Page 75 of Beneath the Burn

“You’re doing well,” Jay whispered in her ear.

“I don’t know about that. How are you doing?” His smile was small and sad and held her heart hostage in her throat. “Do the paparazzi ever touch you?”

“It’s generally against the law to touch someone without their consent. They’re a nuisance, but they rarely break that rule.” His lips brushed the shell of her ear, and he hugged her closer to his chest. “The fans are the law breakers.”

A reminder that the worst was yet to come. The herd trailing them was mild, relative to the shouts thundering from the parking lot.

“Clear,” one of the guards shouted from below.

Down the stairs and around the landings they went. Tony and Nathan flanked them. Every time their eyes flicked upward, Charlee’s pulse spiked. Edison and Colson kept their positions always a floor behind.

The paparazzi leading the slow parade walked backward, scuffling while snapping pictures, some falling down the stairs and climbing their way back up. Jay ducked his head under his free arm, squinting against the invasive flashing.

She dug into her messenger bag and handed him the sunglasses. The way he hurriedly fumbled them on made her wish she’d never taken them.

The closer they came to the ground, the thicker and louder the crowd grew. The security team tightened their circle and the air clotted with unease.

They stepped off the bottom stair at the front of the building and a chorus of shrill screams rode in on the crisp breeze. Six rigid bodies backed into her and Jay, squeezing them in a tight box. Her breath came out in noisy pants. She couldn’t see a damned thing around the wall of guards.

Jay rose on tiptoes, peering over the crowd. “Fuck. The road’s been barricaded. The SUV won’t be able to pick us up here.”

Christ, could this get any worse? The mayhem was closing in on her. Tremors weakened her body. How close were the Craigs? Could they see her? Was one sneaking up now, only a bodyguard’s length away?

He folded her into theVof his legs, chest to chest, trapping her hands between their bellies.

She tensed. How would she walk like this? “Jay, my hands.”

He rubbed his whiskers against her cheek, his body drenched in sweat. “Shhh. We’re good.”

His voice and proximity suspended her. Strange how peace could be found at the most inopportune moment. Cocooned in the orbit of guards, pressed tightly against him, her breath began to normalize. She imbued the intimacy of their private little world. Beneath the eye of the blue sky, it was just him and her and the thunder of their hearts.

“Doing okay?” she asked at his ear.

“It….wa…ot.”

The high-pitched chanting of frantic women calling out his name drowned out his response. She leaned back to read his lips. “What?”

“I said it’s just a walk in the parking lot.”

“Clear,” Tony said above the shrieking.

Clear of what? Weapons? Bad guys? They certainly weren’t clear of crowds.

The guards spread out and her private world came crashing down.

Jay turned her back to his front and hooked his forearm across her chest. She gripped the bag’s strap at her hip to keep from grabbing him for balance. He held his other hand out in front of her to block some of the camera shots and ward back the posters, pads, and markers shoved through the guards’ line.

Shutters snapped from every direction. Bulbs flickered against the sunlit sky. Paparazzi barked out questions, but it was submerged beneath a flood of girly piping.

“Aaaaaah. Jay Mayard!” At least twenty women of all ages pressed against the bodyguards, screaming and sobbing. Yes, sobbing. Actual tears streaked down the make-up-smeared faces that were twisting behind the camera phones. Jay Mania had gripped the Village.

“Oh my God. Oh my God. You’re so sexy.” Twenty women grew to forty or fifty. Others were running through the street, some dragging small children into the fray. Cars honked and people shouted from the windows in nearby buildings.

She scanned the hustle of bodyguards, looking for Nathan. Too much movement. Too many identical black shirts. She’d spent three years avoiding scenes like this to evade Roy’s watchful eyes. Now, she was certain he could see her, through a camera lens or a Craig.

Her muscles were so tight, dizziness surged over her in waves. The hard, metal weight at the small of her back was a false sense of relief. Shooting a Craig in the crowd would’ve been impossible without endangering a bystander.

A sense of urgency, bordering panic, took over the guards and their pace picked up. By the time they reached the corner of the building, the number of screaming fiends had doubled again.

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