Chapter One #2
“Harley.” He sighed, his eyes flicking left than right, clearly checking for something.
Then, that painful looking smile twitched. “Don’t freak out.” He finally got his hands to stop moving here and there, but now they were extended my way, palms turned down, and pressing the air.
I looked at him for a second and then looked up at him only to blink like a confused toddler. “I’m not—”
I didn’t get to finish my sentence since Tim suddenly burst out, “You’re getting a bodyguard.”
I stood still. Tim seemed frozen after the words came out of his mouth. I was almost positive that everyone around us stopped moving. Hell, even the damned air stood still. It had to be, because there was none going in my lungs.
Even the English language stopped making any sense.
“A what?” I asked through stiff lips, positive that I suddenly stopped comprehending the simple words.
Oh, my God! Was I having a stroke?
“You’re getting a bodyguard,” Tim repeated slowly, his eyes looking deeply into mine.
Then it hit. A hot wave descended from the top of my head and swept through my whole body right to the tips of my toes.
Before I had a chance to say even a single syllable, Tim said my name again.
“Stop repeating my name. I know my name. Hell, half the world knows my name, Tim!” I yelled and took a step back.
“Honey,” Tim warned, his voice now low, soothing. The only effect it had on me was to make it worse.
My heart started beating a mile a minute. Half a minute ago I couldn’t get any oxygen into my lungs, now there was too much of it. I was choking on the damned air. My vision blurred and my skin itched.
Damnit!
I hadn't felt this way since the last time my father stood above me.
Fuck! Don’t go there, Harley.
Taking a deep breath, I squeezed my eyes shut, and shook my head. I had to focus.
One… Two… Three…
With the skill born out of practice, as I came to the number three, I relaxed, and was able to focus. Opening my eyes, I could see Tim watching me like a hawk. There was worry in his , and the deep lines surrounding his mouth stood in stark relief.
“No,” I said once my heartbeat slowed down, and my ears stopped ringing. “No. Absolutely not. I don’t—”
Tim’s jaw tightened; regret filled his expression. “I’m sorry, honey, but you have no choice.”
“Yes, I do,” I said inflexibly. “Remember, Tim, I don’t do babysitters.
I don’t do leashes. And I especially don’t do some guy breathing down my neck, tracking my every move, and becoming my shadow, just because everyone suddenly remembered I exist. I live my life as normal as I can.
I come, I sing and play, sometimes I talk to the press, and then I retreat into my own little normal world.
You know this, Tim. I’m no one's puppet.”
Tim worked his jaw back and forth. “It’s not sudden. Everyone’s known you exist for a while now, Harley. It’s for your safety.”
“It’s control,” I yelled.
My chest was coming up and down rapidly. My breath was heavy, and my hands were stiff by my sides, my hands curled into fists.
After a second, Tim murmured, “It’s safety.”
His soft spoken words brought tears to my eyes. I hadn't had someone look out for my safety in my entire life. Since I could remember, I was the one who was in charge of me. I closed my eyes and shook my head once again to expel the thoughts of my past trying to intrude my brain.
I opened my eyes, and looked into Tim’s concerned ones. I wasn’t stupid. I could see something was troubling him, but I wasn’t going to budge.
“Tim, no.” I was now shaking, but my voice was strong.
Safety. What a joke. That word was dangled over me my whole life. Over and over people would use that particular word to get me in line. To do as they wanted me to. To have control over me.
But no one would get that chance ever again.
“Babe,” Tim murmured softly, soothingly. He knew my past. He knew why I was pushing so hard against this. Hell, he knew everything. “You have to. I’m sorry, Harley, but you have no choice.”
“Fuck.” I looked around, tears pooling at the bottom of my eyes. I concentrated hard, not wanting to blink and send those traitors on the path of doom down my face.
I couldn’t let anyone see me crying. Even if it was mostly out of anger to be in a situation I couldn’t control yet again. I knew if I let my emotions out for everyone to see, there would be headlines tomorrow labeling me as a diva.
It’d happened before, and it was sure as shit going to happen again. I would be damned if I helped them, though.
After I managed that feat, I looked back at Tim who still stood in front of me, barring the door to my sanctuary. “Why?” I croaked.
“Some stuff happened.” Tim now looked extremely uncomfortable.
“Stuff? What stuff?” I parroted.
“It’s better if you don’t know.” Tim scratched the side of his neck and refused to meet my eyes.
“Tim,” I barked, startling him and making him jump. Thankfully, he looked at me. “What stuff?”
When he still would say anything, I went on.
“What stuff, Tim? Did a fan come into my dressing room? Was there a guy at the barricade backdoor who thinks that all my lyrics are about him? Did I get ugly flowers again?” I sighed.
Damn, this was getting tiresome. “That shit happens every tour, Tim. You know that. There’s always someone who thinks I do what I do just for them.
And we always just deal with it and then motor along like it didn’t happen.
It’s not a big deal. I don’t need a bodyguard just because there’s some overzealous fan out there who wants five minutes of my time, and for me to assure them I love them. ”
I loved all my fans. They were the ones who were keeping me in business and loved my music as much as I did.
I would always love them for it. Of course, there were times when all of this became just a tad too much.
But then, I would retreat for a month or two and come back ready to face the crowd.
Ready to give a piece of myself over and over, until I didn’t have anything left to give.
Then I would go back in my retreat until I was ready to come back.
Rinse and repeat.
My stomach sank when there was no reaction from Tim. “Tim.” His name came out as a plea.
A plea for what I didn’t know. Answers? For him to tell me it was all just a joke? Something to show me it could be much worse, and I would cave and go talk to reporters?
Tim’s face looked pained, and I knew there was no joke. This was really happening.
He took my hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Before you get any more riled up, just listen. It’s a precaution. The label is nervous. And you know they get nervous on a regular basis for the smallest things. You won’t even notice he’s here.” His reassurances failed..
“I’ll notice,” I said, shaking my head. “You know I notice everything.” Or at least I used to.
How didn’t I see something was happening? Something big enough for Tim to get concerned.
“I know.” He sighed. “But it’s time to face the facts. You’ve become big. From time to time, there’s going to be some sicko who wants a piece of you all to himself. You have to think of yourself. And I know you hate the word, but of your safety, too.”
“Some sicko?” I echoed, that one phrase ringing in my mind.
“It’s not that serious.” He shifted from foot to foot. Not a reassuring gesture, but I didn’t tell him that. “It’s just a precaution.”
“Sure,” I mumbled, getting more desperate by the second.
“I know you don’t like it. And I’m sure you’ll be free soon. Just…” He let that hang. Even he didn’t believe his own words.
I knew many artists that had to get bodyguards. Once they’d traveled down that road, they never went back to being without one. They never felt free again.
To an outsider, it might not seem a big deal. What's so bad about having someone look out for you and your safety, right? Wrong.
The fact that you can’t make a step without someone trailing you is awful. You wouldn’t have the luxury of being alone again. Your privacy? Gone in a blink of an eye.
Probably seeing I still wasn’t sold on the idea, Tim tugged on my hand he still had in his grasp. He was more scared that I would bolt, than still trying to reassure me.
“Come meet him.”
“He’s here?” I asked, panicked. This meant the decision was final, and despite all the arguing, it was out of my hands. I could do nothing but comply with it.
“He’s waiting for you in there.” Tim pointed with his thumb over his shoulder, right at the door of my dressing room.
Oh my God. That man was in my personal space, somewhere no one had access to if I didn’t allow it.