Redemption Song Read Free Page A

relief, but then the sound of that low chuckle reentered his mind.
    “But, Bruce, I was drinking. I'm going to have to go to court over this.”
    “Nope, took care of that, too.”
    “But . . . they’re cops . . . there are laws . . .”
    An arrogant grin stretched across Bruce’s lips. “Face it, dude. You’re in Hollywood now. The cops here are more crooked than the road you wrecked on last night. I told you I had your back when I signed you on and I meant it. As long as you stick with me, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”
    Ethan laughed, feeling a twinge of relief. Still yet, a different, weird, feeling kept creeping in. He knew he deserved every bit of what the law ordered in his situation, and he knew that it was unfair for him to get off just because he was famous. But that didn’t mean he was going to turn around and march back into that jail cell and seal the door behind him. He worked hard every day to give his fans what they wanted. It would be downright cruel to allow himself to get into trouble when he had a solid way out. He owed it to them to get back out there and make more music.
    Ethan took one more glance toward the cell that had been his home for the night. He pulled his arms and head into the sweatshirt and put on the sunglasses, just in case anyone was around outside that might recognize him. Bruce pushed the tinted police station door open and he and Ethan jumped into the black Escalade that waited to rush him from his short-lived punishment, and deep down, what he knew he deserved.
     
    “So, where are we going?” Ethan asked after a bit. He sat in the back row of the Escalade, jammed in beside a suitcase and his body guard, Ted, whom he’d only heard say a handful of words since he’d hired him.
    The driver completely bypassed the turn toward the Roosevelt Hotel, where Ethan was certain his mom was presently sitting, brooding over all the ways to make his life hell-on-earth once he arrived. But instead, they exited onto US Route 101 toward Los Angeles.
    Bruce’s reply no longer held an amused tone. Instead, he sighed, seeming a bit irritated. “We are going to the airport. LAX.” He ripped his iPhone from his pocket and began vigorously clicking away with the tip of his right index finger.
    Ethan didn’t understand. “What are you talking about, man? I’ve got a show at the Staples Center in eight hours. We’ve got rehearsals, sound checks, make up and wardrobe still to do. . . What is so important that we have to drive to the airport now?”
    A sigh even heavier than the first escaped Bruce as he looked up. “Ethan, my man, you don’t have a show tonight. Not anymore.”
    Ethan felt the heat rising in his cheeks and he spoke through gritted teeth. “And why is that?”
    “Because your mother said so.”
    There it was. Phase one of hell.
    “What exactly do you mean, ‘my mother said so’?”
    “Look, kid, when your mom heard about the stunt you pulled last night, she called it quits on the show, packed you a bag, bought you a plane ticket, and sent me to pick you up.”
    “Are you kidding me? Bruce, she can’t do that! Does she realize we’re going to have to refund fifteen thousand tickets?”
    Bruce grunted. “Fifteen thousand, six hundred, and twenty-one—to be exact.”
    “But . . . but . . .” Ethan stammered, trying to fight back his anger and clear his thoughts. “This is ridiculous! Just tell her that she can’t do this! Too much is at stake . . . I can’t disappoint my fans . . . the show must go on . . . whatever! I don’t care, just tell her something !”
    “No good,” Bruce said, sounding bored with the entire conversation, as if he had already heard it several times that day. “Already tried all of that, and more.”
    “But, how is this possible? You can get me out of a DWI, but you can’t override my mom on a decision to cancel one of the biggest concerts on my tour?”
    “Sadly . . . no. Until you turn eighteen, technically, your career