* * *
“Lucas?” Henrisat in the back of the tour bus, away from the prying ears of his bandmates.
“Yes.”
God, how he hated admitting defeat, but out there lurked a foe he didn’t understand and couldn’t pin down. “Remember the cop I kissed?”
“Yes.”
“He could have sold me out, but he didn’t. And Detective Shepard spoke highly of him.” If he had to resort to a bodyguard, he’d find someone he trusted, who’d already witnessed him at his worst and hadn’t run screaming.
“What do you have in mind?”
“Find out how much he makes, offer him double. Tell him the job has shitty hours, he’ll be on the road a lot, and seedy bars come with the territory. As a perk, though, his sister gets free tickets to local concerts. Oh, and contact the security guard who called 911.”
“What’s the job?”
“I need security for me and the band. I laughed off the roses, but I’m—I’m scared. No telling what this guy might do.” Or what he’d intended the first time he’d had Henri in his sights.
Officer Arnulfo Reyes joined the band. Henri nearly kissed him. Again. The security guard couldn’t travel, due to school. Henri paid his tuition.
In Des Moines they played a big enough hall to experiment with video. Now to see if Henri’s investment in hologram projectors paid off. Michael appeared onstage with them, though in actuality, he stood backstage, in headphones.
A cry rang out from the audience. The fans up close pointed to the stage. There was Michael, fuzzing around the edges, disappearing and reappearing. Holy crap. Someone get the projector fixed now!
Henri and the band played on. Damn. Their ruse was up. A few years ago a duo had gotten caught lip-synching, a scandal to end their careers. Michael hadn’t exactly done anything wrong, he simply… wasn’t actually there.
The next morning the papers read “‘Starman’ Makes a Hit in Des Moines.” A full-color picture showed Michael’s fade out from the night before. Damn. That image might look good on an album cover.
Okay, in the plus column, a Michael Lindley fan club started on the Internet for “Starman.” Also a plus: no sign of Batshit Stalker. In the negative column, Seb hadn’t returned Henri’s calls.
