By Degrees

  Tarin walks out of the building and stands just at the entrance. “What the fuck is everyone’s problem today?”

  I stare at Tarin and wait for him to finally look at me. His angry green eyes make my heart hurt.

  My voice is soft, but strong at the same time. “You can’t keep pretending you don’t know what you’re doing to people.”

  His nostrils flaring are the only sign I have that he understands me. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He clenches his jaw and the muscle in the side of his face twitches over and over. I want to say this visible sign of his anger makes him unattractive, but that would be a lie. The darkness that’s hovering over him right now only draws me in tighter. I have to battle to breathe normally. Oh, how that darkness pulls at me, tempting me to dive headfirst into danger with this man. God, I am the dumbest girl alive.

  I decide against having a head-to-head confrontation right now. It’s not the right time or the right place. Those things will come later, though. It’s inevitable that we will have it out, and it’s going to happen soon. “Just think about it,” I say. “If you still want to discuss it with me this evening, I’ll be available.”

  “Never mind. I don’t care.” He walks over to the car and gets inside, shutting the door so hard it rocks the vehicle.

  I don’t believe he doesn’t care, and it gives me hope to know he’s as bothered by this whole scene as we are; maybe not for the same reasons, but it’s a start at least.

  I take a deep breath, lock the studio door, and walk around to the opposite side of the car, not looking forward to meeting lawyers with Tarin when he’s in this kind of mood. I get in and speak only to Ricky. “Take us to the attorney’s office, please.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he says, putting the car in reverse and then pointing us back out onto the main road.

  Chapter Nineteen

  WE’RE ON OUR WAY TO the lawyer’s office when I notice Ricky glancing in the rearview mirror over and over. He appears nervous about something. I look over my shoulder at a minivan that’s behind us. Nothing about it looks wrong to me.

  “What’s up, Ricky?” I ask.

  “We’re being followed.”

  I twist around in my seat more fully and this time notice a Jeep with at least three girls in it weaving around the slower moving minivan. One person in the backseat and one in the front passenger seat are leaning out of their windows and waving at our car.

  I sigh. Great. Because things aren’t shitty enough right now, let’s add lunatic chicks to the mix.

  Their expressions are classic psycho-fan: mouths wide open in grins so big they make the girls appear unbalanced, eyes bugging out, arms flailing, hands fluttering, screaming … In any other situation, people doing these things would be locked away in a mental hospital. In this situation, we just smile and try to indulge them without giving them false hope. Such is the life of a celebrity.

  The problem is, you never know which fan is just a person carried away by the fantasy and which is one who is truly unhinged. I assume because there are three of them together, we’re looking at the less-threatening variety, but you never can tell, often until it’s too late.

  “Fans,” I say simply, even though it’s anything but a simple issue. Tarin would be nowhere without them, singing in the shower without an audience. But some fans take their admiration to a whole other level that oversteps the boundaries between admirer and artist. They go from sane to insane in the blink of an eye, and there’s almost nothing you can do about it but avoid them. They take innocent gestures as signs of mutual attraction and devotion. It’s sad and scary at the same time.

  These chicks seemed like the temporarily insane type, the way they were endangering life and limb just to get close to Tarin. I watch their Jeep nearly go up on two wheels as they turn a corner too fast trying to keep up with us.

  In their regular lives they’re probably perfectly nice, reasonable girls, but seeing Tarin pulls a trigger that pushes them over the edge and makes them act like drunken clowns. And drunken clowns are so not attractive. I cringe at the fools they’re making of themselves.

  I really wish I knew how they found out we were in this car. I make a mental note to do some checking into possible info leaks among the crew when we get back to Tarin’s place. I notice Scott tapping out either a note or an email on his phone, and I assume he’s thinking the same thing. He’s the best assistant on the entire planet that way.

  “Yeah, right. Fans. Awesome,” says Tarin. He doesn’t sound very happy about the idea. Slouching down farther into the seat, he stares out the window where he won’t see them and vice versa.

  “Scott, would you take care of this, please?” I ask.

  He’s already on the phone, talking to the attorney’s office staff, doing what he can to plan for an uninterrupted arrival. I’ve never been to this attorney’s office before, so I don’t know what kind of security is available, but I’m hoping for an underground parking garage that has a guard shack in front of it.

  “Ricky? What are the chances we can get in and out without contact?”

  “Very little. I’ve seen these girls before.” Ricky glances over his shoulder at Tarin. “It’s Posey and the Pussycats.”

  Tarin snorts with disgust. “Great. Just what I needed.”

  “Is that really what they call themselves?” asks Scott, hanging up his phone.

  “It’s what we call them. The girl driving is Posey. The rest of them … we just gave them the tag to have something to call them.”

  “Is she a stalker?” I ask.

  “Not exactly. She’s harmless, but annoying.” Ricky’s frowning, I can see his expression in the rearview mirror. He changes lanes at the last minute so he can take a left turn and try to lose them.

  Looking out the back window, I see Posey cut off two other cars in her efforts to follow Tarin, causing one of them to squeal its brakes and the other driver to lay on his horn.

  “We’re almost there. What do you want me to do?” asks Ricky.

  “Just get us there as quickly as you can and we’ll make a run for it. Scott, can you and Ricky do interference for us?”

  “No problem.” Scott looks over his shoulder at his targets. He’s no match for three rabid girl-fans, but he can at least slow them down. He’s used to doing this; he’s been practicing since he was about fourteen.

  Ricky pulls up to the valet area of the building and throws the car into park. It lurches forward with the sudden lack of movement as Tarin throws open his door and jumps out. I’m in the process of sliding over to get out after him when he reaches in and grabs my hand, pulling me out with him. I’m not expecting the extra power for my exit, so I stumble a little as I get out, landing against him. I’m still trying to get my feet under me when the girls’ Jeep pulls up and screeches to a halt behind us.

  The doorman on duty comes outside the glass doors from inside the building, and Ricky runs around the front of the vehicle to join Scott on the sidewalk. The three of them form a barrier between us and the girls.

  As I stand up straight, Tarin puts his arm around my waist and pulls me near to him. Our bodies are touching from thigh to shoulder, and my engine is instantly humming with sexual energy. Having him this close is throwing me for a complete loop. It should mean nothing, but it doesn’t. It means everything, and I hate myself for being affected like this.

  I know he’s doing this for protection - either mine or his own - but that doesn’t stop my pulse from going through the roof and my heart from slamming against my ribcage. I picture the tattooed arms I saw bare earlier wrapped around my body while I feel the heat from his body seeping into mine. My ears are burning with embarrassment over where my thoughts are going and with the arousal that suddenly hits me like a truck. BAM. Sex. It’s almost all I can think about, wondering what he might be like in bed, picturing him naked again.

  “Oh my god, TARIN!” screams the one out in front, effectively jerking my attention back to the more immediate problem. She’s taller
than I am, with curly blonde hair and bright blue eyes. She looks like a Barbie doll and is probably no more than seventeen years old.

  “Posey,” he says, nodding at her while guiding us towards the door of the building. He pulls me along with him, keeping my body clamped to his side.

  “Ahhhhh!! He remembers your name!” squeals the redhead on her left as she grabs her friend’s arm and shakes it sloppily.

  Posey turns to her friend, her eyes blazing as she jerks her arm out of her grip. “Of course he does, idiot. He’s my man. He knows I’m his biggest fan.” She turns her fanatically obsessed eyes back to her object of her desire. It’s then that she finally realizes he’s not alone and focuses her attention on me. Glowing eyes become dark with instant hatred. “Oh God, Tarin, who is that?”

  No one answers her. We’re almost to the door.

  The girl on her other side says, “That’s probably his new girlfriend. What happened to Jelly, Tarin? What happened to Jelly? Are you broken up now?”

  The blonde smacks her friend on the back hard. “Shut up, Lindsay! Jelly Dumbshit Summers is not his girlfriend and neither is this skank!”

  “Watch who you’re calling a skank,” says Scott.

  “Get out of my way, twig,” she says to him, stepping forward to shove him away.

  He stands his ground, moving sideways to block her attempts to get closer. He’s rewarded with a slap to the side of his head as she keeps trying to move forward. “Back off, Posey or whatever your name is,” he warns, trying to trap her hands and keep her from girl slapping him anymore. “Tarin doesn’t want you to come that close.”

  “Shut up!” she spits out at him, yanking her hands away from him. “You don’t know what Tarin wants. I’m his biggest fan. Tell him, Tarin! Tell him! You want me here, right?”

  I stare at Tarin, a warning in my eyes. He looks down at me and for a split-second, I can tell he’s warring with himself. The angel and the demon on his shoulders are in a wrestling match.

  But then the devil takes him and he opens his mouth. “Yeah, she’s my biggest fan. Nice seeing you, Posey, but I don’t have time to hang out. I have to go talk to some lawyers.”

  Posey nearly passes out with the attention. She faces her girlfriends, flicking her curls around her face. “Oh my god, see? See?! I told you he loves me.” She goes back to idolizing Tarin. “Tarin! I can go with you in there if you want! I can go with you and sit with you or whatever! I’ll do whatever you want!”

  I have ceased to exist as anything but an obstacle to be smashed through for this nutty chick. Right now if Tarin were to tell her to scratch my eyeballs out, she’d do it without blinking. It’s scary to see someone so caught up in the moment and this obsessed. Reality has completely disappeared for her, and Tarin is doing nothing but making it worse. The worst part is, he knows it. He’s having fun making her do this to herself, and it makes me sick.

  Elbowing him in the ribs, I force him to detach his arm from my waist.

  “Ow, what’d you do that for?” he asks, slightly amused.

  “Shut up and get in the building.”

  His good mood begins to fade. “I’ll go. Just give me a minute.”

  The bastard is enjoying this whole thing, how poor Posey is losing her mind over him and how I’m standing here being annoyed at both of them. He’s playing with us like we’re pawns in a stupid chess game.

  It’s in this moment that I begin to really dislike Tarin as a person, and that’s never happened before with any of my clients. As I look at his twisted smile, I start to wonder why I even agreed to take this job.

  Maybe he sees the shift of my thoughts in my expression, but something causes him to lose that smile. “What?” he asks me, like he’s completely innocent and clueless.

  “Just get inside,” I say, leaving him out there to deal with his mess. I feel a little guilty about abandoning Ricky and Scott there too, but I know if I stay, I’ll say or do things that will end this job. And as much as I’m disgusted by Tarin right now, it doesn’t mean he is no longer worth saving. He’s just not going to be one of those clients I become friends with and stay in touch with, like Jack. No, definitely not. He’ll be the first one of the six that I normalize and then leave behind. Forever. The fact that he might be beyond saving barely enters my mind, and as soon as it does, I throw the thought out like garbage. I will not accept defeat.

  Chapter Twenty

  I TAKE THE ELEVATOR UP to an office on the twelfth floor. The view of downtown is spectacular, making me wonder what the rent is for a place like this. Probably more than I make in a month. Everything is ultra-modern, down to the hard black leather couch with chrome legs that sits in the corner of the reception area with two matching, equally uncomfortable-looking armchairs.

  Mostly women are coming and going out of the reception area, and all of them are dressed in tight-fitting, tailored suits. I’m so glad I’m not working in a place like this all the time like they are. I may have to deal with egotistical dumbnuts sometimes, but at least I’m not cooped up in a gilded cage.

  “May I help you?” asks the young girl at the desk. She has her dark brown hair up in a sophisticated chignon, and she’s wearing chic, librarian-like, black-rimmed glasses.

  “I’m here to see Nick Galanos. We have an appointment. My name is Scarlett Barnes.”

  She smiles. “Yes, he’s expecting you. Please have a seat and I’ll let him know you’re here.” She picks up her phone handset and presses some buttons as I turn away.

  I wander over to a rack of booklets. The one at eye-level mentions estate planning. Just from the literature available and the office space alone, I can tell this is a big firm that positions itself to handle all the legal needs of its wealthy clients. It’s a one-stop shop where the rich and famous can happily unload buckets of their hard-earned cash for estate planning, contract negotiation, divorce, and criminal defense.

  “Ms. Barnes?”

  I turn around to face the male voice coming from behind me. I’m a little shocked at first by what I find there, having had no idea that I’d be meeting with a Greek god today. I should have known by his name. Nick Galanos. The Greek god of sexy. God of handsome. God of thrumming pulses…

  He holds out his hand and smiles. I catch a glimpse of perfectly manicured fingernails and cuticles as it comes towards me. Of course his teeth are perfectly straight and white. Veneers. Don’t be too impressed. Relax. His hair is thick and wavy, maybe a little longer than most lawyers would wear; but of course, he tends to the legal needs of celebrities, so a little bit of bolder fashion goes a long way. His suit is classic in style, tailored to make the most of his broad shoulders and trim waist. As his hands stretches forward to take mine, his jacket slides up a little and diamond-encrusted cufflinks twinkle under the fluorescent lights. He is the total package. I’m willing to bet he’s either gay or a total prick to women.

  “Nice to meet you,” I say, meaning it with every ounce of my being. His refinement is a perfect balm for my nerves right now, regardless of the fact that he’s not dating material in my mind. Rowdy lunatic fans and Tarin’s careless treatment of both them and me has me ragged. Holding Nick’s smooth palm in mine, I feel as though I’m getting ready to have a spa day. A hot oil massage followed by a warm relaxing jacuzzi spell, and then perhaps a pedicure…

  My euphoric fantasy is rudely yanked away moments after the elevator doors open. High pitched and breathy giggles rake against my eardrums, making me cringe. I don’t want to turn around because I know the nightmare that awaits.

  Nick’s hand slides away from mine, reluctantly perhaps. He looks at me thoughtfully for a couple seconds before turning to face the ruckus at the elevator.

  “Tarin. Nice to see you.” He walks over and holds out his hand first to Tarin, then to Ricky and Scott, and finally to Posey.

  My heart drops into my stomach as I take in the scene. I feel physically ill. Tarin has his arm looped over the young girl’s shoulders, and she’s having what looks like happ
iness seizures as she clings to him with both arms. He’s in a fan straightjacket. My expression goes murderous, and Scott sees it. He rolls his eyes in commiseration.

  “What’s up, Nick?” Tarin detaches an arm from Posey’s arm-clamps and shakes his lawyer’s hand.

  “Not much, not much. Keeping busy. How about you?”

  Tarin shrugs. “You know me. Busy having fun.” He looks down at the cling-on stuck to his side, and she bursts into more giggles. It’s positively nauseating.

  “Is she going to wait out here or …” Nick’s meaning is clear, and anyone with a brain would answer yes to his question.

  “Nah, she’s with us.” Tarin looks down at her once more and squeezes her closer. Then he looks up at me with a smug smile.

  There’s nothing I want more right now than to walk over and slap his expression right off his stupid face. I make a mental note to give him a good sock in the kisser when we’re in the ring next time. I’m so going to make him eat a knuckle sandwich. That thought, that delicious little promise to myself, is the only thing keeping me sane right now.

  Scott gets a slightly panicked expression on his face as he watches me make my way over. I go slowly, keeping my eyes on Tarin’s until I’m standing right in front of him and his leech. We’re just two feet apart. Then I look directly at Posey, using the sweetest voice I’m capable of conjuring at this point.

  “I’m sorry, Posey, but you’re not invited to this meeting. You can wait downstairs where Tarin will be happy to say goodbye to you.” My voice goes harsh. “But just so we’re clear … you’re not going to be hanging out with Tarin, going to meetings with Tarin, partying with Tarin, or having sex with Tarin, okay? None of that is going to happen. Not now, not ever. Just get it out of your mind and move on.”

  Her nostrils flare and her lips thin. “Who the hell are you, his mother?”

  “If that makes it easier for you, sure. I’m his mother.”