by Kay Maree
I might be getting ahead of myself, but I have my eyes firmly on the prize. My end game is to spend the rest of my life with Farrah, making her and our children happy every chance I get, and that’s not going to happen if she continues to make huge decisions like this without consulting or involving me.
I’m not stupid; I know that this is Farrah’s way of exerting her independence and proving to others that she can take care of herself. But the thing is, she doesn’t have to. I’m more than capable of taking care of her and our child, and giving them everything their hearts desire. I will move heaven and earth to lay the world at their feet if that’s what they want, just for the opportunity to wake up with Farrah in my arms and to see my child smile.
“It’s not that far away. Maybe twenty-five minutes, half an hour with traffic,” Farrah shares quickly, noticing Simon’s face reddening out of frustration or maybe anger.
“Can’t you talk some fucking sense into her?” He glares at me. “I would’ve thought, you of all people would have the best odds of making her see that she doesn’t have to move out into the middle of nowhere.”
“Bakersville is hardly the middle of nowhere,” she scoffs.
“Fuck me! It just gets worse,” Simon exclaims.
I can’t say I blame him for his reaction, but I don’t disagree with Farrah either. Bakersville is a nice, family orientated suburb ten miles north of Anaheim, close to the coast. It wouldn’t be the first place I’d choose to relocate to given its proximity to Disneyland, which means tourists year-round, but there are worse places to live.
“Look,” I hedge, interrupting their banter. “Nothing’s going to be solved right now, so how about we table the rest of this discussion for when we’ve got time to sit down and go over everything?”
“There’s nothing to discuss,” Farrah states matter-of-factly. “My offer was accepted so the house is officially mine as of midday on Friday next week. The previous owners insisted on a two week closing period, since they have already bought a condo in Florida and want to move to be closer to their grandchildren ASAP. Aside from packing and picking up the keys it’s a done deal. I’m sorry that this is such a big surprise to you both, but if you really think about it, it’s been a long time coming.”
Most of the anger drains from Simon’s face. Instead, it’s replaced with an expression of dejected acceptance. “And there’s nothing him or me can do to change your mind?”
Wrapping her arms around his waist, Farrah rests her head on Simon’s chest and sighs. “I love you and you’ll always be my big brother, but it’s time for you to let me go now. You don’t need me around cramping your style anymore, and just think about all the mass orgies you can have all over the apartment without the fear of me walking in on you again.”
“That was one time, dammit,” Simon mutters in mock annoyance.
“One time too many if you ask me,” Farrah grins up at him.
While I’d like to ask about a thousand questions about why my woman is walking in on her brother committing what I know would have been acts of sexual debauchery not fit for Farrah’s innocent eyes, Eli interrupts by calling my cell and hanging up repeatedly. So I take it as it is intended; my cue to hurry the fuck up.
“Do you think I can have a minute alone with your sister?” I ask Simon as he releases his hold on Farrah.
“That’s up to her. But just remember, even though you’re taking of now, you and I have a few things of our own to discuss later.”
“Yeah, I know. Name the time and place and I’ll be there,” I offer.
“The Shark Tank. Ten o’clock. You think you can make it?”
“Shouldn’t be a problem, but if it is, I’ll call you.”
Kissing the top of Farrah’s head, Simon leaves without a backward glance. I get that he’s pissed, and he has every right to be, but him walking out without so much as a goodbye doesn’t sit well with me. We haven’t fought since we were juniors in high school and were both interested in dating the same girl, but even then, we didn’t walk away without settling our differences so this is new territory for me. Honestly, it’s a minefield I don’t know if I can traverse without our friendship taking a significant hit.
I knew the risks that night. There was never a doubt in my mind that from the time I spotted Farrah across the crowded dance floor at Darkness Rising’s launch party that she was made for me. And truthfully, my conscience should have rebelled at the avenues I was willing to go down to make her mine. My actions that night were dishonest to say the least, but I couldn’t bring myself to alter the course I had put us on.
In a darkened hallway, mere moments after trusting me with her body so beautifully, Farrah told me to forget her and what we shared – that it was a mistake. I was aware of my stupidity the instant I let her walk away from me under the belief that I thought the same.
For days afterward, all I wanted to do was call her and beg her to give me the chance to explain. If she had, I doubt we’d be where we are now. We wouldn’t be tiptoeing around each other, and we wouldn’t be separated by an ocean of uncertainty and trepidation. If I wasn’t a colossal fucking idiot that night, we would still be us. Jake and Farrah. Friends that were destined to be together from the very beginning forever after, the end.
Once I’m sure Simon is gone, I crowd Farrah against the wall with a hand on either side of her head. Leaning into my forearms so there’s barely an inch left between us, I run my nose up the silky column of her throat.
“I’ve got shit to do, but I’ll be back after I talk to your brother tonight. I want you to go to bed naked and wait for me, Babe. I want to know that when I climb into bed with you that your gorgeous body is bare and ready for me.”
A slight tremor wracks Farrah’s body as the skin along her arms breaks out in gooseflesh. Her pupils dilate and her breathing becomes shallow, telling me she wants me just as much as I want her. “I’m not going to deny that we have to talk, but when that’s done, nothing is going to stop me from spending hours worshipping your body with my hands, mouth, and eventually, after I get done playing, my cock.”
Deciding not to push my luck, I kiss the corner of Farrah’s mouth, savoring her sharp intake of breath when she realizes I’m not going to take it any further.
Chapter Six
JAKE
Leaving Farrah the way I did eats at me for the entire hour drive to our new client’s house – enough so that I let Eli drive, and that’s not something I do often. Call me a control freak, but I like knowing that I’m the one in charge of whether I live or die today. Seriously, L.A. traffic is no fucking joke.
Eli idles in front of a set of wrought iron gates, assessing the street frontage of the palatial estate for weak points where security can be breeched. It isn’t our job to secure the premises, but it does make our jobs a hell of a lot easier if we know what we’re up against.
“Three dead zones the cameras don’t cover, and there’s too much overgrowth from the Elm’s for a wide-pan to pick up anything useful. Fuck me, Jake. These assholes call us to protect them, yet they leave themselves wide open for an attack. They might as well advertise where they’ll be and when for the good this shit they’ve got in place will do them.”
And isn’t that the truth.
Celebrities, even ones facing serious threats of bodily harm have a false sense of security as soon as they turn their CCTV cameras and alarms on. It’s as if they somehow think that a live feed of them being raped, strangled, or worse that’s transmitted back to a base station monitored by overweight rent-a-cops will somehow save them. News flash; it fucking won’t.
By the time a unit is dispatched, after a minimum of ten failed phone calls are logged, you’re long dead and they’ve lost a payday. Because let’s face it, that’s all these people are to them; a fucking number attached to a cash payment at the start of every month.
“A hundred says they don’t ask for our ID when you buzz,” I grunt, noting another blind spot.
“Did Lyric give you any more details when you checked in with him earlier?” I ask.
When we’re on duty, Lyric has us checking in every two hours. Not because he doesn’t trust us implicitly, but because making sure you know where your operatives are at all times is par for the course when you’re in an industry like ours. For a bodyguard, things have a tendency to change from minute to minute; what was once a seemingly harmless situation can turn into a dire one with no warning whatsoever. Hence, reporting to daddy.
Snorting humorlessly, Eli replies, “Lyric thinks a lot of her fear is based on paranoia, which is being fed by her manager and handler.”
The last word makes me hesitate and question, “Handler?”
“Yeah, I had the same reaction,” he chuckles. “Apparently, it’s some overpaid asshole who’s in charge of making sure she gets where she needs to be on time and doesn’t do anything to embarrass herself. The guy her management tasked with the job monitors how much she eats, what she wears, how often she works out, and pretty much runs her schedule. You want to get to her, you go through him.”
Fucking hell. If I didn’t know what a parasitic bitch this woman is, I would almost feel sorry for her.
Tilting my head to the intercom, I tell Eli to buzz us in. And low and behold, the incompetent asshole manning the security checkpoint this morning doesn’t ask to sight our credentials. “Nailed it,” Eli scoffs.
As we proceed up the winding drive to the main house, my mind flashes back to Farrah. I hate that I had to leave her, but at the same time, I can’t wait to go back to her place tonight. Which reminds me, that’s something we have to talk about.
Albeit, I like the idea of Farrah having her own place so that we can have some privacy, I don’t like that she didn’t tell me she was moving. Up until today, I wasn’t happy about not being under the same roof as the woman I’ve considered mine since the first moment I saw her, but I bit my tongue because, at least, Simon was around to watch over her. But now, having bought a house a twenty-minute drive away from her brother, and even further from me, I find myself panicking every time I imagine her alone at night.
Farrah is an independent, self-sufficient woman, which is one of the many things I love about her, but that doesn’t mean she’s capable of protecting herself the way her brother or I can. Farrah doesn’t have a dark side like I do. She’s too sweet and too naïve to fathom how far the depths of human depravity go.
Where I wouldn’t hesitate to pull the trigger if anyone harmed a hair on her head and sleep like a baby, Farrah would struggle in the aftermath. Her conscience would send her insane as she thought about who was left behind to mourn them and ultimately, whether her decision to save herself or a loved one was the right choice.
***
“My name is Jeffery, I’m Leandra’s manager. And this is, Alex; he handles all of Lee’s business affairs.”
Jeffery’s thick British accent and the overstated hand gestures he makes as he shows us into what he calls the parlor, makes me want to burst out laughing. Not exactly professional, but looking at Eli, I see that I’d be in good company since he’s barely restraining the urge to do the same.
Jeffery and Alex’s blasé attitude to what amounts to their boss’ safety is a fucking joke. Leandra trails behind them like an abused dog, not between them as she should, her head down and hands clasped tightly in front of her. The way she pulls her shoulders forward and the small, hesitant steps she takes, reminds me of Farrah when she’s trying to protect herself. She honestly believes if she makes herself small enough, no one will notice her, that she’ll be safe.
As soon as the five of us have taken our seats, Jeffery explains why he called Lyric to enlist the services of, D.I.C.E Inc. “Leandra is currently very much in the public eye with her newest album due to release in less than a week, and her North American tour starting at the beginning of summer. The rumor mill and tabloids have been working overtime to disparage her in any way they can. For the most part, that sort of thing is just par for the course in this industry as I’m sure you are already aware. However, this isn’t simply conjecture and speculation anymore, gentlemen; this has become personal, and is creating havoc with pre-release album and ticket sales. Her label isn’t happy, I’m not happy, and in turn, Alex’s job is being made significantly harder, in spite of us doing everything to head these allegations off at the pass.”
Notice how this fuckwit doesn’t say anything about how this effects Leandra? It’s pretty evident from the tone of this conversation she’s a payday for him – nothing more than a series of zeros in his bank account.
Eli clears his throat, giving me a sideways glance which tells me he’s thinking the same thing. “D.I.C.E deals with nothing but high profile clients, Mr. Anthony,” he says, addressing Jeffery formally. “We understand how the media works and the impact this has on the celebrities we guard, but what you’ve said so far doesn’t explain why Leandra is in need of our services.”
“Recently, one of her more dedicated fans that has been following her career closely since the very beginning has become somewhat…” Jeffery’s sentence trails off as he searches for how to describe the situation.
“Obsessed,” Alex blurts out.
“Alex!” Jeffery barks, chastising the younger man.
Shaking his head, Alex’s eyes harden. “Don’t waste their time by trying to play this down, Jeff. Whoever’s threatening Lee isn’t fucking around, and we shouldn’t either. This shit is out of hand and you know it. You let this go on too long, hoping this asshole would get bored and give up. You said it was only a matter of time before he lost interest; you were wrong. Dead fucking wrong.”
Ah, so someone here does have the songstress’s best interests at heart. Interesting.
“We’re going to need more than that, Alex,” I prompt curtly.
“In the beginning it was just letters, and since they were like a lot of the fan mail Lee gets, talking about how amazing her voice is, how her songs speak to them, and how beautiful she is we didn’t think anything of it. After a few months, they got longer, more detailed, and whoever this guy is started describing what it would be like if they were together. What he would do to her if she’d let him.”
Leandra visibly shudders at Alex’s recount. I watch as his hands creeps over and covers hers, intertwining their fingers. “Then the text messages started coming. At first, it was one or two a day, but lately he’s escalated to twenty or more. They’re explicit, sexually speaking that is. But not even that was enough to set off too many warning bells. It was when they turned dark and violent, going into detail about how he would take great pleasure in hurting Lee when they met that I forced Jeffery to put more security in place.”
Scoffing, Jeffery straightens his tie and smooths his hands down the front of his perfectly pressed white shirt. “I would hardly say you forced me to employ extra security measures, Alex. That’s overstating things slightly, don’t you think?”
“Not even a little,” Alex returns tersely. “Every time I brought up tightening the gate security, employing more bodyguards, and cancelling appearances to lessen Lee’s exposure you waved it off.”
“No, Alex, I didn’t. I spoke to, Luther and he assured me Leandra’s safety wasn’t a concern. As you know, he thoroughly vets all of our employee’s, delivery men, tour personnel, and everyone that comes and goes through the front gates. Not once, has there been any red flags.”
“So what you’re saying is that you think whoever’s responsible for harassing Leandra is on staff, or at least was at some point?” I interrupt.
I don’t know who, Luther is, but I assume he’s Leandra’s head of security. Something, Jeffery confirms. “I can assure you gentlemen, Luther is very proficient in his job as Leandra’s personal guard and the man who organizes her tour security escorts. There is no way he would have overlooked suc
h a threat to her safety, and I would ask you to refrain from assuming he has until we have all the facts.”
“Look,” Eli interjects. “Jake and I will need to meet Luther and anyone else that has direct access to Leandra on a daily basis. That means the housekeeper, gardener, regular delivery guys, even the pool boy. Anyone and everyone that has a code to the gate, keys to the house and studio need to be questioned. We’ll go in gently, but sometimes we find talking to someone outside of their employers loosens their tongues.”
“Our employees are unerringly loyal, Mr. Hansen. So I’m sure if they knew anything that could help with the investigation they would have already come forward,” Jeffery says with an undercurrent of hostility.
I don’t know what this guy’s deal is, but he’s starting to piss me the fuck off. None of what Eli and I are saying is directed at him personally. Although, you’d think I’d just told him his tie is ugly and doesn’t match his shirt if the way he’s reacting is anything to go by. And to a guy like this, that right there is blasphemy.
“Leandra’s situation has nothing to do with how loyal your employees are, Mr. Anthony,” Eli tries to reason with him. “Stalkers by nature aren’t exactly the most forthcoming of people, and that’s due to their unhealthy fixation on the subject.” Turning to Leandra, Eli adds, “No offense intended.”
“I’m going to level with you,” I tell the room, not speaking to anyone in particular. “To do our jobs, we have to be unbiased. We deal in facts, not speculation. And as far as Eli and I are concerned, everyone’s a suspect until we say otherwise. If you can’t come to terms with that, then unfortunately this arrangement isn’t going to work.”
“Wait,” Leandra whisper yells. “Please don’t leave. I know Jeffery can take some getting used to, but he really is only looking out for me. Both of them are.”
“Ma’am, with all due respect…” I start to say.
“Please. I promise everyone will cooperate with whatever you ask, and if they don’t, you can tell me or Alex and we will make sure they do. Just…just don’t leave, okay?”
