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Fifteen Minutes Later
“We need more security,” Lyra, Jade’s bandmate and best friend, insisted. She pulled her auburn hair into a ponytail and sank onto a dressing room couch.
After the attack earlier, the five members of Jade’s band, Lovely Oblivion, met in the venue’s dressing room.
“That’s unnecessary,” Jade said. They already had three security guards who toured with them and helped with venue safety. Two of them currently stood outside guarding the dressing room door, while the third, Max, filed a police report about the incident.
Lyra scoffed. “It is necessary. Someone just tried to kill you!”
Jade ran a hand through her rainbow-streaked hair with frustration. “I think it was just a scare-tactic.”
“Either way, someone got hurt from it. That could have been you,” Lyra said. “The attacker said you’ll get your punishment soon. We need a specialized security team to catch this guy. He went 180 from adoring-fan to attacking-stalker in no-time. Who knows what he’ll do next?”
“Lyra’s right. We need to hire bodyguards, at least until this gets sorted out,” Bex, their wiry lead singer and sometimes-fiddle-player, said. Her pixie-cut brown hair was already spiked into a Mohawk for their rock show later. “I love our guys. Max, Jake and Tyler have been with us from the start. But they’re general road security and aren’t trained for this shit. Stalkers and murder attempts are above their pay-grade. Let’s ask the record label to hire private security for us.”
Bex was typically the “voice of reason” for the band, so if she thought private security was necessary then maybe Lyra was right.
Jade sighed. “I hope we don’t have to cancel tonight’s performance.”
She wished she knew the stalker’s identity so they could nip the drama. Whoever her stalker was had followed her for years as a fan. The attack that morning pushed their status from “fan” to “stalker.”
Jade was never shy or conservative — she loved to have fun. Her friends said she had “no filter” because she often said whatever popped into her head. Some people considered her rough or rude because of that, but her friends and her family loved her directness.
That fun carried over to her relationships, as well. Jade’s “relationships” were a long list of one-night-stands. So far, no one made her want to commit.
Jade’s reputation preceded her and everyone, including fans, knew how non-committal she could be. She assumed her stalker knew that, too. But last night’s loud one-night-stand backstage with a “talented” fan that Jade mentally cataloged as “Twisty-Tongue” seemed to push the stalker over the edge.
Had her stalker tried to kill her? Or scare her? What was his goal?
“We need to call Paige,” Lyra said, breaking Jade’s train of thought. Paige was their manager. “Does everyone agree?”
“Yes,” Bex said.
Polly, their bassist, nodded. She had styled her long blond hair in space buns — where the bottom is long and free but there are two buns on top. “Yep, sure do.”
Maggie, their quiet keyboardist, also nodded. Her long black hair streamed over her shoulders.
“Fine,” Jade said.
Lyra pulled out her phone and called Paige, who told them to stay put and that she would call back with an update.
It turned out, their record label didn’t take the threat lightly, and assigned the band a specialized private security team.
Paige instructed them to wait in the dressing room until their new security arrived — and broke the news that the label may cancel that night’s show.
* * *
Four hours later
Personal bodyguards.
Jade sighed and tapped her drum sticks on her chair restlessly. She still thought the extra security was unnecessary.
The lighting rig that clipped the roadie earlier resulted in a hospital trip and a sling but luckily no permanent damage.
The band waited in the dressing room to meet their new security and get the final word about the show. Everyone except Jade still had cell phone access and sat content in their own worlds. Security took Jade’s phone and currently kept the band detained in the dressing room.
Jade glared at Lyra from across the room. Calling their manager had been all Lyra’s idea.
