Denny smiled and looked over at Abby. Not missing a beat, she pointed at Kellan. “You, mate.”
Kellan looked bewildered by that, and Denny laughed. “You and your band,” he clarified. His amusement faded away and seriousness darkened his features. “Abby and I both feel that you are being poorly represented. The band isn’t being looked out for. The people who are supposed to be protecting you aren’t.” He gave Kellan’s hospital bed a pointed glance. “That much is clear.”
Indicating himself and his fiancée, he continued. “We both have a lot experience in marketing things, people, brands, creating positive PR.” Pausing, he leaned back in his chair. “If you’re interested, we would like to manage you. We would speak for you, be your voice to the world. We would protect you.” He jerked his thumb behind him at the large window showcasing the dark world outside. “And crap like what happened with Sienna wouldn’t ever happen again. Not to that extent, at any rate.”
Kellan looked like Denny had just confessed that he was actually his biological father. I understood the reaction; I was pretty shocked myself. “You want to be the band’s . . . agents? You would do that for us?”
Denny’s lips curved up into a warm smile. “Yes, of course we would.”
I shook my head at them, amazed. “But, your jobs . . .”
He shook his head. “The D-Bags would be my only clients, and I don’t anticipate you needing my help full time.” He indicated Abby with his head. “As long as we’re able to, we would continue with our jobs on some level.” Leaning forward again, Denny set his hand on Kellan’s arm. “But you would be my top priority, and if you needed me, I would be there for you. I would be honored to be the one standing up for you.”
Kellan feebly nodded his head. “Yeah, okay. I mean, I’ll need to run it by the guys, but . . . yeah, let’s do it. I’d be honored to have you guys represent me.” He stuck out his hand and Denny shook it, then Abby did. Everyone was all smiles. It warmed my heart. “And we’ll pay you, of course.”
Denny laughed. “We’ll talk about that part later.” He indicated the IV dripping fluid into Kellan’s body. “Maybe when you’re not on drugs.”
We all laughed, and I marveled at how far we’d all come. We were so different from the people we were when we’d all started living together—stronger, more confident, more secure in ourselves. And yet, we were still exactly the same. We cared about each other. We supported each other. We looked out for each other. And now that the sting of betrayal and guilt was only a dull ache in the background, the three of us were what I’d always hoped we would be—the best of friends.
Chapter 30
Success
When Kellan was released from the hospital, he was put in a wheelchair and instructed to take it easy for the next six weeks. He looked irritated that he couldn’t walk out of the place on his own two feet. He was walking around much better now, and probably could handle the journey downstairs just fine, but I made him suck it up and keep his ass in the wheelchair. His internal organs were sewn up, and rest was what he needed, not some macho display of invulnerability.
Much to the delight of Griffin and the other D-Bags, Kellan frowned the entire time I pushed him down the hall. Because I couldn’t help myself, I patted his head like he was an obedient puppy. He pursed his lips at me, not amused. I thought he’d try and bolt for the door once he saw freedom, but he surprisingly stayed in his chair and let me continue to take care of him. A couple of nurses trailed after us with carts full of get-well flowers and gifts. I had no idea what we were going to do with all the stuff the fans had sent him.
As I rolled Kellan outside, where a sleek black stretch limo was waiting for us courtesy of the groveling-for-his-job Nick, I considered just having Kellan sign the gifts and pass them out to his admirers. They were everywhere outside. Holding signs, candles . . . each other . . . they cheered in wailing shrieks when they finally got to see their recovering rock star.
Attendees from the hospital hurried to push them back and rush us to the idling car. Kellan held up his hand when a burly guy grabbed his chair away from me. “Wait, I want to talk to them.”