Chapter 1 #4
Since he doesn’t under-fucking-stand a damn thing and has no sense of self-preservation, I shove him away from the door, putting him out of the firing line. Someone could lunge for him if he’s exposed with a fucking beer box in his arms. Though, they’d have to get through me first.
I hold him away from the threshold and push the door open a little more with my toe. If Topaz’s damn PA’s in here messing shit up, I’ll go ballistic.
Instead of Lucy, though, a shabby man rifles through Cai’s suitcase. The intruder’s clothes are stained, his hair dark, long and straggly over his face.
A quick glance confirms Cai’s behind me and safe. I push him further away from the door, in case the weirdo makes a dart for him, and call into the room, ‘Who are you?’
Our trespasser clutches a handful of damp towels and… are those my boxers?
‘Cai,’ the man grunts and takes a step towards us. I shift backwards, moving Cai with me. My foot catches on the damn crate but I grab hold of the doorframe to stop from falling over. I’m no good to him if I’m on the fucking floor.
‘You don’t have permission to be here. What are you doing? How did you get access to this room?’
The intruder stares, slack-jawed. The towels dangle limp from his hand, mirroring the slouch in his body. Skinny arms and legs tremble like one sharp puff of air could snap them. He’s a zombie.
I get ready to pounce. But he must notice the way my knees bend, the arms of my leather jacket cracking because something clicks inside of him.
Eyes wide, he pulls the bundle of clothes tight to his chest and darts left, feints a right then shifts back.
Keeping me on my toes. I’m forced to mirror his every move.
If I give him a gap, he’ll fucking take it and there’s no way I’m putting Cai in any more danger.
The man’s quicker than his layers of clothes and bulky boots should allow.
‘I love you, Cai.’ He lurches forward and I react, lunging to nab him. I create enough space for him to slip under my outstretched arm, and he darts out of the room.
‘Oy!’ I spin with a hand on Cai’s elbow to keep him behind me, and my best friend digs his nails into my skin, holding me in place. ‘Mate, I have to go.’
I’ve got to catch this bellend. I need to call the police, but the way Cai clings to me like a baby koala makes me want to stay right where I am.
He’s my damn responsibility, and I’m letting him down.
I warned Gethin I needed more staff with me.
I should have my own team to protect Cai, but the wrinkly bastard wouldn’t shut up about the venue’s people being enough. All to save a few fucking pennies.
I can’t even get to my phone since it’s being held hostage by my skinny jeans.
Think fast, Rhys.
I get all of a second to check that no other creeps hide in the dressing room. It’s empty, the wide-open door of the en-suite giving me enough of a view to be about seventy-five per cent sure it’s safe.
It’ll have to do.
I shove Cai into the room. ‘Ring Richie and lock the door. Don’t come out unless it’s me or him. Check first. You know the safeword.’
‘It’s—’
‘Don’t be a fucking idiot.’ He waits in the doorway, staring at his phone. ‘Cai! This is serious.’
He wakes up. ‘Yeah, yeah. Got it. Sure.’
The door clicks shut. I allow myself one whole second to wait for the turn of the lock. Then I launch along the corridor.
It’s like running on a treadmill. A ton of effort for no fucking benefit.
Spending the show on my feet looking after Cai may have made my legs ache, but jet lag has my entire body sluggish.
It’s like I’m on a time delay. I don’t gain on the trespasser.
Doesn’t matter how hard my brain tells my legs to pump.
The invader rounds the corridor and I clip my shoulder on the edge of the wall in my attempt to take the shortest path to him. He collides with a pair of high-vis vests, but they make no effort to grab him.
‘Don’t fucking stand there. Get him!’
But he’s already out of their reach, too.
This is the last time I let Gethin have any input on my fucking job, and once I’ve caught this fucker, my boss and Lucy will be getting an earful from me.
If we’d been in dressing room one, with my own security crew, closer to the venue staff, to the backstage area, I could have gotten help quicker.
This fucking arsehole’s gonna be out of the door before I can get to him, with Cai’s towels and my boxers in hand.
He’ll get off Scot-fucking-free and I don’t have a picture of the wanker to give to the cops.
The slam of the fire door echoes along the corridor. This guy must be a 28 Days Later level zombie for the speed he’s moving at. I make it to the door an embarrassing ten seconds after him, and I know what I’ll see when I get it open. A whole fucking load of nothing.
I push on the bar and confirm my suspicions. Gone. Disappeared into the fucking rain, which is still thrashing down in the way only the good old fucking British autumn can, and I’m left with no evidence, no names and no fucking clue what to do about it. And I’m down a pair of pants.