I nod. “That’s right. Fifth and Pine.”
“You got it.” He gives me a wink, and I grin. I dig out my phone and dial my boss to let him know the job is done.
“All clear?” Cassian Rhodes’s voice is curt but professional, as always. He’s a busy man, and this is serious work. People’s lives are on the line.
“All clear. The Harrises are settled back at home.”
“Good. We have an urgent personal-security situation.”
My heart sinks. My ex-bandmate Garrett’s in town visiting family. I was hoping to spend some time with him this week, but work comes first.
“What’s the assignment?”
“Can’t disclose. We’re still working to verify it’s legit.”
Hmm.
We deal with sensitive situations regularly at Heartline Security Group, and Cass knows he can trust me. He doesn’t normally keep details under wraps. Must be a high-powered client.
“Understood.”
“Meet me at headquarters. Eight a.m. sharp,” he barks.
“Yes, sir.” I hang up.
Teddy tunes the radio to an older pop station, then cranks up the volume. Britney Spears is belting out “Baby One More Time,” and Teddy sings along, making me smile. His pitch is spot-on.
The moon is reflecting on the river as we drive along the winding road, and my muscles start to relax.
I’m always tense at the end of a job. I have to be constantly vigilant. With this last one, it wasn’t clear if there was a serious threat, but you never know.
“Did you hear about that?” Teddy glances over.
“About what?” I’m just noticing the song’s over, and the DJ is rambling about paparazzi.
“The Harper Slade scandal. Can you believe it?”
I shrug. “I don’t follow celebrities.” That’s an understatement. I stay as far away from that scene as possible. Growing up the child of a pop-punk legend who’s a grade A asshole will do that to a person.
“You know how Harper Slade and Johnny Sayers have been together for months?”
I shake my head. “Nope.” I don’t fill my head with drivel about tabloid darlings like that.
“Well, they were. At least theypretendedthey were. There were tons of pictures of them on fancy dates—Disney World even closed for the day so they could be there together. Everyone thought they were the perfect couple.”
“Mmm.” I nod politely.
People love to follow celebrities’ lives. If they only knew all the bat-shit crazy things going on in that world. The big-name stars are all narcissists, just like my dad. Obsessed with their own fame. They don’t care about anybody but themselves.
“Well. It turns out the entire thing was a sham! They were never really dating. Johnny’s been seeing one of his athletic trainers this whole time, and there are dozens of pictures to prove it.”
“Ahh, gotcha.”
He glances over at me, his eyes wide. “No, you don’t understand. This ishuge! The whole thing with Harper was fake.”
I nod. “I don’t doubt it.” It’s par for the course. I know from my own stint in show business that everything they do is for the cameras—whatever sells albums. Some of the guys I performed with back then are still slugging it out in that world, and it isn’t pretty.
The slinky beat of Christina Aguilera’s “Genie in a Bottle” starts in, and Teddy turns the dial. “Maybe they’re talking about it on another station.”
