Rock On (Bad Boy Bandmates & Babies)

“So, um, are you married?” I asked, desperate to shatter the suffocating silence.

“No.”

“Girlfriend?”

“Nope.”

“Gay?”

“My family thinks so. I guess the jury is still out.”

I was pretty sure it was supposed to be a joke. Or at least something like one.

So, I was about to live in a place with a strange man who was quite a bit older than me, and who may or may not be gay. Had the arrangement not come at the impetus of Mr. Seth Black, I might have been afraid.

Seth knew him though, and I hadn’t known Seth long, but I was already under the strong impression that he would never knowingly put me, or anyone else, in danger. Stephanie would have had his balls, for a start. His wife, Jonna, wouldn’t have been very pleased, either.

I was still mostly a visitor here, both at the company and in America in general, but I couldn’t help but feel accepted into the fold. Even if I was just an assistant.

It was a designation that didn’t seem to make any difference. From the mailroom to the boardroom, everyone at Suspicious Activity was treated with basic respect.

That was the sort of borderline communism that could come from creator-owned companies. Mr. Black, more than aware what pricks executives could be, was likely attempting to be the antithesis of them.

“Wow,” I gasped, as we drove the lane toward Adam’s gargantuan house.

Like something from the pages of a Jane Austen novel, it was four floors high and twice as wide, nestled in some of the woodland area outside town and surrounded by huge tracts of land. Whether Adam had bought it or built it himself, it was a sight to behold, more resembling a country estate than a rich man’s mansion.

We had nothing like it back home. The limited land, particularly in the capital, led to some genius— and at first ludicrous— workarounds. Unlike France or Britain with their expanses of wild land, much of it in Norway was still untouched by human industry.

“This is a gorgeous home!” I told Adam.

“Thank you.”

Halting at the bottom of the mighty stone steps, Adam hit a button to close the entrance gates, which whirred in the far distance, closing the gap between two stretches of red brick wall, twenty feet high. It seemed great for keeping the world out and him well alone.

No wonder he had the room to offer me. I could well be getting my own wing of the house. I figured there were worse ways to spend a month or so, if that was how long this thing lasted.

The government lackey who had sent the text was incredibly vague, likely intentionally so. But I guessed that was one of the prerogatives of those in power, along with making up laws, often out of thin air, against anything they didn’t happen to like.

Out here, in Adam’s spacious mansion, I had the feeling of finally being beyond their reach. They would have to get over the wall to get to me, for a start.

“This is the main floor,” he said, lugging open one side of the French doors leading into his place. “This floor and the lower level are yours. The upper levels are out of bounds. I will be coming down to cook, but otherwise you likely won’t see me. I’m a very private person and prefer not to be bothered unless it’s an emergency. We’re alone out here, so you can go outside as much as you like. Just remain inside the perimeter walls. I wouldn’t want anyone coming around being nosy or accusing us of breaking quarantine.”

“How big is the perimeter?” I asked, wondering how much room I had to roam.

“About eleven miles.”

I resisted the urge to whistle. I’d had a feeling his back yard would be big, but that was even bigger than I’d thought he would say.

“I’ll show you to your room,” he continued. “I do ask you to remain there for today, as it will be getting dark soon. Can’t have you wandering the woods in the dark like a Disney princess, can we? I assure you, such scenarios rarely turn out so well in real life.”

I replayed his statement in my head. If I didn’t know any better, I could have sworn I detected a note of whimsy in his tone. Maybe he wasn’t an iceman after all.

“It’s not much but hopefully it will do.”

I wasn’t sure whether he was joking. It didn’t matter, though, because I was soon distracted by the look of the bedroom I’d be staying in.

To say I was in awe when the lights lit up, exposing the magnificent beauty of the marble room, would be an understatement. There was an Edwardian four-post bed in a pride of place at the center of the room.

Exactly how much did one make as a member of one of Seth Black’s bands?