Her Song

33 - Showtime

**Van**

"You will get out of this car, go stand at the gate and wait for your girlfriend as if you don't have a care in the world."

Fuck. Lucy could be one bossy bitch when she wanted to be. Of course her plan had Fiona Arkwright's approval so it was probably fear of Fiona that lent her tone that extra steel. If only she had one of Fiona's ever present Silk Cut cigarettes, I may have quit years ago but it didn't mean that there weren't times I yearned for a smoke.

I reached for the ball cap laid on the seat beside me but Lucy leaned forward from her seat up front and snatched it away as she uttered a single word of denial. "Nope."

I touched a finger to the side of my face as I asked, "Do sunglasses meet your approval or do I have to leave them behind as well?" I didn't think I could sound more of a dick if I tried but if she told me to ditch my shades I was willing to give it a shot.

It was a credit to the sweetness of Lucy's disposition that her tone was genuinely sympathetic as she said, "Sunnies are fine Van, but only because we don't want it to look too much like you're trying to be noticed." Her mouth scrunched up as if her next words left a bad taste in her mouth. "And make no mistake, you are trying to be noticed."

Fuck I hated it when I had to play the game but I couldn't find it in me to bitch at Lucy, after all when her relationship with Bas came out she'd found herself neck deep in media attention and publicity damage control. Even now she tried her best to blend into the background although it wasn't easy to do for the daughter of two of the most famous people in the world. It didn't help that she also happened to be engaged to a man who was if not as famous as her parents almost there. Her determination to avoid the limelight as much as possible meant the number of people who knew that she'd helped co-write some of Afterburn's biggest hits along with most of Polarstar's output were few and far between.

Taking a deep breath I opened the car door and set a foot on the curb. "Are you coming?" I'm pretty sure Lucy rolled her eyes at me from behind her own set of shades.

"No, it's not my loved up relationship we're trying to sell."

I got her point, even if I didn't like it. I wasn't overly happy to be selling my loved up relationship. Things felt too...precarious. "Alright, wish me luck," I said to her as I closed the car door behind me. Lee, who'd sat silently in the driver's seat, hopped out to follow me leaving Lucy in charge of the car in the pick-up zone.

I strode into the arrivals area, trying hard to look casual. It was harder than you'd think to pretend that I wasn't just waiting for the moment when someone would recognise me. I knew they would and no, it wasn't arrogance, it was the fact that Lucy had told me Bas had made sure to walk Kim into LAX. The paparazzi there were always on the look out for a story. Apparently he'd even thrown an irritated 'I'm just bringing a friend to her flight' out in response to their shouted questions when normally he'd ignore them completely. It wouldn't be hard for someone to find out where Kim was flying too if they were interested, and I had no doubt they would be. Online interest in Kim's trip to the hospital was increasing rather than decreasing and I was more often than not being painted as the villain.

And I'm not going to pretend that little nugget of information didn't hurt like a bitch.

Apparently the two groupies Josh and Ace had picked up in New York had spilled their guts about the fight in the hallway between me and Gray – I was in an animalistic rage – and the chick who'd pushed Kim into the coffee table back stage had also gone all out for her fifteen minutes. Of course she'd conveniently managed to leave out the facts that a) I'd been on stage at the time b) she'd been trying to steal our shit c) the only person shoving anyone around had been her and finally d) that she'd run, leaving a bleeding Kim in a pile of broken glass,without even checking that she was okay. All of those facts were missed in her colourful retelling that included her presence in our dressing room and soooo much blood but very little detail of any real facts. Speculation and innuendo combined to paint the picture that I was more of an asshole than my brother had ever been.