Page 102 of Reverb
With the thief gone, there was nothing to do but head back.
By the time he returned to the signing area, Domino was consoling Mish. Some great boyfriend David was. Hadn’t even fuckingbeen therefor Mish. Not as a bodyguard, either. Waste of space. This was exactly the kind of shit that had killed people in the desert. Inattention. Lack of focus. At least Mish was fine, physically. A small abrasion marred her neck, a nick from where the chain had bit in before it had broken. Barely any blood.
“Fucking hell,” she murmured, then sat back in her seat.
The band, of course, insisted on finishing the signing, against the better judgment of Marcella, the site, and David.
There were statements to give the police. Reports. Each time he told his part, the recriminations in the eyes of the officers became more and more apparent. Yeah, great bodyguard he turned out to be.
When it was all over, he sought out Marcella and Ray. They were by the band bus, with Adrian. Ray must have known what was coming, because he raised both hands. “David, don’t.”
“You have to find someone better, Ray. For Mish, for all of you guys. I fucked up. Shouldn’t have taken this job.”
“The only way you could keep this sort of thing from happening,” Marcella said, “would be to convince the band not to have public interactions.”
“That’s exactly what I should have done,” David ground out. He’d gotten too close to all of them. Hadn’t been strict enough.
“Yeah, well, that was never gonna work.” Ray folded his arms.
God, they were all so infuriating. “I saw that guy. He was eyeing Mish. I should have stopped him from getting anywhere near her.”
Ray released his arms. “Lot of fans eye us up. We’re—whether we like it or not—part of people’s fantasies.”
“Yeah, so what? I failed at keeping her safe, for the second time.”
No one said anything. Adrian shifted and had the gall to look hurt, which made no sense at all.
“What?” David snapped at him.
Adrian didn’t flinch. “Mish isfine,” he said. “People ask and take selfies with the band all the time. Maybe we should stop, sure, but that’s not on you. It’s not a failure on your part.”
“It is.” David tightened his hands into fists. “Look, you all have been kind to me. And yes, I’m well aware that Mish likes me. But you need someone better for this. Someone who will tell you the truth and not be won over by all of your damn charms.”
Ray stepped forward. “So that’s it? You think you fucked up, so you leave us—leave Mish in the lurch?”
Marcella shook her head. “This is not the appropriate time to talk about this. We’re all rattled and tired and none of us has a clear head.”
David hadn’t had a clear head since he’d walked into that studio and met Mish Sullivan in person. Felt like he finally had one again. “Break’s coming up in July. I’ll stay on until then, and help you find another person—or a team.”
Marcella sighed and Ray rubbed his forehead. “Yeah, we’re not doing this now, David. Go get some sleep.” He nodded to the bus.
David stared at it. No way in hell he was spending the night on the band bus. “I’ll get my things and head to the crew bus.”
All of them had the good sense not to argue with him about that. He climbed on board the bus and gathered his belongings.
Marly was sitting in Mish’s berth. David fingered the dog tags—they weren’t the ones he’d worn so many years ago. Those were in a box in his closet with a couple of other mementos. Still, these ones had been with him for years. And Marly had always been there. He patted the bear on the head. “You take good care of her, since I can’t.”
Then he hoisted his bag and walked off the bus.
Sometimes you had to do what hurt the most to make everything better. He’d been hired to do a job—that he’d failed to do. Regardless of what Mish or Ray or Adrian or anyone a part of Twisted Wishes felt—he had to go. For the band, for Mish, and for his own sanity.
The police were kind in taking Mish’s statement, but she’d had it with the whole situation. After the ring fiasco, all of the jewelry she’d worn had been decorative, not sentimental. She didn’t give a damn about the trinket. Yeah, her neck was a little sore, there was a tiny abrasion, but thankfully the chain had snapped like the cheap thing it was.
Whoever the stalker was, he wasn’t getting an item that meant anything to her this time.
What worried her most was that David was nowhere to be found. He’d taken the whole incident hard—even with all the precautions in the world, that guy had ripped the thing off her neck. Wasn’t David’s fault, though. They—she and the band—still chose to get up close and personal with fans. You couldn’t keep shitheads away. They said one bad apple ruined the bunch, but Twisted Wishes had vowed not to let that happen.
Eventually she found a very grave-looking Adrian at the exit that let out to their buses. “You’ve seen him, haven’t you?”
