Page 11 of You Found Me

He tapped a remote, and the displays turned on. The screen on the left showed a bulleted list of facts associated with their new client, while the screen on the right was filled with a photo montage. The screen in the middle remained blank.

Spencer leaned back in his chair with the Red Bull in one hand. “Della Lucinda Bellamy. One-third of the recently reunited Bellamy Sisters. Their reunion album,We Are, has been out for six months and has sold over eleven million physical copies so far. Actual vinyl.”

He wrinkled his nose to indicate what he thought of hard copies of any flavor, music or otherwise. “It’s an insane number since most sales these days are digital. Their comeback tour thisyear boosted sales so high they are fourth on the list of all-time best sellers. I’d estimate they’ll climb to at least third, if not second, by the end of the year. My sister’s a huge fan. She has all of their albums.”

“Your…sister.” The gleam of disbelief in Annie’s eyes matched the quirk of her mouth.

“I prefer jazz.” Spencer blinked at her with such innocence that Ward believed him, but Annie clearly didn’t.

She made a derisive snort. “You were listening toDaylightall cranked up when you crawled in this morning. You drive like an arthritic hedgehog, by the way.”

“That was for research.” Spencer sounded a little embarrassed and defensive.

“Of course.” Annie smirked.

“It was.” Spencer looked from Annie to Ward. “Seriously.”

Ward knocked on the table. “Focus, please.”

“Right. Della Bellamy.” Spencer picked up the remote and flicked through screen after screen in a parade of parties and concert stages. “Her online footprint is huge. I found over a thousand images featuring her from this year alone just by googling her name, which is a big number, even for a celebrity. Did you know the average person takes three photos a day on their cell phone? 1.2 trillion photos are uploaded globally every year, but that number keeps climbing. By 2030, it’s estimated that the number of photos taken and uploaded every year will be around 2.3 trillion.”

“Fascinating,” Ward said. He’d learned to tolerate Spencer’s endless bits of trivia as the cost of doing business, but sometimes he really wished the kid would dial it back a little. The side trips were distracting.

He focused on the images. Most featured the pretty pop star on a stage wearing less clothing than a stripper. She held themicrophone like it was her best friend, and even in a still shot, he could see the intense excitement she generated from the crowd.

She had stars in her eyes and glitter in her hair, legs that didn’t quit, and an own-the-world stance. Everything about her sparkled, from her sky-high boots to her hair. If there wasn’t a stage nearby to stand on, he had a feeling she’d make her own.

She reminded him uncomfortably of his high school girlfriend. His ex had ruled their small town the way Della ruled the world, with sheer force of personality and determination.

Ward put down his coffee and stood so he could pace. He thought better on his feet. “She’s going to be a handful.”

“Oh yes,” Annie agreed. “From what I found out last night from a couple of, shall we say, well connected friends, she hates to sit still, she’s never met a party she didn’t like, and she’s not happy unless she’s the center of attention. It’s your basic protection nightmare.”

“What’s your take? How should we handle her?” Ward had his own theory, but he wanted to get Annie’s take on things before he shared it. Her ability to read people and her instincts were hard to find in the protection field. She’d honed a natural ability into a weapon while doing contract work for the CIA. Lucky for him, the first company she’d signed with couldn’t spot talent if it slapped them in the face.

He’d never been that blind.

“I need to meet her to know for sure, but…” Annie looked at the screen full of images. “She grew up in front of an audience, which probably means she’s self-centered, spoiled, and like most celebrities, used to getting her way.”

Ward nodded. Her assessment matched his own so far. “Okay?—”

“That’s just surface level,” Annie interrupted. “She’s also crazy talented, no question. She’s at home on a stage, and makes it look easy, but she puts in a lot of work behind the scenes.She’s professional in her approach to the business. She’s not one of those artists who spends more time playing than working. She does both. Equally. She’s not as narcissistic as you probably expect. She doesn’t take many selfies. Take another look at those photos Spence found. They’re all taken by others.”

He was surprised to hear Annie thought Ms. Bellamy was a professional. It wasn’t the word he’d have used to describe what he saw on screen. “What she does isn’t exactly rocket science.”

“No. In some ways, it’s harder. It’s physically demanding, and the focus it takes night after night is exhausting, and that’s just the good stuff. Then there’s this…” Annie flicked at something on her phone and held it up for him to inspect. “Look at the feedback she gets. This is just today.”

He squinted at the screen.

No offense but is Della ever gonna stop pretending she ain’t a bitch? I remember what she did.

DelBel definitely an alien. That forehead ain’t human, and that ass has an orbit.

Della always looks like her voice is putting her face to sleep.

Seen her last night @ Club 44. She be ripe for picking. Bet she likes it dirty in the alley.

“Charming.” Ward shook his head in disgust and continued to pace around the table.

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