Return to Me (Breaking Free Book 2) Page 7

  In any case, there is no way I’m going to dump her off at home and hope for the best. I radio Shane and tell him where to meet me, then I use my cell to look up Nate Sinclair. I’m not close, personal friends with the man by any stretch of the imagination, but we know each other.

  For a brief time I was engaged to his daughter, and the local force uses his garage to service the squad cars. I took my Jeep in there last spring when I needed some work done, and chatted with him for a bit.

  When I eventually get him on the line and explain the situation, he thanks me profusely for calling him, and he’s more than willing to meet me at his daughter’s place.

  Shane arrives just as I’m finishing up my call with her father. I quickly stride over before he can turn on his dashcam, or radio something in. He climbs out of his cruiser, and eye’s Trin’s car. “Is that a Bugatti?”

  “I think so,” I say quickly. “But I need a huge favor. How would you mind taking that nice, shiny car behind me for a spin so I can drop off an old friend?”

  “Who the hell do you know that drives a Bugatti, rookie?”

  “Trin Sinclair.”

  “You know Trin Sinclair?”

  “I wouldn’t say that exactly, but I knew her back in the day.”

  “Why didn’t you ever tell me that?”

  “It doesn’t matter, but can we keep this on the down low? Her dad is gonna meet us there. According to what he said, she needs some help.”

  “She been drinking?”

  I shake my head. “But I don’t think she’s in any condition to drive.”

  Shane blows out a long breath. “This is on you if it comes back to bite us in the ass, rookie.”

  “Fair enough.”

  After a pause to allow time for Nate to arrive, I climb back in my cruiser, Trin dries her eyes on the inside of her shirt, and stares out the window. “I’m really not on anything. I’m not. I wouldn’t drive like that.”

  “Okay.”

  “That’s an old picture of me,” Trin says, directing her attention to the screen with her information still pulled up. “With my lips like that, I look like a fish. I have trout pout.” She laughs. “How old is your baby?”

  “She’s almost three,” I say, pulling onto the road.

  “Rose is a nice name. It’s a normal name. People that name their kids shit like Azalia or Oriana, I think they must hate them or something. What’s her middle name?”

  “Marie.”

  “I just met a Marie today at my…” Her shoulders shake from laughing. “Rose Marie. That’s pretty. I like that. How’s Leah been?”

  Considering Trin’s current state, I decide to keep particulars to myself. “She’s fine.”

  “What’s she doing nowadays?”

  “She’s a nurse.”

  “That’s what she wanted to do too, and you have a beautiful little girl. That’s nice. Everyone got what they wanted.” Curling up on the seat, she sobs against her knees.

  It is absolutely killing me to see her like this. “Trin, what happened to you?”

  She gives her head a hard shake, and sits up straight. “Nothing. I just had a long day. It’s been a long year. I’ve been on the road forever. Forever and ever and ever. Too long. Way too long.” She tugs on a lock of platinum blond hair, winds it around her finger over and over again. “The truth is, I didn’t go to a birthday party. I thought I was going to a birthday party, but they tricked me.” Trin laughs for a long time. “All those sad letters, and I had to sit beside that asshole. How is making me feel like trash supposed to help? Then I get pulled over by you, of all the people, it had to be you.” A wracking sob tears out of her. “And even you think I’m fucked up. Gabe, I’m not fucked up. I’m just a little shaky, you know? I would never drive like that. I would never… What is my dad doing here this time of night?”

  “Trin, I’m going to walk you inside, and he’s going to talk to you.”

  “Did you call him?”

  “I didn’t think you needed to be alone right now.”

  “Oh, my god. I’m not on anything. I’m not high. I’m not. I am so fucking sober right now.”

  “Let’s just walk inside, and talk for a minute.”

  “I can’t deal with him right now.”

  “Trin-”

  “Don’t look at me like that. I don’t need you looking at me like that, Gabe. I don’t need you to feel sorry for me.”

  “I don’t,” I say quickly, although I’m starting to. The woman crying, laughing, and trembling in the backseat barely resembles the girl I remember. “Let’s just go talk. It can’t hurt to talk for a minute.”

  I park behind Nate, who is already climbing down from his truck, and I go around to retrieve Trin from the back. Shane pulls up right alongside us. He can barely contain a huge, shit eating grin as he walks over to return the keys to Trin. “That’s a mighty nice ride you got there, Ms Sinclair.”

  “Ms Sinclair?” Trin laughs manically. Her eyes are huge, and lit with a wild light. “Do you want it? Consider it a gift. I hate that car. I don’t know what I was thinking when I bought it. There are children starving in the world, and I have a million dollar car that sits in a garage for nine months at a time. What is wrong with me? Can someone please answer me that? Can you explain it to me? I was raised better than this, wasn’t I?” She fans her arms out dramatically. “The sinner’s wealth is laid up for the righteous.”

  The smile slides right off Shane’s face, and his mouth goes slack.

  “I’m going to walk her inside. You okay out here?” I ask Shane.

  He nods, and I take the keys from his outstretched hand.

  Nate rushes over to meet Trin, and gives her a hug which she doesn’t return. “You can just go home, Dad. I’m fine. This was all a mistake. I don’t have a problem. Maybe I have some problems, but not a drug problem.” She lets loose a long, wailing laugh, then breaks out into song. “I got ninety nine problems, and a pill ain’t one.”

  “Honey-”

  “Don’t honey me! I’m not going back to rehab. You can cry and say sad things to me all day long, but you can’t make me do anything I don’t want. No one can make me. I’m stubborn, hard headed, and prone to the ways of the devil.”

  “Let’s go inside and have a word,” I say.

  Nate gives me a small apologetic smile as Trin punches in a code into the keypad outside the tall gate that surrounds her monstrously large house. It’s sharply steepled roof is a deep brown, a few shades darker than the wood exterior.

  Trin punches in another code at the wide entryway, then unlocks the door. The inside of the home is all vaulted ceilings, huge windows and rustic, yet tasteful decor. It’s cavernous, and silent.

  “Where’s that boy at?” Nate asks.

  “Kane?”

  Nate nods.

  “He’s gone.”

  “He seemed nice.”

  “Yeah.” Trin lets out a loud peel of laughter. “He’s on a plane back home, or maybe off to some tropical location to bang a bunch of skanks. I bet he’s going to live it up for a few days, get real wasted, and have an orgy before he slinks off to rehab. That sounds about right. That’s the Kane Burke we all know and love.”

  “Honey, you deserve better than that.”

  “I got exactly what I deserve. After what I did, I don’t deserve anything.”

  “I don’t want you seeing him anymore,” Nate says.

  “I told you he’s not my real boyfriend. He’s my fake boyfriend. It’s all pretend. You of all people should understand that, Dad. I had a pretend boyfriend, and you had a pretend wife, right?”

  “Trin, I loved you mother.”

  “You loved her so much you cheated on her for years. Don’t think I didn’t piece that together.” Her strangled sob dissolves into a long, tired sigh. “Everything is fake. It’s all fake.”

  “Honey, you need help.”

  “No, I need twenty five million dollars. Dad, do you have twenty five million dollars I can borrow? That’
s all I need, and I can get out of that stupid contract I barely remember signing in the first place. I can walk away from all this. I can’t do another record. I can’t live on that bus for another nine months. I’m going to lose my mind if I have to do that again.” Trin rakes her fingers back through her hair, and hugs her forearms against the sides of her neck. “I’m getting a facelift, and I’m moving to Costa Rica, and I’m going to live in a hut, and learn how to fish. I’m going to sell fish to tourists, and change my name to Jennifer, but you can just call me Jen.”

  Nate is wearing a wide-eyed, shocked expression that probably matches the one I am currently trying to mask. Trin fumbles around in a box on top of a large, stone fireplace. She eventually comes out with a pack of cigarettes.

  “Since when do you smoke?” Nate asks.

  “Since my family decided to surprise me with a bullshit intervention. Did you actually think that was going to work? I’m not going back to rehab. That place is a joke.”

  I clear my throat. “Trin, maybe you should consider-”

  She starts to cry again. “What are you still doing here?”

  “I’m worried about you.”

  “Well, don’t be. You have a family to worry about, and I have-” Trin pauses to look around the expansive room, and she lights her cigarette. “I have everything I ever wanted too. We all got what we wanted.”

  “Look, I stuck my neck out on the line for you. Trin, you were going at least forty over in a residential area, and I’m still not convinced you should’ve been behind the wheel in the first place. I think you should get yourself some help before something happens.”

  “Why did I flush all those pills?” Trin asks the ceiling. “If everyone thinks I’m still taking them, I should have never stopped.”

  “Honey, listen to your friend. You need help.”

  “He’s not my friend. He’s… I don’t need help. I need twenty five million dollars, or a time machine.” Her baby blue eyes shimmer with fresh tears as they fall on me. All I want to do is hug her, and tell her it’s going to be okay. Trin quickly looks off. “Why hasn’t someone invented a time machine yet? That’s really what I need.”

  “I called Brent. He’s going to be here in the morning, and he’ll get you all set up with a nice place.”

  “You called him? Dad, he’s the devil.” Trin is laughing wildly as tears stream down her face. “Maybe I wore the devil horns, but he’s the one who put them on my head. Have you ever thought about that? Have you?”

  “Who’s Brent?” I ask.

  “He’s my manager,” Trin says to me. “Oh, and he’ll probably be around to talk to you and your buddy out there tomorrow, maybe the day after. You’ll know him when you see him. He looks like Jabba the Hutt with a comb over. He’s gonna make you sign a non disclosure agreement, so you don’t run and blab to a reporter. My advice is, make him pay you. I bet you can get enough out of him to take your family to Disney World. Actually, I can cut you a check right now. You really did do me a favor. If you had hauled my ass in, it would’ve been all over the news, and Brent would’ve never let me forget it. He would have held that over my head for a year.”

  “I don’t want your money, Trin.”

  “What do you want?”

  “I want to make sure you’re okay.”

  “So does Brent,” Nate says.

  “No, Brent wants me to get implants. He wants to put the sin back in Sinclair. He wants me to do three more records. Three! He wants me to hold hands with Kane, and kiss him like I mean it for the cameras. Brent wants to make sure my back doesn’t hurt.” Trin blew out a thin stream of grey smoke towards the high ceiling. “What happens on the road, stays on the road. You know that, Trinity Adah.”

  “Honey, I think we need to get you to bed,” Nate says, wrapping an arm around Trin’s shoulder. “Thank you for calling me, Gabe.”

  “Trin, if you ever need anything…” I start, but it’s obvious she doesn’t want a thing from me. She needs help, and maybe a new manager from the sounds of it.

  She nods, mutters a feeble apology in my direction, and I let myself out as Nate leads her upstairs.

  When I climb in my cruiser, Shane is already waiting in the passenger side. “I’m not sure if that girl was hopped up on something, or she’s just looney tunes.”

  “Shut up, Shane.”

  “How’d you say you knew her?”

  “We grew up together.”

  Shane studied me out of the corner of his eye. “You two close?”

  “I haven’t seen her for years before today, but I guess you could say that.”

  “How close?”

  I shake my head towards the windshield.

  “Hell, rookie. Did you bang Trin Sinclair?”

  “Don’t say it like that. Actually, it’s best if you don’t say anything at all about it. I guess the two of us are going to be getting a visit from some schmuck sooner or later to sign and NDA.”

  That schmuck showed up around noon the following day. Trin’s description of him as a balding, Jabba the Hutt wasn’t too far off. She failed to mention the beady eyes and expensive suit though.

  I answer the door, bleary eyed, with barely two hours of sleep. He asks if I am Officer Gabriel Barton, and introduces himself as Brent Gibson. I invite him in, and he gets straight to the point.

  As a public figure, Trin Sinclair’s reputation is of the utmost importance. Not only has Brent worked with Trin for a number of years, they are close, personal friends. He would hate to cause her any unnecessary stress or trauma after her recent lapse, and news of her lapse becoming tabloid fodder would certainly be stressful for his client.

  As soon as he pulls out a checkbook, I start to shake my head. “I don’t want anything from you. Just give me the paper to sign.”

  Brent offers me a tight smile. He already has it all prepared, and even a pen ready and waiting in the inside pocket of his suit coat. “Is there anyone else you may have mentioned this encounter to?” he asks as I dash off my signature.

  “Not a soul.”

  “That’s good, and I just want to remind you, this is a legally binding contract you’ve just signed, Mr. Barton. One with substantial, financial ramifications if you choose to-”

  “I know how it works.”

  “Of course, and it goes without saying that Trin really appreciates your discretion.”

  “Is she gonna be okay?”

  “Absolutely, but she’s been working very hard. Right now she just needs a little time to rest and recuperate, but she’s eager to get to work on her next album. I’d be happy to send you tickets for an upcoming show during her next tour.”

  “She didn’t sound eager at all to get back to anything last night.”

  Shaking his head, Brent smiles and waves the paper I just signed through the air for emphasis. “Trin is a bit prone to… over reaction, but I assure you-”

  “No, she’s really not. I’ve known Trin since before I can remember. She’s not the sort to over react about anything.”

  Brent tilts his head to the side and fixes me with an intense stare. “She never mentioned you to me.”

  “She mentioned you were the devil to me.”

  “Trin is a character, isn’t she?” Brent gives a disingenuous laugh. “But after a little relaxation, she’ll be back to her old self in no time.”

  “Will you tell her… tell her I’m thinking about her, and I hope she gets to feeling better.”

  “I’ll be happy to pass along the message, Mr. Barton.”

  Chapter 10

  Trin

  Instead of going away for twenty one days, I went away for a full eight weeks. Instead of going to rehab, I was treated for exhaustion.

  Everyone knows the term exhaustion is code for, went cuckoo, lost her marbles, cracked up. I don’t know if I actually went full on crazy, but I definately flew off the rails a bit.

  Right now I’m choosing to look at the bright side. I finally had to face what I’d been running from. I talked a
bout it to someone at length, and I now realize I can’t drink it away, take a pill, or go buy something to make it disappear. It happened. I made it happen, and I just have to live with it. Time machine’s don’t exist, and there are no do-overs.

  It’s a shame we weren’t able to keep it from the press, but Brent is choosing to look at the bright side as well. I didn’t really give him much of a choice. I am done with the fakery. I blatantly refuse to play pretend with Kane any longer, but Brent has a plan for that too.

  The story is I went bananas after the sudden and unpredicted dissolution of my romance with charming heartthrob Kane Burke. The leaked details are murky and vague, leaving the public to decide for themselves what really happened. His short stint in rehab hit the media as well, only complicating matters, but all that complication worked out in both of our favors. Kane is getting his own deal, and I won’t have him in my hair for this next record.

  Better yet the label has agreed to push back my next release by a whole year, due to my confirmed diagnosis of exhaustion. Brent would like to see me in the studio far sooner than that if possible. The longer we wait between releases, the more likely it is that we’ll lose traction.

  I can’t avoid my next and final album forever, but I’m perfectly content to hunker down and wait out the media for the time being, and Brent hasn’t been hounding me too much. He’s managing Kane as well now, and unlike me, Kane is eager and willing to parade himself in front of the cameras.

  You’d think I would have no shame left. I mean, I strutted around in a red, leather leotard with fishnets and pointed horns jutting out from my hair for my Sinful album, but that was all choreographed, and planned for. I don’t even care so much that the whole world knows I suffered from exhaustion, or even that they believe it is over something so trivial as a breakup from Kane, but I am mortified beyond telling at the memory of my melt down in front of Gabe.

  I made an anonymous, sizable donation to the Trenton P.D, among a bunch of other places from the comfort of a private beach house in Natal, Brazil. No amount of money is going to undo my embarrassment, but I suppose it can’t hurt.