The pap tries to make conversation,but I don’t listen. Just say, “Yeah, yeah, yeah, man,” as Bryce and I make ourway to the exit the rink.
A silence stretches between us,one where I know we’re both thinking the same thing. That this is such a shittyway for things to happen. That I would have preferred if we could have had aquiet night like anyone else. Where we didn’t have to deal with this stupidcelebrity bullshit.
We head to the bar, where we ordersome hot chocolate. He’s quiet as we sip our drinks.
It’s a shame our date has beenspoiled by something so stupid.
“I’m sorry,” I finally manage tosay.
He looks at me, surprised.
“I guess I just foolishly thought thatwe could have a moment where I didn’t have to worry about all this bullshit.”
“You never really have momentslike that,” he says in a bitter tone. “This was your dream, right?”
“It was. But you don’t reallythink it’s going to be all this when you get here. When you’re a kid, you thinkfame just means everyone likes you. Not a bad idea. Until you learn fame isn’tabout people loving you. It’s about people loving to hate you. And standing inthe way every time you think you might actually find someone who can…”
I stop myself, because it’s toosoon for that sort of confession. But I see in his eyes something that doesn’tlook like a rejection of what I was about to say, and it gives me hope.
Maybe this night wasn’t ruinedafter all.
“It’s not an easy life toacclimate to,” he says.
“No, I understand that.”
“But Tad, I’ve learned that therereally is no life that’s easy to acclimate to. And no matter how hard we try tomake life easy, it never really works out like that.”
Fifty-Eight
Bryce
It was a wonderful night, but it’s too bad all Tad can thinkabout is how that photographer ruined it.
We walk down the street, towardthe car, Terry and Jamison following a few yards behind us. I wish I could wrapmy arm around Tad, but considering there aren’t any cameras around, I know thatwould just rouse Terry’s and Jamison’s suspicions. As we keep a reasonabledistance between us to give the illusion we aren’t interested in each other, Iwonder how I’ll break this to Roeder when we finally have to reveal the truth.
We approach the black SUV wearrived in, and I open the back door for Tad.
Two people in ski masks sit in theback seat, both aiming pistols at me.
I check for the driver in myperiphery. He lies against the steering wheel, clumps of black hair encircling ahole in the back of his head, bound together by blood that looks like black tarin the glistening orange light from a nearby streetlamp.
I hold my hand behind me,signaling Tad to stay back.
I assume they’re going to shootme, but they don’t. I can’t imagine why, considering they weren’t hesitant toshoot our driver.
“Say something to your friends to keepthem from coming over here,” the one closest to me says. It’s clear by the deepvoice and the stubble that encircles the part of the mouth that’s exposed in themask that it’s a man.
I turn and call out to Jamison andTerry, “Hey, guys. We’ll just meet you back at the hotel.”
I look directly in Jamison’s eyesand make a couple sharp blinks. She nods subtly, assuring me she’s understoodmy signal. She redirects her and Terry’s path.
“Night, boys,” Terry calls out asthey head off.
“Get in,” the man says.
“Tad, back here with us,” says theother masked villain. The voice, despite being deep, is clearly a woman’s.
If we do as they say, we’re reallyfucked.
