In the Fast Lane

by Sherryl Hancock

  She nodded slowly, still not sure what to do.

  “I’ll take care of it, Cass,” he assured her.

  He was on the phone to Greg asking him to come get Cassie and take her to Brenden’s while he got her another apartment. Greg arrived and Tommy handed him the letters. He read them growing more and more horrified as she did.

  “My God, who are these people?” Greg asked, dropping the letters like they were snakes.

  “Nuts,” Tommy told him.

  “What’s up?” Brendan asked as Greg led her into BJ’s house. He noted how pale Cassie looked.

  Greg handed BJ the letters without a word.

  “Jesus,” he said, tossing them aside and leading them into the house. “Where’s Tommy?”

  “Tommy’s gone to find her another apartment,” Greg told him.

  Allexxiss came down the stairs then and BJ told her what was going on.

  “Oh my God,” Allexxiss gasped. “Come on,” she said to Cassie, putting her arm around Cassie’s shoulders and leading her away.

  “Thanks, Overroy,” BJ said, nodding, as Greg left.

  Brenden went into his study, sat down at his desk, and picked up the phone. One name kept coming up.

  John Machiavelli answered on the second ring.

  “Hello?”

  “Mr. Machiavelli,” Brenden queried.

  “Yeah,” John replied, surprised that anyone would be calling him on his cell phone. Very few people had that number.

  “Mr. Machiavelli, I got your number from one of my associates, I need to hire you to protect someone close to me.”

  “Okay … Mr. …” John said.

  “My name’s Brenden Sparks,” Brenden said. “Would you be available in the next day or so to meet with me?”

  “Uh, Mr. Sparks, I’m kind of in the middle of a job right now,” John said, shaking his head. “I can give you the name of a”

  “Mr. Machiavelli, I’ve got a terrified woman here who’s already been beaten and raped, and now she’s receiving death threats,” Brenden said, his tone no-nonsense. “I don’t intend to entrust her care to anyone but the best. From what I’ve been told about you, you know your stuff. Now, when can you meet with me?”

  John sighed, glancing at his watch. Then he looked at door to the store he was waiting outside of.

  “Where do you want to meet, Mr. Sparks?” John asked.

  “Wherever we need to. I’m in LA but I’ll meet you wherever you want,” Brenden said.

  “I’m in Vegas right now,” John said, “but I expect to be back in LA at six tonight,”

  “I’ll meet you at seven,” Brenden said.

  John’s lips twisted in a sardonic grin; the man didn’t believe in being patient, did he?

  “Alright, Mr. Sparks, you pick the place,” John said.

  “My offices down at Badlands Records,” Brenden said. “Do you need the address?”

  “No, I’ll find it,” John said. “I’ll see you at seven.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Machiavelli,” Brenden said then, realizing he was bulldozing the man. But he was determined to hire him.

  That evening Brenden explained to John who Cassie was. John had seen the news and the papers.

  “So, is she even willing to have a bodyguard?” John asked cynically.

  “I’m not giving her a choice,” Brenden said calmly.

  John twisted his lips in a grimace. “Mr. Sparks, people can’t be forced into being protected, they have to want protection.”

  “She does want protection, she’s just been fed all this bullshit about being independent and taking care of herself,” Brenden said, shrugging. “Which is all well and good when it comes to making a living. But when you’re all of about ninety-five pounds soaking wet, and don’t even reach five feet, being able to protect yourself from some nut isn’t so easy.”

  “Even full-grown men can’t always protect themselves from nuts, Mr. Sparks,” John pointed out.

  “True, but I’d rather pit myself against someone like this than Cassie,” Brenden said.

  John nodded. “The problem here, Mr. Sparks, is that people who don’t want to be protected tend to be a pain in the ass.”

  Brenden grinned. John Machiavelli didn’t pull any punches, that was for sure. He liked him already.

  “Well, she’s got a lot riding on this album being released, and with what’s going on, I’m not altogether sure it’s safe to release it and have her out there. I need to know that she’s protected regardless of her ideas on not needing protection.”

  John nodded. “Well, you can approach it from the stand point that as the label, it is your right to protect her as an asset to the company.”

  Brenden grinned. “I like the way you think,” he said, “very devious, but you’re right.” He thought about it for another minute then nodded. “That’s exactly how we’re going to approach it. If she gives you any shit, I’ll call her on it.”

  “I’ve taken shit from clients in the past, Mr. Sparks. I have a fairly high threshold,” John said.

  Brenden laughed nodding his head. “I imagine you’d have to at some point,” he said, “otherwise you might have to kill the client yourself.”

  “Exactly,” John said inclining his head.

  Again, Brenden grinned, nodding.

  “Now,” Brenden said, “I assume you have some kind of contract you want to draw up …”

  John nodded, opening the leather-bound folder he’d brought with him. He took out a sheaf of papers and handed them to Brenden.

  “Look it over, let me know if you have any problems,” John said.

  Brenden nodded, his eyes already scanning the print. “I’ll get these back to you tomorrow.”

  ****

  Cassie stared openmouthed at Brenden. He could not be serious. Yet here she was sitting in the conference room at Badlands, all formal and everything.

  “Did you say bodyguard?” she asked, sounding as if she thought he was nuts.

  Brenden nodded, glancing at John who sat by calmly looking non-pulsed by her apparent disbelief.

  “As in, Whitney Houston, Kevin Costner, movie bodyguard,” Cassie added, her face growing more and more incredulous.

  “No,” Brenden said, “as in you were attacked, almost killed, and now are receiving death threats, bodyguard,” he clarified succinctly.

  “I don’t need a bodyguard,” Cassie said, sitting back in her chair with a rebellious look.

  “I think you do,” Brenden replied calmly.

  “I think you’re wrong,” Cassie countered, her violet eyes narrowing.

  “Fortunately for me, what you think doesn’t count in this situation,” Brenden told her.

  “How do you figure?” she asked, sitting forward in her anxiousness to change his mind.

  Brenden shrugged. “As one of the artists signed to Badlands, you’re considered an asset, and I always protect my assets.”

  “Bullshit!” Cassie exclaimed. “Don’t give me rhetoric, Brenden. This isn’t about the label,” she said angrily. “This is about how I wouldn’t go through the shit of having them arrest Mike. So I could sit in a fucking trial while some fucking slimeball of an attorney rips me to shreds. Just like the press is doing right now.”

  “Well, that’s where you’re wrong, Cass,” Brenden said, his voice softening. “If I’m doing this for any reason other than liability, it’s because I care about you and I don’t want to see you hurt again.” His voice was sincere as his light blue-green eyes stared into hers.

  Cassie looked back at him for a long moment, her face still showing signs of the desire to rebel. Finally, she stood up, nodding.

  “Fine,” she said, then walked out of the conference room.

  John had stood at the same time as she had. He glanced at Brenden.

  “I warned you,” Brenden said, grinning.

  John nodded, then walked out of the conference room, guessing accurately that Cassie was headed for her car. His long strides and quick footwork down th
e stairs had him ahead of her by about ten feet. When she walked up to her older model Camaro, he was leaning against a post next to the car. She stopped, narrowing her eyes at him, then shook her head.

  She got in on the driver’s side. John got in on the passenger side before she had a chance to start the engine. She pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and then turned the engine over. The stereo came on, and she pushed the button for a CD. Evanescence blasted out of the speakers. She threw the car into gear and drove out of the lot. She drove in silence, her face set in stone.

  John glanced over at her a few times. Noting that she sang to the song, and chain smoked five cigarettes.

  “Let me guess,” he said mildly, “you’re pissed at your boss, so you’re going to take it out on me.”

  She glanced over at him, her violet eyes bright in the afternoon sunlight.

  “If I asked you not to do this job, would you?” she asked.

  John shook his head. “Sorry, can’t do that,” he said, not sounding the least bit sorry.

  Cassie nodded. “Then yeah, I’m going to take it out on you,” she said, smiling with exaggerated sweetness.

  John nodded as if he was processing this new information. He’d already guessed he’d bear the brunt of her anger. It didn’t bother him a bit.

  “Do you have any idea how irritating this is?” she asked him, her voice exasperated.

  “No,” he said.

  “I realize that you men think we women are helpless and all,” she said sarcastically, “but the fact is, I can take care of myself.”

  “Really?” he asked cynically.

  “Yeah, really,” she snapped.

  “Didn’t do so well a couple of days ago, did you?” he said mildly, but his words make her want to slug him.

  “I didn’t see him!” she yelled.

  “And what makes you think you’ll see him the next time?” John asked, his brown eyes staring back at her.

  Cassie stared at him, unable to think of a response. She shook her head and lit another cigarette.

  “Hell of a habit you have there,” he commented.

  “You’re in charge of the vessel,” she growled, “not the fucking contents, so just do your job and keep your nose out of my business.”

  “Can’t do both,” John said.

  “What?” She asked.

  “I can’t protect you and keep my nose out of your business. They’re one in the same, your business, your safety,” he explained. “Look, princess”

  “Excuse me?” she snapped.

  John grinned, knowing that would catch her off guard. “If we’re going to work together”

  “We’re not,” she cut in.

  “Then we’re going to get a few things straight,” he continued as if she hadn’t interrupted him.

  “Let’s get this straight,” she said, her tone a dark growl, “if you call me princess again, I’ll beat the shit out of you.”

  He grinned confidently. “I’d like to see you try,” he said, his tone perfectly calm.

  “You have to sleep some time,” she shot back.

  “Apparently with one eye open,” he said.

  Cassie grinned at that, then narrowed her eyes. She didn’t want to like the son of a bitch, damn it!

  “Did Beege pay you extra to be an asshole?” she asked him sourly.

  “Nah,” he said, his eyes twinkling, “that’s just a fringe benefit.”

  “Figures,” she muttered.

  John said nothing in reply. He sat back, letting her stew for a while. She drove like a maniac, passing cars, changing lanes.

  “We’re going to have to discuss the driving arrangements,” he said.

  “Why?” she asked. “Don’t like women drivers?”

  John shrugged. “Doesn’t matter to me, but I’m thinking driving with you, I’m likely to be the one that ends up dead,”

  “I could be so lucky,” she growled.

  “Oh, now that’s just not nice,” he said, his tone still conversational.

  “Did Beege tell you I was nice?” she asked, her tone disbelieving.

  “No, I think the phrase he used was ‘high strung,’ ” he told her.

  “Well, he was being sweet,” she said, smiling sarcastically. “I’m a bitch.”

  “Now that I can believe,” he replied smugly.

  Her eyes widened, but she said nothing, realizing she’d walked right into that one. This guy was not stupid, that was for sure. She was all time pissed off that Brenden had hired a bodyguard for her without even talking to her about it. Now she had some guy who was going to follow her around and invade what little privacy she had left. It grated on her nerves, and it went against every independent bone in her body. There was no way she was going to let this guy “protect” her, no matter what Brenden said.

  ****

  Shannon did go out with what she started calling the “Fast Lane Crew.” The “crew” included Tommy, Cassie Roads, and Greg Overroy. Shannon had seen more on Cassie Roads and found out she was the lead singer of Fast Lane. She also had a bodyguard that stood by the entire night, his eyes constantly scanning the crowd. Cassie threw a number of vile glances at the man. Shannon grimaced, thinking she’d hate to be on the bad side of this tiny little powerhouse. All the same, John, “Mackie” as Cassie referred to him, didn’t seemed phased by Cassie’s attitude.

  The four went to dinner, all of them treating Shannon like she’d always been part of their group. Cassie insisted on ordering a ton of food at the sushi place Tommy suggested. He grinned when she ordered Saki.

  “Sure you want to go there again?” Tommy asked her, raising a dark eyebrow.

  “I’m living dangerously,” Cassie said, grinning.

  Tommy rolled his eyes. “Oh good …”

  “Am I hearing something I shouldn’t?” Greg asked pointedly. “Did you two …” he queried, letting his voice trail off as he raised his eyebrows suggestively.

  “Ugh! No!” Cassie said, making a face. “Tommy’s like the brother I never wanted,” she explained to Shannon.

  “You mean, never had, Cass,” Tommy said, narrowing his eyes at her.

  “Oh yeah, had, had, I got it,” Cassie said, shaking her head and grinning.

  “So where are you from?” Cassie asked Shannon, as she picked up a California roll and took a bite.

  “Wisconsin, near Madison,” Shannon said, picking at her salad.

  “What’s that like?” she asked then.

  “Like a big dust bowl with houses,” Shannon said, making a face.

  “Nice …” Tommy said, widening his eyes.

  “If you like dust and heat,” Shannon said.

  “Think I’ll stay here,” Greg said, grinning.

  Tommy canted his head to the side, noting that Shannon wasn’t eating. “You don’t like your salad?”

  Shannon pressed her lips together, not wanting to offend him. “I’m, um, I’m just not really hungry,” she said.

  Tommy looked back at her for a long moment, then nodded, his dark eyes looking into hers. When the waitress walked by, he leaned back, talking to her in rapid Japanese. The waitress inclined her head. Shannon heard Tommy say, “Arigato,” and she knew that meant thank you. Tommy straightened, glancing over at Shannon, seeing that she was watching him. He grinned at her, then turned to talk to Cassie again.

  A few minutes later the waitress brought her a new salad, telling her that there was a nice vinaigrette on the side for her, since she didn’t like the “miso.” The waitress also had brought another plate to add to the plates on the table, smiling at Tommy and inclining her head to him. He inclined his head in response as she left.

  “Shannon,” he said, “this is teriyaki chicken, it’s pretty normal.”

  Shannon was shocked at his thoughtfulness, she wasn’t even sure what to say. She smiled shyly, knowing he had also gotten the waitress to bring her a different salad. Later, on the way out of the restaurant she wanted to thank him, but without making a big deal about it. As if
knowing this, Tommy lagged back behind the group, dropping back to talk to her. He surprised her further by what he said.

  “Hey, I’m sorry we dragged you here,” he said, looking displeased with himself. “I just assumed that it would be common ground. I’m sorry, we should have asked you what you wanted.”

  “I could have spoken up,” Shannon said. “And actually, I wanted to thank you for your thoughtfulness in there. I didn’t want to be rude.”

  “No problem,” Tommy said, winking at her. “I had to promise to hold Cassie’s hair back the first time I brought her here.”

  “Hold her hair back?” Shannon asked.

  “Yeah, in the event that she threw up,” he said, grinning, his eyes sparkling.

  “Oh!” Shannon said, laughing and nodding.

  Cassie dropped back then, taking Shannon’s arm.

  “Okay, you get the next pick,” she said, grinning and glancing at Tommy.

  “For?” Shannon asked.

  “For what we do,” Cassie said. “We could go to a club and dance, or we can go to the Troubadour, or anything you want.”

  “Club sounds fun,” Shannon said.

  “Club it is,” Tommy said.

  They made their way to a club off of Sunset. As usual, when Cassie walked into the club every man in the place stopped and stared; they were dropping like flies. Cassie didn’t notice, but Mackie’s eyes took everything in, his look warning any man off from his charge. He stood at least six inches taller than most men in the club, so he was very visible standing behind her and Shannon. Shannon felt instantly like the ugly duckling. She was more than ready to leave then.

  “What are you ladies drinking?” Greg asked.

  “Tequila,” Cassie said.

  “What about you Shannon?” Cassie asked.

  “Uh, I’m not even twenty-one,” Shannon said, making a face.

  “They let you in,” Cassie said, grinning.

  She was negating the fact that Cassie had known the bouncer and the owner of the club through the band.

  “So, you can drink if you want to, if you don’t that’s okay too,” Tommy said, giving Cassie a stern look.

  “I just don’t know what anything tastes like,” Shannon said, not wanting to be a stick in the mud.

  “Baileys is really good,” Cassie said, “it’s sweet.”