Page 75 of Beautiful Noise
Not that it would have mattered. If people wanted information and were willing to pay, there was always someone willing to risk their job to offer details they were sworn to keep private. Case in point, the frenzy of paparazzi stationed outside the hotel.
“I can have them drive us to docking stations in the back if you would be more comfortable.”
“If we’re together, I can’t hide. This is your life.” Her eyes left me and darted to the sea of bodies that already had theircameras aimed at the SUV as we approached before they slowly rolled back over to me.
“Wanting privacy isn’t hiding,” I assured her. As comfortable as I was with this life, there were also days when I couldn’t fucking deal and craved the seclusion of being Ezren and not Eccentric.
“If I weren’t with you, would you go to the docks in the back or deal withthem?” She pointed to the window and I smiled.
“I’ve been doing this for years. Dealing withthemtakes a lot to get used to. I’m okay with whatever you decide.” The driver glanced at me through the rearview mirror, searching for instruction on what he was to do.
“We can go through the front.” She offered the most confident smile she could muster and I glanced at the driver who offered a short nod of understanding as he turned into the hotel parking lot and navigated to the front of the building under the carport.
Once we were parked I glanced out of the window, watching as the four security guards moved to the SUV prepared to create a human barrier as soon as we were out of the vehicle.
“Don’t stop, don’t react, no matter what they say, because they’ll say crazy shit just to get your attention. Their goal is to get a clear shot of your face and a video clip of your reaction. Don’t make it easy. Keep your head down and stay close to me and don’t stop moving unless I do.”
“Well shit, maybe we should have gone to the docks.” I grinned and kissed her cheek.
“You’ll be fine. It’s a lot but I’ve got you.”
I tugged at the hem of my hoodie, yanked it off my body, and handed it over. “Put this on and bring the hood up.”
“You sure you don’t want this?”
“Nah, I’m good. Put it on.”
I waited while she shuffled next to me, pulling my hoodie over hers. It swallowed her upper body before she yanked the hood up and slipped an arm through the strap of her purse.
“We’re ready,” I tossed out to the driver who moved from the driver’s seat and neared my side of the truck. He opened the door, shielding us while security created a wall to protect him. Once I was standing next to the vehicle, I extended a hand to Kori, helping her out while ignoring the flashes from cameras, buzzing movement, and shouting from the paparazzi hopefuls.
I grabbed Kori’s hand, interlocking our fingers, and moved with long strides toward the entrance. Security moved with us and blocked the doors once we were inside. The noise was buffered as we kept going through the lobby, bypassing the massive escalators, toward the front desk.
Normally I would have someone checking me in to avoid most of this, but Kori and I traveled alone against my team’s wishes. I didn’t want or need the extra bodies around. Since I was doing this solely as a favor to Clay, I kept things simple.
Check-in went smoothly and we made it to our suite without incident. While Kori toured, I took a few calls that couldn’t wait, then found her sitting Indian style on the sofa after I finished my last one. She was still in my hoodie but her legs were bare which meant she was in it by choice. She had changed. Wearing my clothes was a choice and one I thoroughly approved of. While her focus was trained on her poetry journal, I shamelessly stole a few photos with my phone, needing to hold onto every single memory of her that I could.
Yet another reason I knew I was totally fucked when it came to this woman. I didn’t catalog memories connected to anything but my family and my music. Not even the women from my past retained space in my mind after the lyrics were recorded and attached to the melodies they inspired. This fucking woman hadme desperate to not only notice all the little things but to commit them to memory for safe keeping.
She was so enthralled in the way her pen glided over the weathered pages of her journal that she hadn’t caught my obsessive moment. Instead of disturbing her, I settled on the floor, bypassing the spot next to her. I sat silently, scrolling through my phone to see if the chaos from our arrival at the hotel had taken flight yet, and of course it had.
Normally, I didn’t check. There was always one post or another but now that Kori was attached to me, I found myself searching my name and hers to be sure nothing outlandishly crazy surfaced. The longer it lingered, the more challenging it would be for me to eradicate. In no way possible could I keep her in a protective bubble but I would do my best to minimize the exposure she received.
“Most thought I looked adorably cute in your hoodie even if I was wearing it because you’re ashamed.”
“Is that what they think?” I didn’t bother looking up from my phone since I’d shifted to Leijah’s page on my social media app. She had several clips of the performance in Houston but the one I focused on was the clip of us at the VIP meet and greet.
I heard her journal close and the soft thud when she tossed it to the corner of the sofa before she slid off the cushion and settled next to me on the carpeted floor. “Are you sure you’re not embarrassed? Because according to some very credible sources, my plain Jane appearance is beneath your very high standards.”
The smugness of her voice brought a smile to my face. I cut a glance her way then dropped my eyes back to the clip I was watching. “The only credible source on what my standards are is me and I damn sure didn’t send statements to any of those sites.”
I felt her move beside me and watched as she dropped between my legs and folded hers in front of her. “I don’t think they like the idea of you having a girlfriend.”
I tossed my phone next to us and grabbed her ankles one by one and placed them over my thighs before I yanked her forward until we were chest to chest. “I don’t give a fuck what they like. The only opinion that matters is mine.”
“And what happens when those opinions mean the women who live for the Eccentric experience no longer buy into the idea of you being their fantasy because you have a girlfriend?”
“My girlfriend is about to become the most famous songwriter in history. So since she’s derailing my career, she can support us. I can fuck with being a kept man.”