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Ransom Reed, playboy rocker, refuses comment when asked about a tragic accident involving his publicist, Heidi DuCane. Rumors indicate that the two were romantically involved, however, sources deny the claims, calling them “outlandish” and “despicable.”
Justice Drake, client of Heidi DuCane, released a rare statement about his colleague and friend, saying the accident was a “truly horrific event” involving “a loving, devoted wife and confidante who would do anything for her husband and friends. And it is truly heartbreaking what has happened.” Justice’s girlfriend, and speculated soon-to-be fiancé, has organized a prayer vigil in honor of the DuCane family. Heidi’s husband, Tucker, is asking for prayers and privacy during this time.
Rock star Ransom Reed has reportedly checked into a rehab facility upon the wake of the brutal accident involving his publicist. While he is not known to have been involved, sources close to the band have reported that he is “not handling it well.” His camp has requested support from fans and press during this sensitive time.
The much-anticipated Hostage World Tour featuring bands Ransom, Fall Out Boy, and Panic! at the Disco has been postponed due to the recent events leading to Ransom Reed’s rehabilitation stay. While there is still no known history of substance abuse, rumors swirl around the lead singer’s involvement in a serious car accident just months ago.
Fans rally together in support of Ransom Reed’s continued recovery. After his release last week, he was in good health and good spirits. “Mental illness is not weakness,” the twenty-five-year-old stated at his recent birthday party, where he shared smiles with bandmates and close friends. “Being able to confront your demons, and seek help for them . . . that is the true example of strength.”
Tour dates for the Hostage World Tour have officially been a
HBO will be documenting the upcoming Hostage World Tour, giving fans a behind-the-scenes look at the band Ransom. The tour will end with a show in London that will also be aired as part of a special on the premium cable network.
In an exclusive, two-hour interview with Katie Couric, Ransom Reed spoke candidly about his experience with mental illness and substance abuse. When asked about the accident involving his then publicist, Heidi DuCane, which sparked his decision to seek help, he said that he “regret(s) what happened that day. It’s something that will stay with me for the rest of my life. And if I could go back and do it all again, I would have done anything . . . anything to save her.”
Chapter Thirty-two
You ever think about what people will say about you once you’re gone? Of course, at your funeral, it’s pretty much a given that they’ll say nice things. They’d have to. Standing in front of your closest friends, family, and colleagues to reiterate just what a cheating, lying whore you were would be entirely too awkward.
I had wondered what Tucker would say in my eulogy. Would he miss me? Were his last memories of us together fond? Did he still love me right up to the end? Or would he have realized that me getting hit by a car was the best thing that had ever happened to him?
He’d have a fresh start, a second shot at life. Maybe a chance to pursue his passion. After what we’d gone through and what he’d done—committing a dozen different shades of malpractice—he’d get to retire early and focus his talents on something new. Maybe take the life insurance money and invest in a little record store uptown or something. He’d also get another shot at love with someone who didn’t work tirelessly long hours and shared his love of chicken enchiladas. Someone he could seek out quaint, little vintage shops with and spend Sundays in pajamas, listening to jazz and eating pancakes. Someone who loved and desired him just as he was.
I wouldn’t be surprised if he moved on quickly after my passing. Tucker is a catch. He’s gorgeous, obviously, with a body that hasn’t yet been cursed by time. He’s affectionate, compassionate, a great listener, and a passionate kisser. He cares for people deeply, maybe more than he should. And he always puts the needs of others over his own.
My husband is a good man—the best man. And any woman would be lucky to call him hers.
And I am.
Lying on your back 24/7 for six weeks straight will provide you with plenty of time to think. Actually, that’s all I had for several days. Just my thoughts. I didn’t have use of my limbs until the swelling on my spine had subsided enough so they could operate, and even then, both arms and both legs were broken. And my jaw had to be wired shut after doctors fused the bones back together with the help of a metal plate and screws. My eyes were so badly bruised from twin shattered eye sockets, so even seeing was problematic. Actually the only thing that I hadn’t broken on my face was my nose. Go figure. So at least I could breathe, even though it hurt like a bitch with broken ribs.
I was a hot mess. Truly. When they showed me pictures of what I looked like when paramedics scraped me off the road, I cried. No one was supposed to survive that type of carnage, yet somehow, I had. I thought my fate would parallel Sebastian’s of Cruel Intentions. I thought I would leave my loved ones with only my memory, and the urge to rip one another apart once the truth had come to light. But no dice. I lived. And I’m not sure who was more disturbed by that revelation—them or me.
I certainly wasn’t surprised that Tucker was right there beside me when I had awoken three days later. I wasn’t even shocked by how glad I was that he had been there for me—unmovable, unshakable. He slept at the hospital in an uncomfortable little chair that barely reclined. He ate gross hospital food when he ate at all. And he washed up in the sink of my hospital bathroom. Justice brought him clean clothes, and Ally made sure he got some nourishment. She was a wreck. That surprised me too. I never knew she cared about me that much. I never knew any of them did.
However, the thing that stu
Oh, the irony.
I later learned that he had entered rehab a couple weeks after my accident. Something about “mental distress” and “exhaustion.” Fucking famous people. Who the hell goes to rehab for exhaustion? It’s called a nap. If you’re tired, go the fuck to sleep.