Moment(s)

  Emilie isn’t the one with an agenda anyway; it’s her mum, and I’m making Emilie play right along. Wait. No, I’m not.

  “Look, you’ll have to get a check.” I turn to her. “There’s nothing I can do about that. But you don’t have to cash it. Or you can cash it and throw it in the river, or give it to all to a homeless man. Gone as quickly as you got it.”

  She pulls a small smile. “You understand me.”

  “Yeah, you can do anything you want.” No more holding you back; no more manipulating things to get what I want. “I won’t try to stop you anymore, Emilie. No hard feelings, you can go back—”

  But I can’t offer that. I can’t just say I’m fine with her going back home. Even with the money making her uncomfortable, me always paying for stuff making her uncomfortable, the fan madness making her uncomfortable. I’m too attached.

  I burry my head in her lap and rock it back and forth. “I’m weak.”

  “You’re what?” She smoothes my hair.

  “Nothing. I’ve got to get back to rehearsal.” I clear my throat and get to my feet. My steps are slow and heavy all the way back to the stage.

  Chapter 10

  Us lads are all stuffed in the Sprinter van, on the way back from a round of radio interviews when the security team back at the hotel rings Doug.

  “Did you knock on her door?” Doug asks. “Well, try again. Hold on a minute.” He turns to me. “Does Emilie have any birthmarks?”

  Parker sits up from his slouch against the seat beside Doug. “What?”

  Fear seizes me, and I’m as taut as a guitar string. Birthmark? I don’t remember— “No, not that I know of. What is it? What’s happened?” My eyes are opened so wide that they sting as I await his answer.

  The leather creaks under Doug when he leans forward. “Give me something, Julian.” His eyes bulge.

  It’s wrong. Something is so wrong. They want to know if she has a…an identifying mark. There’s a body.

  His intense gaze stays on my face. “A tattoo, a scar.”

  But I’m gobsmacked. My mind immediately goes to the murdered teens in Virginia, but we’re in Utah. One can’t have anything to do with the other.

  Can they?

  “Jules, think,” Kasen says softly. He squeezes my shoulder.

  “H-h-her eyes.” I watch Doug’s face closely, looking for some sign of hope. “One’s darker than the other. Doug, is she all right? Tell me she’s all right.”

  But he’s no longer listening to me; he’s relaying my description into the mobile at his ear.

  “Doug?” What about those death threats? Where were we when we got those? I cannae mind where—

  “Darker!” he shouts into the speaker then looks to me again. “How much darker?”

  “Only a wee bit…you have to keep looking….”

  He swears then leans forward even more and gets in my face. “Tell me something else.”

  “A…a…freckle. No!” I shout. “Two freckles on her earlobe. Her right one.”

  “Two freckles on her right ear lobe,” Doug says into the mobile.

  Luke eases onto the seat on the other side of me and puts an arm around my shoulders. “It’s okay, Julian.”

  “Doug,” I rasp past my dry throat. But he doesn’t answer. “Doug, tell me something!”

  “We’re almost there, Scotty,” he says into the mobile then meets my eyes again and scratches his ginger head. “Oh, there’s freckles on her face? Julian, any freckles on Emilie’s face?”

  “No,” I say and drop my head to my hands. Whoever they’ve found—it can’t possibly be Emilie.

  “You sure?” Parker asks. “There’s always makeup.”

  Kasen growls. “Shut up, Parker.”

  “I’m just trying to—”

  “I’ve seen her without makeup!” I shout. “And she doesn’t wear that all-over stuff. Just the eye makeup. Doug, tell me what happened.”

  “Are you sure about the makeup? Girls don’t always admit to—Julian, what else?” Doug wipes down his face and shakes his head. But while I’m thinking and still coming up empty, his hand comes up and holds his mobile tighter. “A ladybug?”

  My heart pounds in my ears, which are on fire now. No! Please, no ladybugs. “She has ladybug earrings,” I whisper.

  Doug says, “No. A ladybug ring…on her finger. Does Emilie have a ladybug ring?”

  I don’t know. She has a lot of ladybug stuff—for good luck. But I’ve never seen one on her finger. “She-she does have a scar. It’s on her thumb. She had stitches.”

  I want to ask again what has happened, but I’m afraid now of the answer.

  “Right or left?” Kasen whispers.

  I’m lower than the ground when I can’t remember. “I don’t know,” I moan, and try to think of something else. “Her hair reaches to her last rib. Wait, last night I painted—her toenails are bright green. And-and her hands are tiny…so small. And she doesn’t bite her nails. Her pinky fingernails are the longest. They’re the last to break. And she’s left-handed—much stronger than her right hand.”

  I want nothing more than to hold her hand right now. And for the first time ever, I’m wishing I weren’t famous.

  “We’ve absolutely lost control,” Doug says, staring out the window. “How the feck are we supposed to compete with a million fans in one place?”

  I open my mouth to finally ask that horrible question again, but all that comes out is a growl.

  “Doug,” Luke says. “What’s happened? Is Emilie…?”

  I hold my hands over my ears, so I can’t hear the rest, but that doesn’t keep the word from going through my head a hundred times.

  Dead, dead, dead, dead. It matches the heartbeat at my temples. A taunting heartbeat. Is it something she doesna have anymore?

  “I don’t know, Luke.” Doug avoids meeting his eyes. “We don’t even know where she’s at. There’s this other girl, and we can’t find little Emilie.”

  “Is that girl…”—Luke swallows— “dead?”

  The van jerks to a halt as I pull my mobile out to call Emilie. We all tumble out of the van onto a covered garage park; tires squeal behind me when the driver takes off. I run with the others and hold my mobile to my ear, listening to Emilie’s voice on her voicemail as if it’s the sweetest music in the world.

  Tom meets us at the door, and we all run for the lift. I pull Tom in with us boys and glare at Doug. “Take the next one.”

  He seems to feel responsible, and so I figure he is.

  After the doors close, I turn to Tom. “Where’s Emilie?”

  “We don’t know,” he says, his already-red face getting redder.

  Kasen sputters. “What’s wrong with you people?”

  I clench my fists as my side. “What’s going on with this de—girl?”

  “Listen.” Tom holds up a hand. “A girl was being mobbed outside the hotel. The crowd was asking for autographs and she was giving them. They started pushing and crowding her, so security pulled her inside. She looked like Emilie at first, wearing a thick green jacket and everything. And she said she was Emilie. When they got her in, I was looking at her and I couldn’t even be sure. Until she started spouting this crap that she would be Emilie Gold from now on because she…she got rid of her.”

  Me and the lads look at each other. My whole body starts vibrating and at first I think it’s the lift. But no…I’m so terrified that I’m shivering.

  Tears blur my eyes when I attempt to shoot daggers at Tom. “Have you looked in her room?”

  “She’s not answering her door.” He shakes his head.

  Kasen squeezes my shoulder again, but he knows better than to say anything now.

  The lift rocks to a halt, and we all tumble out as one. Tom tugs at my sleeve. “Don’t do anything stupid. The hotel staff is making up another room key—the master one wouldn’t work. It’ll be up in a second.”

  I jerk away from him and take off at a sprint. “I already have her room key.”
r />   I’m boiling to think how skivved they’ve been about protecting her. Every one of us lads have to hand over our second key to the team. We always have. But not Emilie. I’ll sack every flipping one of them.

  The lads and I reach her door just as Tom gets there, along with a few other guards coming from the stairwell. I glare at them and slide the key card in. How come they haven’t just busted the door down?

  The door lock makes a faint buzzing sound at the same time the wee light turns green. The guards push past me into the room. Tom once again tugs at my arm.

  “Let me go!” I fairly spit at him and jerk my arm away. I’m through the door in a second; two guards stumble in behind me and try to hold me back. No one is worried about looking around for Emilie. Quality. Keep the rock star safe—forget about the girl you left vulnerable.

  I hear something coming from the lavatory and speed away from the bumbling prats.

  Upon entering the loo, I fall back onto the door jamb at the sight in front of me. A sound halfway between a sob and a maniacal laugh claws its way from my throat.

  Chapter 11

  Emilie is in the bathtub, bubbles up to her ears. And in those ears are bright pink ear buds. Eyes shut tight, she mouths, “Wish you were wishing for me. Wish for me. Wish for me.”

  Parker nearly falls over me; his brown mop sends my nose to itching. “What—oh.”

  His eyes are wide when I push him out the door. “Tell them she’s fine.”

  I lock the French doors, and then I hear (and feel) the thud of the much heavier outer-door slamming shut. She does too. Her eyes flip open, and she smiles when she spots me.

  “You’re back,” she says, her dark blue eyes going over my face. Her smile drops, and she tugs at the cords to her ear buds. “What’s wrong?”

  Do I tell her? “I, uh…you didn’t answer your mobile.”

  “Phone,” she corrects and narrows her eyes.

  “Or the door.” I shrug, attempting to look casual. Attempting to look like I wasn’t ready to crumble into bits five minutes ago. It won’t do to scare her, will it? “I was worried.”

  She smiles again, bubbles collecting on her chin. “I’m celebrating. Look on the counter.”

  Not wanting to take my eyes off her just yet—fifteen seconds ago I thought I might never see her again—I continue to stare at her.

  “The bubbles aren’t going anywhere, Julian,” she says with a grin. “Look.”

  As reluctant as a tight guitar tuner, I turn to see what’s so important and spot a blue slip of paper. It shakes in my fingers when I pick it up. A check.

  “I got paid today!” She throws her hands up; sprinkles of water hit the tile floor. But she doesn’t pay attention. She looks at me, her smile slowly disappearing.

  “That’s great.” I put the check back down and grip the counter behind me. My knuckles pop. Breathe. She’s okay. But my chest is like a steel trap, making breathing difficult. There’s a ringing in my ears, making me want to scream.

  “What’re you going to do with it?” I ask softly. Keep your head, Julian. Don’t kill her buzz, especially now that she appears happy to have a check.

  “You’ll see.” Emilie shrugs her lovely shoulders, and I take in the hair piled on top of her head in a massive ball. It’s so blasted cute I have to fight the urge to cry again. Get ahold of yourself, you dafty.

  I clear my throat. “You could talk to our accountant. We invest a lot.”

  “Nope, no investing.” She raises her eyebrows. “This check’s for you.”

  I try to smile but it just won’t take. One side falls then the other. And now she’s frowning.

  “Splash out if you like, Emilie, but don’t buy me anything,” I say, and what I truly mean is please don’t go out shopping anytime soon. My nerves are shredded as it is. I pulled her into my chaotic life, didn’t I?

  Her frown deepens and her forehead creases. After taking a deep breath, though, she looks back up at me with a newly excited face.

  “I’m doing what I want to with it.” She grins wickedly. “And you can’t stop me.”

  She lifts a handful of bubbles to her face. “I should get some more of this.” She holds her hand out. “Smell it.”

  It feels like I’m wearing fifty-pound ankle weights when I ease away from the counter and trudge over to her. When I lean down, she pushes the bubbles into my face and laughs.

  I grab her hand and press it to my cheek with a sigh.

  “Julian.” She runs her fingers through my hair; little bits of tension roll away. “Whatever you’re hiding, it doesn’t matter, okay? I trust you.”

  My stomach shrivels into a raisin.

  Aye. No pressure here.

  Now I purely understand the amount of stress of our security team is under. Giving us just enough room to have a little fun while keeping us safe still. There’s a fine line, isn’t there?

  I catch a bit of the track still coming through her ear buds. “You were listening to my song.”

  She smiles then clears her throat, a stern look on her face now. “I know that as a loyal Jagger I’m not supposed to pick a favorite.” She leans in and whispers, “But I like you the best. And everyone is right. The way you say baby…you’re probably in for some lawsuits.”

  “Sorry?”

  “Exploding ovaries. Poor girls.” She opens her eyes wide.

  I attempt a laugh but it sounds ridiculous. “You’re in quite the mood.”

  One thing is totally clear now. I cannae bear for her to be away from me.

  “Emilie, you want to come back to London with us?” And now I’m scared of the answer. What if she says no, and I’m forced to spend the next month in London without her? What if she says yes, and she’s in even deeper than before with the band? Her life forever and irrevocably altered.

  All this is going through my head, yet I can’t stop talking ten to the dozen. “We have to work on our book. Finalize some stuff for the album. We have a ton of interviews…you might get pure dead bored, and I cannae promise that we’ll be able to come back to see your family for Christmas.”

  “Your Scottish brogue is stronger the more stressed you get.” Emilie presses her lips to my temple, and my stomach unclenches. “Are you trying to talk me into going to London, or out of it?”

  I shake my head. “I’m just trying to be good and not pressure you in either direction.”

  “Julian, I have my writing, school…and I can come along with you guys for the different things, right?” She waves her hand in my face (I mind there’s no ring—ladybug or anything else). “And remember me? The writer? I can help with the book.”

  “That’d be amazing.” I brush my lips across her chin. “But I have to be honest. If you do come, more and more people will see you with me, won’t they? And that’ll make it even harder to go anywhere alone, especially back to the States to see your family for Christmas. So, I guess you shouldn’t come if that’s something you’re dead sure you want to do.”

  Squeezing my eyes shut, I press my forehead against hers. “Emilie, something did happen today, and to be honest I felt like a bitty boy ready to wee in my trousers. If I can’t break away from stuff in London and go back to Virginia with you, then I won’t want you to go.”

  And there went my determination to let her be.

  She kisses first one eyelid then the other before massaging the tense muscles in my neck. “So it’s Christmas with you, or Christmas with my family.”

  “It could come to that. God, I’m a barbarian. Go ahead and tell me to stuff it. I know that’s what you want to do. I just thought since you’ve already done the homeschooling this long, you could finish the school year out.”

  “But the school year isn’t over until June,” she says. “That’s a long time.”

  “Too long with me, is it?”

  “There’s no such thing,” she says. “It’s just a long time without my family.”

  “We’re to come back for sure in January to finish recording. We’ll prob
ably stay on because we’re to do halftime at the Super Bowl in February.” I drop my head and sigh, then look back up. “So there’s no such thing as too much time with me, aye?”

  She smiles and shakes her head. “No.”

  I lean in for a kiss. A few breathless seconds later, I press my mouth to her ear. “Come with me.”

  “I’ll think about it,” she says.

  “You’ve less than a week.”

  Emilie giggles when I nuzzle her ear, and says, “A lot can happen in a week.”

  She grabs me by the shoulders and tugs—surprisingly strong, isn’t she?—and then I’m splashing water everywhere as I tumble into the sudsy tub. Oh, fash. My mobile…phone.

  I reach into my back pocket. Not there. Maybe I dropped it running up—my hand grazes her chest when I pat down the front of my shirt.

  My heart jolts, and then I realize it wasn’t skin I touched, was it? “You’re wearing a bathing suit.”

  She laughs. “Yup, I’m beginning to understand the whole lack of privacy deal, and being naked for very long around here really isn’t a good idea.” She leans up, shining me her strapless red swimsuit top, and I guess she’s searching the space under the door for eavesdropping lads. “Seriously, I’ve seen every one of those boys naked now.”

  “But not me,” I say. Her breath hitches, and she reaches for the buttons on my shirt.

  Though we only fool around a bit, I don’t think about my mobile phone again for a very long time.

  The bubbles are all gone when she finally pulls away. “Aren’t you boys doing a Ustream today?”

  I try to bring my head back from the fog…but not too hard. “Eh, not anymore.”

  She collapses against me. “Julian, people are going to really hate me,” she says against my neck. “Don’t change things.”

  Aye, I get it, but everything has changed.

  We slowly get to our feet, and I squeeze the water from my opened shirt. “But a change of clothes would be all right?”

  She giggles. “You are so bad.”

  “Naw. You should read some of our fan fiction.”