by Amy Briggs
Once it was determined Miranda and I would just order dinner at her place, I followed her there. She lived in a small bungalow style house with a little yard; she even had flowers in mismatched planters on her porch.
“You like flowers?” I asked, thinking that was a dumb question the moment it came out of my mouth.
Turning back to me as she was sliding her key in the door, she smiled. “I’m a girl. Of course I like flowers,” .She laughed a little. “But in the interest of full disclosure, I don’t keep these alive myself. The guys who take care of my yard do. I kill things, unfortunately.”
I chuckled. “I don’t have much of a green thumb either. I tried to grow my own herbs for cooking and stuff, from some kit that said it was foolproof and any jackass could do it. Not so much.”
“I tried that too!” she exclaimed. “They underestimate my powers of destruction. Those basil plants never stood a chance. I even tried mint, which is technically a weed, and it died within days.”
We both walked into her house, laughing. “Make yourself at home, Ryan. I apologize for the mess, but we leave tomorrow, so I have shit everywhere.”
Glancing around the room, I saw all the different things she was planning to bring. A stack of worn notebooks was sitting on an old overstuffed couch, next to a pile of books that looked like romance novels. There were two guitar cases leaned up against the same couch, and several piles of clothes all over the living room. She had concert posters in frames, as well as several family photos on the mantle above a white fireplace. I locked the front door behind us as she walked into the kitchen.
“Can I get you a drink? I have beer, wine, and bottled water,” she called out.
“I’ll just have a water, thanks,” I replied, taking a seat in what looked like a vintage armchair. Her style was eclectic and cool; nothing really matched, but it still all worked somehow, and felt comfortable.
“Here you go,” .She handed me a bottle of water, and shoved the pile of clothes on the couch over so she could take a seat across from me. Folding her legs up under her, she took a long pull from her bottle of water before jumping right in. “So, look. Obviously, my dad is our manager, and he made these arrangements with you to come on tour with us. I’m a savvy businesswoman, so I’m well aware of what good exposure this could be for us, but I want to make sure we have an understanding about how our tour operates, and how my sister and I like to do things, regardless of what my dad has to say.”
Leaning forward in my chair, I rested my elbows on my thighs and smirked. She was no nonsense, that’s for sure. “Okay, Miranda, let’s hear your thoughts. I’m open to whatever is mutually beneficial for both of us. This is as good for me as it is for you, as long as I’m able to do my job.”
Raising a perfectly arched eyebrow at me, she replied, “And what exactly is your job?”
“My job is to actually chronicle what it’s like to be on tour with you. It’s to get to know the real you, not just the persona. My readers want to feel like they have a glimpse into what your life is really like, not just the fantasy of a rock star life.” I watched for her reaction. As she nodded thoughtfully at me, I continued, “Basically, I need you to give me full access. I get to come with you everywhere. Now, before you freak out, let me explain that my goal isn’t to get in your way at all, which you and your sister have mentioned several times.”
She grinned, “Yeah, my sister can be a little rough around the edges sometimes, but she really does mean well. And she’s an absolutely amazing drummer.”
“Oh, I’m familiar with your music. The Little Queens kick ass, that's why I’m here, let’s be honest. I can handle Carmen; I’m not worried about her. She’s had plenty of PR, good and bad, but I want more on you. You’re the quiet one in the public eye, even though you’re the front man, so to speak. You’re the voice of the band, and yet nobody really knows you,” I said, working my way into being her shadow for the tour.
She looked at me thoughtfully before responding, “Interesting. Well, here’s what I can do. You can follow me around, .You can stick with me; you have my permission for that. But if I tell you I need alone time, which will happen at some point, it’s close quarters, you need to respect that. I will do my very best to give you full access if you promise me that I get to approve anything you print. I’m not opposed to what you’re suggesting, but I don’t have any reason to trust you yet, and want to make sure I’m comfortable with whatever it is you plan to publish. It’s a magazine, not a newspaper, so that should seem fair to you.”
As she narrowed her eyes at me, awaiting my response, all I could think about was how easy it was to get exactly what I needed to do my real job well; full access to her. “You’ve got a deal, Miranda. I like your style; you cut right to the chase. This should be fun.”
“I don’t know about fun, but it’ll be interesting,” .She relaxed her shoulders, and stretched her neck gently. She was visibly tense, and while I couldn’t help but notice, I reminded myself again that my job was to protect her, .Not massage her shoulders, which is what I was inclined to do. She was beautiful; not in the traditional sense, but more in her aura. She had the rocker edge, with the red and black hair, and tattoos that were absolutely stunning, but she also had the kindest smile I think I’d ever encountered. Her genuine giggle when something made her laugh was already playing with my head.
I’d never felt drawn to a client before; it’s always been strictly business for me. When I took the job, this was no exception, but I could tell that she was working her way under my skin without even trying. It’s never a good thing to get attached to the person you’re hired to protect, but I fancied myself an exception to the rule, and decided that my attraction to her was of little consequence in doing my job. I wasn’t a relationship guy to begin with, and having a one-night stand was out of the question in this instance.
“Did you get everything else that you needed before we go? Passes and all that jazz, so you can go backstage and everything?” she asked, interrupting my thoughts.
“I sure did. I’ve got an itinerary with all the locations, and I’ve already packed, for the most part. I’ll check out of my hotel in the morning, and be ready and waiting,” I replied.
“Where are you actually from?” She grabbed a throw pillow from beside her and hugged it to herself gently.
“California. Mostly San Francisco, but I’ve lived all over California. I travel like this for work, though, pretty often,” I replied, telling the truth.
“I’m looking forward to California on the tour. We have a stop in San Fran, and if memory serves me, we’ll be staying an extra night there, just to relax.”
“Yes, I did notice that. I’m sure I’ll be happy to sleep in my own bed for a night.”
Laughing, she replied, “Oh I’m sure you will be. Sleeping on the bus totally blows, and I look forward to our hotel stays more than anything when we’re on the road.”
“There’s not a whole lot of those, from what I recall,” I said.
Rolling her eyes, but still smiling, she replied, “No, there sure isn’t. But we try to make it a couple days where we can, so that we can actually rest. Usually about halfway through the tour, I need a couple days to just rest my voice because it’s just so much, singing for that many days in a row, so we make sure I’m able to do that on the second half of the tour more than any other time.”
“That makes sense. And, I’d like to point out, this is exactly the kind of thing the readers would love to know.”
“What? That I need a break during the tour?” She seemed surprised.
“Yeah, absolutely. It shows you’re human. Any normal person would want a break too, and you’re honest about it. You don’t barrel through it; you give yourself a few days off so you can keep putting on great shows.” I was making all of this up as I was saying it, although it made real sense to me. I believed what I was saying. I didn’t want to lie to her; that was the worst part about the job out of the gate, but I understood why we were doing
it. I intended to make every effort to be truthful with her as this tour went along, except for the part about why I was really there.
“I never thought of it that way,” she replied softly.
I decided it was time to get back to my hotel and finish prepping for the three months on the road before I got distracted any further. I also hadn’t had the chance to check around the perimeter of her house and wanted to spend a little time doing that as well. “Well, now you can.” I stood up. “I’m gonna hit the road and let you do your thing here.” I waved my hand around the room at all the things it looked like she needed to pack.
Sighing, she replied, “Yeah, I guess I do have a lot to do here. I promised to feed you, are you sure?” She got up to walk me out and that’s when things got awkward.
“No, I’m totally good, but thank you. I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow,” I replied, as I put my hand out for her to shake it, which she ran into as she came in for a friendly hug. I basically poked her right in the stomach with my hand and tried to recover by returning the friendly hug, but by then she laughed, and I felt like a tool. It was only lessened by the fact that she smelled amazing, like fresh cut grass or something.
“We’ll have to work on that,” she said. “If you’re gonna be on the road with us for three months, you’re family now, and we hug, so get used to it.”
Chuckling about the entire bumbling moment, I replied, “Note taken. Hugs it is. I’ll see you tomorrow, Miranda.”
“Night, Ryan,” she said softly as she shut the door. When I heard the lock click after she shut it, I felt relieved, and I headed to my truck to stake out her place for a bit.
After I said goodbye to Ryan, I leaned against my front door, looking around my house, trying to figure out what to do next. I needed to pack a suitcase of my personal necessities, and my guitars, but other than that, I was pretty sure I was done. The whole summer we’d be on the road, and I wasn’t even nervous. In fact, I was thrilled. I just hoped that whatever Ryan wrote about us didn’t include any of Carmen’s shenanigans, and that she kept those antics to a minimum this go around. We’d had a few issues in the past, and while I was perfectly fine with her being a partier - I had my moments too - but she had a short fuse, which got her into trouble .It was something I really wanted to keep out of the press this tour.
As I tossed a variety of clothes, hairspray, and other toiletries into my giant suitcase, my thoughts shifted to the writer. He was definitely not what I would have expected, and I couldn’t help but be seriously attracted to him; anyone would be. Not only did he have piercing blue eyes, and a smile to die for, but also the way he watched me so intently sent shivers down my spine in a good way. It would have been almost unnerving if he weren’t so damn delicous. His hair was a dark blond, and he had a scruffy beard that absolutely worked for me. When he tried to shake my hand to be professional, I totally went in for a hug because that’s just how we are in my family.
I giggled at how awkward that moment was, and hoped we’d all be able to loosen up and be comfortable on the road together. Three and a half months together is a long time, and toward the end, we’re all tired and on edge. This was our chance, the big tour, and nothing could go wrong. I needed this guy to say amazing things about us, so I reminded myself to keep it professional, regardless of how hot he was.
That night, while soaking in a glorious lavender-scented bubble bath, I texted Carmen to make sure she was packed. While she didn’t really need me to mother her, it was my basic obsessive-compulsive need to check in on her, regardless.
Sister! Are you packed and ready for tomorrow?
Of course I am. What are you doing? Bubble bath?
Haha yes. Are you out partying?
I always took a bubble bath the last night before we headed out on the road, since I didn’t know when I’d get to again, and she always went out partying in downtown Nashville. It was our standard.
I may or may not have a hangover tomorrow, if that is what you’re asking me lol.
Be careful, sister. Big day tomorrow. I love you.
I love you more. I’ll be there. Don’t worry.
I started to put my phone down when my phone pinged with another text from Carmen.
Did you talk to Dad about the letter?
No, not yet. I don’t want to deal with it today.
I had forgotten for a brief moment that day that I had a stalker, and lived a normal life. I didn’t want to argue with my dad again over having personal security. It made me feel separated from the fans, like I was too good to let them near me.
If you don’t call him I will.
I rolled my eyes, and smiled. We were in our thirties, and we still threatened each other with calls to our parents about the other’s behavior.
I’ll talk to him about it in the morning when we see him. I’m enjoying my bath right now.
Uh huh. Did the writer join you in the tub? Lol
I laughed out loud at her reply, feeling myself get embarrassed. As absurd as her comment was, the thought actually turned me on. I sunk lower into the bubbles, as the warm water surrounded me up to the nape of my neck, leaving only my hands out to text her.
Shut up. He went to his hotel.
You should totally hit that. He’s hot. You need some dick.
OMG fuck you. Stay out of trouble tonight. I’ll see you in the morning. I love you sister.
Love you too. Don’t worry about me. Night sister xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo
She loved teasing me about men, and with good reason, I suppose. Since my ex and I had split up about six months ago, I really hadn’t bothered with men at all. Besides the fact that I wanted to focus on my music and writing more than anything, we were getting busy with planning for the tour. And, in all honesty, I just didn’t want to get involved with someone again. James and I had split up after dating off and on for about two years, and it was never a great relationship. He was also a musician, and his ego was through the roof.
He didn’t take me seriously as an artist, and constantly put down the work my sister and I did. I stayed with him because it was convenient, but he wasn’t loyal at all and when I finally pulled the trigger and ended things, he acted like he was devastated. It was nothing but a shit show. He made a huge scene at a bar downtown, yelled at me in public, and ended up getting thrown out by the end of it all. My dad thought he might be the one who was sending me the threatening letters, but James never cared enough to do anything like that. It had to be a weird fan or something. I didn’t want to think about it either way. I put my phone down and shut my eyes, deeply inhaling the lavender and eucalyptus, enjoying the warm water relaxing my muscles.
The tour was going to be our big break. We had a couple albums out, but this was our moment, and I was so happy to be sharing it with my sister. As far as Carmen went, I had to admit, even if she showed up feeling like garbage from a night of partying, she never missed a practice, she never missed a show, and she was never late. That was the deal we made all along - we’d treat this business as an honor to be a part of, because it was.
I spent the rest of the evening experiencing every emotion imaginable, from being excited and having the giggles, to frustration over the loss of my lip balm, to worry that I was forgetting something. When my head finally hit the pillow after a fresh box of hair dye and the remainder of my fussing, I smiled at the adventure that awaited us the next day.
After I’d left Miranda’s place, I scoped out the area a little, looking for security weaknesses and the like. I emailed her father when I got back to my hotel, to let him know I was having security cameras installed around the perimeter of the house, facing the front and back doors, as well as a few other locations where I thought she could use them. I was going to have one of my guys come out and do the install, so I knew it would be done right, but also so we knew the installers could be trusted. I don’t outsource my work. If you’re not one of my guys, or someone that one of my guys is willing to vouch for, you’re not working for me.
&n
bsp; There’s were enough guys in our circle to more than adequately support the business, and with their special ops or other specialized experience, they were also extremely effective at their jobs. I had two other guys on similar jobs to mine, although they weren’t undercover. They were able to generate the ‘fuck off’ vibe more openly than I could, and they also didn’t have to conceal their weapons to the extent that I did on this job. All that being said, Miranda Royal was our only client who had an explicit threat against her. The other jobs on our table were general personal security detail and didn’t require the same handholding this operation did.
I knew quite a bit more about the tour than the band knew, so I was well aware that Miranda and Carmen both had a car service picking them up at their houses to bring them to the waiting buses. The girls had their own bus, while the rest of the band traveled on the other bus, although from what Mr. Royal told me, they often jumped back and forth, depending on who was sleepy, or wanted to practice on the road, or whatever. That was going to be a real pain in the balls if I needed to stick with Miranda all the time, regardless of where she was. I hoped, if she stayed as open as she had been about me shadowing her, maybe I wouldn’t have to lie to her to stay on her. That was my biggest reservation about this gig out of the gate; lying to the ‘client’ because she didn’t know she was the client. It was destined to erupt at some point.
In an effort to observe everyone, I arrived at the bus before everyone else and introduced myself to the bus drivers.
“Hey man, I’m Ryan,” I said to the very large, gray-haired man standing outside the first bus.
Extending his hand, he replied, “Marty. You security this tour?”
“Nah, I’m a writer. Traveling with the band. Going to do a magazine piece on the girls,” I said confidently, keeping my cover.
