Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 104448 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104448 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
“I do know, and I’m sorry. Genuinely. But it’s not safe. We need to figure out how this keeps happening and come up with a new personal protection strategy to—”
I held up my hand. “No. I know what you’re going to say. You want the label to bump up the detail and put a fucking army of people on me. That’s not happening, not when there’s no proof the person or people doing this mean me any harm.”
He shot me another look. The man had an innate ability to read my mind, but I did my best to keep my emotions locked down. If he realized just how freaked-out I was by this situation, he’d burn the whole world down to get me home to LA and shut me up tight in my Malibu home.
He’d threatened to suspend the tour to “reassess our security strategy” more than once, but thus far, I’d always managed to convince him to do the reassessing while keeping the tour going. Canceling shows meant costing the venues revenue and costing their workers jobs, not to mention costing the fans lost time and money.
Ryan knew how committed I was to following through on my promises, to providing jobs and bonuses to the people on the team who busted their asses to make these performances the best they could be. He knew how devastated I would be if our team’s decision caused even one penny-pinching preteen to be disappointed.
But this time… this time, I was almost tempted to let him take over. To curl up in a ball and ask him to ferry me away from the crowds and the fear of the unknown. The only thing stopping me was the thought of missing a long-awaited visit with my gran.
There was no place I felt safer or more loved than in Barlo, Georgia. In Barlo, nothing would be able to reach me. There, everyone knew me and loved me. Everyone would gather round and keep me safe. For at least a little while, I’d be able to forget about Zee Barlo and simply be…
“Zane.” Ryan’s voice was like whiskey poured over gravel. “Someone stamped a literal target onto your fucking skin.”
I sucked in a breath. “Yes, a stylized target. The same target as the one on my first album cover,” I reminded him. “It’s not a threat. It’s a… a… I don’t know. A prank. A dare, maybe. Or they have a weird obsession with the album. Or the target icon. Or they think they’ll seem cool if they can get close enough to me to…” I didn’t have the words to describe what I was trying to say, and I could tell that my arguments were only making Ryan more angry. I added hastily, “My point is, there’s no proof they intend harm. So we’re not going to overreact. You and Lou can handle it in Barlo. It’s a tiny town, for god’s sake. And everyone knows me there. And then we’ll head back to LA and figure out if there’s anything to be concerned about. But I can already tell you there won’t be.”
“Need I remind you there is a contract stipulation about your safety that indicates…”
I stopped paying attention to the lecture since it was nothing new and instead focused on Ryan’s face as he spoke—on his intense eyes and chiseled jaw, on his strong hands that always touched me so gently, on the broad shoulders and barrel chest that made me feel safe and nervous all at once.
“Zane? Are you even listening?” Ryan demanded.
I winced. “Uh. Yes?”
“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, storming out of the room. He paused and turned when he got to the hall.
“I’m done trying to reason with you, Zane,” he barked. “We’re doing this my way, and that means wheels up in sixty minutes. Do you understand?”
I firmed my jaw and forced myself to sound unaffected. “I think you’re forgetting who’s in charge here. I told my family I was coming in time for Sunday supper tomorrow. We’re not going back to LA until after I’ve had my aunt Rinny’s tomato corn pie and cheese grits. I’ve waited months to see my family, and I’m not letting some bullshit prank take that away from me.”
Seeing Ryan lose his cool always made me nervous. I swallowed and tried to get us back to normal, to the way things were supposed to be. “And besides, how many times do I have to tell you… I’m fine!”
“Sure you are, Zane. You’re Mr. fucking Fine. Keep telling yourself that.”
As soon as Ryan stormed off, I closed the dressing room door behind him and locked it before leaning my back against it and sliding to the floor.
The tears came instantly. I’d been holding them off for hours just to try and get through the final set.