Page 103 of Passenger Princess

“Oh my god, Jaime, was that…was that a joke?” I ask with a faux-shocked face.

He smiles, but keeps talking. “Because I want to keep you happy and willing to function, if you get out the door in five minutes, I’ll make sure we have time to stop.”

“You’re the best!” I say, then run to get ready and out the door faster than I ever have before, and only half of that reason is because I’m floating on air as I do.

FORTY-SIX

AVA

We drive in silence to the event space where the final part of my tour will be taking place. My mind is stirring with thoughts of the article and worries about what the other Miss Americana contestants will say and what will happen once this event is done. But that silence is broken as soon as we arrive.

When Jaime steps out of the SUV to hand the keys to a valet, shouts start.

I've never felt like I needed anactualbodyguard outside of meet and greets or events where I interacted with people. This is the first time I've felt the actual fear of not being able to go out without someone hounding me.

Jaime opens the door, using his body to cover me to the best of his ability, but there are four different cameras all pointed at me and three reporters with phones pointed at me.

"Ava! Ava!" the paparazzi shouts, getting too close for comfort.

"Back up!" Jaime shouts.

"Is this your boyfriend?" someone shouts, and I feel my stomach drop to the floor.

"Is he worth losing the crown for?"

"No comment," I say, feeling silly saying it, like I'm more famous than I actually am, but that seems to make things worse, urging them on as Jaime walks at my side, attempting to create a shield on one side, but the cameras feel like they’re everywhere as they follow us to the door.

"Anne told us when she walked in that you should have your crown revoked immediately, and the pageant plans to sue you for breaking the contract."

"I have no comment," I say, this time more confidently. Any of Anne's bullshit, I want nothing to do with.

As we get closer to the building, ten feet away now, the press backs off as a few additional security guards keep them from proceeding any further. I take a deep breath, focusing on the feel of Jaime's hand on my lower back, a grounding point as we walk into peace and quiet, stopping at the security checkpoint. Jaime has my makeup and garment bags slung over his arm, but I start to dig in my purse for my ID.

"Name?" the guard says, not even looking up at us.

"Ava Bordeaux," I say, handing him my license with a pleasant, if not a bit shaken, smile.

"Not you, sweetness," he says, and I fight a cringe at the endearment. "Him." His chin tips to Jaime, and my brow furrows. Never has Jaime had to give information to get into an event with me.

"Oh, that's Jaime, he's my bodyguard." The guard pauses, looks at his clipboard, and then nods with understanding before moving his hand to the walkie-talkie on his shoulder.

"We might have a situation," he says.

"A situation? What kind of situation?" My stomach churns, and I know—I justknow—this is Regina and Anne taking my crown. I'm blacklisted from the event, I'm no longer invited, I…

"You've been reassigned security for this event. Jaime Wilde is no longer contracted with the Miss Americana organization, and we've been advised to reassign Miss Bordeaux's security personnel."

And suddenly, the room starts to swirl as my world turns into utter chaos.

"I can't fucking believe this," Jaime says under his breath as he walks back into the room they bought us to after the security guard dropped the bomb.

After the initial shock, Jaime made sure the office I was in was secure before he stepped out to figure out what was happening, and my mind started to swirl, trying to put the pieces together.

Jaime was only supposed to take me to and from this last event and then get me home. There wasn't much else for him to do, so why would Five Star bother reassigning someone to me? And when did they get the information? Sending a new guard out and having to pay for what I assume were flights, a hotel stay, and whatever other extras needed for just a day seems counterproductive.

Unless the pageant threw a fit and insisted he be replaced?

But suppose itwasthe Miss Americana pageant who threw a fit—why would they keep the same security company when all along they've been dangling the opportunity of referrals over their head to keep Jaime in line?

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