Page 5 of Love is a Harmony
Noah stared at the door long after she left. Jerald. He hadn’t heard from him in months, and important news didn’t feel like good news. He checked his notifications on his phone, and sure enough, he had seven missed calls from the day before.
Jerald must have been desperate if he called the house line.
Foreboding wound through Noah. He couldn’t shake the feeling that if he returned the call, nothing in his life would ever be the same.
Yet, he didn’t have a choice. If Jerald needed to tell him something, it meant Noah needed to hear it.
His thumb hovered over the name before pressing down and bringing the phone to his ear. Jerald’s rough smoker’s voice answered on the second ring. “About time you called me back.”
“I’ve been busy.” He tried to quell his shaking voice. Jerald wasn’t an imposing man, but the task Noah asked of him was.
Find Carson. Discover once and for all where Noah’s brother had gone.
Jerald was a private investigator who’d worked for Noah for going on three years now with no results.
“All right, Mr. Clarke, I have some news for you, and it’s not easy to say.”
“Just spit it out.”
Jerald sighed. “Yes, I’m getting there. The trail for your brother has been cold for so long, I’ve just been acting like I’m still searching, so you’ll continue paying me.”
“I was aware. Go on.”
“I’ve made a little noise looking for the man, and today, I was contacted by another PI who was looking for a way to get in touch with you without alerting that big fancy family of yours. You ain’t so easy to get on the phone these days.”
Of course not. One of the prices of fame. People always knew where he was, but they couldn’t get to him. “And what did this PI want with me?”
“He works for a solicitor over in France. I believe they call them advocates. This solicitor says he’s got something for you from your brother.”
Noah sat up straighter. “Carson is in France?”
Jerald was quiet for a long moment. “No, Noah. Your brother is dead.”
2
Melanie
Melanie Snyder didn’t take crap from anyone. She spent her career dealing with difficult rock stars—some were worse than others. And the hardest of them all sat in front of her saying he wanted a bigger tour.
“Blake.” Melanie rubbed her temples. “This isn’t exactly a discussion for your publicist.”
Blake’s face reddened, and he slapped a sheet of paper on her desk. “Do you see this? Not a single arena.”
Melanie scanned the paper. “These are some great concert venues.”
Blake snorted. “Sure. If you’re a nobody like Noah Clarke.”
Irritation spiked through Melanie. Noah played stadiums because he could fill stadiums, especially when teaming up with other stars. He was far from a nobody. But Blake didn’t do multiple-headliner tours. And he didn’t fill arenas.
“Are you insinuating Noah is somehow inferior to you?”
Blake leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, not saying a word. If Melanie didn’t want to throat punch him every time she saw him before, she would now. Blake Coleman was her least favorite client, something she wasn’t allowed to admit. Not only was he combative and egotistical, but he’d gotten Jo Jackson pregnant and then completely abandoned her.
Not like Jo would accept anything from him anyway.
Melanie pinched the bridge of her nose, wishing she could be anywhere else. This job exhausted her. Between dealing with Blake’s ego and Noah’s antics, she’d had enough of this week.
A picture of Noah and British model Ava Sinclair now circulated across the internet, generating millions of likes. Noah messed up, and the people loved him for it.
