“Then do your job and keep me safe.”
He might not realise it, but that’s already what I’m trying to do.We’re way too exposed.There are people on all sides, and as he won’t go back to the car, the only option is to push on towards the venue.Even once we reach the red carpet, I remain on alert.The ushers opening car doors for the celebrity arrivals, pause to allow Dylan his moment in the spotlight, before helping the next starlet have her turn.
The crowd around the entrance go wild at Dylan’s appearance.My ears ring with the cacophony of their voices.A million flashbulbs blind me to the dangers around us.It’s impossible for a single person to cover all angles in this situation, and I’ve no idea where the rest of the team are located.I don’t know if Johns is still in the queue of traffic or has managed to circle around to the parking lot.
Dylan basks in the sheer sensory craziness of it all.He shakes hands with several people, and kisses a ton more, guys, girls, and plenty I’m not prepared to guess definitely over.Every time he leans forward, my heart lurches up my throat.Every excited twitch, every grab for his person, has me reaching for the weapon I’m not carrying, expecting to see a knife or a gun.
Gotta love this country and its crazy strict firearms laws.
I take hold of his hand and link our fingers in order to pull him away.“Fine, you got your show time, but don’t play with your future just to piss me off.”
“The danger here is in your head, Kira.”He taps his index fingers either side of my temples.“It’s not real.It’s just a ploy.”
“Tell that to the rest of the security team, your agent, and the studio.”I could go on making my point, but I’d rather concentrate on getting him inside the building.That means stopping for a bank of gossip rag photo-journalists first.We pose and smile together.No mate, I’m not letting go of him.If they want shots of him alone, then they’ll have to edit me out.
The press ought to be the end of the drama, but no.Right by the doors we come face to face with the real crazies.I mean protestors.Two opposing sets of them, one side decked out in rainbows and glitter, the other pearl-clutching dragons.I know which side I’m more scared of, and it isn’t the sassy beasts on the left.I actually push Dylan towards them out of fear of some god-fearing Granny stoning him to death.Frankly, the curses hurled are frightening enough.
I thought I’d heard every insult under the sun, but apparently what matters aren’t so much the words as the delivery that gets under the skin.Where the hell do these people generate this much hatred from?I wish I could say insults were the only things being thrown.
Several missiles hurtle in our direction.
Glitter bombs are cast back.
Okay, enough, we’re done lingering.I pull him into the safety of the building.As we slip into the relative calm of the foyer, I’m aware of cleaners rushing outside to sweep the detritus from the red carpet.If only a similar amount of effort was put into quashing the barbaric acts of the protestors in the first place.
Inside, it’s stars and industry insiders only, which is not to say it’s any less dangerous.I went over the schematics of the building with Howard, so I’m familiar with the layout, but there are still way too many people around and far too many hiding places for me to be even vaguely at ease.
In any case, Dylan Drake and I are about to have words.He might not like this, but putting himself in danger for no goddamned reason at all is not a mistake I’m going to allow him to repeat.Recklessness of that sort is the type of shit that gets people killed, or injured.
That’s right when I notice the blood.
“Shit!Did you get hit?”
Dylan lifts his fingers to his cheek, and they come away wet and bloody.
“It’s just a scratch.”
“We need to go somewhere I can take a proper look at that.”
He shrugs off the grip I have on his hand.“I said it’s just a scratch.”He produces a snowy white handkerchief from a pocket and presses it to the wound.His jaw locks, and a defiant light burns in the depths of his pupils.
“What possessed you to do that anyway?It was stupid.You put yourself at risk.”
“The danger is in your head, Kira.This,” He tilts his head to indicate he means the scratch, “would have happened regardless.I don’t hide what I am.I stand up and fight for the rights that should be automatic for everyone.”
“They,” I glance back towards the door, “are maniacs.You need protecting from them.”
“Yeah, but they’re not why you’re tailing me tonight.No, you’re here to make sure I’m a good boy, that I keep my tongue to myself and don’t go creating any upset.”
“I’m here to make sure you don’t get stabbed, shot, or otherwise injured.”I reach up to pull the cloth away from his cheek to survey the damage.He flinches when my fingertips make contact with his skin.“I’m here to protect you, and I happen to take that responsibility seriously.”Our gazes meet, anger and something I can’t read continue to darken his eyes.“Dylan, what’s to say the person issuing death threats doesn’t have a political agenda?”
“Oh,” he drawls.“They’ve an agenda all right, just not the one you’re imagining.This is not about activism.It’s about capitalism.It’s a bunch of suits brewing a storm in a teacup to maximise profits, and the only thing disturbing about it, is your utter failure to recognise that.”He turns on his heels before I have a chance to respond and stalks off through the huddles of people.
“Wait, where are you going?”
He doesn’t reply.Doesn’t even glance backwards, thus leaving me with no other choice than to scuttle along in his wake.
It’s going to be a long-ass night, which not even a view of his truly delectable rear is going to compensate for.
