Page 1 of The Bombshell and the Bodyguard
Chapter One
An Interesting Homecoming
You don’t know temptation until you’ve spent a month alone on an island with the most fascinating woman you’ve ever known—who’s also your best friend’s little sister. —Wilder Lowe
Jessica
“Jade, Jade, Jade, Jade...”
The appreciative roar of the audience still echoed in my ears as I made my way from the stage through the back corridors of Gillette Stadium toward the artists’ exit/entrance where my brother waited to pick me up.
I was so ready to collapse into the warm leather passenger seat of his car and close my eyes. Live shows took every ounce of energy out of me—I always left everything on stage when performing.
The Boston show was the final one on my two-year concert tour, and at this point I was beyond exhausted.
Pushing open the heavy metal door, I spotted Hap’s idling Lamborghini. He gave me a wave from the driver’s seat, and relief spread through me like a cool stream of air on a sweltering day.
At least a couple dozen fans also waited in the narrow alleyway, crying out my stage name and holding t-shirts and hats and magazines with my face on them.
“Jade will you sign this?”
“I love you Jade. You’re my favorite singer of all time.”
Many of them stretched their hands out toward me or held out gifts or items they wanted me to autograph.
My heart squeezed, and I got a new burst of energy. My fans were literally thebest. There wasno wayI would duck my head and run for the waiting car.
I’d have plenty of time to rest once I got to Eastport Bay. As soon as I got there, I’d slide into my own bed in my own home.
Heaven.I might stay under the covers for a week. Or two.
Would Uber eats bring the food directly to my bedroom?
Unable to ignore the insistent throbbing of my feet, I kicked off the uncomfortable platform heels I’d performed in and walked over to the line security had roped off to hold the fans back.
“Hi. What’s your name?” A girl who appeared to be about thirteen stood smiling and crying at the same time, clutching a concert t-shirt.
“Hannah,” she answered. “I love you so much.”
Again, my heart contracted. I hugged her. “I love you, too. Thank you for coming to my show.”
She wrapped her arms around me and squeezed hard then asked me to sign the shirt. When I was done, I took a selfie with her and moved to the next person.
“Hi. Did you have a good time tonight?”
“Yes. I loved it. It was such a good show. I wish I could see it again tomorrow night.”
This girl looked about sixteen and was accompanied by several friends. Seeing them laughing and chattering together made me smile—it also reminded me of what I’d given up to become a child performer at about their age.
“You all look great tonight,” I told them. “Let’s take a group shot, okay?”
One of the security personnel from the venue held the camera for us as we made silly faces and poses.
When they’d left happy, I signed an autograph for a man who literally didn’t say a word to me. He just looked down at my bare feet the whole time. Shy, I guessed.
“Thanks for coming tonight,” I said.
I moved down the line, offering personal greetings and photo ops to everyone who’d cared enough to wait around and see me after my show.
