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If anyone knows about online marketing, Haze is a genius.
Suddenly, I see Eden twitch; it’s like her body has glitched or something, and I follow her gaze to the audience, but there are so many lights facing us I’m not sure what it is that’s caused her to freeze. I try to catch Jagger’s attention and eye my direction towards Eden. He’s sitting next to her and leans in, whispering something in her ear.
Her smile is forced, nodding that she’s okay. But that fear in her eyes tells me something in the audience is affecting her current demeanor.
I watch her constantly gazing towards the audience, her eyes squinting from the lights. Finally, Jagger takes her hand in his and squeezes it to assure her he’s right here with her. If Earl noticed it, he hasn’t said anything.
Thankfully, this interview isn’t going to be long. The attention span of social media users is that of a goldfish, and Earl hasn’t managed to dig up much dirt except for Jagger’s hand on Eden.
He’s either going to keep rolling this interview, or he’s going to wrap this up. Seconds seem like hours, and he nods at his productionmanager and thanks us for coming to his show. As soon as the camera stops rolling, Eden breaks from Jagger's grip and storms off the set towards Rick. I don’t make it fast enough, but she’s talking to him, and he’s nodding and talking into his earpiece.
“Stay with her,” Rick tells Jagger, and an understanding passes between them.
“Eddie, what’s going on?” I ask, and now Haze and Callum have caught up.
“I think he was here, in the audience. He was wearing one of those T-shirts like the man from the dive bar.”
Haze and Callum run off in Rick's direction, leaving Jagger and me to bring Eden to the limo, waiting for us back in the service entrance. Usually, we would have stood around and maybe chatted with some of our fans in the audience, but not when Eden’s safety is compromised.
As soon as we reach the door, the other three catch up.
“We couldn’t find him,” Haze explains. “If anything, he escaped.”
“We’ll need to be fast. Fans are waiting for you. You cannot stand around for them,” Rick orders.
“No, you have to give the fans something, I’ll wait inside the limo.”
“Not a chance, Eddie,” I say, firmly decided on the topic. “We’re getting you the fuck out of here.
As soon as the door opens, we’re met by at least a dozen screaming fans wanting to get a glimpse of us and the additional security Rick hired to make sure the fans remain behind the metal barriers. Further down the street, we see two police cars approaching.
To my right, a fan breaks free and runs toward Eden, except Rick catches the person and throws him away from her. From the corner of my eye, I see something in the person’s hand and dive forward. The security personnel beat me to it, crashing them down to the floor.
Rick’s shouting for us to get in, but I’m curious to see what’s happening with the person they tackled. In the blink of an eye, they’re surrounding them and pushing them inside the building, and three policemen manage to get through the crowd and follow inside.
“I need you all in the vehicle now!” Rick urges.
Callum’s last, and he steps on the door frame and hangs out, waving at all the fans. They go absolutely bonkers. Then he takes the hairband from his hair and flings it towards a crowd. They all scramble for the black elastic band.
We haven’t even released a damn single, and it's already started. I wouldn’t have minded so much, except we’ve got some psychotic villain on the loose with a sick obsession for Eden. I can’t help but wonder how long it’ll be until the arsehole makes his presence known.
I may not be partial to using a gun, and I might be the most empathic in the group, but there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for Eden, including slaughtering the bastard who did whatever-the-fuck terrorizing ordeal they put her through.
Chapter 34
“Sir,” Rick catches mejust before I enter the kitchen area to find the others. I see him place a back box with a red ribbon on the console table in the foyer. “This arrived for Ms. Rivers about twenty minutes ago.”
“And this is for you,” he hands me a black attache. “It’s the report you asked about Catalina Mancini.”
I take it and shove it inside the console table’s drawer.
“Also, regarding the individual from the interview we caught.”
I turn to face him with a held breath.
“The authorities had to let him go. They investigated his apartment and locker at work, but other than a crazed, obsessed fan, there’s no indication that he’s a dangerous stalker.”
“But even crazed fans could be dangerous.”
