I looked into the phone.
“Hey, Brandon. Savannah Brooks here. I heard someone has a birthday coming up—”
The baby grabbed my bracelet.
Hard.
I stopped mid-sentence.
The mother gasped.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry.”
The woven thread tightened around my wrist.
“It’s okay.”
Ellie stepped in.
“Hey, small criminal.”
She gently opened the baby’s fingers.
The bracelet stayed intact.
The baby stared at her, offended.
Ellie held up both hands.
“I respect your process.”
The mother laughed nervously.
I finished the video.
When she moved away, Ellie checked the bracelet.
“Still there.”
“Yes.”
The relief in my voice had nothing to do with thread.
Another person approached.
Then another.
Somewhere in the crowd, a phone began playing one of my songs at full volume.
That was never a good sign.
“Threshold?” Ellie asked.
“We’ve reached it.”
“How do famous people escape markets?”
“Usually with security.”
