Infinity + One (22 page)

Bear stalked after him, and Bonnie was right on Bear’s heels.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” Bear was practically breathing down his back.

“I’m nobody,” Finn said, opening cupboards until he found his father’s coffee can. Same brand as he used to drink.

“You got that right, man. And what makes you think I’m going to let Bonnie Rae spend another minute with a piece of shit like you?”

“Bear!” Bonnie stepped between the two men, sensing both were about to explode. But Finn held himself in check. He didn’t blame the guy. He couldn’t blame him. He knew exactly how it must look, and he knew how he felt. And Bonnie’s feelings were written all over her face. She liked him. He didn’t know why, but she did. And if Finn could see it, Bear could too.

“He’s an ex-con with a swastika on his chest and prison tats all over his back, Rae! What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking you need to sit down, Bear. You need to back off. Now.” Bonnie pointed at one of the kitchen chairs, and Bear growled but did as she commanded. He was a well-trained Bear, apparently. Bonnie remained standing close enough to Finn to touch him, and her proximity reassured him more than anything she could have said. Her nearness said she didn’t think he was nobody.

“You’re in trouble Bonnie. Your gran is going crazy, and after seeing this guy, I don’t blame her!” Bear started in again.

“You talked to her, right? You talked to the police. You told them I was okay. You told her I was fine. Right?” Bonnie asked.

“I didn’t talk to the police. I needed to see for myself that you were okay. I did tell your gran that you called me and told me you were fine, but she didn’t buy it. Hell, Rae. I don’t buy it! She’s shouting from the rooftops, giving interviews to TMZ, hounding the police.”

“Is she worried about me, or worried about my reputation?”

“Both!”

“Why? Why doesn’t she just back off for a little while?”

“She’s afraid everything she’s worked for—”

“Oh, that’s right. Gran’s done all the work,” Bonnie interrupted, and Finn touched her hand briefly, comforting her, before he continued his preparations.

“She’s afraid you’ve gone off the deep end, Rae,” Bear said, his tone softening to couch his words.

“And what do you think, Bear?”

Bear studied Bonnie Rae, his eyes lingering on her cropped hair—glaring evidence of all that had gone wrong—and on the way she hovered near Clyde.

“I think you’ve been standing on the edge for a long time, Baby Rae. You haven’t been yourself. I’m not the only one who’s noticed it either. Some of the crew think it’s drugs, but nobody’s ever seen you taking pills or shooting up. Everyone knows the troubles your brother Hank has had, so they’re wondering if it’s a family habit. You’ve been off, way off, for months now.”

“It isn’t drugs, Bear. It isn’t anything like that. And you know it, Bear.”

“I know it isn’t Baby Rae.” He sighed heavily. “You’re grieving, and your spirit’s broken. But I’m thinking you’re going about fixing it the wrong way.” The black eyes rested firmly on Clyde once more.

“I just need some space . . . and some time, Bear,” Bonnie Rae whispered, pleading.

“You aren’t gonna get much more, Rae. This thing is ramping up every minute that you’re gone. I’m surprised someone didn’t follow me here. I’m even more surprised you don’t have reporters camped outside. If your gran can make it look like you are innocent as the day is long, just a sweet little girl at the mercy of a big bad thug, then that’s what she’s going to do. This is country music, baby. This is big business. You’ve got an image to protect.”

“But what about Finn?” Bonnie protested.

Bear looked at Finn who stood leaning against the sink. Bear’s jaw tightened, and his eyes grew hard.

“Mr. Clyde can take care of himself, Baby Rae.”

“But this is all my fault. I won’t let Gran do this!”

Bear kept his eyes on Finn as he addressed him.

“I’m sorry, man. But you’re going down. Rae’s gran is going to take you down.”

Bonnie gasped, and Bear turned to her. “And Rae? You’re coming back to Nashville with me.”

“No, Bear. I’m not. I’m not going with you. I’m going with Finn to get his Blazer, and I’m going to make things right. You tell Gran that if she ever wants to see me again, she will make this all go away for Finn. She better start singing a different tune, or I won’t sing again. I won’t, Bear. I love you, but I won’t be bullied one more day. I don’t owe you, or Gran, or anyone else one damn thing.”

“Bonnie.” Finn spoke up for the first time, and Bonnie turned to him, tears threatening, apology written all over her face.

“We can’t get my Blazer. They would have called in the plates when they towed it. Maybe the police didn’t pick up on it, but I’m guessing it has been flagged by now. If the cops are really looking for me, the moment we go get it, I’ll either be arrested or they’ll keep it impounded until I’ve been cleared.”

“But . . . but . . .” Bonnie collapsed into her chair, and Bear and Finn considered each other for several long minutes. Then Bear turned to Bonnie and pointed a thick finger at her.

“You should be at the Kodak Theater on Sunday, in that audience, ready to accept that award if you win, Rae.” He looked at Finn and explained. “Bonnie’s song “Machine” got nominated for best original song in a motion picture.” He looked back at Bonnie like he couldn’t believe he was having to remind her. “You remember that, right, Bonnie Rae? You wrote a song that could win you an Oscar? That’s a big damn deal.”

“I remember, Bear.” Bonnie shrugged and looked at Finn as if she were a little embarrassed.

The coffeemaker finished, and Finn busied himself with cups and creamer, setting mugs in front of Bear and Bonnie and keeping one for himself. Bonnie wrapped her hands around it but didn’t make any move to sweeten or lighten the black brew.

Bear wasn’t finished. “You show up there, on the red carpet, smiling in front of the cameras like nothing has changed, holding hands with Clyde here like he’s your boyfriend and not a convict who dragged you off. You’ll undermine everything your gran’s tellin’ everybody, and you’ll do it on national TV, without having to say a word to the police or anyone else. If you win, you go up there and be your charming, loveable self, thanking everybody and their dog—or should I say ‘Bear.’ You do that, and all this just might go away.”

“Finn?” Bonnie asked. “You ever been to the Oscars?”

She knew he hadn’t been. But that’s not what she was asking, and he understood the question, loud and clear. Bonnie wanted him with her. And in spite of everything, he wanted that too. He was all in, and he’d known it last night when he heard her sing, standing at the top of the slide, telling the night sky that she was a traveler going through the world alone.

“I’ll get Bonnie to California by Sunday,” he said to Bear, and Bonnie’s face lit up with that same old smile that kicked his ass and made him beg for more. “It’s Thursday now. We’ll show up at the Oscars, put the rumors to rest, and after that, Bonnie can decide what happens next without any of us telling her what she will or won’t do.”

Bear was watching Bonnie as she beamed at Finn over her coffee mug. He shook his head a little, as if denying what his eyes were telling him.

“You need wheels?” Bear asked abruptly.

“I’ve got a rental car out there,” Finn said doubtfully. “But I’m supposed to turn it in today. If I’m in trouble, I don’t want to be flashing my driver’s license and using my credit card again to rent something else. We won’t make it very far.”

“Nah. That won’t do. I drove in from Nashville this morning. It’s only four hours from here. You take my car, and I’ll drive your rental back to Nashville. You call the rental company, tell them you’ll turn it in there. They don’t ID you when you bring the car back. They just want money. I’ll give it to them.”

“They might charge us an arm and leg for changing the check-in location,” Finn said.

“You can pay me back when this is over. I will expect a raise, Baby Rae.” He turned his attention to her for a brief second and then was back to glaring at Finn. “I’ll get my car when I come to LA for the awards.” Bear looked at Bonnie. “Don’t let Bonnie drive.”

“Bear!” Bonnie said, offended. Judging by Bonnie’s penchant for trouble, it wouldn’t surprise Finn if she were a terror behind the wheel. Finn considered himself fairly warned.

“There’s your purse, Rae.” Bear indicated the buttery yellow, leather bag he’d placed on the table upon entering the kitchen. “I got you a new phone. Your gran took yours since you lifted hers. Don’t ask me how I got my hands on this bag. The phone’s on my account, and it’s for my own peace of mind.”

Bonnie rose and kissed the top of his shiny, bald head. “Thank you, Bear. And the raise? Consider it done.”

With a quick smile for Finn, she bounded up the stairs, and Finn could hear her in the upstairs room, gathering their things. Good. They needed to leave while they still could.

“I’ve been a bodyguard for twenty-five years, and I’ve been Bonnie’s head of security and fix-it man for the last five,” Bear said seriously, and Finn’s attention moved from the bedroom to the kitchen table where the glowering black man demanded it. “I’ve played babysitter to a lot of celebrities in my life. Made a good living at it too. Some of them are nice people. Some of them aren’t. But most of them are screwed up in some way or another. Just comes with the territory. Too much of everything. And everybody knows too much of anything makes you sick. Sick in the belly, sick in the head, sick in the soul. Too many of ‘em got too much yet they don’t ever feel full, it seems like. They think they should be happy but they aren’t, so they do stupid shit to make the emptiness go away.

“But Bonnie Rae isn’t like that. Some of it’s due to her gran being a hard-ass. Bonnie might not admit it, but that woman loves her. Unfortunately, Gran saved Bonnie from being bitten by the celebrity bug, but she’s fallen victim to it herself. She’s let it become the most important thing.

“Rae’s always been steady, though. Sweet. Full of life, and never full of herself. But when her sister died the fire went out. She just lost it. I thought she was done when she went home. I thought we’d be canceling the rest of the tour and taking some time off. But that didn’t happen. It shoulda happened. I shoulda stepped in as her friend. But I didn’t. So that’s why I’m here, and that’s why I’m stepping in now. I don’t know what’s going on with you two. She says you found her on a bridge in Boston. She told me if it wasn’t for you she might not be here. So I’m gonna walk away now. And I’m gonna trust you. But if you hurt that girl in any way, I will kill you.” The flat black of Bear’s eyes didn’t flicker or shift. He wasn’t making idle threats.

“I’m ready!” Bonnie spilled into the kitchen, hopping on one foot as she pulled a red boot on her other foot. Finn’s bags hung off her shoulders, and one arm was stuck in her fluffy pink coat.

“Keys!” Bear demanded, standing from the table, abandoning what was left of his highly doctored coffee. Finn dug the keys from his pocket—he’d hidden them the night before so Bonnie couldn’t steal them and drive off again—and he’d put them in his pocket as soon as he’d pulled his pants on that morning. Bear tossed his own set toward him, and Finn caught them deftly before doing the same.

“My car is the black Charger parked down the street, and I’m guessing yours is the tin can in the driveway. Lucky me. I suggest you two get the hell out of town. You keep moving and you should be fine. Once you get to LA, lay low at the Bordeaux—those people have dealt with stars and scandals for decades, and they are discreet. You’ve stayed there before so you know the drill. Nobody will even know you’re there. I’ll take care of the details, and I’ll see you both in LA. Call me, Baby Rae.”

CLYDE AND I did as Bear suggested and left soon after he did, locking the front door behind us. Bear had parked the Charger almost a full block down the street, in front of a dumpy house with several other vehicles pulled up on the grass. College kids. I couldn’t help but feel like someone, a cop or a reporter, was going to jump out at us at any moment, but very few people were on the street, and those who were didn’t give us a second glance.