9
DILLON
“Dil.” Vivien shakes me, and I slowly rouse from slumber as my phone vibrates across the top of the bedside table. “Babe, wake up.”
“I’m awake,” I mumble, reaching my arm out for my phone as I blink my eyes open.
“That’s the second time it’s rang in succession.” She sits beside me as I haul myself upright and lean my back against the headboard.
I stifle a yawn as I swipe my finger along the screen, not recognizing the local number. I glance at the time. No good can come from an anonymous phone call at three a.m. I brace myself for bad news as I wrap my free arm around my wife, press the cell to my ear, and answer the call.
“Dad!” Easton’s panicked tone greets my eardrums.
“What’s going on?” I ask while mouthing “East” at Vivien.
“Bodhi and me got arrested. We need you to come get us.”
A muscle clenches in my jaw as I instinctively tuck my wife closer to my side. “Where are you?”
“We’re at the Hollywood station on Wilcox Avenue.”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” I say, removing my arm from around Viv and flipping the covers off.
“Thanks, Dad.” His voice sounds meek in a way that is not characteristic of my son.
The call ends, and I grip the phone tight in my hand as I swing my gaze to my worried wife. This is going to kill her, but there is no way to sugarcoat it. “The boys got arrested. I need to go get them.”
“What?” she splutters, her eyes popping wide. “Why?”
“I don’t know the details.” I pull her into my arms and hold her. She’s shaking, and I hate what this is doing to her, especially at a time when the foundation is growing at an unprecedented rate and she’s so fucking busy. She should be enjoying seeing her hard work come to fruition, but instead she takes no pleasure from it because she’s so worried about the boys. Bodhi in particular. “Stay here.” I lean down and kiss her. “Try to sleep. You have a big meeting tomorrow.”
“Fuck the meeting, and fuck staying here.” She climbs over my lap and off the bed. “We’re in this together. I’m coming with you.”
I stand and pull her into my body because I’m very needy these past few weeks. I always have to be near her. To reassure myself she’s okay. To offer what little comfort I can with my touches and my kisses. If I could take on all of her pain, I would because I hate seeing her so upset. “Are you sure?”
“One hundred percent. Let’s go get our sons.”
* * *
“I see the word is already out,” I say, over a resigned sigh, when I drive up to the entrance of the Hollywood station, spotting a handful of paparazzi hanging around outside.
“I think those guys always hover around police stations hoping to land a juicy story.”
“It’s widely known cops are paid to leak tips to the vultures.” I maneuver our car into a free spot at the curb alongside the drab redbrick building and kill the engine. Bobby and Leon pull up behind us in one of the security SUVs.
“Either way, there’s no avoiding this.”
I stretch across the console and kiss her. “We’ll get the PR people on it in the morning and spin the narrative the way we always do.” Lifting her hands, I kiss her fingers. “Don’t stress it, Viv. The media are the least of our worries.”
“I don’t want this to make it harder for the boys.”
“There is nothing they can say they haven’t already said over the years. Fuck ’em, Viv. They don’t matter.”
“You’re right. Let’s go.”
We exit the car at the same time, and I run around the hood to reach my wife, clasping her hand and keeping her close as we stride toward the entrance. Bobby and Leon exit their car and come up either side of us, shielding us from touch. The bloodsuckers notice us immediately, lifting their cameras and snapping pics as we make our way inside. We ignore the questions they throw at us, keeping our gazes firmly fixed ahead. As soon as our feet hit the ramp with the star-studded overlay, they hang back and leave us alone.
Inside, we talk to an unfriendly jackass behind the desk until Carson Park, the Lancaster family lawyer, shows up and takes control. Viv had called him when we were en route. His arrival is timely as I was seconds away from punching the unhelpful asshole glaring at me like I have committed some crime.