Down the long,glitzy hallway, Gray kept a solid five feet behind Jameson at all times. He’d even practiced back at his uncle’s place, making Jameson walk around in front of him while they held opposite ends of a five-foot length of string.
He was just a bodyguard that evening. And in a plain black suit, his job was to disappear into the background and maybe look intimidating every now and then.
The idea had seemed weird at first, that he wouldn’t be able to touch Jameson or even catch his eye with a smile. Risking anything meant risking the whole plan, and Gray had trained himself for a solid week to go in and out of work mode, laser focused on what needed to get done.
Luckily, he had the best coach possible in Jameson, an actual professional at pretending to be someone else. And now that they were backstage atNew Nightly, making their way from makeup to the preshow lounge room, it felt almost easy.
Jameson and Gray weren’t even there, not really. They were one hundred percent undercover, so that Justin Sweet and his bodyguard could take care of some business.
“Justin! Sweetheart! When I got your message, I nearly had a heart attack! Come here and give me a hug.”
Even though Gray didn’t give a damn about some high school television show, he recognized Cynthia Newsom. Of course, it didn’t hurt either that he’d spent some serious time on Google reminding himself who Justin Sweet was, back when Declan had first offered him the security job. And when you googled Justin Sweet, Cynthia Newsom’s bright, shining face always came up, too.
“You know it’s a special occasion if I’m asking to come on a show,” Jameson joked. He was using his old Justin Sweet voice, which he held steady and even at a low register, and posing his whole body differently, everything rearranged. “Do you have any questions before we go on?”
“I think my team has everything lined up,” she answered, then smiled widely and kissed him on the cheek. “And congratulations,” she whispered, slapping him playfully on the chest. “Does this mean you might be sticking your head back in the business, too?”
Jameson laughed. “Absolutely not. You’ll still have all my exclusives.”
She winked, then glanced at her phone. “Shit. Gotta run. We’ll have a drink after the show, okay? It will be fun. I’ll order everyone else to go away. They’ll hate it!”
Jameson laughed. “It’s a plan!” he called after her.
Gray followed through the backstage area until they reached a big green door with a star on the front sporting Jameson’s acting name. He nodded to Gray to follow him inside, where a couple of couches, a fridge, and a makeup station were clustered stylishly across a circular room.
“There are a few security cameras in this room,” Jameson said, shutting the door behind him. “But they can’t hear what we say.”
“How are you holding up?”
“I’m okay. I’m not too nervous or anything.” He found a soda water from the fridge and kept his eyes away from Gray. “I just don’t want to think about it too much. You should enjoy yourself, though! I know it’s fun to be backstage at this kind of thing. Don’t feel bad about taking it all in.”
Gray held his expression still. “You know I don’t care about this shit. Plus, I think that you just told me that you need a distraction.” He wiggled his eyebrows, then held Jameson’s eye for a second. “Nowthatsounds fun.”
Jameson laughed as he sat on one of the couches. “Trust me, seeing you in a suit is distracting enough. I’ve never even come close to breaking the Justin Sweet act out in public, but when you straightened your jacket earlier and smiled to Cynthia, my tongue almost fell out of my mouth.”
Gray straightened his jacket. “Well, Jameson. I’ve got good news for you. I fully intend to keep this suit on after the show.”
Jameson took another sip from his soda. “After the show?”
“Back in the hotel. While I watch you undress for me.”
Jameson choked on his soda. “Gray! You’re going to make me smile too much. I’ll break character!”
Gray chuckled. “Does that mean stop or keep going?”
From his spot by the door, Gray noticed the way Jameson took his lip between his teeth. For the most fleeting second, he bit down and flashed his wide eyes to Gray.
A jolt of desire went straight to Gray’s core, and then an angry buzzer went off above them, shattering the silence. Gray’s heart jumped into his throat. He and Jameson both laughed. The door popped open behind him, and a man with a clipboard stuck his head in. “Justin Sweet, we’re ready for you.”
Jameson stood, then glanced in the mirror. Gray watched as he straightened the blue denim shirt he was wearing, which was fitted perfectly, then smoothly ran his hand along the edge of his styled hair. “A big day for Justin Sweet,” he said into the mirror, then crossed over to Gray. “Enjoy the show.”
The second Jameson stepped outside, Gray grabbed the remote from the table and turned up the volume on the mounted television. The broadcast showed the famous silver couch where Cynthia welcomed all her guests, and while the band wailed away, the camera swooped to Jameson, who offered the crowd a broad smile.
Gray grabbed himself a soda from the fridge, then took a seat on the couch. He knew that Jameson did this kind of thing professionally, but still, his gut twisted, seeing him exposed to the cameras like that after all they’d done to fight the media off.
“Justin Sweet!” Cynthia said, squeezing him one more time before they took their seats. “And what’s new with you? Just a quiet spring?”
The crowd erupted in laughter, and Jameson chuckled along, keeping his good nature. “I heard I was on the news the other day,” Jameson joked. “Was it something special?”
