Rockstar Baby (Crescent Cove 6)

One

Fuck me running.

I peered through the windshield at the blur of white coloring the world around me. The thunk-thunk-thunk of the wipers didn’t do a thing for visibility. The sound just pissed me off.

If the plane hadn’t been delayed, I would’ve traversed these back roads in the daylight. Or closer to it. Of course Kellan hadn’t seen fit to tell me that he lived in the middle of nowhere.

His hometown was probably rustic and lovely in the summer. In this hell they called winter? It was complete shite.

Add in something called lake effect on the weather report—what the heck was that?—and I was already over Turnbull, New York before I’d even reached it.

My cell rang through the audio system of my rental car. Kellan McGuire.

The reason I was even here. The guy was lucky I liked him.

“Kellan, I’m almost there.”

“Are you?” He didn’t sound as happy as he should have considering the thousands of miles I’d traveled.

Hello, I was the pissed off traveler. He was the bloke sitting on his living room couch and twirling a pencil while he pretended to be productive.

“I think so. Maybe.”

“What mile marker did you pass?”

“Come again?”

“There’s mile markers on the side of the road. They’re to help during winter conditions since we get some travelers passing through to Syracuse and Rochester.”

I squinted into the snow slanting down in front of my headlights and wondered why I hadn’t hired a driver.

It’ll be more of an adventure this way.

Turnbull isn’t far from the airport.

When else am I going to see the quaint bits of New York?

I was a fucking moron.

“I can’t see a bloody thing out here,” I muttered.

“They’re there, trust me.”

“I’ve been driving a good while and I haven’t seen a damn thing but snow. What the hell is lake effect? I thought being near bodies of water was a good thing.”

Kellan let out a low laugh. “Not this time of year around here. Look, it’s getting late.”

I glanced at the time. Past ten. Jesus. I hadn’t realized I’d been driving this long. As it was, I’d be in town barely a day before I hopped on the red eye back to LA tomorrow night. Kellan and I were working on a song together and between both of our hectic schedules, a day was all we’d been able to carve out.

The hours were ticking by and I was driving in circles in a blizzard. It was a miracle I’d even made it across the country to New York when flights were being cancelled right and left.

“You’re right, it is. My GPS says I’m on North Hollow. Isn’t that the road I’m supposed to be on?”

“If you’re headed to Turnbull, yes, but I’m just outside Turnbull. Remember I told you it was easier to go to Crescent Cove then program it for my address? Otherwise the GPS takes you the other way.”

“The way with no mile markers?”

Kellan laughed. “Essentially. Sorry, man.”

For God’s sake, I could see nothing out here. Even a deer would be welcome company. And where were all the other vehicles? Surely someone else had to live in this godforsaken backwoods area.

Maybe not. Maybe this was where they’d find my body. I’d become the subject of one of those tragic dead guy music specials. Did they even do those anymore?

Fuck, I’d have had more sex if I’d known this would be my last stand. I didn’t even have on proper footwear. The autopsy pictures would show my beat up Jordans with the hole in the heel and everyone would murmur about how I must have spent all my money on wine, women, and song.

More like beer, pizza, and recording equipment.

“Look, you’re closer to Crescent Cove than you are to my place. With the storm, why don’t you go back to town and get a room for the night? By morning, the storm should be easing up so you can

make it out here. Or better yet, I’ll come to you. Just text me where you’re staying.”

It took me a moment to decipher what he was rambling on about, since I was currently trying not to slide off the road in my small sedan. I should have demanded a truck at the very least. This car had no traction whatsoever.

“You must be joking.”

Kellan cleared his throat. “It’s late, man.”

“So you already said. Is it your bedtime or something? Need I remind you that I traveled across country to help you with your first solo single? You’re the one who wanted to make sure it was a success.”

Kellan had basically begged me, but I wouldn’t remind him of that yet. Unless he gave me no choice.

I was hotly in demand. It was simply a fact. If I took the time to work with someone, they had serious chops and there was a good likelihood of our collaboration being a hit. Or someone had requested a favor. That was rarer, because I didn’t make a habit of putting myself in that position. I didn’t like to be beholden to anyone. Ever. Or for anyone to be beholden to me.

Life was less messy that way.

“I did. I do. But Christ, man, we just got Wolf to sleep. He’s the fussiest sleeper on the planet.”

“Look, mate, I feel for you with your issues with your pet dog, but—”

Kellan laughed long and hard, filling the car with the sound. “Wolf’s my son. Nice one with the dog though.”

I frowned although he couldn’t see me. “I didn’t know you had any of those.”

“Yeah, well, came as a surprise to me too, but it’s a been a couple of years and here we are.”

“I’m happy for you, but I’m not happy for me. For one, I can’t even find a lane to turn around in.” Or anything but trees. And snow. And darkness. And snow.

“If you’re on North Hollow, go up to the old, closed Heaphy’s gas station. Turn around there then follow North Hollow back to a 4-way stop and take a left. That’ll take you right into Crescent Cove in about twenty miles or so.”

“Twenty miles? Why can’t I just program the GPS from here?” I didn’t see any gas station. Of course it had to be an old, non-functional one when I’d just noticed my tank was stuck near E.