Chapter Five #4
“That’s wise.”
He retrieved a warm washcloth from the bathroom. The aftercare was quicker than Friday, but he still cleaned me gently before handing me my underwear.
I pulled on my underwear, then found two cold electrolyte bottles while he dressed from the waist down.
Shane took one and drank half of it.
I drank enough to stop my pulse from sounding in my ears.
He touched my hip. “We’re still talking after the concert.”
“That wasn’t a question.”
“It wasn’t supposed to be.”
I pulled on my trousers. “We’re still talking.”
He released a slow breath.
I fastened my bra and reached for the dark-navy top.
Shane stepped behind me and smoothed my hair away from the neckline after I pulled it on.
“You’re sure you want to go back out there?” he asked.
“I’m sure.”
“You don’t have to prove anything by taking the detail back.”
“I’m not proving anything. My break is over, and I’m ready to take the detail back.”
He nodded. “Then I follow your lead.”
“You always say that when I’m not wearing the earpiece.”
“I’ve followed it while you were wearing one.”
“You negotiated first.”
“I’m growing.”
I put on my shoes, straightened my clothes in the mirror, and secured my hair again.
I unlocked the door.
The relief agent stood exactly where I’d left him.
“Status?” I asked.
“The corridor is clear. Rafi remains at stage access. No confirmation from the media roster yet.”
“Shane’s ready for wardrobe. I’m taking close contact back.”
“You have him.”
I fitted my earpiece and keyed the channel. “Cassidy active.”
Rafi answered immediately. “Copy.”
The agent moved to the corridor position.
Shane stepped beside me in rehearsal trousers and no shirt.
I raised my eyebrows.
He lifted both hands. “Wardrobe is inside the room.”
“Put on the ivory henley before we move.”
“I thought you appreciated efficiency.”
“I appreciate not walking a half-dressed rockstar through an active venue.”
“That sounded personal.”
“It was crowd management.”
He smiled and returned to the garment rack.
The ivory ribbed henley fit close across his chest, with several buttons left open for the performance. He added the pale-stone trousers and white stage sneakers.
In less than three minutes, he was dressed for thousands of people.
He stepped beside me and touched two fingers to my wrist before letting go.
A sharp tone sounded in my earpiece.
Rafi’s voice followed. “Cassidy, we have a developing crowd issue at the west media entrance.”
I opened the dressing-room door. “What happened?”
“A false backstage meet-and-greet announcement is spreading through fan accounts.”
He sent the post to my phone.
SHANE HART BACKSTAGE HELLO
WEST MEDIA GATE — BEFORE SHOW
FIRST FIFTY FANS GET PHOTOS
The image used official concert artwork and an old photograph of Shane signing autographs.
“How many people?” I asked.
“Thirty at the gate now, more crossing from the boardwalk. Venue staff have kept the entrance closed.”
“Are they forcing access?”
“No. They believe the announcement is legitimate. Venue staff are repeating, ‘The backstage notice is false. Please use the public doors.’”
Shane read the post over my shoulder.
“They think I invited them.”
“Yes.”
“Can the venue put a correction on the concert accounts?”
“Isabel’s doing it now,” Rafi said.
Shane glanced toward the corridor. “Tell them I’m sorry.”
“You didn’t send it,” I said.
“They came because they thought I did.”
“I’ll make sure the correction doesn’t blame them.”
His expression eased. “Thank you.”
Another voice cut onto the channel.
“Cassidy, this is Isabel. I have the completed media check-in roster.”
I stopped moving.
“Go ahead.”
“Melanie Keene’s credential was scanned at eight forty-three. She entered through the outer media desk before SBS identified her as the likely sender.”
Shane went still beside me.
“Is she in the assigned photographer area now?” I asked.
“No. The media lead is checking, but one of our staff members saw a woman matching the photograph on Melanie’s credential leave the area several minutes ago.”
“Which direction?”
“East corridor toward stage access.”
Another agent cut onto the channel. “West gate is over forty and still growing. More fans are coming off the boardwalk.”
I pressed my palm against Shane’s chest and moved him back into the suite.
“Shane, stay with me.”
“I’m with you.”
I turned to the relief agent. “Take the inside position. Rafi, secure the stage-access hold and close the east corridor. Isabel, keep the fans contained and pull every available description from the staff member who saw the woman leave the media area.”
“Understood,” Rafi said.
“We’re moving now.”
Shane followed before I touched him again.
“Clear the protected route now,” Rafi said over comms. Crew members moved against the walls as I led Shane toward the stage-access hold. The second agent covered our rear, and the bass test continued beneath our feet.
The fans were gathering at the west gate.
Melanie Keene’s credential had been used, and a woman matching her photograph was heading for stage access.
I moved Shane behind me and faced the corridor.