Page 70 of Sunrise Arrows

“How’s it feel to be the one to crack the ice princess?”

“Tits or ass?”

“How do you guys make it work with the height difference?”

Their hurled invasion keeps coming and Archer’s grip grows tighter around my hand, betraying how little control remains in him. One wrong move, one wrong question, and I think he’ll snap and we haven’t even made it to the garage yet, let alone his truck.

And then it happens. They find Archer’s line and not only cross it but obliterate it.

One guy from the crowd of paparazzi somehow manages to cut us off, and he shoves his camera in my face and shouts at Archer.

“What was it like popping Tinsley Jacobs’s cherry? Is she a screamer? She looks like one. Bet that pussy was real tight the first time you had it; not so much now though, huh?”

“What thefuckdid you just say?” he roars, snatching the camera from the guy’s hands and slamming it to the ground where it shatters. Archer grabs him by the collar of his t-shirt—his height giving him an impressive, towering intimidation—and right in the papparzzo’s face, he shouts, “Keep her name and body out of your fuckin’ mouth!” rearing his fist back and punching him once, then twice, then a third time, the two going to the ground as I scream.

The cameras are going crazy as they capture the shot that will be brought out every time Archer is talked about. Their voices are a din of chaos. I need to get him off the guy, but I can’t move. My chest is too tight. They keep getting closer and closer, sucking the oxygen out of the alley. The lights are in my face. I can feel their breath on my skin, and I can’t breathe. It’s the grocery store eight years ago all over again, but this time, no one is going to save me.

I think I call for Archer, but I can’t be sure because everything goes black.

* * *

“The security measuresare in place for a reason!”

“Bein’ here is killin’ her! She needed to get out!”

“Her or you? Because until you, sheneverwould have done something this fucking stupid!”

Whatever Archer says next, I can’t hear from the corner of the hallway where Briar and I are listening. We inch closer to the curve of the wall, straining our ears, and jump a foot in the air when a loud bang echos, flattening ourselves to the wall before we’re caught eavesdropping.

“Did Mikey leave?” Briar whispers, peeking around the corner to confirm when we hear the angry footfall off boots walking away from us. “Yeah, he did, and I think John’s talking now.”

“Then shush,” I hush, waving my hand in her face to silence her.

“...the shit we protect her from on a daily basis,” John says, his voice too calm for the early hour and with it barely reaching down the hall to us, we quietly creep closer. “...obsession, stalkers, fucking paps looking to take shots up her dress or down her shirt—it’s never ending. Miss Jacobs knows all this; it’s why she adheres to every order and follows our every step. Because what we do is so that sweet girl is never left helpless and defenseless like she was eight years ago—likeyouleft her tonight.

“But ever since you got here, she’s been pushing us, fighting with us, all to make you comfortable, to accommodate you and your needs. She can’t be your Tinsley here, no matter how much she wants to. Here in L.A., she belongs to the world, not you. So you need to think about whether you can accept that and all it entails.”

They’re quiet for a minute and then John’s in the doorway. Briar and I try to scatter but we’re caught, having come out much further from our hiding spot than we had thought. He gives us an amused smile.

“Miss Jacobs. Miss Davenport.”

“Hi, John,” we answer in unison, looking like children who got caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

He shakes his head at us and takes off down the hall, a stifled laugh reaching us before he disappears.

For the umpteenth time tonight—or rather morning, as beyond my windows the sky has started to lighten with the dawn—Briar smooths her hands over me, assessing me for any sign of injury or lingering trauma response.

I wrap my hands around her wrists and assure, “I promise, I’m fine.”

“Just checking. You know job security and all that. You’re my only client after all. I need warning if I’m going to have to start looking for work.” She pulls me into a hug, squeezing almost too tight and murmurs, “I hate to agree with Doom and Gloom, but you scared us tonight, Tins. We didn’t even know where you guys were until I got the Google Alert for your name.”

“I know, and I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I just…” I trail off, unsure what to say or how to explain it, but I don’t need to. Not with Briar.

“You guys will figure it out. You haven’t come this far to let this cesspool of a city fuck it all up. And remember, if you ever want to give it all up, retire from stardom, and move to that God awful, coin operated town so you can live out your Donna Reed dreams, you say the word, babe.” She hugs me even tighter before letting go. “Now go kiss Rocky Balboa all better while I go frame his mugshot.”

“Briar, don’t you dare!”

“Oh, I totally am. I’m thinking it’ll look nice on the Christmas card too.”

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