Page 46 of It Happened on a Sunday
I barely register the plea. I’m too busy pulling out my phone.
I can put up with a lot. But this? A threat to her, because of me?
I’ve already failed to protect someone I care about once. I’m not doing that again. And I’m sure as hell not doing it with Sloane.
Which is why I call her. Not to warn her—I’m sure she and her security team are on top of this. But to remind her that she’s not alone in this. Even if she doesn’t answer, she deserves to know someone is on her side.
Not for the cameras.
Not for PR.
But because I care. And she shouldn’t have to face this alone.
Chapter 19
Sloane
When my phone rings for what feels like the fiftieth time today, I think about not answering it. At least until I see Sly’s name light up the screen.
Heat skates down my spine, and before I can think better of it, I pick up and say, “Dare I ask what trouble you’ve gotten us into this time?”
“Nothing so far,” he answers in a slow Texas drawl that turns the heat into a burning wildfire between one syllable and the next. “But with us? That could change in a heartbeat.”
“You’re nothing if not unpredictable.” Which is the number one reason I shouldn’t have answered the phone. Nothing good can come from unpredictable. “So, what’s up? Did you get the date proposal from my agent?”
“Oh, I got it,” he says, and this time I don’t hear any smile in his voice.
Disappointment stirs in my belly, but I ignore it as I curl into the corner of my hotel room’s sofa. If he decides to back out, it’s probably for the best, even if it doesn’t feel like that right now. “What’s the matter? You don’t like the terms?”
“What I don’t like is some asshole threatening to kill you in the middle of one of your concerts,” he growls.
Disappointment turns to alarm as his words sink in. “Someone threatened to kill me?” I swipe to my text messages to see if I missed something new from Marco or Bryan. But there’s nothing, which isn’t like either of them. If there’s a situation, they’re the first ones chomping at the bit to deal with it—especially considering we’re in full-blown crisis mode at themoment. “Are you sure?”
His voice goes low and gravelly. “I know you saw the doll.”
“What doll?” I’m genuinely baffled, both by his anger and by whatever he seems to think is going on.
“The one dressed like you and stabbed through the heart with a Twisters knife!” I’m still trying to recall when his voice pitches slightly in disbelief. “You don’t remember themurder dollsomeone threw at yourhead?”
“Oooh, that!” I snap my head up, pleased with having placed it. I have a vague memory of a toy fitting that description hitting me in Vegas. I was too preoccupied trying to get through the show from hell for it to make a lasting impression, though.
“Oh, that?”His voice damn near cracks on the last note. “My God, Sloane. You act like it’s no big deal. That’s a serious threat!”
“Oh, please.” I laugh. “That wasn’t even the first hex doll I’ve gotten thistour.If I got upset every time something like that happened, I’d never breathe.”
I mean for the words to reassure him, but an immediate, “Shit like this has happened more than once?” tells me I’ve done the opposite.
Whoops.
I take a deep breath and try again. “I mean, the Twisters logo is new, but the rest? Sure. I’m not the most hated woman in pop for nothing, Sly.” The sooner he realizes what that entails, the better off we’ll both be.
But apparently he’s determined to wear blinders, because he comes back with, “You’re not the most hated woman in pop at all. Your fans worship you.”
“Yeah, well, praise or pyre are just two sides of the same coin,” I toss back. “And one little flip changes everything. I think you’d know that better than most.”
“I haven’t seen that—”
“Yeah, well, good for you,” I interrupt as new stirrings ofannoyance shoot through me. “Have you ever thought that maybe it’s different for women? When you’re a woman, someone always crosses the line. If it’s not a disgusting letter or a vicious social media account tearing you down and blaming you for who the fuck knows what, it’s someone breaking into your apartment and jacking off in your underwear drawer when you’re not there. Personally, I’d rather have the doll.”
