Public Secrets Part 22

"He wanted to come, but I had to veto it." He took Bev's carry-on bag,

then her arm. "The lads can't even open a window for a breath of air

without causing ma.s.s hysteria."

"And you love it."

He grinned, steering her toward the exit of the terminal. "Optimist

that I am, I never expected this. Brian's going to be a very rich man,

Bev. We're all going to be rich."

"Money doesn't come first with Bri."

"No, but I can't see him kicking it out of his way as it comes pouring

in. Come on, I've got a car waiting."

She shifted Emma, but the girl only moaned and hung limply in Bev's

arms. "The bags."

"They'll be delivered to the hotel." He shuffled her out of the

terminal. "There are plenty of pictures of you in the fan mags, too."

It was a white Mercedes limo, as big as a boat. At Bev's puzzled look,

Pete grinned again.

"As long as you're married to a king, luy, you might as well travel in

style."

Saying nothing, Bev settled back and lit a cigarette. She hoped it was

the long, miserable flight that made her feel so out of place and

hollow. Between her and Pete, Emma curled on the seat and sweatily

slept through her first limo ride.

Pete didn't pause in the lobby at the Waldorf but rushed them through

and onto an elevator. He wasn't sure if he was relieved or disappointed

that their luck had held. A mob scene at the airport or on the street

in front of the hotel would have been inconvenient, but it would have

made great copy. And copy sold records.

"I've got you a two-bedroom suite." The extra expense bothered his

practical soul, but he justified it by knowing that Bev's presence would

make Brian more cooperative, and more creative. And it wouldn't hurt

for the press to know that Brian's family was traveling with him. If he

couldn't promote Brian as a s.e.xy single man, he could promote him as a

loving husband and father. Whatever worked.

"We're all on the same floor," he went on. "And security's very tight.

In Washington, D.C., two teenage girls managed to get into Stevie's room

in a maid's cart."

"Sounds like a laugh a minute."

He only shrugged, remembering that Stevie had been drunk enough to

appreciate the girls' offers. The guitarist had rationalized that two

sixteen-year-olds equaled one thirty-two-year-old. That had made them

into one older woman.

"The lads have some interviews scheduled today, then the Sullivan show

tomorrow."

"Brian didn't say where we were going next."

"Philadelphia, then Detroit, Chicago, St. Louis-"

"Never mind." Bev heaved a long, grateful sigh as the elevator doors

opened. The h.e.l.l with where they were going. She was here now. It

didn't matter a d.a.m.n that she was enormously tired or that her

arms ached from carrying the sleeping Emma. She was here, and could all

but feel Brian's energy in the air.