Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Seth
I WATCH JACOB DISAPPEAR from the rearview mirrors. I shouldn’t. I should focus on the road, but I can’t tear my eyes away until a turn hides him from view.
That one is going to be trouble.
As I drive back to the practice space with everyone’s keys in my pockets, my mind keeps wandering back to one band member in particular. The one with the pretty eyes and the dimples. The one who stared at me like I was some kind of superhero swooping in to save him. The one I didn’t want to let go of after successfully hauling him through the press.
I really need to get this out of my system.
I park my car and try to focus on the dreary task at hand instead of a man I work for and shouldn’t be thinking about in anything but a professional sense. A man I’m not thinking about in anything but a professional sense. I have to get each of these cars back to their owners. I could call in some help, but it’s easy enough for me to do it alone.
After getting Levi’s car to him, I hop on a bus to return to the practice space. I go back over and over, tediously returning each car to its owner. The guys thank me, several of them seeming surprised I’m doing this job personally. A couple offer me rides back, but I insist on using the buses. I don’t need to get more friendly with the guys than I already am. That can only lead to trouble.
As I ride the bus to get the last car sitting in the lot, I consider those applications I set aside. The task of hiring a security team for Baptism Emperor got shoved to the side when this emergency arose, and I’ll be too exhausted to continue by the time I get home, but if today proved anything, it’s how vitally important that project is. Baptism Emperor can’t continue with nothing but my occasional presence as security. I was able to help today, but what if I was busy? What if The Ten Hours had left town and I went with them? If I wasn’t here, what would they have done?
An image flashes through my mind of Jacob standing helpless before that mob. He isn’t big enough to shoulder through the way I can, and even if he was, he doesn’t seem like the type. Too nice. Too friendly. The opposite of everything I’ve learned to be. No, he would have either hidden in the practice room for the rest of the day or tried to take their questions and satisfy their curiosity. Both would have ended in disaster.
I shiver when I hop off the bus, but not because it’s particularly cold. A sedate summer evening washes over me, cool and comfortable. The sun is sinking, but it stays up late this time of year, so I still have plenty of time before it gets truly dark, surely enough time to get this final car back to its owner.
I unlock Jacob’s car, but the moment I settle into the driver’s seat, he overwhelms me. My knees nearly hit the steering wheel. A pride flag dangles from the mirror. There’s a faint, warm scent that must be him. The second it hits my nose it reminds me so powerfully of him that a moment of vertigo swirls through my head.
My hands are unsteady when I grip the wheel.
I manage to adjust the chair and mirrors so I can actually drive, but it takes a few minutes and a few deep breaths before I turn the car on and get moving.
I shake myself. This is my job. I’m not thinking right, but it’s just a momentary affliction. I can brush it off. It’s all the time spent around each other lately. It’s nothing serious. Besides, Jacob is beautiful and famous and rich. There is no possible way he’d notice a bodyguard when the entire world wants him.
I manage to pull out of the parking lot and head toward Jacob’s place, trying my hardest not to memorize the way his whole car smells of him.
“THAT WAS A DISASTER.”
Emmett looks like he’s sucking on a lemon as he paces the conference room. It’s just me and him in here, which is a little ridiculous considering the long table between us. It hosts a dozen chairs and a bunch of ports for plugging in laptops. I sit stiffly in one of the chairs, uncomfortable in this stuffy environment. When Emmett woke me up with a terse call this morning, he insisted we have this meeting in person — and immediately.
I stifle a yawn. I don’t usually have to wake up so early. Bands tend to play their shows in the evening, and my schedule has adjusted to fit their lifestyle. But Emmett isn’t a rockstar. He’s a corporate middleman, and he operates on corporate middleman hours.
“How did the press find out where they were?” he says.
I don’t answer. The question isn’t for me.
In evidence of this, Emmett continues to pace, not looking at me as he stalks up and down the conference room. He’s a lanky whip of a man, tall and dark-haired with a severe, stern face. Or maybe it’s just that he always seems pissed off by something. I regard him neutrally and react as little as possible to his tirade.
“It should have been secret,” Emmett rants. “I told them to keep it off social media. Did one of them post something stupid? I’ll have to put Daphne on it.” His voice lowers to a mutter as he goes on talking to himself.
Then he whirls on me.
“What was it like when you got there?”
I tell him everything I remember in as much detail as I can muster. I know he’ll grill me otherwise, so it’s best to get it all out the first time. I report to him like I’m still in the military, delivering the facts of what I saw when I arrived, how I escorted all the guys out and drove them home, how the press had left by the time I went back for their cars. When I finish, Emmett sighs and rubs a hand over his face.
“I’m sorry you had to do all that,” he says.
He’s stopped pacing. He seems genuinely sorry for the effort I went to, but I shrug.
“It’s my job,” I say.
“That’s the problem: It’s not your job. It’s not anyone’s job.”
He’s got me there. Technically, I work for The Ten Hours and only The Ten Hours, but the dual responsibilities I shouldered during the tour never really went away. There are a few other people to help with The Ten Hours, but Baptism Emperor has no one at all. They’re completely exposed and vulnerable anytime they leave their homes.
“This situation cannot continue,” Emmett says. “It’s not just dangerous, it could ruin their career.”
I get the sense Emmett cares more about the latter than the former.
“This is the most important time to manage their image,” he goes on. “This is the moment when you build loyal fans. Those loyal fans can’t see them in a candid moment because some God damn paparazzo cornered them in the grocery store and none of us knew it was happening.”
He plants his hands on the table between us, leaning toward me.
“We can’t allow this to happen again,” he says. “Absolutely not. We must manage the press. If they think they can have unfettered access, they’ll only get worse. These guys have no idea how to deal with that. One of them will slip up, if they haven’t already. It will be a PR disaster and we’ll lose them before we make back our investment.”
I try not a curl my lip at the cold, calculating way Emmett describes all this. He talks about the guys in Baptism Emperor like they’re a commodity he can buy and sell. It reminds me of a cow brought to auction.
I hold silent only because I know this is mostly my fault. I haven’t assembled a team for Baptism Emperor yet, and I should have. Something is holding me back, something I don’t want to confront. I keep dithering, rejecting every applicant instead of picking a few and starting to build up a proper team. The guys should have had plenty of protection yesterday. They shouldn’t have needed to call me for help, but they did because of my indecision.
“I’ll build a team,” I say.
“You’ve claimed as much before.”
“I have a folder of applicants. I’m working on it.”
I don’t add that I’ve never had to hire a team. I fell into this line of work because of my size. I’ve been figuring it out as I go along. I don’t know how to interview candidates and guide new people through the hiring process.
“How fast can you do it?” Emmett says. “This needs to be your top priority.”
“I don’t know,” I say. “I haven’t even started interviewing.”
Emmett’s face twists and his eyes narrow. That was not the right answer. I speak up before he can berate me.
“I’ll personally see to their safety in the meantime.”
Emmett pauses, his eyebrow quirking upward.
“It’s my fault this happened,” I say. “I told you I’d get them a team and I haven’t managed to do that yet. The Ten Hours have other security guys who can keep an eye on things. I’ll take care of Baptism Emperor while I’m searching for more help. I did it during the tour.”
The words tumble out of me before I can stop them, but even as I speak I know I’m making a huge mistake. The last thing I should do is put myself in charge of Jacob’s protection, not until I’ve gotten this madness out of my system, at least. It’s dangerous. It’s crazy. It could ruin everything for me. I must be insane to be volunteering myself instead of assigning one of my guys to this while I work on building a bigger team. They’re not any less capable than me, yet the thought of letting someone else look after Jacob while I sit back and hope they’re doing it right grates on me like sandpaper.
He’s my responsibility.
Emmett pushes himself away from the table to stand up straight. He looks even taller when he folds his arms over his chest and glares down at me.
“Alright,” he says. “That seems sufficient for now. Baptism Emperor needs the help more than The Ten Hours, and you’re the best guy we have. Make sure the rest of the team knows what’s going on. I don’t want them slipping up because they assume you’re there to take care of things.”
I nod, not trusting my voice. What the hell have I done? What am I thinking, assigning myself to Jacob and his band? It’s like I want to ruin my own life.
Emmett dismisses me, and I hurry out of the conference room, heart pounding. I head straight for the gym, craving the calming familiarity of my workout routine.
I can do this. It’s just a job, a job I’ve been doing for a long time. It’s not like I haven’t worked with handsome rockstars before Jacob. I can ignore the animal instincts in my body and use my brain. I’m not some idiot teenager, and this isn’t anything serious or real. It’s just raw attraction. I barely know the man. I can overcome this.
Besides, I don’t have a choice.