Page 34 of Of Flame and Fate
Emme’s cadaver-ish aroma should send Celia running. Except Celia doesn’t move, welcoming Emme’s embrace and the kindness she offers.
I gnaw on my bottom lip, wishing she and Aric were enough, that we all were. But this big bad, is really bad. I only hope our combined forces can keep her safe.
“You’re going to be okay, Ceel,” I assure her. “None of us are going to let anything happen to you or baby Aric.” I stroke her back. “Have you eaten lately?” She shakes her head. “Let’s get you something to eat, it’ll make you feel better.”
She nods. Food comforts Celia in a way nothing else can.
Destiny steps in front of us, grinning and simply head-over-hideous-boots happy for what may happen next.
Oh, yeah, that’s right, I’m supposed to stay with her.
“When and where is the concert?” I ask.
“Santa Barbara, Friday night,” she replies.
“And you’re sure you want to go?” I question.
“I really do,” she says. “From what I’ve learned, he has the best voice ever. Mesmerizing, even.”
“Mesmerizing?” I ask, something about the word giving me pause and causing my arm to twitch. “Have you ever seen him perform before?”
“Never,” she admits. “But I’ve always wanted to. Something about him has always spoken to me.”
“I’m that way with Ed Sheeran,” Shayna says, nodding like she understands.
“Ed Sheeran is terrific,” Destiny says, approvingly. “But concert goers who’ve attended Johnny’s showsalwaysagree on one thing, there’s no one else like him.”
I’ll give Destiny this, she was right.
Chapter Eight
I hold my arms up and out, allowing the security guard to a wave his metal detecting wand and check me for weapons. I’d heard of Johnny Fate, the hard rocker with a cult-like following, but all of it was bad: tearing up hotel rooms, allowing his fans to beat up the paparazzi, and peeing on public property. So am I thrilled to be attending his Champagne and Guts tour? No. If anything, I’m counting on my stilettos being classified as weapons and getting thrown out.
Already, my teeth are rattling from the brain crushing music blaring through the speakers and the lead vocalist’s “Help me, I’m on fire” screeching. I’m hoping Emme packed earplugs, in addition to the clear plastic rain slickers in case some asshole pukes on us. Seriously, it’s that kind of crowd. Bodyguard duties be damned, I want to save my hearing and protect my cute clothes.
“You a big fan of Johnny Fate?” the guard asks me.
“What?” I ask, plugging my ears when the lead singer of Give Me Death screams the chorus.
The guard laughs. “Don’t worry. Write My Name in Blood is on next. They’re a little better.”
“I’m sure,” I mutter, frowning at how he continues to wave the wand over my chest. Christ, it’s only seven now and I can’t wait for the night to end.
His expression grows smug. “I can get you backstage if you want.”
“That’s not necessary.” He’s a big guy, young and very immature. My guess is he was hired for his bulk, not his personality.
“You serious?” he asks.
“I’m not a fan,” I tell him, wondering just what he thinks I’ll do to get backstage.
“Then what are you doing here, princess?” He gives the wand another wave, this time, closer to my breasts. He’s not obvious to anyone close by, but he is to me, the curvy motions he’s making is pissing me off. “Tickets are hard to come by, and it’s real tough to get backstage.”
I’ll bet it is.
“I’m here with a friend.” I try to smile. “Are we done?”
He shakes his head. “Nope. You have to take off the gloves, gorgeous,” he tells me, his tone suggesting he’d rather I take off my panties. “Gotta make sure you’re not hiding something I haven’t seen underneath.”