Page 16 of Wild Fixation
“I really appreciate you doing this,” Jacob says. “I’m sure there’s somewhere else you’d rather be tonight.”
“Not really,” I say automatically. I regret it instantly. I shouldn’t seem like I want to be here. This should be work. Itiswork.
“Well, I hope you have fun. That’s allowed, right?”
“I’m here to make sure you stay safe.” It’s the only response I can think of, the only appropriate response. It’s the response I owe my employer.
Jacob’s smile melts my barrier of cold professionalism. I’ve never met anyone who radiates warmth quite like him. Being near him is like standing in the sun after a long, cold winter spent indoors. It makes me wonder how the whole world isn’t already in love with him. I suppose they are. I suppose that’s why I’m here, why I get to be closer to him than most people will ever get.
“Thanks,” Jacob says. “I appreciate it, even if I wish it didn’t have to be this way.”
There’s a note of sadness in that, but I don’t dare poke at it.
“I told you,” I say instead, “your safety is my personal priority. Have fun tonight. Nothing will happen.”
He smiles, but the sadness lingers, dimming his usual dimpled grin.
“Nothing, huh?” he says, almost to himself.
“Nothing that shouldn’t happen.”
He regards me for a moment, his bright hazel eyes lingering. He looks on the verge of saying something, but then Shawn calls down the hall for him.
“They set us up with bottle service,” he shouts. “This is crazy. Come see.”
Jacob gives him a nod. “Guess it’s time to go,” he says to me.
Then I’m following him down the hall, trying to stay close enough but not too close. We reach the stairs up to the balcony. I nod at my guys at the top, who fan out to the positions I instructed them to take up, one up here with me, one downstairs in the club area. Jacob’s friends absorb him into their joyous huddle, and I breathe a little easier. He’s safe. Almost as importantly, he’s occupied. He’s turning those blinding smiles on his friends, where they belong, instead of on me in secluded little hallways.
But as a cork pops and alcohol starts flowing, tension knots my stomach. It’s going to be a long night, and I can’t let Jacob out of my sight for a single second of it.
Chapter Nine
Jacob
WE POP THE FIRST bottle immediately. We’re ordering a second one before we finish pouring. Then a third. And a fourth. The servers plunk down bottle after bottle at our private VIP table, and I don’t have any clue who’s ordering them, much less who’s going to pick up the bill.
Once, a night like this would have eaten my rent money for months; tonight, I don’t have to care if it’s on my credit card or someone else’s. My head swirls from that fact or the alcohol or both. I can’t tell anymore, especially as Shawn hands me another drink.
He clinks a glass against the one he gave me. “Happy birthday. To…”
He falters. His scowl suits his whole broody guitarist look. His long black hair brushes his shoulders. Hardware glints in his eyebrow, his ears, his lip. The heat in the club convinced him to shrug off his jacket and expose the tattoos crawling up both arms and peeking out of the collar of his shirt. He’s the most like a rockstar out of any of us, but he looked this way long before we got our big break. For all his loud appearance, he’s a quiet guy, the type to keep to himself, so I’m used to stepping in to speak for him.
“To doing whatever the hell we want,” I supply.
A lopsided smirk twists Shawn’s mouth. He taps his glass against mine again, then we’re both drinking. Drinking even more, I mean. My head spins, and Shawn has to catch me by the shoulder as I sway. The last time I drank this much was probably college, and the quality of the booze was significantly lower.
The alcohol leaves me restless. I go to the balcony, watching the dancefloor below. Lights whirl over the shapeless field of shadows gyrating beneath us. It’s like a turbulent sea crashing against the deck of a ship, the waves growing stronger, the spray hitting me in the face. The DJ is a siren luring me into the depths, the tug more insistent the longer I stand at the balcony and observe.
“Let’s dance,” I say to Shawn, who stands beside me.
He grimaces. “I don’t dance.”
I would sigh if it would be audible over the throb of the music pulsing through the club. Of course he doesn’t dance. He’s too cool and aloof for dancing, but I’m not. I search the rest of the crew I have with me tonight. Over the years of struggling to make it as a band, my core friend group naturally narrowed down to the other members of Baptism Emperor. The Ten Hours are mostly here because Keannen is dating their drummer, yet another change that’s come along with the rest of this ride. I used to be a people-person; Iama people-person. My friend group in college spanned the entire campus. But the demands of struggling as a small-time band eking out a living narrowed my social circle.
The fame hasn’t helped. I hate the thought that it’s changed me, but I can’t deny it. I can’t go out as freely. I can’t become friendly with co-workers at my day job. There is no day job. There are no co-workers. There’s only this, the band, the music, the security guys watching us with scowls twisting their mouths.
My gaze wanders to Seth, a hulking shadow standing beside the stairs to the VIP balcony. He eyes everyone going up and down that stairwell, mentally cataloging them, searching for intruders and dangers. Does anyone in that crowd down there really care who we are, though? They’re as drunk as me, many of them dancing with their body pressed against a stranger’s. Why would they care what I’m doing?
