Page 1 of Protecting Hailey

1

Hailey

My mother’s blonde hair shook as she read the latest gossip on her phone aloud to me. “Hailey Jones is a talentless upstart who got lucky with her first album. I’ve got no time for drama.”

She slammed her phone on the table and turned to me. “What the hell is Kendra’s problem?”

I pushed up from the couch and shook my head. “I have no idea. But it sounds like she’s the drama.”

Despite my nonchalant response, my thoughts raced through possible reasons why the pop star, Kendra, hated me. When no clear explanation came to mind, my lungs tightened. Rubbing my chest, I crossed the marble foyer and walked toward the front doors of my home, a Spanish Colonial style in California.

“Hailey! Where are you going? We need to talk about this.”

“I need some air.” I grabbed a sweater from the closet and wrapped it over my shoulders.

My mother shoved at the tattooed man sitting on the couch. “Go with her.”

My bodyguard reluctantly pulled his eyes away from his phone and looked around the room. He sighed when he saw me standing at the door. I cocked my hip and waited for him to shuffle his feet in my direction.

In the meantime, my mother grabbed a prescription bottle and passed me a pill. “Here, this will help.”

I tossed the pill down my throat and swallowed it dry.

When his slumped shoulders were less than ten feet away, I turned and walked out the door.

“Hey, where are you going? The car’s this way.”

“Yes. But I need some air. You can stay back if you want.”

His footsteps receded for a minute, but then I heard him jog up behind me. He muttered something under his breath, but I wasn’t paying attention.

My thoughts centered on Kendra’s comments. Why would she come after me like that? We had a great conversation backstage at the America’s Choice Awards. After I won the Fresh New Artist award, she was kind to me in the press room. So, this 180-degree turn made no sense.

A car honked, and I stepped back from the intersection. The light had turned red, but I hadn’t noticed.

“Watch where you’re going!” my bodyguard shouted several steps behind me.

“Sorry,” I muttered.

“How much longer is this walk gonna be?” he asked, with his hands on his hips.

I checked my watch. It’d been only ten minutes, but the fresh air had worked and I breathed a little easier now. Removing my sweater, I tied it around my waist. I wore only a tank top underneath, but I felt warmer now.

I spotted a popular coffee shop across the street. “Let’s get something at JJ’s and then we can head back.”

He exhaled and mumbled, “finally” under his breath.

The light turned green, and I crossed the street. A man leaning against one of the stores pushed off against the brick wall when he saw me. He whipped a camera from his backpack and started clicking as I strode toward JJ’s.

I ignored him but put my sunglasses on. It was a cloudy day in Los Angeles, but that never stopped most residents from wearing shades, sometimes even indoors.

The photographer waited outside as JJ’s had a no-paparazzi policy, making it a popular celebrity hotspot. However, that also meant you would find at least one pap outside waiting to take your picture.

Upon entering the shop, pop music blasted from the speaker, replacing the camera clicks. It was a welcome change. If people recognized me, they didn’t show it, as most stared down at their phones. Besides, this was L.A. and celebrity sightings weren’t that rare.

The line to order was five people deep, and I stood and waited at the back of the line.

My bodyguard sat at one of the booths, grinning at his phone. Instead of shouting across the room, I texted him: What can I get you?

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