Page 12 of Protect Your Queen

Huh. The one old man Iwantedto be close to was keeping his distance. Only the worst people wanted a piece of me, and the good wanted to keep me at arm’s length. Was I a bad person in a past life? Did I do something heinous? Why am I shattering to pieces in front of the world as it looks on, criticizing how I’m not doing it gracefully enough?

Everyone is watching. But no one sees me. I’m invisible in the spotlight.

“Jestiny!” a strange, male voice cried. The paralyzing, terrible whirr and click of a telephoto lens carried on the breeze. “Jestiny! Are you recording your next album?”

Whir-click-snap!A camera. A big one. I had been spotted and found.

“Jestiny!” Another voice. Another camera. Another click.

“Miss Jestiny.” That was Brian this time.

Click-Click. Snap.

“Take off your shirt!” Someone screamed.

“What if your next album is a flop?”

I was out in the open, but I felt like walls were closing in. I was being squeezed under a vice, cutting off my air. I wanted to run. To hide and be away from noise, and people.

“Come on, Jestiny! Smile!”

“Miss Jestiny?” Brian tried to push me back to the car without touching me. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

“Jestiny!” A body crashed into me, slamming me against Brian. He tried to catch me but my heels snagged on the pavement. I stumbled, barely righting myself.

Another body crashed into me, andclick, click, click!Photo, after photo. It was as if the bulbs were in my head, beating like a drum, threatening to bust my skull open, cracking it like the shell of an egg.

Keep your legs closed, Jes.The voice inside my head reminded me that these fuckerswanteda picture of me compromised. If I was ever betrayed, or battered, they would take a picture between my legs and sell it for a million dollars.

Fucking vultures.

“Miss Jestiny,” Brian was insistent, pushing me back like a dog barking at the heels of the sheep. “Come on, now, we have to get you into the car.”

Someone crashed into him, and he tripped, falling onto me as I lost my balance. I tried to regain it, but in three steps, I had fallen from the sidewalk, onto the hot, steaming asphalt. A horn blared. Tires squealed.Click, click, whir, snap.“Jestiny!”

No one tried to help me. It was my nightmare. I was broken on the ground. People could see me, but no one cared.

A car door opened and slammed. The heel of my palms bled from where I fell.

“Come on.” I blinked from my daze as warm hands picked me up from the street. I didn’t know him. But he smelled like autumn. Like apples, leather and earth.

“Who are you?” I asked, in a low whimper.

“I’m Christopher Ambrose.” His voice was deep, and impassive. Like he hadn’t just found me in the middle of traffic with cameras buzzing all around.

“Where’s Brian?”

“I’m right here, Miss Jestiny.” Brian came up, as he ran to the side of our parked car.

Christopher Ambrose picked me up bridal style. I tried to push him away.

“Put me down,” I said weakly.

The wind blew again, throwing strands of my hair in front of my eyes. I had to hold them back, tucked behind my ear so I could get a look at this…Christopher Ambrose. He went to the car and opened the door with the hand holding me below the knees. He placed me in the back as Brian got into the driver’s seat.

Christopher Ambrose barked, “Get her out of here!”

I wanted to get out and tell him never to yell at my driver! No one had a right to do that. Not even Jareth!

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