9. Cash
9
CASH
T he fact that everyone around here seems to have no fucking concept about truly keeping a woman safe from a very real threat is about to drive me out of my mind. Monroe’s security team is a fucking joke. They follow a list of “protocols” that frankly don’t apply to a situation where her hotel room was broken into in the middle of the day and someone left a souvenir from the visit.
Monroe’s staff isn’t exactly negligent , but they all seem to balance her safety with their own inconvenience and the effect changing her plans will have on her fame, success, reputation, and their fucking kimchi orders.
If no one knows where she’s staying, she can’t be photographed going in and out of the hotel lobby.
My blood temperature rises at the thought of how exploited she is at every turn as we pull up to the new hotel.
“Here.” I hand Monroe my plain black ball cap and my black Redford Ranch hoodie. It’s been washed so many times the double R brand on the chest has faded to just one letter, making it unrecognizable.
She stares at the items, blinking slowly.
“Do you think they’ll recognize you in it?” I ask.
She lets out a snort. “I mean, no.”
“Exactly.”
She dons the hoodie obediently. It’s gigantic on her. She pulls the ball cap on before flipping the hood over herself. Something possessive stirs in me at the sight of her in it. When she adds her thick sunglasses, I’m sure that not even her biggest, most obsessive fan would know it’s her.
“The rest of the team will come in after we give them the go-ahead. Brooks already checked us in.”
I open up the door for her, climbing out first and turning to help her down from the car. We get a few curious looks from people passing us by, but no one seems to notice her as more than a tourist with a strange sense of style.
Brooks meets us near the elevator with the key cards. This hotel is just as nice as the original one we were in, but it’s farther from the concert venue. I place my hand on Monroe’s lower back as we get on the elevator.
The room is only on the seventh floor as opposed to the penthouse. It has an adjoining room. We walk in and I immediately do a sweep of the rooms.
Monroe gently sets my hat on the dresser before she curls up on the king-size bed in the larger room with a connected sitting room and kitchenette. She covers her face with a pillow, still wearing my hoodie.
I don’t know how she’s supposed to perform tomorrow night when she seems so withdrawn .
Not my concern.
Brooks and I retreat to the sitting area. He sits on the plush pale pink sofa while I go to the window to make note of the exterior landscape. We’re in the middle of the city, crowds of people walking on the sidewalks below. The sun is beginning to set, and the neon signs of businesses, bars, and restaurants nearby are glowing.
“I agree with you, by the way. Moving her was the safest option,” Brooks muses.
I rub my forehead, where a headache is beginning to form. “She doesn’t seem to have many people advocating for her safety over her career.”
He doesn’t respond for a few beats, and I worry I might have said too much. I trust Brooks instinctively. He’s ex-military and the only one who seems capable of his job and dedicated to it. The others are here for the paycheck. I’ve always had killer instincts, using them to help guide business and hiring decisions for Redford Ranch for years. Being quiet and reserved means I read people, picking up on their tics, interests, passions, abilities, and motives. I’m also a damn good lie detector.
“I think Ember cares about her, but she’s a fish out of water with the safety stuff. Fidel loves her, but in his own twisted way because he also loves that she’s made him rich as fuck. This is the first time I’ve met Franky. He seems to care, but he’s clueless. I agree about the bodyguards. They do their job with the crowds, but none of them take the stalker shit as seriously as it is. The up close pictures are a bad sign. This guy has way too much access. ”
Angry heat flares inside my chest. I have to figure out how he’s getting so damn close without detection.
“What scares me the most is how close he’s been able to get to her. First her home in California, and after just two days on tour, he’s already found her hotel room? He’s smart.” I pinch the bridge of my nose, shutting my eyes to try and clear the fog in my brain. The adrenaline pumping through my veins is finally crashing down, leaving me feeling lightheaded and exhausted.
“I’m going to check on her. Will you order us some food? Don’t use any real names.”
Brooks nods, finding the menu on the glass end table. I walk back toward Monroe’s cracked door, tapping on it lightly before pushing it open a few inches. The TV is on, playing an episode of Friends .
I stare at the TV. It’s the one where Monica and Chandler start hooking up while in London at Ross’s wedding. I blink, clearing the daze I was in before looking down at the bed. Monroe must not have heard me tapping because she’s still curled up in a ball, now hugging a fluffy white pillow and staring at the screen with droopy eyes.
“You like Friends ?”
She peers back at me, eyes red-rimmed. Something inside me crumbles at the sight, at the broken look on her face.
I fold my arms across my chest to avoid the temptation of sitting next to her on the bed.
“It’s my comfort show. I used to watch it when I first moved to LA and I missed home. My mom always had it on back home.”
I inhale a deep breath, slowly exhaling before I respond, “I used to watch it with my mom before she died. She never got to see the last season.”
Monroe looks up at me, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “It’s better than the company of real people sometimes. Which one are you?”
“I’m a mix of Chandler and Phoebe.” Tendency to be withdrawn and isolated, even when I’m surrounded by my family. I also have a dead mom and I’m a little unhinged.
She laughs. “I need more details about why that is. Who do you think I am?”
I look back at the screen, watching Joey walk into the hotel room while Monica hides under the covers and Chandler pretends she’s not there.
“You’re Rachel.” It’s a simple observation.
She’s kindhearted, and everyone wants her. She’s also a little spoiled.
A small smile tugs at her lips. Her eyes move back to the screen.
This is getting too personal. You’re not her friend. You’re the muscle.
I take a step back from the bed, sweeping my gaze across the shadowy room. It’s decorated with a mix of luxurious green velvet and brushed gold fixtures. It consists of a king-size bed with a white velvet tufted headboard, two gilded side tables, an intimate seating area with two armchairs, and a floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the street below.
“Brooks is ordering some food. I’ll let you know when it gets here. Please don’t leave the room without telling me. ”
“Thank you,” she murmurs, her head denting the soft pillow again.
I turn and stalk back to the adjoining sitting area.
Monroe Blue is my charge, my task, my job. I can’t let myself get close to her, or I could screw everything up. She’s going to be up onstage tomorrow night, singing her heart out with her ex-boyfriend, exposed and at risk in front of a swelling crowd.
Get out of your fucking head so you can do this job and get out of here.
The crowd of fans presses in tighter, the smell of sweat and thick perfume permeating the night air. I’ve never been so thankful to be a head taller than most people. My muscles are tense as I scan over as many faces as I can, searching for threats.
Monroe is already in her dressing room, getting her final hair and makeup done. Brooks and two other bodyguards are outside her door, so I came to observe the massive, packed stadium before the show begins.
People are filing in, finding their seats and taking pictures. In about twenty minutes, her first song will start.
A thick sense of dread crawls over my skin. There’s nothing I can do to keep her protected, except stand on the sidelines and hope I respond quickly enough to a threat. But with tens of thousands of fans here, it’s physically impossible to watch them all. Instead, I’ll have to keep my eyes on her at all times.
I turn and walk back toward her dressing room. I tap the clear-wired earpiece in my ear. “Headed back. Everything good?”
Brooks responds, “All clear.”
I square my shoulders back, striding past dancers in costume, set designers, and musicians, all bustling to get in place. Judging by the number of staff, Monroe Blue puts on quite a performance, it seems.
I turn the corner in the hall to where her dressing room is, seeing Brooks, Danny, and Seth posted outside the door. Danny scowls every time he sees my face. He’s supposed to be the head of security, but I’ve all but taken over since I moved Monroe to another hotel. Seth is another member of the security detail.
Danny’s a big boy. He’ll get over it.
Another security guard is standing a few steps behind Seth, and I recognize him from the night Monroe went out to dinner with Zade Byron, her dickhead boyfriend.
Guess he finally decided to give a shit and check on his girlfriend.
Fidel and Ember come scurrying down the hall, chattering excitedly. Ember reaches the door, knocking and waiting a few seconds before pushing it open. I see inside the room briefly, catching a glimpse of Zade hugging Monroe from behind while she sits in the makeup chair. She faces the mirror, eyes on his reflection as he speaks to her, too low for me to hear. Her gaze flashes to my face briefly as Ember and Fidel enter and shut the door behind them.
The look she gave me almost felt like a plea for help, for a rescue.
You’re imagining things.
I have no idea how strong her feelings are for Zade, but he’s a prick with a capital P . I clench my fists, shifting my stance in my boots. I roll my neck from side to side, trying to release the tension building in my upper shoulders.
“You good?” Brooks asks.
I nod.
The door to the dressing room swings open, and Ember pokes her head out. Brooks smiles at her. She returns it.
“Hi,” she says.
“Hi,” he repeats.
I glance from his face to hers, noticing the way they both lean in toward each other and block out the existence of the rest of us. After a few long, awkward seconds, I cough.
Ember blinks, like she’s clearing her head from a daze. Brooks jerks back, standing up straight and squaring his shoulders, like he was caught doing something he shouldn’t have been doing. She clears her throat.
“Zade wants to talk to Cash and Danny.” She pushes the door farther open to let us in.
I walk inside the dressing room after Danny. He and I face Zade, who is standing behind Monroe with his hands planted on her slim shoulders.
She’s ready for her first song in a shimmery olive-green dress. It’s tiny, cinched in at her waist, and exposes the tops of her breasts. She’s wearing knee-high, diamond-lined silver heeled boots with them. Her hair is a pinned-up mass of tight blonde curls, a few trailing over her shoulders. Red lips and dark, smoky eye makeup give her a sexy, alluring vibe that’s nearly overwhelming to my heightened senses.
I keep a safe distance, eyeing Zade as he opens his mouth to speak.
“Which of you two is to blame for the disgusting shit that happened to my girlfriend?” His words are clipped, like a father reprimanding his children.
My boots are planted shoulder-width apart. My shoulders are squared back. I remain silent, staring him down. He shifts his gaze to Danny, who wrings his hands.
“It was a onetime occurrence, Mr. Byron. Miss Blue’s safety is our top priority. We have some new team members still learning the ropes, ah, but I won’t allow the break in security to happen again.”
My eyes flicker to Monroe’s.
She blinks up at me before folding her arms over her chest and shaking Zade’s hands off of her. “It wasn’t the bodyguards’ fault. They were with me at rehearsal when it happened.”
I don’t offer a response. My jaw clenches, and I continue to stare Zade down. His eyes grow darker, brows lowering. Monroe slinks over to where Ember is waiting by the door. Her assistant hands her a bejeweled microphone.
Zade follows her, wrapping his arm around her waist and leaning down to kiss her lips. He holds it for a beat longer than necessary, clearly staking his claim. Ember has her phone raised, taking videos of the couple to presumably post online .
“Knock ’em dead, gorgeous.” He reaches around and cups her ass, his fingers gliding along the lower crease of her skin.
She’s frozen, eyes looking away from him toward the wall. Every muscle in my body is taut, waiting and watching.
She pulls away from him without a word, following Ember out the door. Her icy response to his affection is all I needed to see to know exactly how she feels about him.