“Latson could help with that,” she says as she sketches. “He has all kinds of connections.” She looks up. “You know, he could help you write your song too, if you’re stuck.”
She must be joking. “I’m not that desperate.”
Jules eyes me suspiciously and lowers her art project. “Do I detect a hint of irritation in that statement?”
I shrug.
“I thought you guys were getting along.” She frowns. “Especially after you met Oliver.”
“I thought so, too.” I pluck a few strings. “But, he got all weird at the hospital.”
“Weird how?”
“He asked for my number. When I hesitated to give it to him he got moody. He accused me of knowing something, but wouldn’t tell me what it was. He said to let him know if I still wanted the job and walked out.”
Jules chews on her bottom lip as I replay the conversation in my head. “He asked me if I found out from you or Pete. Then he accused me of Googling him.” I scoff. “Like I would do that.”
Jules sets her art project down. She leans forward to snag her phone off the coffee table. “Have you?”
“Have I what?”
“Googled him.”
“No.” I look at her like she’s crazy. “I’ve been a little busy getting cut up and sewn back together. Why would I?”
Her expression tells me she thinks I’m the crazy one. “Two reasons. One, you know his first name. And two, he specifically mentioned Google. Aren’t you curious?”
Now I am. “What are you trying to say?”
She flips her phone to me. “Here. Go for it.”
“You’re serious.”
She nods.
Setting down my guitar, I start to type Latson’s name, then stop. “I feel like I’m violating his privacy.”
“Its public record,” she says, then looks annoyed. “Although, most of the reports are false.”
Okay. Now I need to know. I type ‘Gunnar Latson’ into Google and hit search. A sidebar pops up with pictures. I read the words beneath them aloud: “Gunnar Oliver Latson is an American musician best known as the lead singer, songwriter, and guitarist for the American rock band Sacred Sin.”
My eyes snap to Jules.
“Keep going,” she says.
I tap the link for the Wikipedia article. It says he was born in Peoria, Illinois, and he’s twenty-eight years old. Further down, I find information on the band. Sacred Sin started as a garage band ten years ago, when Latson was eighteen. They hit mainstream radio a year later with their single “Easy”, which I vaguely remember. I was sixteen at the time and wasn’t following rock music. Back then, if it wasn’t pop, it wasn’t on my radar.
The website goes on to say the band was together for eight years, producing three albums and embarking on two nationwide tours. They broke up a couple of years ago.
“Why did they break up?” I ask Jules.
She gestures with her hand, rolling it in a “continue reading” kind of way.
I scroll down to a section entitled ‘Personal Life’. “Gunnar Latson has been linked to supermodels Amberly Higgins and Vanessa Cromwell. He also dated professional beach volleyball player Kristi Owens and singer-songwriter Ariel Allyn.”
I let out a low whistle. I assume one of his women was the reason for the band’s demise. “Which one was the Yoko?”
Jules rolls her eyes as I continue. “In the spring of 2012, Audrey Latson, Gunnar’s sister and band manager, died of a drug overdose leaving behind a five-year-old son.”
I wasn’t expecting that. A lump forms in my throat. Poor Oliver.
“The singer was granted temporary custody until allegations implicated him in his sister’s death. Sacred Sin was dropped from their label, Snare Records, and a custody case was settled out of court. The terms of the settlement were never disclosed.”
The news takes a moment to sink in. I lower the phone and look at Jules. “I know I just met him, but I can’t believe he was involved in his sister’s death. Which part of that was false?”
“None of it,” she says. “Look up the other links. You’ll see what I’m talking about.”
I close Wikipedia and use my thumb to scroll through the search hits. Headlines like “Sacred Sin Dropped Amid Controversy” and “Security Cameras Capture Gunnar Latson At Sister’s Hotel” catch my attention. Then, “Agent Confirms Singer’s Role in Manager’s Overdose” and “Brother Sits Back and Watches Sister Die.”
My stomach twists. “These are horrible.”
I read further and it gets worse. “Singer’s Father Fights for Custody of Grandson – Accuses Son of Murder.”
“Oh my God.” I stare at Jules wide-eyed. “No wonder they haven’t spoken.”
“Are you talking about his dad?” She moves over to peer at the phone. “Yeah. It’s not pretty. Yet … ” She pauses and cocks an eyebrow. “Latson broke his silence for you.”
The weight of what he did settles on my shoulders. “Why?” I ask in disbelief. “Any doctor could have helped me.”
“Apparently he felt you deserved the best. His father is the best.”
My mind swirls. No one has ever put themselves out there like that for me. No one.
I hand her the phone. “I’ve seen enough.”
She turns it off and tosses it aside. “Do you understand why he would assume the worst? He thinks you found out and hate him.”
“First of all, I had no idea who he was to even think about researching his past. I was never a fan. Besides, even if I was familiar with the band, he’s changed from those pictures.” The few photos posted with the article showed a much younger and less tattooed version of Latson. Plus, he had a grunge look going on, with long hair that fell to his chin.
“Second, I’m not that judgmental. Obviously the allegations were false. He’s not in jail and he gets to see his nephew.”
“Correction,” Jules says. “He has full custody of his nephew.”
“See?” I point at her. “He shouldn’t jump to conclusions. I never believe stories reported by TMZ.”
“He doesn’t know that,” Jules defends him. “What would you think if your family turned on you? What’s to stop him from thinking you would, too?”
“Because I’m Pete’s sister and your friend. I trust you guys. You wouldn’t let me around him otherwise.”
Jules concedes my point with a nod. “Okay, maybe he did overreact. But, he’s been through a lot.”
“I see that now.” I reach for the mug on the table and it pulls at my stitches. “Ow.”
Jules hands it to me. “Once you’re feeling up to it you should talk to him. Tell him I told you about his past. Working at Torque won’t be easy if he thinks you’re afraid of him.”
I blow on the tea just in case it’s still hot. “I would never be afraid of Latson. I’ve seen him with Oliver. He’s a big softy.”
“Isn’t he though?” Jules squishes up her nose. “He’s cute, talented, good with kids … ” She drifts off. “Husband material.”
I almost spit out my tea. “Are you thinking of proposing?”
“No.” She smiles. “But you might want to.”
“Please. My track record is awful.” I take another drink. “I’m not his type anyway. I’m neither a supermodel nor an athlete.”
“But you’re a musician.”
I shake my head and ignore her. Then, a thought occurs to me. “Is this why Pete didn’t want me working at the bar? Does he believe those rumors?”
Jules scowls. “Absolutely not. It has more to do with Latson’s rock star past. Late nights, hard parties, trashed hotel rooms, groupies like Heidi. You get my drift.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “Heidi was a groupie?”
“Was?” Jules pretends to gag. “She still is.”
I try to laugh with my mouth shut so it won’t hurt. I fail.
“I know! We should watch YouTube videos of the band.” Jules stands. “I’ll get my iPad.”
She skips out of the room before I can stop her. I’m sure she’s trying to bring out my inner fan girl. I should tell her only one singer makes me weak in the knees. Ed Sheeran. My Eddie. Well, technically he’s not mine, but a girl can dream. If he showed up and asked me to run away with him, I would. He could teach me to play all his songs and sing me to sleep each night.
While Jules is gone I sip my tea like a good patient and stretch my legs out in front of me. My feet land by Jules’ phone and my thoughts turn to what I learned. Not only did Latson lose his career, he lost his sister. That had to be devastating, especially to lose her to something like drugs, something that could have been prevented. I think of Oliver and my arms ache to hug him.