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“It’s nice to meet you, Isabelle. Wanna take a picture?”
She almost drops her phone, handing it to her dad. He shakes his head, smiling at his daughter. He doesn’t get it, but that’s okay. He’s a great dad for bringing her. We take a quick photo before I’m whisked away to do the same thing for two hours. It’s still hard for me to believe I have fans. People pay to come see me. I always make it a point to be there for them, one hundred percent. Even when they tell me about their dogs humping to one of my songs.
“If they have babies, let me know.” I smile, autographing a picture of her dog.
“You have an hour,” the concert manager yells down the corridor as Preston and I head back to our dressing rooms. As much as I love the meet and greets, it’s draining. You’re in the spotlight, and your switch is on the entire time. I always take this time to turn off, decompress. Writing songs, or writing in my journal helps me get back in balance. I open my notes app on my phone to see where I left off on the song I’ve been working on.
“That looks tragic.” I look up from my phone, following Graham’s gaze. I freeze when I notice the dozen black roses on top of my makeup station. “Who gave you the death roses?”
“They are not,” I snap, hoping someone just thought the color was cool. Graham strides over to them, plucking the card off the long stem plastic holder. His eyes widen and they lift to meet mine.
He waves the card in the air. “What in the hell is this?”
“What’s it say?” I wince, walking over to him, afraid my suspicions are correct. He holds it out for me to read.
Roses are black
Violets are blue
Who’s an ungrateful bitch?
It might just be you.
~Your enemy
I let out an awkward laugh, pinching the card out of his fingers. “Someone’s just playing a stupid prank on me.” Panic flickers in my chest, rattling me at the core, obliterating the confidence I had this person was no longer an issue. I turn away, but he blocks me with his arm.
His gaze hardens as he towers over me. “Sky, I’ll ask you one more time. Who sent those?”
I swallow the panic clawing its way up my throat. “I don’t know.” He narrows his eyes. “It’s the truth. Remember the flowers I got at my first concert? From my best friend?” His head bobs up and down. “Well… after the show, I received texts from the person who sent them. They were expecting a thank you. It was weird, so I just ignored it. Then while on the bus, I got another one. It said maybe you need to learn a lesson in gratitude.”
“Is that why you wanted a new phone?” I drop my head in shame. So much for handling it myself. “Sky, I need to know this stuff. Especially when someone is threatening you.”
My eyes jerk up to his. “That’s a little extreme, G.” There hasn’t been an actual threat. Right? Whoever it is, they’re just trying to scare me. “They’re probably all talk. I mean, don’t all musicians have to deal with crazy fans?” I throw my hands in the air.
“In this business, you can never be too sure.” I sense his disappointment as he calls a guy from my security team to come in. Whoever this asshole is, they are not ruining my night. Or my career.
“Don’t say anything to Jude,” I beg, squeezing his arm while we wait for security to come in.
“Sky—”
“G, please. Just tell my security guys to check things delivered to me. Jude will regret bringing me on, if he doesn’t already. I don’t want some flowers to ruin my career.” He eyes me, twisting his lips. “I’m low man on the totem pole and you’re right there with me.”
“Don’t do that,” he sneers, pointing his skinny finger at me. “Your safety is more important to me than any career and I’m a little offended that you would think otherwise.”
“I’m sorry,” I mumble, walking back and forth in front of him. Why is this happening to me? I’m a good person. I treat people like I want to be treated so why does karma have a bullseye with my face on it? And why does it seem to want to destroy my music career?
After Graham informs my security team, they form a plan to not have deliveries sent to my room anymore. Security will intercept the delivery before I ever receive it. The rest of the conversation, I ignore, sticking earbuds in my ears, plopping on the couch, and clearing my head as the music drowns any fears that might cause me to have a horrible concert. I’ve got plenty of time to think about this after the concert.
Chapter Fourteen
Max
Slamming the phone down, I wonder if I’ll ever get over this feeling of needing to rescue her. For such a small person, the grip she has on me is iron-clad. She has a security team, one employed by me and Knox just checked in with news I didn’t expect.
Sydney has a stalker.
I remind myself, she’s not my job.
