Unmaking Hunter Kennedy Read Online Free PDF Page B

something real—something that would allow Hunter a chance to break in and plead with her not to go through with this.
    The driver opened the door, distracting them both.
    “Don’t blow it, Hunter.” Her unrelenting voice turned icier as she went on, “You have no idea how important this is.” She stepped out slowly, acting as though this were some sort of red carpet event.
    Hunter followed her lead but couldn’t resist one more dig. “Important? Do you mean important to your bank account?”
    She responded so quietly over her shoulder he almost couldn’t hear, “This plan is about you. About me making things right. Just follow along. And for once in your life, please stay quiet. Behave. You don’t believe in me, but I do know what’s best.”
    “Isn’t it a little late for you to run for Mother of the Year ?” he muttered.
    “Yes. Yes it is.” She froze and looked back, catching and holding his gaze.
    Shit. She’s visibly shaking.
    Shaking a lot!
    Shouldn’t I be the one shaking right now?
    “Have a good trip. Please try to stick with the plan. No matter how hard it seems.” Her voice broke. “ Please. ”
    He raised his eyebrows as she stalked away.
    WTF? Had his mom just agreed with him?
    Had she been crying?
    Before he could process more, part of Hunter’s entourage — his publicist, manager and three hulking bodyguards he didn’t recognize — emerged from another waiting limo and moved in around him.
    “Hunter!” His agent’s voice shot up from a crowd ahead while his mom’s back was swallowed in the crowd. “Hunter! This way! ”
    Martin, along with his band-mates, Royce and Adam, had been trapped against the windows by a throng of reporters near the entrance. They were wedged in, but safely surrounded by their own bodyguards.
    Martin jumped up and down, waving his arms. “ Hunter Kennedy. We’re over here!”
    Hunter recoiled slightly before he caught himself.
    His pulse increased as the crowd’s excited energy, plus the eyes and cameras of the greedy press mob, pushed toward him. His closed limo door blocked any retreat.
    It took only seconds for Hunter to be engulfed in flashes and the pressing mass of paparazzi. Some he recognized behind their giant lenses and some he didn’t.
    He froze and squared his shoulders, hiding another flare of panic. Martin knew Hunter hated to be mobbed, yet it never stopped the guy from flagging the press onto him.
    Hunter forced his expression into one of practiced, cool nonchalance.
    Follow along and behave.
    And of course, remember to breathe.
    “ Hunter! Hunter Kennedy! Hunter! This way. Turn this way,” a man shouted. “ Hunter! ”
    Another voice, this time a woman’s, called out from the clicking, shoving press-mob. “When did you return from Paris? How long were you there?”
    Hunter smiled his biggest grin. At least these bastards still didn’t seem to have a clue as to where he’d really been.
    A plus.
    He busied himself with his silver pack as though he hadn’t heard any one question.
    “Is that outfit one of the new HK Originals? ”
    Hunter knew that was safe to answer. “Yeah. Check the new shoes.”
    The photographers immediately aimed their cameras down and took shots of the matching freak-shows as though they were rare art objects.
    “ Hunter, Hunter , turn around. Just one shot, this way. Here! Here! Hunter! ” Hunter turned, posed, smiled and turned back.
    “Guys!” Martin shouted again. His louder-than-life, New York accent carried over the crowd. “Let him pass through to the rest of the band so we can get inside. We’ll give you all a chance at some good shots and maybe a meet-and-greet before we go through security.”
    The photographers parted, and Hunter headed toward Martin, Royce and Adam. They both sported similar, ridiculous, white outfits with silver accessories.
    They looked tense, tired. And as sparkly-stupid as he did. As they made their way inside, Hunter tried to loosen them up. “Nice wardrobe,