Redemption Song Read Free

date! Ethan Carter and ‘Girl from My Dreams’!”
    The cop let out a low chuckle. “Some irony, huh, kid?”
     
     
     
     

Chapter 2
    Ethan
     
    The clank of the jail cell door startled Ethan awake from his latest mini nap. Between the massive hangover headache (which the guards refused to give him any painkiller for) and his cell mate for the night (a fat, hairy tattooed man that snored to decibels above the capacity of the former Camero’s sound system) Ethan had not managed to get more than a few minutes of sleep at a time the entire night. He pried his eyes ajar in view of the cell door, but a ray of sun shone through the window on the opposite wall, forcing his arm to fold at his forehead to shield his eyes. Ethan glanced down, attempting to assess the bodily damage caused by his late night adventure. Nothing appeared to be broken, but his muscles were sore to the point he felt as though he’d spent a few too many hours lifting weights.
    A grumbled laugh came from the other side of the barred door. An officer held a large key ring—the keys to Ethan’s freedom. “Rise and shine, rock star. Somebody’s busting you out.”
    Ethan jumped from the cot, grabbed his forehead once more in attempts to suppress a shooting pain behind his eyes, and then realized that maybe he ought to rethink his anticipation. The thought of seeing his mom walk around the corner—having to deal with her livid expression—was almost enough to make him want to crawl onto the other cot and hide behind the snoring hairy man. Jail had to be better than the prison he was about to enter at home.
    But then he caught a break.
    “Bruce!”
    Ethan’s agent, Bruce McCloud, pushed confidently past the cop to escort Ethan out of the cell. He wore a Dolce sports coat with a pair of designer kakis, and Burberry shoes from the new spring line. A pair of Ray Ban’s—the sunglasses that constantly remained attached to Bruce’s face no matter how dark of a room he entered—rested comfortably at the tip of his nose.
    “I’m so glad it’s you, man. I thought you were my mom.”
    Bruce chuckled. “No way, kid. I take care of my clients.”
    Ethan and Bruce made their way toward the entrance of the police station while Bruce pulled out a huge pair of sunglasses and a hooded sweatshirt from the dark leather “man bag” that hung across his chest. “You better put these on. We've got places to go.”
    When they reached the front, Ethan stepped forward to peek out of the tinted glass of the double doors. He was amazed, and a little confused. The parking lot was empty aside from the regular employee vehicles and the one that waited to take him away. Juicy gossip spread like wildfire in Hollywood. Paparazzi should be camped out in the parking lot, ready to pounce the second Ethan set as much as a toe outside of that door. Not that Ethan was complaining, but something didn't quite add up.
    Ethan turned to Bruce. "What gives, man? Where are the reporters?"
    Bruce smiled. “Not here."
    "Yeah, I see that," Ethan said. "But why? How?"
    "You'd be surprised what a little cash can accomplish when you want people to keep their mouths shut, kid."
    "You paid off the medic guy," Ethan said, realization dawning. "And the cops? But that guy was really mad. Kept talking about going home to his daughter and how I almost killed him. There's no way he's going to keep quiet about this."
    Bruce laughed. "He will considering that daughter needs braces. Look, kid, don't worry about it. Your pal, Bruce, has got things covered. Besides, if worse comes to worse and someone does squeal, then we’ll use it to our advantage. Publicity is publicity. It doesn’t matter if it’s good or bad. This is your first offense. Sure, you’ll have to put up with some hater columnists for a few weeks, but once the news dies down, this might be just what we need to jump start the promotion of your next album!”
    Ethan couldn’t believe his ears. He was beginning to feel a pinch of