Page 7 of The Comedown

The fuck?

I figured Collette would have her own security detail, but I didn’t know they’d be…female.

I’m actually kinda into it. Not the knife though.

Well…maybe.

“I’ll leave it as my parting gift,” the woman says, then chuckles a sinister laugh.

Confused even more, I frown, resting my forehead against the door. Collette’s security guard isn’t sticking around?

“Where are you going?” I ask so quietly I’m not even sure she hears me, but she’s quick to whisper back, “Far from here.”

Take me with, sits on the tip of my tongue but I swallow it down. Embarrassment can kiss my ass.

“Is everything all right?” I hear Antonio ask hesitantly, and I tell him, “Uh, no.”

Nice of you to join us, dude. Wanna, like, seize the weapon and the woman holding it?

Where’s Bare, by the fucking way?

“This sicko was trying to get into my son’s room.”

“What?” I shove off the door, feeling the metallic point of the knife nick my skin.

“How’d he even make it on the bus?” the woman ignores my puncture to ask, and I answer smugly, “I walked on.”

“You walked on to the wrong bus, asshole.”

The knife cuts, full-on cuts, into my back, and I hiss, surprisingly finding myself welcoming the sting instead of resisting it.

“Hold on, okay?” Jesus fuck. “This is my tour. I was trying to find Collette. I don’t know anything about your son, or whatever the fuck.” I didn’t know there were kids on here. I would’ve…knocked first or something.

There’s a brief pause, then that sinister laugh of hers echoes off the tight area, wrapping around me like a bandage to my new wound.

“You found me, little lamb.”

Little lamb? Who’s that? Me?

The second the pressure finally disappears, I spin around to find The Collette standing directly in front of me. It’s dark as shit back here, but it doesn’t matter. She stands out like a ray of sunshine breaking through the sky of the thick-ass mammatus clouds I have tattooed on my left shoulder. I let her warmth settle over me and into me, completely forgetting the fact that she just stuck my ass and my blood’s probably running on to the carpet.

She can add it to my tab; as usual there’s already a running tally.

A light near the front flicks on and I can see enough of Collette now to make out that pretty face of hers. No, not pretty. Earth-shattering.

Or maybe the earth really is splintering right now. I don’t know, but I feel unstable as fuck coming face-to-face with her.

Is this what it’s like to be starstruck? Or is this something else?

I’ve never seen her this close, only on a screen or from across the room at the occasional award show. Fuck. She’s so different, yet exactly the same. Her hair’s definitely different though. Collette’s known for wearing wigs all the time. Wigs of different colors, lengths, shapes—she rocks ’em all. And fucking slays in them, too.

Right now though, she’s not wearing one, and I’m having a hard time looking away. Short blonde hair ending just below her jaw doesn’t have a hint of color to it and I can’t help but think if she had blue tips too, she’d look like my queen. It’s somewhat wavy in a just-fucked kind of way, so I send my gaze over her shoulder, checking to see if maybe she was.

Luckily, no one’s there. Bastard’s probably still in the bunk.

Why was she in a bunk to begin with?

She said her son was in the bedroom. I remember seeing him with her during the award circuits over the past couple years—that’s the only date she’s ever taken to any—but I didn’t know she brought him along on tour with us. That’ll make this…interesting.