Someone like Breeze, easy-going and earthy, could never flourish in an environment where people were routinely slurped up by the fame machine and spit back out, bloodied and bruised.
“You’re going to be okay,” I said, trying to ease her distress even as mine soared. “Just don’t let go of my hand. We’re almost there.”
I could see the car ahead, but the crowd was like quicksand, and the more we struggled, the faster we were being sucked down. Suddenly, her hand was ripped from mine and no matter how hard I tried to claw my way back to her, I couldn’t.
“Get to the car,” I called to her, lifting the key to unlock the door. The battered Range Rover had delivered us to safety before and I had faith it could do it again. “I’ll come to you.”
But that was a tall order seeing as I was being swept up in a sea of girls. A storefront window stopped our forward motion but did nothing to improve my situation. I was now trapped with a press of bodies sealing me against the glass.
I could no longer see Breeze over the crush of bodies. If something were to happen to her because of my own damn stupidity, I’d never forgive myself. Why had I insisted on ice cream? What was I, five?
Scanning the area, I tried to figure out the best approach when I spotted a girl struggling for air. This wasn’t just about me. If I couldn’t get this under control, people were going to get hurt.
“Back up!” I shouted, trying to be heard over the screams. “If you want pictures you have to move back.”
And while those in the front tried to follow my order, they were losing ground to the fans pushing forward. Surprisingly, over the roar of the mob I could hear Breeze’s frightened voice calling 911 for help. Although minutes earlier I would have balked at involving the police, I now saw no way out of this without help.
Before the police arrived to take control of the situation, a concerned group of passersby, led by Breeze, managed to break up the crowd enough to free those in the heart of the melee. Including me.
Sore ribs, police intervention, and a hundred selfies later, we’d finally made it back to the safety of the car. Breeze twisted in her seat, buried her face in the crook of my neck, and burst into tears. Holding her tight, I rubbed her back, soothing her as best I could. With every sobbing breath she took, I knew this carefree woman could never survive under the oppressive blanket of my fame. I was losing her.
19
Breeze: Big Girl Panties
I’d never consider myself a weepy girl, but the last few days had tested that long-held belief. As if the firestorm didn’t forge enough bad memories, now I had the ice cream stampede embossed in my brain forever. I wasn’t naïve. I knew Bodhi was famous. But I guess I hadn’t realized the extent until it nearly killed him.
Dropping him into the middle of a perilous riptide was something I’d never intended to do. How could I have known timing was everything in the life of a teen idol? In some ways I felt deceived by Bodhi. He knew something like this could happen and, while I was laying out the plans for the day, he’d said nothing. Bodhi should have warned me, outlining the dangers that came with frenzied fan behavior. Had I any inkling that something like this could occur, I never would have put him in that position in the first place.
How quickly the tides had turned. Just this morning I’d been dreaming of our future together. Bodhi really was the perfect guy in every way… except one. And sadly, that one way threatened to destroy us both. How could he and I make this work with millions of fans vying for his attention? And how could I maintain any sense of normalcy in my life if it was attached to his?
Bodhi and I had driven home in silence, escorted by three squad cars. An uncomfortably quiet dinner followed, the two of us struggling to make small talk with my parents or eye contact with each other. I’d had every intention of pulling him aside as soon as dinner was over, but Bodhi blindsided me, announcing he was tired and going to bed early.
No doubt being manhandled by an unruly mob took a lot out of a person, but I suspected Bodhi’s sudden onset of fatigue had more to do with the uncomfortable conversation he knew was coming his way.
Finding a quiet spot on the patio, I sank into a chair and dialed up Mason. We hadn’t had a chance to talk since the night of the fire and I needed to get his take on things. Of all people, he understood how my mind worked and I hoped he’d have better luck coming up with a solution to the Bodhi problem than I did.
Mason answered on the first ring. “Okay, so I just saw the raw footage on TMZ and can I just say, girl, you’re looking spot on.”
“Thank you.” I laughed. “I especially liked the part where I was standing on the sidewalk alone, screaming his name.”
“I agree. That was some academy award worthy shit right there.”
Maybe I would have found the whole thing humorous had I not felt this was the beginning of the end for Bodhi and I.
“And for your information,” Mason added. “I’m pissed that I had to find out about you and Bodhi Beckett on social media. I feel robbed.”
“I know. I’m so sorry. I promised him I wouldn’t say anything but, now that it’s all over the web, there’s no reason to hide anymore. What do you want to know?”
Turns out he wanted to know a lot, and I spent the next half hour answering all of Mason’s questions. When he was finally caught up I said, “You have no idea how scary that was. I’ve seen stuff like that on television but, up close and personal, it’s a whole other story. I’m not kidding when I say someone easily could have been seriously injured. The whole boy band adoration thing is out of frickin’ control.”
“AnyDayNowfans are crazy. I’ll give you that,” Mason said. “I went to one of their concerts last year and the screaming was so bad they were handing out earplugs to anyone who looked old enough to still use Facebook. But look on the bright side, at least life with a pop star isn’t boring, right?”
“No, it’s definitely not boring.” I sighed. “But, I don’t think it’s for me.”
“What do you mean? You’d better not be breaking it off with him before I get to meet the dude… or get a backstage pass to one of his concerts. You’re not doing that to me, are you?”
Him?It wasn’t like this was a calculated attempt to make Mason’s life unhappy. This was about me and my own misery. “I hate to say this, but if I’m going down in flames, so are you.”
