CHAPTER FOUR #2
After I left them in the room with takeout food, I head out in search of more information. Maybe I can bump into those who are following us thinking I haven’t noticed. What I don’t expect is Rosalie wrapping her hand around my arm dress in a beautiful yellow dress that stops just above her knees.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
“Exactly what you are doing.” She smiles and I ignore how my heart speed up.
“And what I’m doing?”
“Searching for information. I also think my friends are safer when I’m not around.”
“What about my safety?”
“You can keep yourself and myself, if you want to, safe.”
I frown but keep walking with her wrap around my arm.
The second I saw her a few days ago, I know her beauty is one that turn heads.
There’s something else today. I don’t know if is the way she styles herself or the way she moves her body, but she is not only turning heads.
People can’t stop looking at her; even when we pass them, they still look at her retreating.
I know she is a celebrity. They are the four members of a worldwide sensation.
Some articles are saying they have revived the pop girl group space in the music business.
I learn Rosalie is the one who keeps, manages and sways the image of the group.
I found so many photos, videos, and interviews where she alone is the guest, the subject of scrutiny and admiration.
I also learn that an illegitimate son of the Hastings Royal Family uses her and a stunt of them dating to clean his image, but he sabotages it.
While her company deleted the post, nothing is really gone on the Internet.
I got my hands on a screenshot of her message she send to her fans right after the company dumb all the blame on her.
The interesting thing I think they don’t know is the timing of things.
I know someone in their team, with the help of Los Cuervos de Plata; they were laundering money through the company and through the tour.
I have a private contact and I know Curtis is searching for who exactly in their team is laundering money.
My theory is that they got caught or because of that bastard playboy, their stint is a bust and now the Silver Crows are looking into bargaining them to the company or transfer the debt, the responsibility, or the blame to Rosalie.
“Where are we going?” Rosalie asks.
“I was going to walk around and see who looks suspicious or out of place, but with you, I don’t think I can.”
“Why?”
“You catch too much attention.”
“Why don’t you use that to weed out those who are starstruck and those who are stalking?”
I tilt my head and watch her for a couple of seconds. She has a point. If we walk around, it would be a little hard if they’re good at blending with the crowd. What if we sit down somewhere where I can look around the room while the show captivates the crowd?
“How about having dinner and watching a play?” I ask.
“Is that the building with the stunning dining tables, the stage, and the big screen?”
“Yes. If we get seated at night, I heard they add lighting shows that compliments the stage and seen through the floor to ceiling windows.”
“Let’s go. We have to do whatever we can to get seats.” She pulls me by the arm and I catch two men picking up their pace through the store’s windows reflection.
We stand in line and the men waiting until a two groups of four to six people stand behind us before they join the line. We got seats to the 8:00 pm showing and when Rosalie squeals about getting to see the lights at night; I stop myself from pressing my hand over her mouth.
“What are you doing?” I whisper.
“Making sure they know which time we are in. Don’t we want to point out who isn’t fawning over me?”
“You know that is dangerous.”
She sighs. “Of course I know. I also know we would benefit if we dangle me as bait. I’m sure they think there is nothing up here.” She points at her head. “I get some strange satisfaction watching the realization that they fell into my trap. We have two hours to kill. Where should we go?”
“We can go to the park. Enjoy nature while is not as hot as it was earlier in the day.”
She nods and tightened her hand on my arm as I guide us to Lover’s Stroll Park.
Inside the park Rosalie looks free. She lets go of my arm and walks ahead.
She stops often to take photos of flowers and the rays of sunlight peaking through the tree branches.
I thought she would take photos of herself, but she never did.
The tension I often notice she holds when she is around her friends and group members is gone.
Is like for a moment she peels off the mask she constantly wears.
I wonder if her members would react the same or if is only Rosalie, the one who carries this invisible weight.
“Do you want me to take a photo of you?” I ask.
“No, thank you.”
“Are you sure? Don’t you want to keep a memory that you were here?”
“The photos I’ve taken are enough.”
“Are you sure? I wouldn’t mind.” I don’t know why I’m insisting.
“I’m sure that I don’t want to.” Rosalie says, looking straight into my eyes.
There is something in that stare. Her body daring me not to ask.
It tells me to stop pushing. Her eyes say something different.
A plea. A plea for what, though. Could it be that she is tired to be photograph constantly as a public figure?
Could it be a darker past related to none consensual photos?
There is so much I can’t relate, let alone imagine, about the glitter and glam of a celebrity’s life.
We were focusing on each other so much that either of us saw the guy coming to her.
“Are you Rosie from VERA?” He asks, phone already out and recording.
“I’m sorry I’m not.”
“Come on, don’t lie. You are totally her. What are you doing in Missouri? Shouldn’t you be in Virginia reflecting on your action?”
I frown and walk closer. I clear my throat. “Is there a problem here?” I ask.
The guy startles and turns to me. “Great. Can you take a photo?” He hands me his phone, still recording. I stop the recording and get to the video and deleted it. Since I’m now in his album, I got to his trash folder and delete the video. Gone.
“No photos. I’m not her. I’m so tired of people thinking I’m her.” Rosalie sighs her frustration.
“I’ve been a fan since you guys debuted. There is no way I can’t recognize you,” the guys says.
I step closer to him. I’m a head taller than him and I can see he feels intimidated. Good.
“Let’s say she is who you say she is. Doesn’t she have the right to decline a photo? She is a human being. She is not a doll or a statue you can take photos or record when you please.”
“But I’m a fan.”
“Does that mean you own her? Since when we own humans?” That shut him up.
“Cooper, let’s go,” she says, holding three of my fingers.
I hold her hand and intertwine our fingers. “She said she is not who you think she is. You should believe her. If you are a genuine fan of whoever this person is, won’t you protect their privacy? Or are you just looking for approval through likes and comments on social media? Searching for clout?”
“I would never.”
“Then you wouldn’t have approached her recording and without her knowledge and consent.” I feel her stiffen beside me. I look at my watch. “It’s time for our dinner reservation. Let’s go.” I toss him his phone and pull Rosalie away.
“Don’t worry about the video. I delete it from his album and trash,” I say when we were out of earshot.
We get to Upstage Dinner Theater fifteen minutes before and a hostess escort us to our table.
We have a great view of the stage and I take the seat that would allow me to look around and see the entire venue except the two tables behind me.
I can readjust every so often to look behind me without looking too suspicious.
I didn’t look at which play they were playing, so I’m surprise to see the iconic characters from Pride and Prejudice running from zombies as the opening act.
I find the men following us when the actors commanded the audience to look to the left, but they were looking at us without blinking.
One of them slides his thumb from one side of his neck to the other before pointing out to me.
The crow, standing on a stack of coins in his hand, tells me who they are.
I shoot a quick message to Caleb and hope they can make it here before things get more dangerous.