Two Punks In Love

Locked Out Of Heaven

Kat Two Weeks Later

"Home Sweet Home," Colin says, for the third time, since we've been back in the US. He dumps a couple of bags unceremoniously in the foyer of his parents unused home in the North Atlanta Suburbs, and immediately turns to the chirping security system.

I haven't been in this house in eight years, but despite the new paint colors and updated decor, it's still familiar. Back then, it was always filled with the scents of baking, underlaid by the perpetual sound of some kind of sport on TV. On the weekends, the place could get quite rowdy, if Colin's older siblings were home visiting. With Colin's parents in Europe visiting his sister, the house is strangely still—and extremely warm. I imagine they've turned the AC off, because, in fact it's hot as hell, but I am nonetheless relieved to be here.

Our return to LA was a disaster. The Trashlynn wedding video chummed the water, and now it's a feeding frenzy on all things Soundcrush, but especially TrashKat, as they are calling us. Or were calling us, until Colin and I were spotted together and the paps dug up the story that we used to date. We have our own ship name now—KatCol, which is equally clever I suppose, because it sounds like cat call, which is the pretty much what the paparazzi sound like as they screech for our attention.

A few anonymous sources—probably A list wedding guests that were pissed they went to a wedding that didn't happen—confirmed that TrayKat's wedding was canceled at the last minute—so the tabloids have accurately reported that I dumped Trace for Colin. Adding in the element that Colin recently lost his very famous fiancée, and the story is just too salacious to resist, from any angle. The press of paparazzi around me is worse than it's ever been. We weren't dumb enough to return to either of our residences when we made it back to LA, and we traveled through the VIP airport terminal which is pap-free, but within hours of checking into a hotel suite, they found us. We moved hotels the next day; they found us again.

They don't have the news that Colin and I are married yet. And unbelievably, the news of pregnancy hasn't been outed yet, either. At 16 weeks, I feel like I've been pregnant forever. I can certainly tell I have a baby bump, but since I've the only shots paps have successully captured of me since my return from Italy usually involve loose, dark clothing and a crowd of security guys packed around me, no one has figured it out yet. They will, very soon, because they won't leave us alone.

Colin is completely unused to the frenzy, and I admit, even I was a little overwhelmed. After two days of hiding out and ordering room service, I realized my new found serenity is in danger of swinging from depression to full-blown anxiety, so I broke down and called Riley. I admitted that we needed help. Within half an hour, Trace texted me, urging me to go to the band house in Atlanta, because it's in a gated community and over the years, our security has integrated into the neighborhood security. He told me I could consider the house mine and mine alone for as long as I needed it to be, and Riley and the PA we keep there would take care of anything I needed.

I couldn't go there. Not with Colin. But once the idea of Atlanta was broached, it sounded like a better idea than LA. So we came here, to his parents' house, which is also in a gated community in North Atlanta, just a few miles away the Ballard/Soundcrush neighborhood. It's an even better idea to be here than the band house, because no knows where Colin's parents live and because it's the same neighborhood where Bodie's mom and step-dad reside.

Varrick Von still has a silent partnership in the security firm that Soundcrush uses. Plus, he's basically James Bond. If anyone can guard our privacy, he can.

He's outside now, assessing the property with a security detail, looking for vantage points from which paparazzi can hide and shoot, if somehow they were to manage to slip into the community, which wouldn't be impossible, but is certainly less likely, with Varrick on the job.