Jude’s Song

by Mary Crawford

  Tasha looks through the window directly at me and says, “I think we could all use a vacation from the crazy schedule we’ve been keeping.”

  I’m not sure how to read all the messages in that look, but my pulse is racing and my brain just went into overdrive.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  TASHA

  TO BE HONEST, I THOUGHT Jude was overreacting to the messages from Creepy Stalker Dude — until I actually saw them.

  I’m glad I waited until after I was done with the recording session to look at my phone. If I’d seen those messages before I finished, I’m not sure I would’ve been able to.

  All I can say is I’m grateful for Jude’s quiet, steady presence beside me as I read the vitriolic words. “Who could hate me that much?”

  Jude moves his hand in a slow, concentric circle along my shoulder blades as he asks, “Do you want me to go with you when you go talk to Logan and Aidan?”

  I wipe tears of frustration from my lashes. “I don’t know if this has to involve Aidan at this point. He’s got so much to worry about. We leave tomorrow. When I walked by his office, he had a stack of messages about four inches high.”

  Jude shrugs. “Okay, we’ll play it your way, but I’ll be willing to bet as soon as Logan hears what’s going on, he’ll call in Aidan anyway.”

  I nod tightly before I stand up and hold my hand out to him. “Come on, let’s do this before I lose my nerve. I hope this doesn’t get me kicked off the tour.”

  Jade puts his arm around my waist as we walk toward Logan’s office. “Won’t happen. That’s not the way things work around here. Aidan’s one of your biggest supporters. He’d never kick you off the tour. If anything, he’ll just get you some more security.”

  I tentatively knock on Logan’s door frame, and he motions for us to come in as he hangs up the phone.

  “What can I do for you, T?”

  “Honestly, I don’t know if you can do anything for me, but Jude thought I should talk to you.”

  “Is that so?” he asks, looking at Jude.

  “I think it’s important,” Jude explains as he takes a seat. He gently pulls me down onto the hard plastic chair beside him when I seem paralyzed by indecision. Part of me still wants to flee this whole conversation.

  “Why?” Logan grabs a pad of paper to take notes as he glances at both of us.

  “This is so stupid, I can’t believe that I can’t handle this on my own,” I mutter angrily.

  “Teamwork is what makes this act work, remember? Aidan would have a pseudo-big-brother-meltdown he knew you were trying to handle something on your own that you felt was too big.”

  I sigh. “You’re right. I suppose I should’ve said something sooner. I thought this goes along with being famous. I wasn’t too worried about it until the Creepy Stalker Dude started getting violent. Then I started having nightmares about it and watching over my shoulder.”

  Logan perks up and scoots forward in his chair as he asks, “Tasha, is someone threatening you?”

  “Graphically and specifically,” Jude answers for me. “Whoever this is has taken ‘sick and deranged’ up a notch.”

  “Tasha, take me back to the beginning — when did this start?” Logan asks with an intense expression on his face.

  “I don’t know exactly. I get lots of fan mail since my song is doing so well on the charts. Usually, I send a canned response thanking them for their support — but this one person seems to want more personal details. I can’t tell whether this person wants me to sing or wants me to stop. Sometimes their comments are flattering and sometimes they’re disparaging. Sometimes they give me flowery compliments and other times they tell me to burn in hell for what I do.”

  “Always from the same email address?” Logan asks, writing down information on a legal pad.

  “No, this person doesn’t seem to use the same email address more than once.”

  “How do you know they’re from the same person?”

  The bottom drops out of my stomach as I consider what he’s saying. It’s true, I could have multiple stalkers. I guess I never thought it through. “You’re right. I don’t know if all the messages are from the same person, I assumed it was because he always addresses me as ‘Bitch.’”

  Logan rolls his eyes. "Obviously whoever this is doesn't know you very well."

  “Like I told Jude today, I’m not even sure if it’s a man. I figured it’s a somewhat weirded-out guy in his basement wearing threadbare pajamas and smoking weed. I don’t know if that’s true — it’s just how I pictured him.”

  “What’s different about today?” Logan asks. “You’ve been getting these for a while, but something prompted you to tell me about them today. Why?”

  I squirm in the sticky plastic chair. “Honestly, I probably wouldn’t be here today if Jude hadn't insisted I tell someone.”

  Logan turns to Jude and asks, “Why did you urge her to tell me, today specifically?”

  “If I’d known she was dealing with this before today, you would’ve been informed. Today was the first day I’d seen any of these messages. From what she’s told me, today’s messages are more specific and violent than any of the messages before.”

  “How violent are we talking?” Logan presses.

  “Whoever is sending these messages is cropping Tasha’s head onto a different body and blowing it up. I recognize part of the footage from a Myth Busters episode where they blew up half of a pig analog for the human body.”

  Logan swings his eyes around to me in surprise as he demands, “Is this true?”

  I nod meekly. “Yes, it’s true. I didn’t want to bother any of you. I thought if I ignored him he’d go away, but it’s gotten worse as I’ve gotten more popular.”

  “Tasha, I hope you know that Aidan hires me to deal with threats like this. Obsessed fans and stalkers are not something to mess around with. It’s serious stuff. Please tell me you kept the threats from today. Better yet, tell me you’ve kept every single threat.” Logan presses his lips together in a grim line.

  “If she didn’t, I did,” Jude responds. “I don’t have the threats from before, but I sent a copy of today’s messages to my own phone.”

  I whirl around on Jude as I hiss, “You didn’t have any right to do that. Those were my private messages.”

  Jude looks uncomfortable and a bit ill. “Under normal circumstances, I would never violate your privacy, but this pervert isn’t normal and these are not ordinary circumstances. I’m trying to keep you safe. I figured we needed another record of what you were sent in case something happened to those messages. This is a direct threat on your life due to be carried out within twenty-four hours. It doesn’t get any more serious than that.”

  I tremble as I look at the bodyguard. “Logan, do you really think they are serious about hurting me?” I ask in a broken whisper. “I thought the creep was probably showing off for his friends. I never thought it would come to this. I didn’t even keep the other messages because they were all sorts of creepy and weird. I thought if I deleted them from my phone and computer, they wouldn’t exist in my world. I know it was stupid, but I just didn’t want to deal with it.”

  Logan is doing his best to disguise the fact he thinks I’m the world’s biggest idiot as he holds his hand out to take my cell phone. “We’ll start with what we have here, and I’ve got some contacts within law enforcement. Maybe they can work with the phone company to unearth something else.”

  “Is there anything I can do to help?” Jude asks as he grips my hand tightly.

  “Do you have any special skills in self-defense or martial arts?” Logan asks, studying Jude’s lithe build.

  “Unfortunately, my athletic prowess is limited to soccer and baseball,” Jude replies with a sad shake of his head.

  Logan studies Jude for a moment. “Soccer and baseball are good. It shows you’re quick on your feet and have good instincts.” He turns to me. “I’ve seen you dance, I know you are agile and flexible. I want the two of you to be
part of Tara’s martial arts workout during the tour.”

  “Tara’s coming with us?” I ask. “I didn’t know that. She’ll be great for Aidan. I know how much he misses her when we’re on the road.”

  “Yeah, he’s a lucky guy. I wish I had somebody like her in my life.” Logan turns to Jude. “Until the police and I can get a better handle on what’s going on, I want you guys to be like the Double Mint twins.”

  “The police? Do you think we have to go that far?” I ask, my voice squeaking as panic starts to set in.

  Logan walks over, puts his hands on my shoulders, and looks me square in the face. “Tasha, I won’t lie to you. You know me better. The reality is you’re not playing at coffee shops and birthday parties anymore. We fill huge football stadiums now. The risk is exponentially higher when we scale up. The fact that someone is specifically targeting you is concerning. We’re there. You need to act like you’re a big talent now. You don’t want to know what the next step is. It’s my job to protect you from what comes next. So, let me do it before it’s too late.”

  The intense expression on Logan’s face is the scariest thing I’ve seen in a long time. It’s even more unsettling than the GIF file I received today. If Logan is frightened, this has gone way too far.

  I attempt to smile. “This isn’t just a guy thing where you guys are being super-overprotective, is it?”

  Logan shakes his head as he responds, “I’m afraid not, T. Your guy here has great instincts. Unfortunately, whoever is after you has a lead on us, but hopefully we’ll outsmart them.”

  “What if we can’t?” I ask hollowly.

  “Let's not have that conversation yet. We’re a pretty bright team, and we just got the case. We’re on it, T. Give us a chance to do our jobs.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  JUDE

  USUALLY, I PREFER IT WHEN we stay in one spot for a while. It makes my job much easier. However, in this case, I’m relieved that we’re in a different venue almost every other night. We’re spending most of our time traveling on the bus. After Logan informed Aidan about Tasha’s stalker, he added another security guard, Nick, who is retired military, and upgraded all of our hotel arrangements to more secure locations. This means an upgrade for me. I don’t typically stay with the rest of the musicians. To save money, I usually sleep in the back of one of the buses, but because of the threats Aidan has specifically asked me to stay with Tasha in her room.

  I’m not sure what Tasha thinks of these arrangements. We haven’t talked about it much. Aidan’s books a business suite for Tasha so there are two rooms. I’m in a very weird place right now. I’ve never been in a position where I’m dating a coworker. We haven’t been obvious about our relationship, but we haven’t hidden it either. I’m sure Aidan is well aware I am head over heels gone for Tasha, but he hasn’t said anything.

  I’m trying not to be obvious as I search for Tasha while I check the cords on the lighting system to make sure we don’t have any surprises tonight. Aidan and Tasha should be finished with their sound check soon if everything is working properly — but these things can be tricky. No matter how many times we set up and take down, every venue is a little different and there’s always a slim chance something can pop up at the last minute.

  The first leg of the tour has been pretty low key. Aidan had already planned to do an obscure circuit. It fits with his plan to scale back media appearances and social media exposure. He is dubbing this the “Forgotten City Tour.” We’re traveling to a lot of college campuses which don’t usually get a lot of big-name stars. In some ways it’s cool because we’ve been treated really well. In other ways, it makes my job more complicated because they sometimes don’t have all the equipment we usually find in the bigger venues.

  As I go backstage to put my stepladder away, Tasha’s sitting on the floor singing quietly to herself with her guitar. That in itself isn’t unusual — but the tears streaming down her face are. I prop the ladder against the wall, walk over, and sit down beside her. “Sirena, what’s wrong?”

  Tasha looks up at me as if she’s surprised by my presence. She wipes away her tears with her sleeve as she replies, “Oh, I’m being stupid. It turned out to be nothing, but for a while it was scary.” She lays her guitar down in her case and starts to nervously rub her hands on the side of her jeans.

  “Did you get another note? I thought Logan was screening your incoming messages and mail.” I kneel beside her. Adrenaline courses through my body and sweat trickles down my back. The last images she got still haunt me. Despite Logan’s assurances that he would involve law enforcement, nobody seems particularly interested in a few creepy text messages. Apparently, Tasha Keeley isn’t enough of a household name for them to sit up and take notice.

  Tasha puts her hand over my wildly beating heart. “Geez, Jude, take a chill pill. This doesn’t have anything to do with the stalker drama. This is all about my other drama.”

  “What do you mean?” I stand up and hold my hand out so she can get up off the cold cement floor.

  Tasha gracefully stands up and with one hand unfolds the stepladder and sits down on it. “It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to guess my mom and I got into it again. I swear she’s got some sort of hidden camera to figure out when I’m smack in the middle of working with Aidan.” She rolls her eyes.

  “What did she want this time?” I ask, trying not to roll my own. It’s odd for me to have such a profound dislike for a woman I’ve never met, but I hate the way she can destroy Tasha with a simple phone call.

  “Nana was putting dishes in the dishwasher and tripped over her kitchen rug. She hit her cheekbone on the counter and my mom had to take her to have an x-ray. Somehow this is all my fault because I should’ve been there to stop it all from happening.”

  “I’m sorry your abuela got hurt, but what difference would it have made if you’d been there?”

  “My mom just spent twenty-five minutes arguing with me. She insists if I’d been home, I would’ve been the one doing the dishes and my nana wouldn’t have been hurt.”

  “That’s dumb. My mom sprained her ankle this year by stepping off a curb. There was no way I could have prevented that, and you couldn’t have stopped your grandma from falling even if you had been at home. What did your madre expect you to do — hold your Nana’s hand while she was doing the dishes?”

  For the first time since we started this conversation, Tasha’s eyes light up. “I don’t know about your grandma, but Nana would have chased me out of the kitchen with a broom and tell me to go do something fun. Dottie hates all the stuff Ma makes me do. She’s always wanted me to be a normal kid. Whenever I went over to Nana’s house when I was young, she'd go out of her way to get me as dirty as possible. We would do all sorts of stuff which drove my mom completely batty. Nana would let me do crazy, messy things like finger paint and roll down big grassy hills while I played in the mud. She encouraged me to sit around and read books and watch cartoons on television instead of practicing my singing lessons or dance moves.”

  “Go Grandma!” I remark with a chuckle, imagining Nadine’s face.

  Tasha smiles as she reminisces. “Nana would take me to Sears and get regular play clothes from the boys’ section instead of my usual over-the-top frilly girl stuff. One time, my mom came to get me earlier than my grandmother expected and we thought she would pass out on the spot when she saw me in my muddy overalls and a backward baseball cap. After that, my mom didn’t let me go to Nana’s house quite as often. It’s too bad though because the one thing I’ve learned from Dottie Abalone is that it’s okay to be one hundred percent who you are regardless of what other people think.”

  I grin as I say, “In my family, that person is always my little sister Fernanda. Even if I’m the first person to try something, she always comes in behind me and does it bigger, better and bolder. It’s weird to say my little sister gives me permission to be more ‘me’ in my family, but she does. She is so absolutely fearless I look at myself and wonder what I�
��m always so worried about.”

  “It’s funny how our families influence us. My grandma used to tell me my great-grandma was a pinup model for one of the biggest modeling companies back in the day. Nana always said if her mom was brave enough to take her clothes off for a bunch of strangers and have near life-size posters made, everything else was as easy as an apple pie at a church potluck.”

  “Do you need to go see your abuela? It would be tight, but we could probably do it before the next round of shows start.”

  “No! That’s just the thing.” Tasha wildly punctuates each word with a hand gesture. “My mom called me at work and argued with me for what seemed like forever and my grandma only has a bruise on her face. It’s not even a bad bruise. I talked to Nana on the phone and she told me she’ll probably get a shiner from it, but the doctor told her not to worry. She doesn’t have to go back into the hospital or anything. My mom was being overdramatic is usual.”

  “I don’t know,” I mumble, unable to hide my distaste. “Your mom seems like a piece of work. She wants you to make it all the way to the top of the pop charts, but she doesn’t want you to put any work into making it happen.”

  “I’ve never been able to figure that out either. She’s fine with letting me work my butt off, as long as she gets all the credit and the sympathy for all the sacrifices she’s making.”

  “Don’t forget — it can’t interfere with her schedule.”

  “Yeah, I think that’s a big part of what this is about. She’s mad because I went behind her back and contacted the pageant organization and told them I wouldn’t be able to be at the event in New York City. She still considers herself to be my manager.”

  “Do you even have a manager?” I ask. It occurs to me I haven’t seen Tasha traveling with a huge entourage like some acts Aidan works with.

  Tasha shrugs. “Not really. After the debacle with Five Star, I kind of backed away from the whole being famous bit for a while. When I was on TV with Aidan, they made us all sorts of promises about how their company would launch our careers into the stratosphere, but nothing happened from winning the show. I had a lawyer helping me then, but sadly, Mr. Potter died and I haven’t thought about having anyone replace him.”