“Trust me. I have been in this industry for years and have seen all kinds of shit but never had to deal with an erotomaniac case like those you read about in the press until this one joined the band,” Niels told Noah, throwing his thumb in Kaj’s direction. “Finn and I”—he gestured toward his assistant, who was laughing his ass off with the tour and production managers—“usually handle all this stuff ourselves. But someone was so fixated on our drummer boy here that, even after reporting it to the police, we were forced to hire around-the-clock protection for him.”
“Okay, that’s messed up.” With his brows pinched in concern, Noah looked at Kaj, who simply shrugged before going back to talking with Val and Mads. More like to pretend he did, his attention still on the other two. “And how did that end?”
“One day it all stopped,” Niels said, sighing as he grabbed another slice of pizza. “We have a theory that either they died, ended up in jail, or got bored and found a new target. It’s just how it usually goes. That or there’s… an unfavorable outcome for the victim.”
“Well, that’s good then, I guess.”
“We still receive disgusting notes, but we have it all more controlled. Don’t worry too much about it, though. That was the only over-the-top case I’ve seen. It rarely ever gets that bad, but you can never be careful enough.”
So politically correct.
Kaj wasn’t the only one who had been harassed, but his case had escalated so quickly it set a precedent, leading them to install high-tech security systems in all of their four homes.
A few months after he had joined Artificial Suicide, he started receiving letters from both haters and fans. Yet there was a particular type of prose that stood out. It went from worshipping to describing how they wanted to tie him up and never allow him to see the light of day again so easily it was daunting. They’d sent flowers, chocolates, and drawings of him in compromising sexual positions that triggered him several times.
The worst was when this person sneaked into his old apartment while they were on tour and covered the walls in his bedroom with photos of him at the gym, grocery shopping, at the bar with the guys…
Even after Kaj moved into this penthouse, with a doorman, twenty-four-seven surveillance, and all, he’d been paranoid for a long time. The tension in his body barely allowed him to sleep a few hours in one go. He would wake up agitated, with palpitations and the sensation of someone watching him constricting his rib cage. It was nerve-racking, and ultimately, it pushed Kaj to use heavier drugs often, something he didn’t do before.
Just thinking about it now made Kaj swallow with difficulty.
Good thing the level of harassment since then had been within the normalcy of this job, as sad as that sounded.
Once Noah and Niels walked away, Kaj finally relaxed, but he still couldn’t go back to the conversation with Val and Mads—they were talking about pizza being shitty anywhere but Italy, or something along those lines. His brain and heart were drowning in resentment and bad memories while his dick only wanted to indulge itself.
Except for that one encounter in the rehearsal room when his body inappropriately reacted to Noah, this battle was usually won by reasoning. Tonight, however, he found himself at a crossroads.
Under a black-and-white tartan shirt, Noah was wearing a silly grey tee with a cat holding a knife and “What?” written under it, a pair of skinny black jeans, and some worn boots. Still, he was so infuriatingly hot Kaj couldn’t help but track his every movement. The way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled. The stubbornness of the strands always falling over his forehead, no matter how many times he slicked his hair back. How his muscles flexed, stretching the fabric of the shirt when he brought the glass to his lips.
Why?
Why, out of the eight billion people in the world, did it have to be him? Seriously, what were the chances of their former vocalist turning into someone who doesn’t understand boundaries and this man replacing him? It was as if the universe was mocking Kaj, forcing Noah on him time and time again.
Kaj turned around, nursing an orange soda as he tried to avoid seeing Noah laughing with Xander and part of their crew. If he couldn’t see him, he didn’t exist, right?
“Earth to Kaj,” Dahlia, Aksel’s best friend, called, waving a hand in front of his face. “You gonna join the party or just brood all night?”
Kaj grunted. “I’m here, aren’t I?”
“Barely.” She flashed him one of her sweetest smiles, dimples and all, as she poured lemon soda into her glass. “Wanna talk about what’s making your eyebrows furrow all the time?”
Although she was as eye-catching as Aksel—tall and beautiful with stunning grey eyes and short pink pixie hair that enhanced her oval face—their personalities couldn’t be more different. Where he was loud and reckless, she was quiet and caring. He was super talented in the music department, but couldn’t draw a straight line to save his life. However, Dahlia’s job consisted mostly of studying and illustrating flora and fauna at the Museum of Natural History. Yet, they were inseparable.
Dahlia and Aksel had been each other’s rock when they practically lived in the streets—that foster home they’d been at couldn’t be called ahome.
They had been together through the worst, including her breast cancer diagnosis over a year and a half ago, when Aksel had her move in with him. It’d been so aggressive the doctors didn’t think she would survive, but against all odds, after surgery, radiation, and chemotherapy that had her feeling sick more days than not, she was still here, healthy as ever. And fuck, Kaj felt so relieved. She was an amazing friend and support, one of the few people that kept them grounded.
“Not really, but thanks.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pressed her to his body in a side hug, and kissed her temple.
“And now I feel jealous.” Aksel chuckled from beside them. “Can I get a kiss, too? It’s been a while.” He batted his eyelashes at him, making Kaj forget for one sweet second that Noah was around.
It happened within the entire crew, but especially between Aksel and Kaj. They were so comfortable with their sexuality and friendship that cheesy pet names and butt slaps were thrown here and there. The guitarist was right, though. Kaj had been so in his head since the beginning of the year that he’d actually been cold and distant with him.
“Feeling neglected?” Kaj smirked.
Aksel’s brows shot up to his hairline, probably expecting some rude comeback. “You have no idea!” He hugged him and rubbed his cheek against his shoulder. “Missed that.”
“Jeez…” Dahlia said. “You’re so needy.”
