“At least the crowd is eating it up,” I muttered, transfixed despite my reservations about the woman speaking into the microphone.
As Lennon spoke the crowd cheered, underlining her words with applause. Like her mother, Lennon seemed to have a way with words as she shifted the speech back to what had been pre-written down by the president’s speech writers.
“My mother fights and has fought for justice for all of the people living in the United States of America. She has signed bills that federally fund school lunches for all public school children, created initiatives to solve the homelessness crisis, and made strides to socialize healthcare so that you get top-notch care no matter your zip code.”
The spiel oozed with the political vigor that could only be cooked up by some of the best writers in the country, but it was sold by the seeming sincerity in Lennon’s voice.
She was a talented speaker. I had to give her that.
My original opinion that she was just the spoiled, lazy socialite daughter of the president had melted away within the first forty-eight hours of our tour.
Lennon hardly slept, sitting in the living area of the tour bus pouring over the speech drafts and schedule that had been given to her by her mother.
She also had to be reminded to eat and drink water by Alan, the meek assistant who looked equally exhausted from listening to Livvy, Lennon’s actual assistant, bark orders at him on the phone all of the time.
Though I’d never met her, I knew Livvy Powell was a force to be reckoned with even waylaid at home due to the injuries she’d sustained during the kidnapping attempt.
The woman seemed to be of the same breed as her boss: a giant ass work-a-holic who didn’t know when to quit and go the fuck to bed.
I’d seen diplomats abroad who worked less than Lennon Holloway did and Lennon was doing it for free.
It still didn’t mean I wanted to be her friend—though Brooks and Zeke seemed all too happy to fill that role—but I did have the tiniest bit of respect for someone who could dazzle a crowd of thousands with just the sound of her voice.
“So I urge you and anyone who may be watching this. Think about what sort of future you want to see for this country and if that aligns with my mother’s causes, then you should vote for Athena Holloway at the ballot boxes this November. Thank you!”
Lennon waved to the cheering crowd, not a blonde hair out of place before she turned and headed in my direction.
“Flicker is on the move,” I told the guys who immediately jumped into action to start working their way through the crowd, clearing it one last time before they started working on the path back to the tour bus that was parked back behind the stage.
Lennon’s smile was tight as she stepped behind one of the thick velvet curtains. As she approached, I saw the sheen of sweat on her face and noticed how the color had seemingly drained from her cheeks.
Then her knees were crumpling from underneath her as her eyes rolled back into her head.
“Shit,” I cursed as I stepped forward, just barely managing to catch her before she conked her head on the metal flooring of the stage.
“I need help over here,” I barked at one of the stage attendants who stared at me with wide eyes. “Go get a medic—”
“No,” Lennon said weakly as she waved a hand. “I’m fine. No need for medical personnel. It’ll just stop the rally for no reason.”
“That’s utter bullshit,” I snapped at her as I grabbed the hand that was in the air, my fingers sliding along the inside of her wrist to feel her pulse. It was rapid under my fingertip and her skin was clammy to the touch. “You need to be looked at, I think you have heat stroke. When was the last time you drank water?”
Lennon seemed to think about that for a moment as the attendant hurriedly brought over a chair and a bottle of water.
“I don’t know, this morning probably?” Lennon said like she was questioning her own memory. “Alan usually makes sure I drink it in the morning…”
I wanted to snarl at the mention of her assistant who was clearly not doing his job correctly if his boss was fainting like this.
My frustration should have stayed inside. That was the professional thing to do. To get Lennon rehydrated and back on the bus. It wasn’t my place to scold her or her assistant.
But unfortunately for both of us I was the least disciplined on my team when it came to keeping my big mouth shut.
“You’re a grown woman, why the hell aren’t you keeping up with your own water intake?”
Lennon blinked her big gray eyes at me like she couldn’t believe I’d just said that to her.
“Idowatch my water intake. I just wasn’t expecting it to be a bajillion degrees outside,” she replied scathingly, her cheeks finally flushing with color again which filled me with relief even if it meant she was pissed at me.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I snorted at her words. “Obviously not when you’re fainting like a damsel in distress with just a little bit of sun.”
