Connected (Connections, #1)(60)
He glances over to where I’m looking and says, “In general I assume. I’m really not sure. I’ve never paid attention.”
Pulling away from the guardhouse, he points to the doppelganger group of girls and wryly says, “But they’re basically the reason I moved into a gated place.”
“Oh right. You don’t like fans.”
“I didn’t say that really. I do but in the right place at the right time. Sometimes they forget artists have personal lives too.” He stops as if contemplating what to say next. “Don’t get me wrong, I love the whole signing autographs thing and meeting new people after we perform. It’s the chaos I don’t really like.”
The screaming begins to fade as he looks in the rearview mirror. “Xander says it comes with the job, and they’re harmless.” Shaking his head he continues, “I’m sure they are, but they can be aggressive.”
Pondering that comment, his melancholy tone makes me think about his choice of residence. For some reason, I hadn’t pictured River living in one of the most famous Hollywood Hills neighborhoods. But driving through the quiet winds and turns of the paved roads, I get why he does. It not only provides privacy and security, but it’s also very quiet and secluded, just like the hotel he stayed at in Las Vegas. Like me, he must prefer the quiet and tranquil side of living. Funny, Ben loved the beach, but not the quiet of it like I did.
As River drives deeper into the community, I laugh to myself thinking buses probably stop out front as part of the ‘Homes of the Rich and Famous’ Tour. This is a neighborhood Ben would have referred to as the homes of the irresponsibly rich and ass-famous. Ever since he investigated Mark Hines, the famous football player who lived somewhere up in the Hills, he was irrationally biased toward any famous person from this part of LA. Ben had been the journalist on the team that investigated the money-laundering scheme derived from illegal betting. Mark was such a douche, as Ben put it, that he never confessed to his part in the ill deed but rather pushed the blame to his agent. Because of this, he was allowed to continue to play football. Ben felt Mark used his money and fame to hide his part in the scheme. He also felt it was because of his celebrity status that it worked.
Ben’s attitude may have stemmed from a mix of his love for football, the injustice itself, or maybe a little jealousy over the power Mark held; I was never certain. Either way, whenever I mentioned any well known person who lived in the Hills, his comment was always a derivative of that f*cktard this or that f*cktard that. He was never jealous of the amount of money a person had, this I knew because both of our families were financially secure. I think he was jealous of a celebrity’s status, being recognized just by name. Even though Ben never actually told me this, I know he had hoped to be a household name one day, like Anderson Cooper.
Ben and I didn’t live extravagant lifestyles like most Hollywood Hills residents appeared to live. We grew up on the beach where there were no facades. There was never pressure to ‘keep up with the Joneses’ so to say. We lived our lives easy and carefree for the most part; it was the way of life on the beach. As I look around, I have to remember—that is not my life anymore.
I should have an open mind about being in the city where River grew up, the place where he’s actually known as a musician. Maybe not known or recognized by undaunting fans yet, but I have no doubt he will be soon. I hadn’t thought of him like that, until now, but being here brings it all home and Ben’s words reverberate through my mind.
Noticing my distraction, River asks, “What? You don’t like it?”
His voice snaps me out of my thoughts, and I can’t help but laugh. “Of course I do, silly!” Then I say, “You just didn’t tell me you were one of the rich and famous.”
He chuckles and replies, “I told you, I got a great deal on this house.”
Grabbing my fingers, he continues. “The previous owners got divorced and just wanted to get rid of it. Xander is friends with the ex-husband, and he hooked me up.” He kisses my hand and sets it on his lap. “The view from my backyard is amazing, and that’s what sold me on the house the minute I saw it.”
Smiling hugely at him, I couldn’t help but think how much we really did have in common. “Funny, the first thing I do whenever I go anywhere is check out the view.” Then I couldn’t help but joke, “In fact, I think I checked out your view the first time I saw you.”
Laughing at me, he retorts, “Oh? You’re finally going to admit you were staring at me?”
“No, I didn’t say that. Don’t get carried away,” I quip as I pinch his leg.
Passing by acres of houses, all isolated on their own plains in the Hills, I briefly look out the window, but I can’t even see most of the front doors because the houses are so well hidden. I’m not really even that interested because my view inside the car is way more appealing right now.
“You don’t even want to start that kind of game,” River says, lifting up my hand and gesturing to where I just pinched him. Then he releases my hand and reaches over to tickle me.
I shift in my seat and start squealing. I’m very ticklish but don’t want him to know this, so I try to quickly subdue myself. Grabbing his hand, I attempt to move it away, but he’s relentless and continues his tickling assault. “You’re driving! Put both hands on the wheel. Please!” I yell out with tears of laughter streaming down my face.