Chapter Eighteen
“Avery”
I climb atop the bed in what’s surely the nicest room I’ve ever been given to sleep in, arrange my legs Indian style, and open my tote filled with my technology. After setting the laptop in front of me, my eyes shift right and then left.
God, the house got quiet so fast it’s creepy. Doing a little shake that spans both my head and shoulders, I chase away the jumping uneasiness that hasn’t left me since I got here, and attempt to marshal my thoughts into productive order.
As I wait for my computer to power on, I glance at the wall clock above the dresser and grimace. It’s only 1:00 a.m., not really that late, but I’m apprehensive about calling my daddy Sky at this hour with such a peculiar request.
Hi, can you do an act of cyber fraud for me? Nope, not your average late-night call from your daughter.
Groaning, I drop my head in my hands. He’s going to ask questions—both my dads are—and I’m short on answers I can give them. There must be a way to explain this that won’t stir suspicion, but a single creative gem doesn’t come to me.
Fuck, I’m a blogger. I should be able to think of a dozen in a half sec. My gray matter is disturbingly uncooperative. Not that I should be surprised by this. Even in my best devious childhood moments I never did the fibbing or keeping junk secret as well as Emmy did.
I pull the thumb drive from my pocket, shove it in the USB, then swallow the hard lump in my throat and switch on my cell. The number of notifications is disappointing given I wasn’t at the concert tonight. Swiping through them, I reach the bottom of the list and stare.
That wasn’t expected.
Not by a long shot.
Not a single text from Ethan since the show.
With one hand I open the drive with the press releases Kaley Stanton wrote for me to post, and with the other I scroll through reading Ethan’s earlier text.
When I’m finished, my tense mouth has melted into a gooey smile. Then I groan, rereading the last lines again—Something better. Like you’re hot to pick up where we left off three hours ago? A guy can hope, can’t he?—and a knot forms in my stomach because that message was hours ago, he’s off stage, and he hasn’t contacted me since.
Damn, he thinks I ditched him. And I did. Well, sort of. Unintentionally. But that doesn’t matter. He’s going to be pissed—my eyes fix on the wall separating the bedroom I’m in from his, or so Kaley made a note of saying in passing before giving me a stare and leaving me here—which brings to the top of the stack-of-difficulties list being a part of the Manzones’ deception with Ethan.
That one undoubtedly crosses the line of being involved too much, too soon. It’s girlfriend territory, and I’m a far way from that. You don’t collude with a guy’s family. Well, not if you’re not official, and I’m not even certain you do it then.
I exhale heavily since there’s not much I can do about any of the mess I’m in now. I’ve signed on for this, and I’m just going to have to roll with what the family wants while figuring out a way to get Ethan to still want me.
What was I thinking getting into the car with Eric? I know him well enough to know it could only result in crazy-time nonsense like this. If only I’d gone to the Bowl as I intended, instead of putting first being a good friend, I wouldn’t have messed things up during my first date with Ethan.
But I can’t deny it. I’ve blown it big time. Shoot, bruising a guy’s ego by being a no-show is never a good move before the second date. And jeez, what’s he going to think of finding me living with his family after that?
With all that turning in my thoughts, calling my dad now seems like a cakewalk. Fuck it. I hit the number and listen to it ring.
One ring.
Two rings.
“Hello?”
Great. Phone grabbed before three rings. My dads weren’t sleeping. “Hi, Dad. How are you?”
“Avery,” Sean says in a long-drawn, very excited way. “I was wondering when you’d turn up. You’ve been back in LA for two days. Made time for Emmy and not your parents.”
My nose crinkles. “Sorry. It’s been crazy. The tour only finished tonight and I’ve been working.”
“You at Emmy’s? We can all meet up early tomorrow for breakfast.”
“Not exactly. I’m staying somewhere else for a while.”
“Oh.” How he says that—fatherly suggestive—makes my face heat, and, crud, I’m freaking twenty-four years old.
“Stop it. I’m staying with friends. You can’t be critical of me unless I give you a reason to.”
“And are you?”
“What do you think?”
“Calling home at 1:00 a.m. I’m guessing no.”
Breathing a sigh of relief, I push a laugh out behind it. “Hey, is Daddy awake?”
“What? Yes. He’s right here. Ready to get handed off this soon? That means you’re trying to avoid telling me something.”
I tense. How does he know that? “No,” I protest sweetly. “I’m still working, Dad. I have a technical issue I need to ask Daddy, and about a dozen things I need to finish before I can sleep. He’s the tech guru. You can’t even download an app on your own.”
Sean chuckles, unoffended. “Ain’t that the truth. Hold on. Babe, Avery wants to talk to you.” I have to move the phone from my ear because his is up against his mouth and his voice is raised. “She’s got some kind of computer snafu.”
I perk up and my brain kicks into overdrive at long last. Snafu. Oh, thank you, Dad, for giving me an idea on how to make this come out not suspicious or random.
“Avery Rose Hart. As I live and breathe. Our very own famous redhead on the phone.”
I roll my eyes. “Skyler Mathews Hart. As I live and breathe. I’ve got a problem.”
“Figured you did when you asked to speak to me in the first two minutes. What’s going on, bug?”
“I kind of screwed up tonight and I need your magic hacking skills to save my job. That is, unless you want your favorite daughter to be unemployed and living with you two full time again.”
“Would be fine by us, but something in your voice tells me that wouldn’t be fine by you.”
“Smart Daddy.”
He laughs. “Hacker skills, huh? Now I’m intrigued. What catastrophe do you want me to save you from this time?”
“Not a catastrophe. More of a screwup. I scheduled some posts that were priority to post on my blog and the band website before the show, and for some reason they didn’t post. I need to send them to you and you upload them.”
“OK. Not sure why you need that when you can post them yourself, but it doesn’t sound critical to me.”
“It’s very critical if you can’t help me with what I need. Which you probably can’t. I’m pretty sure it’s impossible. I probably shouldn’t even bother asking you.”
“Wait. Am I hearing things? You think there’s a technical problem I can’t fix? They don’t call me the guru without reason. What do you need?”
I start hitting the keys on the computer. “I’m sending you a file. I need to you upload it to the sites listed, exactly as written, and somehow get the time stamp—” I rapidly scan the document. “—9:00 p.m. yesterday. That’s the part you haven’t taught me how to do: alter upload time on the Internet. You can do that for me, can’t you, Daddy?”
A pregnant pause that feels like it lasts forever. “Actually I can do that, but I won’t.”
He can? Oh shit, I thought it was impossible.
“What do you mean you won’t? Daddy, it’s important. The press releases are announcements of a program change I was required to have posted online before the show. It’s a big deal if anyone finds out I didn’t post them. I could lose my job.”
He sighs. “Avery, any job you have to do the wrong thing for isn’t one worth having. Explain that you had an issue. People are reasonable. They’ll understand.”
“No, they won’t,” I wheedle. “I’ve worked really hard to get where I am. I don’t want to get a reputation for being fired or a screwup. It could ruin me. It’s not like it’s Wikileaks stuff. It’s a little band announcement, but really important to me. Please, I need help.”
Silence through the phone. Oh crap, did I overdo that? For Daddy Skyler—my head tilts side to side as I consider it—maybe just a smidge.
“It’s my blog and the band blog I manage,” I add. “I did schedule them. They just didn’t post. I’m only fixing an error.”
He does an annoyed growl and I smile.
“Fine. Send me the files. You’re pushing the limit this time, little girl. Don’t ask again because the next time the answer’s going to be no.”
I hit send. “I promise. Never again. Thank you, Daddy.”
“So are we seeing you tomorrow or what?” he asks somewhat absently, and I can hear his fingers hard at work on a keyboard in the background.
“Maybe. I have to see how my schedule goes. I haven’t even told Dad this. You won’t guess where I’m staying.”
More clicking sounds. “I get a news blast first? Fixing this problem must be a big deal for you.”
I laugh. “No, I try to be equitable.”
He laughs. “You sound excited about something. Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
“I get to finish the book I’m writing now that I’m off the road. But that’s not the best part.”
“No? Sounds pretty exciting to me.”
“It’s where I’m finishing it and who I get to interview for the final chapters.”
“Wait. Hold on. I’m almost done and you can have my undivided attention.”
“You’re almost done? It hasn’t been more than a couple of minutes.”
“Nothing takes long if you know how things work,” he states, then I hear the squeak of his desk chair. “Crisis averted. Damn, I’m good. Now tell me your news.”
When I surf my blog and find the posts there, my faith in the integrity of the Internet wobbles for a moment because I never expected it to be this easy. Not a good thing when you make your living on social media to realize how effortlessly someone with know-how can manipulate it.
“They’re there. Like they’ve been there all night,” I stutter in disbelief.
“I thought that’s what you wanted?”
“Yeah, but realizing you can do that, Daddy, is kind of trippy.”
Skyler laughs. “Avery, I don’t think I’m ever going to understand you completely. Something tells me not at all tonight. Are you going to tell me your news or not?”
I shake my head to pull from my thoughts. “I’m not going out on the road until I finish my book. That means I’ll be home more. And instead of staying with Emmy, driving her crazy, I’m squatting at Alan Manzone’s and he’s agreed to let me fill my final chapters about him. How’s that for pretty amazing?”
“That’s a joke, right?”
“No. And it was his idea.”
“Well, congratulations, bug. You never cease to amaze me. Can’t figure out how you managed that one. Alan hates outsiders near him. I’ve worked for his security firm for nearly two decades and I haven’t spoken more than a dozen words to him. Must be that Avery charm. I’m sure when your book is released it’s going to be a bestseller.”
“I hope so. Or at least sell well enough that I can finally afford to have my own place somewhere.”
“You can always live at home.”
“Nope. Not happening. Tell Dad I’ll call again tomorrow.”
“Will do, chickee. Enjoy yourself with the rich and famous.”
“Thanks for helping me out, Daddy.”
I turn off the phone and toss it aside before I lie back on the bed, resolved to stay awake until Ethan’s home. Part of me wants to call him now and part of me says wait to try to explain in person. Though I’m not sure what kind of an explanation I can give him. Do I tell him I was with Eric? What if he wants to know details of what happened? I’m not sure how much of tonight’s events I can share with him without giving away more than his family wants me to. I eventually drift into an uneasy sleep, my thoughts turning and filled with all the things I wish were different.