17. Bodyguard . . .Boyfriend?
SEVENTEEN
bodyguard . . . or boyfriend?
The car pulls up to the Roxy at exactly 3 p.m. Brianna wiggles in the seat next to me, peering out the window as we drive past a line of people.
It’s the first time I’ve seen her attend a public event—or anything outside of her house or office, for that matter—without looking completely overwhelmed. She’s usually shaking with terror, but this time, I can tell a different type of energy fills her. I love watching her light up this way.
“I still can’t believe it when I see fans lined up like this. I wonder how long they’ve been here?” She peers out the tinted black windows, watching the fans staring back at the car and pointing, obviously wondering if their music icon is inside. A few of the girls in line jump up and down. Some have their phone cameras pointed and prepped to get a shot of whoever steps out.
“Are you ready for this?” I ask, my arm wrapped around her shoulders.
She leans over, taking in the view. “More than I have been before. Let’s do this.” She nods her head toward the driver, who dutifully exits the vehicle and walks around to open her door.
Char is waiting inside, already having spent several hours on-site making sure everything is perfect. Clinton stands at the door, acting as both an undercover bodyguard and basically a bouncer, scoping out the fans as they enter. I’m confident he’s got everything under control.
The door opens, and the screams outside intensify. Brianna’s barely set one foot out the door, practically just her toes, before the crowd loses their collective minds.
“It’s her!”
“Oh my gawwwwwwwwd!”
There are only a few recognizable words thrown here and there among the din of voices, most of it being inaudible shouts and whistles. As Bree steps all the way out of the car, waving at the crowd, their energy shocks me. Most of the time, the photographers are the ones bombarding us, not hordes of fans. I have to say, fans give off a less obnoxious vibe, honestly. I don’t feel like these people are trying to catch us in a bad shot—they’re just unbelievably excited to see their favorite star.
As I step out behind Brianna, I smile, happy she’s finally able to enjoy this. But I don’t expect to hear my name among the screams and hollers.
“Zack! Oh, my gawwwwd, it’s Zack!”
The crowd turns their attention my way, waving their arms, phones aimed at me. Heat fills my face at the display in front of me, which could ruin our narrative if I don’t pull it together. I’m supposed to be the unaffected asshole, but fuck , having all eyes on me is uncomfortable. I’m only here as a boyfriend, so I wasn’t expecting them to shout for me as if they’re my fans too.
Bree wraps both her arms around one of mine and pulls me down to whisper in my ear. “Looks like you have a following now,” she jokes. But her simple act of whispering in my ear drives the crowd nuts. The screaming intensifies, if that’s even possible.
“We’d better get inside before they scream louder,” I murmur back.
Brianna agrees, turning to wave and yell her thanks to the fans for standing in line to see her. We pass Clinton at the door. He winks and gives me a fist bump.
“See you inside, man,” I say as I pass.
Then Bree and I are inside.
This event at the Roxy is the fan watch-party for the “Rescue Me” video we filmed a month ago. I haven’t seen any of the footage, but there’s one scene I’m nervous to watch with Brianna by my side. The kiss. The one that’s starred in more dreams than I can count. The one I can still almost feel if I dwell on it long enough.
But here we are, and it’s about to happen. I’m not sure how she’ll react, but I know how I will. I might not be able to watch the whole thing. Seeing us kiss onscreen could ignite me in ways I’m not ready for Brianna to see.
The clubs along this part of Sunset Boulevard have been around a long time. The building is small, as are most of these old dive clubs known for discovering musical talent. You’d miss it if you drove by too fast. But it’s classic Hollywood, with a bit of retro style. The interior is painted black in an effort to put the focus on the performances onstage. In this case, the stage is a screen. There are no chairs in sight for this event. Instead a variety of blankets and overstuffed pillows cover most of the floor, creating a giant picnic effect. Typical picnic fare lines the tables along the back wall near the bar to complete the theme.
With only fifty fans in attendance, the setup is intimate, like a family outing, in keeping with the home-movie vibes. There’s a roped-off section to one side, dedicated as Brianna’s VIP picnic area. She has her own picnic basket, with her favorite foods inside. When I peek into it after we enter, I laugh and pull out one of the options we’ve been given.
“Planning to tell me some truths today?” I say as I show her a bag of popcorn.
Brianna smiles and rolls her eyes playfully. But when her gaze falls back to mine, there’s a hint of a deeper emotion. Before I can name it, she turns away .
We take our place on the blanket as the fans begin to enter the main space. Clinton joins our section, sitting in a chair off to the side. He’s positioned to be out of the way yet right by the opening to our zone. No one will enter who isn’t supposed to be here. I know that makes Brianna feel better. It sure as hell helps me to relax.
Char heads over, the ever-present clipboard in her hands, along with a headset this time. A while ago, I asked her why she doesn’t use a digital tablet. She told me swiping across a tablet doesn’t satisfy the way snapping the clipboard does.
“So, once all the fans are in, you can invite them to enjoy the food and settle in.” Char speaks energetically, diving in as though picking up where she left off in conversation. Except we haven’t seen her since yesterday. “Everyone can nibble and mingle for a while, then you’ll introduce the video. The tech crew will pull up our channel and post it live. We’ll watch it as the world watches.”
Brianna nods, seeming totally comfortable with her role today. I can’t get over what it’s like to see how confident she is when she feels safe.
The fans are all seated, with a few commissioned photographers scattered around documenting the event. No fucking paparazzi allowed.
Minutes later, Brianna takes to the stage with both me and Clinton by her side. She reaches back to grab my hand before turning toward the microphone. I squeeze her hand in support. She doesn’t look over at me, but she does squeeze back.
“Hello, Royce-sters!” She calls out the nickname for her fandom. “Welcome to the watch-party picnic. You’ll understand the theme once you see the video. I’m so excited to share ‘Rescue Me’ with you. This video and this song mean so much to me. It’s my first self-produced media event through Siren Song Sound Productions, and the first recording of a song I’ve written. This next step in my career, my journey in music, is a big one for me, and I really appreciate your support.”
Brianna invites the crowd to grab some food and enjoy the surroundings until the video feed goes live. She and I return to the VIP zone and snack on our basket of food while we watch the scene in front of us. Brianna stays quiet, contemplative, observing the positive energy.
“It’s a nice change from the stress of a red carpet, isn’t it?” I ask quietly after taking it all in.
“It is. I almost forgot what it felt like to just enjoy .”
We share a long look before returning to snacking and talking with the people nearby.
Char returns a while later. “It’s go time, Bree. You ready for this?” She beams as she scans the crowd. “This event is going perfectly, and the fans have been gushing about the vibe. They’re really excited to be here.”
Brianna looks out at her fans. “When the video is over, that’s it, right?” she asks after a minute.
My stomach sinks. Is she nervous again? I was so happy to see her happy. I wonder what’s brought this on.
Char responds. “Yes, that’s the conclusion. The fans will be ushered out, and then you can leave quietly.” Her voice has the sound of a reassuring parent taking their child to the dentist . It will be over soon, honey.
“Then I want to extend it.”
Everyone in the VIP section turns to look at Brianna, unsure of what she’s talking about.
“They stood outside in the heat this long for snacks and a video? I’ve barely said four sentences to them this entire time. It’s not enough.”
“What are you saying, Bree?” Char asks what everyone is wondering.
“I think we should add the meet-and-greet. They deserve a picture or an autograph. Something for their support, you know?”
I’ve never been prouder of anyone than I am of Brianna right now. The legitimate fears she’s had to put aside in order to make this declaration are massive. Knowing how vulnerable she’s made herself, I’m not sure I’d be able to do the same in her position. I put my arm around her again and pull her close. She immediately rests her head on my shoulder.
“Okay.” Char nods. “I don’t think anyone will complain about that. We have the place for a few hours, so there shouldn’t be a problem on the venue’s side either. I’ll make it happen.” Char turns to find the right people for whatever tasks come with the change of plan, but she pauses and looks over her shoulder first. “Oh, go introduce the video! The tech guys will take over after that.”
“I’m ready. Zack, come with me.”
Once again, Brianna takes me by the hand before we walk to the stage. This time, Clinton stays put. The fans quiet down when they see her approach, but they begin to clap as she stands in front of them.
“I hope you’re having a great time so far, but we’re about to turn things up a notch. The ‘Rescue Me’ video is about to go live! I can’t wait for you to see it. Especially some of the great moves this guy has for you.” Bree wraps her arms around me as she refers to my portion of the video.
I can’t help but pull her closer when it occurs to me this is the first time since the kiss for the music video that she’s initiated any type of physical contact. And I don’t get the sense her affection is all for show. The way she is with me today feels genuine.
“Oh, and don’t go anywhere when this thing’s over! I’ve got a little something more for you.” She gives her fans a wink and then takes me back to our VIP picnic, arms around me the entire time.
As soon as we sit down, the lights dim, and the screen comes to life. A video edit of titles and credits rolls first, then the intro to the song begins. The first scene is one of Brianna on a picnic blanket by herself—the same blanket where I kissed her. She’s singing while looking out over the horizon, seemingly lost in thought. The scene fades into one of her at the army barracks writing a letter .
Then the image turns to her singing at sunset, while I sit in the jeep behind her. I’m just a fuzzy spot in the background, but the message is clear. I’m a memory. After a few more lines, the scene cuts back to the blanket. But this time, I’m with her.
As I anticipate what’s coming, my pulse races just like it did that day. I watch as the camera pans to us lying on the blanket. In the video, I look at her hair, my finger wrapped around a lock. It’s one of the close-ups we had to reshoot once the director decided our kiss was hot. But what strikes me now is how Brianna was looking at me. This was filmed after the kiss, when her discomfort about everything was a tangible force. When I thought she hated it and had felt pressured to kiss me. I was confused at the time, and my own feelings were a jumbled mess.
But watching this now, seeing how she’s looking at me on that picnic blanket while I look at her hair, I read her emotions differently. There’s longing in her eyes. There’s a desire in her body language that I missed. Either that or she’s an amazing actress. Academy Award levels of acting.
I glaze over for a while as my mind replays everything I remember. I don’t pay attention to the screen until that scene comes back on. This time it’s the distant shot—the one filmed the first time we kissed—but I notice how close the camera zoomed in on us. Close enough to feel the heat of our kiss even from afar. They must have had some kind of monster telephoto lens. And watching it, seeing Brianna lean in and touch her lips to mine rather than experiencing it, jars me. I was there. I felt it in real time. But watching it is next-level.
That was one hot kiss.
Brianna must realize the same thing, because she sits closer. I feel her breathing speeding up. Her hand wraps around mine, her touch electrifying. The energy radiating from her is intense. I pull my hand away from hers and wrap my arm around her shoulder instead, curling her into me. Then I lean over to plant a kiss on the side of her head—my silent way of telling her I feel exactly the same .
Does she understand me?
When Brianna looks up at me and I see my emotions reflected in her eyes, the longing and the desire, I know she does.