We didn’t sell our soul to the devil. We’re rock stars because we’re talented. We pushed ourselves hard and then harder still.We made connections and poured our blood, sweat, and pain into creating music that we love. That our fans love. We paid, sure, but in hard fucking work. We made it impossible to fail. But still, there’s a price to everyone knowing our names. “Anyone get a hold of Carmine?”
“Sorry,” Bronx says. “The man doesn’t answer his phone.”
“It’s all right.” I light up my phone and look for the number Sonatina entered earlier. I’m thankful she gave it to me now even though it was the last thing I wanted a couple hours ago.
A groggy feminine voice answers, “Hello?”
“Sonatina—”
“She left her phone by the piano again.” The person yawns and something heavy echoes. Probably the key lid closing. “Let me see if I can find her.”
“I should have known you stole my phone.” Sonatina’s uppity voice is grating. How can someone who sings as sweetly as she does sound that sharp and bitter? “You’re always going through my things.”
“I wasn’t.” The other woman sounds defeated. “You left your phone on the piano. I was bringing it to you.”
“I don’t know why you think I need to hear your excuses. Nobody is interested in what you have to say, Lennon. Not even Daddy.”
“You have a phone call.” Embarrassment leaks into the other woman’s quiet tone.
A quick squeal follows.
“Riot Maddox. I knew it.” Sonatina switches the call to video. She plays with her hair, trying to direct my attention to the sheer lingerie she’s wearing. “I’ve packed my bags. What time will you be swinging by to pick me up?”
What the hell is she talking about? “I’m not... Listen, I’m actually calling because—”
“You felt the connection tonight as much as I did.” She licks her lips and tugs on the bottom with her teeth.
“That’s not...” I’m going to leave it alone. After this I won’t need to talk to her or see her until we go to the studio. Surely by then she’ll have gotten a clue without me having to offend her and piss off Carmine. “I have a stalker, and they’ve escalated. The photos you posted… they saw them tonight… I’m concerned you might have caught some negative attention by being close to me. Your dad isn’t answering his phone and I wanted to make sure you were aware of the situation.”
“Well, thank you for warning me. Daddy will be glad you’re worried about his only daughter.”
There’s a weird noise in the background.
Sonatina’s attention catches at something or someone in the room with her before her focus returns to me. “Honestly, this happens all the time in our business, doesn’t it? I’ve had scary men show up to the house before and threaten me. That’s why we have the best security. You don’t need to worry about me, but it’s sweet that you are. I feel safer knowing you’re concerned about me. A man like you could have a girl like me eating out of the palm of his hand.”
Christ, I need to get off this call. One of the detectives beckons. Thank fuck. “The detectives want to talk to me.”
I can’t hang up fast enough.
It takes a while to fill the detectives in on every altercation I’ve had with my latest stalker. The dozens of letters they’ve written in red ink. Vandalism to my personal property. And now they’ve added a dead animal to the mix.
I give them the number of the detective in L.A. who documented my first altercation with my stalker. He’s become my own personal go between with every jurisdiction the stalker has followed me to.
I do what I need to, but my thoughts are back on the bus with the woman I left on her own. She’s as tough as her rock chick appearance. She handles the band and the business and our fans no matter how boisterous. She manages every crisis and puts out fires, sometimes literally.
But after everything my family went through with Alec Hawthorne, that’s not enough to put me at ease.
The cops question Bronx and Coffey once I’ve said my piece. They pass the letter between them.
“I’ve gotta get back to the bus,” I tell Golden.
“We’ll walk and talk,” Rook tells me.
The team is always more vigilant after one of the letters arrives, so it doesn’t surprise me that Rook plans to accompany me to the bus himself. Now that this psycho has gotten too close for comfort, he’ll be damn near unshakeable. “I’m fine.”
“I’m coming with you to the wedding.” He’s straight to the point.
“That’s not necessary.”
