Page 12 of Reverse

“Oh, yeah?” I ask, keeping my tone even and proud of my acting skills for the moment. “What’s that?”

“Well, according to my source,” she starts as we share a smile, “young Crowne is releasing a debut album very soon.”

“Young Crowne? You mean—”

“Elliot Easton Crowne.” She fans herself as I try to conceal my victory smile behind my sandwich.Here we go.

“Did you know Easton was named after The Cars guitarist; you know, the band who wrote the song—”

“Drive,” I finish for her, clear hearts flashing in her eyes.

“Technically, a man named Ben wrote that song and sang it, but Ben was obviously taken because Ben First is the Sergeants’ lead singer. He and Lexi made Benji, who is fire hot as fuck now, by the way.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah, at least the last time he was pictured. I’m guessing Easton’s namesake was Stella’s idea, and she didn’t like Rick.”

“Rick?”

“The lead singer of The Cars.”

“Ah.”

“So, I’m assuming they grabbed Easton’s name because you know Stella believes in all that cosmic stuff,” she waves her hand around animatedly, “and that song helped bring them back together, so no doubt that’s where he got his namesake.”

Recalling the movie, I place the part where Stella walked into a club she used to frequent with Reid and discovered him singing her favorite song as if willing her back to him. I’d teared up watching it as she sobbed at the edge of the stage while Reid sang, oblivious that she was standing there. That scene took place just before the end of the movie, a few scenes before they found each other in Seattle.

“I watched the movie last night,” I declare, knowing it will earn me points.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I mean, I’ve been reading her articles, so I got curious.”

Rosie sighs dreamily. “It’s still my favorite.”

As subtly as I can, I lead her back to the point. “So, Easton’s releasing a debut album? I didn’t even know he was a musician.”

“Honey, have you seen a recent picture of Easton Crowne?” She admonishes, pulling up her phone and tapping furiously.

While I do genuinely love Rosie and her company, this behavior is precisely why I dragged her out of the office to dig around. If there’s any dirt—good or bad—on the Crownes, she’s the one to go to. Reid and Stella’s story is one she considers a modern-day Elvis and Priscilla. Though it’s old news, it happens to be her favorite news, especially since King and Queen Crowne had a prince. A prince that’s rarely ever mentioned in the media.

I must admit, as much as my father’s relationship with Stella intrigues me, so does the other half of the story. Stella’s half. Maybe if I get closer to that half, I’ll find some of the answers I seek.

I’m just not sure what the questions are . . . yet.

It’s when Rosie lifts the phone that I’m struck by just how much of theother sideexists. Hazel eyes glare back at me—or rather at the camera—as I take her phone and study the picture, cupping shade over it with my hand.

“Yeah, honey, take your time and drink that man in. Mm Mm Mm.”

Grinning due to her reaction, I do. From the top of his six-plus frame lays thick unruly, jet-black hair which juts out beneath a beanie. In this particular shot, he’s dressed in a form-fitting, faded grey thermal, dark, snug-fitting jeans, a plastic bag of takeout in one hand, the other grips the handle of an ancient, black box Chevy Truck. His posture next to it insinuates protection as if the truck has sentimental value while he scowls at the pap taking the picture. Everything in his demeanor screams, ‘fuck off.’

“It’s clear he hates the camera,” I note.

“That’s why he’s releasing it without promoting it.”

“What?”

“Yes, girl, no PR, no press announcement, no warning at all, and from what I was told, he’s not planning on granting a single interview. Which is crazy considering—”

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