Page 32 of Cougar

“We’re here.”

Gathering my wits and my oversized bag from the floor, I make my way to the exit, thanking the pilot before stepping off the plane.

When I told Jay we were moving to Heritage Bay, she was reluctant at first, just like I knew she would be. But once she realized she was getting the chance to be a normal teenager, she embraced the idea of going to school and making new friends.

Max pulls me into a hug. “Welcome home, Emerson.” It’s on the tip of my tongue to argue that Heritage Bay isn’t my home, but I know how much it means to my family to have us here, and Max looks genuinely excited.

Alex walks over and throws his arms around me.

“Hey, stranger,” I chirp. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too,” he replies. “I’m so glad you guys are finally here. The building is finished and it looks amazing.” He can barely contain his excitement. “I can’t wait for Monday.”

I just hope Jay is as excited about this as he is.

After our luggage is loaded up in the two SUVs, Bass slips behind the wheel of the new Denali he ordered weeks ago. Jay hops into the passenger seat, and Grace and I climb into the back.

* * *

Bass exits the highway, cuts through downtown Heritage, and over the short two-lane drawbridge to the island of Heritage Bay, home to some of the wealthiest families, from athletes to politicians.

I was here briefly a couple of years ago after Willow was born, but I never bothered to notice how much the island had changed. Probably because my anxiety of being back here was off the charts and I knew we wouldn’t be staying. The brick-paved roads are now lined with newly built townhomes, boutiques, markets, bistros, and coffee shops with apartments above them.

My grandfather owned a lot of property on this island many, many years ago before he died and left it to my mother, who then sold a lot of it to commercial and residential builders.

Bass passes the Heritage Bay Golf Club and Beach Resort, Heritage Bay Athletic Club and Spa, and the Heritage Bay Hotel. And of course, the Heritage Bay Medical Center, founded by my father, who is still on the board.

We pass a few neighborhoods, some old and some new but all gated, before we finally stop beside a guardhouse situated in front of a pair of wrought iron gates with “Heritage Lake Estates” scrolled across the front in a gold font.

Two men dressed in black cargo pants, black T-shirts with “Security” written in bright yellow stretched across their muscular torsos, and combat boots step outside the door of the small guardhouse. Bass jerks his chin before he climbs out of the car and follows them back inside the guardhouse. The security is extremely tight on the island, this neighborhood especially.

“Well, hellooooo, Joes,” Jay jokes, and I can’t help but laugh.

“Take it easy there, tiger,” I say, shaking my head as Grace chuckles beside me.

A few moments later, Bass comes out of the guardhouse and climbs back behind the wheel. The gate opens and the guards wave us through.

“Is this a neighborhood or a military base?” Jay asks, grinning.

I catch Bass smiling in the rearview mirror before he tells her, “The security company is owned and operated by former military. Some of the guards are active in the reserves. You’ll be safer here than on any base.”

She tilts her head to ponder his admission. “Good to know, but I’m still just the daughter of a totally awesome rock star, not the President.” She twists around in the front seat. “Is my life in danger or something? Why all the security?”

I shoot her a “don’t be ridiculous” look. “This was all your father’s doing. Your safety and protectionwasand stillisalways a priority. And no, your life isn’t in danger, but I have been getting emails and phone calls ever since the magazine came out.”

Jay had finally sat down with Miles Townsend and given her interview. While the interview went quite well, it was the cover that I wasn’t happy with.Rhythm & Riffsalways features the faces of the new artists on the cover. Since we’re keeping Jay’s anonymity for as long as possible, I asked Miles to switch it up and do something cartoonish. Considering her age, Miles thought it was a great idea. However, the cover came out a little sexier than I was happy with, and because there was no time to replace the image, they ran with it. Since then, I’ve been getting emails and phone calls nonstop from media outlets to fashion designers and even a few PAs to some very high-profile celebrities wanting to spend time with Jay. My response?“I’m her mother, not her pimp, and she’s only seventeen. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

“No threats or anything,” I continue, “but still, you can never be too careful. Your fan base is building, and sometimes fans can be a little overzealous. You’re much safer here on this island than you’ll ever be in LA. I can promise you that.”

“But no one knows who I am.”

And I’m hoping it stays that way, at least until she graduates.

“No, but they will eventually. For now, we live our lives the way everyone else does. There are a lot of important people who live on this island. Famous people. The residents here respect each other’s privacy, but like I said, there are still the overzealous fans and shit-stirrers with their cell phones ready. Conduct yourself in public the way I taught you, as if there’s a camera on you at all times. Don’t give anyone anything worth selling down the road. But for now, you don’t have to worry about the paparazzi popping out of the bushes. If you leave the island, Bass goes with you. Be polite. Be kind. Be you.”

She nods in understanding and turns her head to stare out the passenger window. Grace reaches over to squeeze my hand, and Bass shoots me a wink in the rearview.

The SUV rolls to a stop in front of another set of tall black wrought-iron gates and rolls down the window before tapping the code into the call box. The gate swings open, and he continues up the driveway.

---