“She’s gotta point, dude,” Sam stated.
I sighed. “Thank you for the kind offers, but I’m not staying with anyone. Talia’s got another proposal, one that affects all of us.”
Every eye turned expectantly to our manager.
“After the success of the first album and your growing popularity, the record company and I think it’s time to hire personal security,” she stated.
“Bodyguards?” Jonny cursed under his breath and rolled his eyes.
Sam laughed.
Boomer’s lips thinned.
“What did you expect?” Talia went on. “You’re an award-winning band with a critically acclaimed album under your belt. The buzz around the new tracks is crazy, and you’re adored by millions. It was only a matter of time until we had to look ino protection. Regardless of whether this happened to Saint or not, it’s something we would’ve had to think about eventually anyway. You’re followed by paparazzi everywhere you go, and things have gotten dicey for all of you at some point with over-enthused fans.”
“Okay, so hire them,” Boomer acquiesced. “Just make sure we get the ones from Proximity. Those guys are cool.”
“We’ve already approached them,” Talia confirmed. “They can do it, but they’re booked up for the next three months. How do you feel about hiring the boys from Covershield while we wait for Proximity to start their contract?”
“Those dudes are uptight,” Jonny pointed out. “Plus, one of ‘em tried to get up close and personal with Saint last time we used ‘em. It took all three of us to get him outta her house, and even then, Sam ended up with a black eye.”
Tally held her hands up defensively. “I know, I know.”
“He belonged on a fucking psych ward,” Boomer continued. “They obviously don’t vet their guys that well. I say we useNoah Hart’s dudes. The time we used ‘em, one of their boys saved Saint from that handsy fan at the Festival of Rock.”
“SDSS?” Tally’s eyes slid to me, and she murmured, “They’re pretty new to the game.”
I could’ve kissed her for trying to make excuses to put me at ease, but there was no need. Years had passed, and I was over what Jacob did. Personal feelings didn’t come into it anyway. I wanted my boys to be comfortable with the guys we used because having twenty-four-hour security was a big deal, and we needed to gel with them because they’d be around us constantly. Anyway, what were the chances of Jacob being part of the team they sent? Their club was big and these days, even took on government jobs (yes I had looked them up). Jacob was an officer. I doubted they could spare him for three months to run around after a rock band.
I sat back and sighed resignedly.
God, I hated this. It was almost embarrassing. All this fuss about something that wasn’t even likely to happen. Whoever was sending the weird stuff to me had stayed in the shadows for months, and like most cowards, they wouldn’t come out to hold their head above the parapet because that would mean they’d have to own up to their bullshit.
“I vote we go for SDSS,” Sam announced.
“Ditto,” Boomer agreed.
“Anyone’s better than those uptight Covershield assholes,” Jonny murmured.
I filled my lungs with air, trying to center my nerves before declaring, “I’ll go with the majority. We’re only having to do this because of me, so I want you guys to feel as comfortable as possible.”
Nothing was likely to happen; I mean, we were hardly the Beatles circa nineteen-sixty-five, but the gifts were getting weird. I’d almost had a fucking aneurysm when I opened my frontdoor to be confronted with a huge bouquet of flowers alongside a diamond-encrusted butt plug.
“Still. I’m sure there’s nothing to stress about, right?” I said brightly in an attempt to buy my own line. “It’s probably just a harmless freak with too much free time on their hands.”
Boomer eyed the photographs and grunted.
“I wouldn’t mind takin’ that butt plug off your hands.” Sam grinned, waggling his eyebrows.
Everybody groaned.
“What?” he demanded. “Got Jolie Fontaine coming for dinner later.”
Boomer’s head reared back. “The supermodel?”
“Yeah, the supermodel,” Sam replied sarcastically. “You know any other women called Jolie Fontaine?”
“Alright, smartass,” Boomer retorted. “It’s just weird that you walk into rehearsals and announce you're having dinner with one of the most desirable and beautiful women in the world as if it’s nothing. When the fuck did you meet her?”
