He slid his arm across my shoulders and guided me out of the soundproofed studio. “Best go see what she wants then.”
My eyes strayed up to Sam’s face, and I caught him studying me thoughtfully.
He looked like your typical Cali blond boy next door, though, in reality, he was as far removed from the boy next door as you could get.
Sam was a nepo baby, though we didn’t know that when we hired him to be our bassist. He got the gig through pure talent, even though his dad was a guitar hero from the seventies who now lived on his private estate with his twenty-two-year-old fourth wife.
Incidentally, Samwassomeone I’d gone there with just once.
A couple of years ago, I’d had a crisis of confidence and decided to drink it out of my system. Sam joined me, and we ended up in bed together. There was a window of time when things were awkward between us because he wanted more than I could give. He was a nice guy, but I didn’t want to shit where I ate. Luckily, we’d gotten over our awkwardness and were friends again now.
Talia sat on one of the couches and leaned over the huge coffee table, where she was setting out various glossy photographs.
My heart sank because I’d seen them before, many times. It wasn’t that I’d meant to hide shit from the boys. It was more that I didn’t take it too seriously. Weird fans came with the territory, as did dirty online trolls and anonymous abuse from cowardly, envious little individuals who were so heartsick with self-hate that they projected it onto us. I was the only female in the band, and although I’d seen other women in the entertainment industry get it worse than I did, I still got trolled relentlessly.
Was it right? No, of course not, but it was part of the job, and I refused to let a faceless coward who only had the balls to spout their boring drivel under a fake name and profile picture affect me.
I didn’t concern myself with critical reviews, and I didn’t seek out other people’s opinions. I just did whatI loved. Whoever wanted to come on board for the ride was welcome; the rest could eat shit for all I cared because, really, what the fuck did I have to feel bad about? My successful career?
Yeah… No.
I’d learned many years before that the only person in life I needed to please was myself. If I didn’t give the first shit about what my morally demanding God-fearing father thought about me, then why the hell would I be bothered about what a complete stranger said?
Except one stranger in particular was beginning to make Talia nervous, and the thing about our manager was that she had balls of steel. She’d come from humble beginnings to make it to the top of her game in a world ruled by men. There wasn’t much that fazed her, so if Tally got nervous, I tended to get nervous too.
Hence the meeting.
Talia looked up at us as we took our seats and sat straight. “Three months ago, Saint started getting letters from a fan.” She waved her hand nonchalantly. “I know, I know, pretty run-of-the-mill stuff, which is why nobody questioned it. At first, they were sent to the PMB, and the fan club department dealt with them, but six weeks ago, they began to arrive at Saint’s house along with flowers and those weird assed gifts.” She nodded down at the photographs she’d laid out on the table.
Boomer glanced at the photographs and did a double-take. “Is that a butt plug?”
Talia stiffed. “That one was delivered to Saint’s house four days ago, along with a fan letter explaining in detail exactly how they were going to use it on her.”
Boomer’s entire body locked, and he bit out, “What the fuck?”
“Yeah,” Talia replied, her mouth going tight. “There’s a new state-of-the-art security system goinginto Saint’s house as we speak. The problem is that the stretch of beach she lives on isn’t private. Also, whoever’s sending them has got resources. The diamonds on that butt plug are real.”
Boom let out a low whistle, and then his face turned toward me. “You’ve gotta move house. Now!”
I laughed. “I’m not moving. It took me months to find my beach house. I’m not giving it up for some lunatic who doesn’t understand the concept of boundaries.”
“It’ll just be for a couple of months until we find out who’s doing this,” he urged. “Rent an apartment or something where there’s a doorman and better security.”
“It’s already been suggested,” Talia interjected. “The record company has a couple of places they have for visiting VIPs that Saint could use, so we’re going over all the options.”
“Stay with me,” Boomer offered.
“Or me,” Sam suggested with a casual wave of his hand. “Though I don’t think you’ve got anything to worry about. It’s probably just some sad, googly-eyed, ugly little motherfucker, who still lives with mother and is angry about their lonely, pathetic life. These weirdo stalkers usually are.”
I let out a snort.
“Well, you’re not staying with me,” Jonny J muttered. “You whine too much.”
“I don’t whine,” I argued, my tone affronted.
“You’re like my second mom,” he pointed out. “Every time I light a joint, you nag.”
“Hello. Newsflash. It’s because I care,” I said sarcastically. “I don’t want you to fall into the sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll fame trap and lose everything like we’ve seen so many fucking times before.”
