sounded like a video game battlefield—and he was the sole target.

He opened his eyes and shook his head at the annoying paparazzi ass in front of him.

Game. On.

“People, stand back. I gave you your shots, now back the hell off.”

The man pressed closer, snapping shot after shot as the questions continued to fire at him.

“Is it true you’ve been in trouble with the law?”

“Los Angeles County police records show a report of vandalism and a wrecked car at your house a number of weeks ago. Was it you?”