Page 15 of Wild Fixation
Mason rolls his eyes at me. “You’re no fun. If I had a hot rockstar client I’d use that to the fullest.”
“And get fired and sued for it.”
“Not if he’s into it too.”
Mason winks, and I turn away swiftly, keeping my face neutral. I shrug on a light jacket (also black, of course) and grab my phone and keys. I’m out the door before he has a chance to make any more unhelpful comments.
I shouldn’t have sent that “happy birthday” text. Emmett called me, and once I was off the phone I just did it. I told myself I was being nice. My job isn’t exactly conventional, and the lines aren’t as clear cut as they would be in a different line of work. I do need Jacob to trust me, after all. He can’t keep on running out on his own and getting into trouble because he doesn’t want to ask for help.
Still, I shouldn’t have texted something so familiar to the guy who’s supposed to be my boss. Even if it’s temporary, I need to keep some space between us.
No going back now. I start my car and follow my phone’s directions to some club downtown. It’s not a place I’ve ever been. I didn’t really get into the clubbing scene after the military. I started working, and that kept me plenty busy. I’ve gone on dates with guys from apps and stuff like that, but the nightclub hookup scene was never for me.
All the more reason to have backup tonight. Not only do I have a lot of people to run security for, but I’ll be in an unfamiliar environment. I called ahead and made sure the two bands can have a private VIP booth, but the dancefloor doesn’t discriminate, and based on some Google searches, the club only contains one.
I weave through downtown and snag some lucky street parking a couple blocks from the club. I’m early enough that I’ve beaten the Saturday night clubbing crowd. When I show up at the back entrance of the club, an employee lets me into a mostly empty bar.
“The VIP area is up here,” the employee says.
She leads me through a dark hallway and up a flight of stairs. Good, the guys won’t have to cut through the club to get to their private booth. The woman takes me to a balcony that overlooks the entire club. Only one stairway leads in and out of it, an easy thing to keep an eye on. The stairs let us off in the center of the balcony. A rope sections off the entire left side, which contains a couple tables and booth seating.
“Does this work?” the employee asks. “We tried to fit the space to your specifications.”
“It’s perfect,” I say.
Both bands will be contained here, and cut off from the rest of the club. The balcony affords a view of the bar, DJ stand and dancefloor below, but the employee assures me the bands can order bottle service up here and have it delivered. They’ll have no reason to stray out of my sight or reach for the whole night.
When the two guys I called in tonight arrive, I brief them on the situation. We shouldn’t get involved. We can stand in the corner or at the balcony. One of us might want to wander the lower floor to make sure a fan or photographer isn’t trying to sneak up here. Otherwise, the assignment is pretty simple: Stay out of the way and make sure no one gets near our clients.
I already know Jacob is going to hate it.
It’s clear he doesn’t like being set apart and sectioned off like this. I start concocting contingency plans if he insists on being on the dancefloor or doesn’t like the VIP seating. There’s only so much I can control, though. Jacob isn’t the type of person you can contain. Even cordoned off like this, people are going to notice him. He’s too bright and brilliant to ignore, like a jewel in a pile of coal. People can’t help but be drawn to him, myself occasionally, unfortunately, included.
I shake myself. Tonight I’m on duty. This is work. Personal feelings don’t apply. That’s shit I can deal with off the clock. Alone.
I check my phone. My stomach flips when I notice the time. I round up my guys swiftly, repeating my instructions. They nod, bored. This is nothing for them, a routine assignment on a Saturday night when they’d rather be out drinking than babysitting rockstars. I wish I could say the same was true for me, but not only would I be home watching TV with Mason, but this is a lot more than a boring assignment to me.
I rush downstairs, leaving my two guys up on the balcony as I head to the back door myself. I open it as a car pulls up to the alley. It’s a short walk from the mouth of the alley to the door, but my heart twists regardless. Should I have brought a guy with me to secure the alley? I have to stay at the door, but suddenly the few feet from the car to the door sprawl like a chasm. Anything could happen in that short span, and if it does, it’ll be my fault.
It’s too late. My charges start piling out of the car. The lead singer of The Ten Hours emerges first, distinctive with her purple-dyed dreads. A few others come with her, the other members of The Ten Hours, plus a couple friends, I think. They head toward me giggling and tipsy. I usher them inside, instructing them to head upstairs.
Then a second car arrives. My chest constricts like someone is tightening a vice as Baptism Emperor starts popping into the alley. First comes Keannen and his boyfriend, arms slung around each other. The sight knocks the wind out of me before I can crush the reaction. I can’t help thinking that I’ve never had that, never even gotten close to that, at first because of where I grew up, and later because of the military. What’s my excuse now?
Behind Keannen is Luke and Dan. Then Shawn, the broody guitarist. Finally, all the way at the back, is Jacob.
I swallow when I spot him. His pants are either leather or a very good imitation, tight and clinging. He wears a silver mesh shirt under it that catches every bit of light and reflects it. A loose, open jacket barely manages to cover any bit of his smooth brown chest. His hair is wild in a carefully curated way, and as he bounds up the street laughing and talking, I lose sight of everyone else in that alley.
I startle when an elbow nudges me. Keanen has reached the door, and he smirks at me as he sends his boyfriend on ahead into the club.
“Make sure you wish him happy birthday, okay?” he says with a wink.
He passes into the club before I can react. Not that I’d know how to. I stand stiff and silent, holding my breath as more band members pass me.
Jacob is last. Once Shawn passes me (thankfully without so much as a backward glance), only Jacob remains. I intend to usher him inside without even looking at him, but before I can get myself out of the way, he’s squeezing by me to get into the hall. He smiles up at me, meeting my eyes as his shoulder brushes against my chest.
“Thanks,” he says when he makes it inside.
I step inside after him, letting the door close. The hall is narrow, so I dare not step forward, afraid to crowd too close.
