Chapter 21 #2
When we leave the studio hours later, we’re all buzzing.
We laid down a completed track for the tentatively titled Eyes On Me and sent it off with Blake to test it out with the higher ups.
I let it be known that I won’t be taking no for an answer, although I don’t think it’s likely the song would be given anything but a fast track to our next single.
We’re not the only ones buzzing. The crowd outside is thicker than usual, cameras flashing before the doors swing open.
Security clears a path for us, but this crowd is aggressive, and more than once I’m jostled on my way to the car.
It feels louder than usual, the bulbs brighter, the shouted questions more intrusive.
I give Cory a panicked look. Where is he?
Luc had left with him to go get the car while we finished up with Blake, discussing plans for tomorrow.
If anyone in the crowd had seen him, they’d surely be throwing questions out about him and not just my reaction to the latest Twatpost from the shit-stirring poor excuse of a man we currently have leading the country. Doesn’t he have anything better to do?
Cory’s hand squeezes my shoulder reassuringly, and I duck into the car.
Naz, Will, and Ari file in after me. Blake rides with the rest of the security team in the car behind us.
Tad is sitting in the back seat. The door shuts behind us, muffling most of the din.
Before Cory can pull away from the curb, they start hitting the windows and roof of the car.
He lays on the horn and revs the engine, a clear threat to get the fuck out of the way, which they do when they realize they can’t see much through the dark tint of the windows, even with their faces pressed up against the glass.
“Where is he, Cory?” I bark, my agitation ramping up.
My knee bounces uncontrollably, my nails dig into my palms, and I nearly rip my lip ring out.
I do pull some hairs out, aggressively pushing my hair back from my forehead.
The space in the car shrinks, air too thick and heavy to breathe.
It’s too hot. My skin feels stretched too tight, and my eyes are dry.
My heart is beating so fast I cough and gag.
“It’s alright, man. Breathe,” Naz says, placing one hand firmly on my chest and one on my back like he can hold me together.
“Where. Is. He?” I grit out.
“All clear,” Cory yells back.
There’s a sharp intake of breath, and Luc pops up in the very back row, next to Tad. My stomach flips, and I fold myself in half, burying my face in my hands.
“I’m here, baby, I’m here.”
Seamlessly, Luc maneuvers himself into the seat next to me, while the others shuffle down, Ari taking the seat Luc just abandoned. He pulls me into his arms, and I can feel him trembling almost as hard as I am.
“Fucking fuck!” I yell, muffling my frustration in his chest.
Cory’s phone rings over the speakers, and he clicks to answer. “Mr. Holland, you’re on speaker.”
“Good. Is everyone alright? I’m assuming Mr. Martín was stowed away somewhere safe?”
“Yes, sir,” Cory answers. Luc chimes in and says he’s fine, but I think it’s more for my sake than Blake’s.
“This is getting out of hand,” Naz says.
“You’re threatening the imbalance that certain government officials are trying very hard to cultivate. You’re a big enough name to pull attention away from the circus and direct it towards the real problems. They’re going to do whatever they can to discredit you.”
“You think they’re purposefully trying to provoke us?” Will asks.
“It’s not uncommon,” Blake answers.
“Did anyone notice that most of the paparazzi back there weren’t the usual crowd?” Tad asks. I think hard, trying to separate the chaos.
“He’s right,” I say. “I saw one or two of the usual guys that always follow us around, but they don’t usually give us much trouble. These were all new people.”
“Hired, maybe?” Cory asks, flicking his eyes up to the rearview mirror. Tad nods.
With a deep sigh, I look up at Luc. He’s clearly shaken, even though he’s trying to put on a brave face for my benefit. “I should probably take you home. Maybe we can hide out at your–”
“I agree that Mr. Martín should go back home,” Blake says, his voice sounding legitimately regretful through the car speakers. “But it’s probably best if you don’t go with him.”
I sit up straight. “What?”
“I think it’s a good idea if Luc heads home alone and makes a point to be seen somewhere in Shreveport while you are recorded and photographed in New York at the same time.
So far, any rumors about the two of you have gone nowhere, but I wouldn’t put it past the news outlets and politicians to look into every single fan theory and rumor just in case they can make something of it, even if it isn’t true. ”
“Better safe than sorry,” Naz says, giving me a serious, worried look. His words from the other day come to mind. Would your relationship survive if this were to get out?
“Mr. Martín, you should be extra vigilant. Watch what you say in public, there could be recording devices anywhere. Keep your curtains closed and tell your Coach and stadium security to expect drones.”
“Isn’t it illegal to record people in their homes, or their private conversations?”
“There are ways of getting around that, and if the news is big enough, they’d consider it worth the risk.”
“Jesus,” Luc mutters under his breath.
“I’m so sorry,” I mutter, feeling sick to my stomach.
He pulls me tighter into his side. “This isn’t your fault,” he says, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.
Tad arranges for an unmarked, unassuming vehicle to be waiting for us in the private basement entrance of the hotel. Luc and I are given twenty minutes to pack up his things and say our goodbyes. The quicker he’s seen back in Louisiana, the better.
I cling to him, feeling a hundred times worse than the first time I watched him drive away from me. Parting from him never feels good. But this time…
It feels ominous.