Reckless (50 page)

I couldn’t even answer my friends’ questioning looks, because I recognized the pair of seductive dark blue eyes sweeping the crowd. As his hips started swaying and the crowd started
yelling, those familiar bedroom eyes locked right onto me. I couldn’t see his mouth, but I knew he was smiling at me. I wanted to crawl into a hole and die, but I couldn’t stop watching
him. What the hell was Kellan doing here, in a strip club, dancing?

As he really started getting into his act, I stopped caring. Kellan was a natural seducer and was intoxicating to watch as he moved across the stage—a stage he owned just as much as when
he was singing. Sliding and shaking, he worked his way back and forth across the front. When he stopped at our table, he slowly and seductively removed his vest. My heart was going a million miles
an hour. When he tossed the fabric at me, I almost didn’t have the reflexes to catch it. With his perfect chest on display, the crowd went nuts. With his tattoo of my name across his heart on
display, my friends turned back to me, wide-eyed; they knew about Kellan’s tattoo. Astonished, Jenny asked, “Is that . . . ?”

Fearing being overheard, she didn’t say his name out loud. She didn’t have to either. We all knew who she was referencing. As I weakly nodded that, yes, it
was
Kellan up
there shaking his booty, they all started laughing. Anna let out an earsplitting whistle. Yes, my husband was stripping.

Just like when the D-Bags played, Kellan worked the crowd. He let the girls touch him, but backed off when they got too close or too friendly. He ran his hands over his own slick skin, caressing
himself in ways that I was sure most of the audience was fantasizing about touching him. Halfway through the song, he ripped off his chaps to thunderous applause. I buried my face in my hands,
mortified
and
turned on. I could not believe he was doing this, and at the same time, I wasn’t surprised; it was exactly something Kellan would do.

Toward the end of the long song, Kellan sauntered my way. He was now only dressed in cowboy boots, tight spandex shorts, his face-concealing bandanna mask, and his cowboy hat. Holding my breath,
I hoped he got to keep the outfit. Kellan jumped off the stage to land right beside our table. Women leapt at the chance to touch him, but he grabbed me and pulled me to my feet. As nearby patrons
cursed in jealousy and hollered in approval, Kellan finished his tantalizing dance by grabbing my leg and hooking it around his hip. I instinctively conformed to his body, and for a moment forgot
that we were the center of attention. Kellan dipped me when the song was finally over. When he pulled me up, our faces were inches apart. I could see his fast breath under his mask; it matched
mine. Not caring who was watching, I kissed him through the fabric. His eyes fluttered closed as his hands traveled over my ass. The crowd erupted into shrieks.

Remembering that we were being watched, I reluctantly pulled away from him. Laughing, Kellan told me, “You probably shouldn’t turn me on in this outfit. I may get
arrested.”

Laughing, I pushed his slick chest away from me. “I cannot believe you just did that.”

Bending over he kissed my hand. “I couldn’t resist.” He pointed over to Anna. “It was her idea.”

I glared at my sister, and she flashed her hands up and down his body. “Sex on a Stick,” was all she said.

As the MC announcing all of the dancers started in on the next act—a soldier in a crisp, white uniform—Kellan gave me a final hug. “I have to go finish my
other
performance or Matt will have my head.” Looking down at himself, he added, “And I need to go wipe this oil shit off.”

I laughed and kissed his cheek. “You’re something else, you know?”

He tilted his head at me. “So are you. It’s good to see you having fun. I’ll see you back at the hotel.”

Raising an eyebrow, I mimicked his seductive tone, “Yes, you certainly will.”

Kellan’s eyes crinkled at the corners and I knew he was flashing me a grin that would have these women weak in the knees. I wanted to pull off his mask so I could see it, but I
didn’t want anyone here recognizing him. Kellan dressed as a half-naked cowboy was definitely an image I didn’t want to get out to the Kell-Sex fans; this was mine and mine
alone—well, mine and a barful of unsuspecting women.

We pulled apart, and Kellan made his way back to the stage so he could change and return to his concert. Along the way he was stroked and pawed by several feminine hands. He waded his way
through them, stopping a couple that were drifting to the low side of his body. He looked back at me after he climbed the steps on the edge of the stage and tipped his cowboy hat. I smiled, sighed,
and felt myself falling even deeper in love with him.

The rest of the acts paled in comparison to Kellan, and I found myself daydreaming about
him
more than watching
them
. Seeing that Anna was quickly petering out, I suggested
that we call it a night. Everyone agreed, and we made our way back to our awaiting limousine. I thanked the driver as he opened the door for us.

Amusement on his face, he asked, “How was it?”

“Wonderful,” I sighed.

He shook his head at me, and I giggled. Anna handed me back my phone as she sleepily rested her head on my shoulder. Patting her electric blue hair, I checked my messages. There was only one,
and it was from Kellan. In response to my photograph of Gabe’s phone number, he’d texted,
No, I get you tonight and every night, so I’m pretty sure I won
.

Biting my lip, I asked our driver to hurry to our hotel. I’d probably have to wait for Kellan to get back from his boys’ night out after the concert, but I didn’t mind. My pink
wig and I would happily wait all night for him . . . and hopefully he’d come back with his cowboy boots and hat to go with the vest safely tucked in my purse.

Kate and Cheyenne flew back home the next morning, both of them looking a little worn as they climbed into the taxi. It warmed my heart to see them again; I’d really
missed my friends back home. Jenny and Rachel were staying a couple of extra nights, to visit with their boyfriends. Our bus was rowdy and packed, full of music and laughter. I was firmly convinced
that Disneyland had nothing on this bus—which was truly the happiest place on earth.

When we rolled into Philadelphia, the City of Brotherly Love, people on the bus started making plans for the afternoon. Jenny, Rachel, Matt, and Evan were going sightseeing. Deacon, Ray, and
David were originally from around Philly, so they went to catch up with some friends. Anna and Griffin were going out for ice cream and pickles—another craving my sister was having. Wanting
to spend some alone time together, Kellan and I turned down every group that invited us out.

When we were completely alone, I turned to Kellan and gave him a suggestive smile. “So, now that it is just you and me, Mr. Kyle, what would you like to do?” Dropping my voice to a
seductive level, I said, “Maybe return that favor you still owe me?” I was a little proud of myself. Not only had I said it without blushing or squeaking, but my voice had even come out
a little on the erotic side. I was getting good at this.

Kellan, however, surprisingly frowned and looked down at his shoes. “Actually . . . I have a favor to ask of you.”

Seeing the seriousness in his expression, I twisted to face him on the couch. “What is it?”

Kellan leaned forward on his knees. He was wearing a long-sleeved white shirt with a short-sleeved black shirt layered over the top of it. The two contrasting colors seemed to perfectly express
his disposition—he was eager, he was reluctant. He was happy, he was sad. He was at peace, he was melancholy. I hated seeing the conflict on his face, especially when I wasn’t sure what
he was conflicted about.

He ran a hand through his hair and peeked up at me. “I’ve been debating doing something. I wasn’t going to do it, so I didn’t even bother mentioning it, but the longer we
sit here, the more it eats away at me, and I just feel like . . . I have to do it. I need to do it.” He swallowed, then slowly exhaled. “But I can’t do it alone. I need
you.”

Not expecting him to say anything like that, I grabbed his hand and squeezed. “My answer is yes. Whatever the favor is, my answer is always yes. Whenever you need me, I’m there,
Kellan . . . I’m always here for you.”

His eyes watered as he swallowed again. It broke my heart. Brushing some hair off of his forehead, I asked, “What do you need to do?”

He tried to tell me, but his voice was so hoarse he couldn’t. After clearing his throat, he tried again. “I need to visit someone.” He clamped his mouth shut after that and
looked away; the pain on his face was obvious.

I kissed his shoulder. “Okay.” I didn’t know who he needed to visit, and it didn’t matter. My husband was asking for me, and I would be there.

Kellan called for a cab while I grabbed my purse and a thick jacket. The label would arrange transportation if we needed it, but that was generally only for official functions; we were on our
own if we were running errands. Upon Kellan’s request, our friendly bus driver, Jonathan, had started parking so that the door to our bus was hidden by the other tour bus. It gave us a
modicum amount of privacy from the fans and photographers when we entered or exited the bus. It also prevented Sienna from attempting anymore “conjugal visit” photo ops.

When the taxi arrived and was cleared by security, it parked in front of the crack between the two busses. Kellan slipped on his leather jacket and gave me a sad smile as he walked over to me.
“Thanks for doing this,” he whispered, twisting me around and helping me put on my jacket.

Looking over my shoulder and wondering what it was we were doing, I told him, “It’s not a problem, Kellan. You’re not ever a problem.”

Kellan’s face was a stone mask when we settled into the taxi; he looked completely impassive. To the driver, he said, “Saint Joseph’s Cemetery in Gloucester Township, New
Jersey.” That answer was about the last thing I’d expected him to say. I could not have been more confused about why we were going to a graveyard. Turning to me, Kellan clarified,
“It’s where my parents are buried.”

Knowing just how difficult this day was going to be for him, I put my hand on his thigh. He immediately placed his hand over mine and laced our fingers together. While Kellan’s gaze
shifted to the cityscape blurring past us, I asked him, “Why are your parents buried here and not Seattle?”

Still not looking at me, Kellan shrugged. “My aunt brought them here after the funeral. She said there was nothing left in Washington for them, so why bury them there.” He returned
his eyes to mine then, and there was a distinct edge of hardness in them. “She buried them
here,
near where she and my mom grew up.”

Sadness swept over me. He really hadn’t had anybody on his side when he was younger—except Denny and his band. “Oh, does your aunt live here, then?”

Kellan eyes snapped back to the window. “Don’t know, don’t care. We don’t talk . . . never have.” Kellan clearly didn’t want to talk about her, so I let the
conversation die.

We made one stop on the way to the cemetery—for flowers. It just about broke my heart when he ran into a shop on the corner and came out holding two bouquets. It really killed me when he
handed me a white rose petal with the words
I’m glad you’re here
written on it.

The drive to the cemetery took less than twenty minutes, but the light rain outside had turned into a heavy downpour by the time we arrived. I didn’t have an umbrella with me, but I
didn’t really care; Kellan needed to do this. He needed closure. The cab stopped on a road that looped around an island of grass with a gigantic concrete angel in the center of it. Kellan
told the driver to wait for us, then hopped out of the cab. Clenching both bouquets of red roses in his hand, Kellan immediately started turning his head back and forth, searching the expansive
grounds. By the time I exited the cab, he was soaking wet; he looked lost and lonely as he looked around the empty graveyard.

He shook his head when I was beside him and ran his hand through his hair, slicking back the thick, wet mess. “I don’t know where they are.”

There was sorrow in his eyes as the rain streamed down his face. He didn’t know where his parents were buried. Grabbing his free hand, cool from the damp air, I looked around the sea of
headstones. The space around us was huge, and a road to our left led to even more graves that I could see through the breaks in the dripping trees. We could search for days and never find his
parents. We didn’t have days, though. We had a few hours at best.

Squeezing his hand, I firmly told him, “We’ll find them.”

We were running out of time, so we hastily began our search for the needle in this gloomy haystack. We started systematically going down the rows. We walked down separate aisles, two or three
rows apart from each other, so we could cover as much ground as possible. We finished the first lot in thirty minutes with no luck. I glanced at the cabbie reading a book in his dry car, wondering
how much this trip was going to cost us in fares. But, much like the limo for my bachelorette party, this was one expense that Kellan would gladly pay for.

Shivering and teeth chattering, we made our way toward the second half of the cemetery. This section was at least twice the size of the other side; I felt fatigued just looking at it. But we had
no choice but to keep searching, so we did. With the names John and Susan Kyle blazing through my mind, I scoured the markers of the graves before me. So many people were buried here, each with
their own stories, their own loves, joys, and heartaches. It was overwhelming to think about how many lives each person here had touched, in good ways, and in some cases, bad ways.

I was so focused on finding the names of Kellan’s parents that the letters almost escaped me when I did eventually see them.
John and Susan Kyle: Beloved Friends, Family, and
Parents.
I stared at the black marble in shock. I’d found them. I’d actually found them. From the corner of my eye, I saw Kellan a few rows in front of me, still searching. The
flowers in his hand were a sodden mess.