The man, wearing a signed shirt and ball cap, steps forward into the light with his hands clasped together. Good, not hostile yet.
“I’m sorry, but I’m on my way in,” Mae insists. She does a great job at keeping a bright calm in her voice though I know she’s uneasy.
“I just didn’t think I had enough time to talk to you tonight,” the man says. Mae flinches, and in that moment, I recognize the older fan from beyond the fence.
“I’m sorry. Maybe you could come to another show,” she answers, her tone a bit sharper. I let my fingers fall silently into my purse. For my phone or pepper spray, I’m not sure. I suppose either will suffice at the moment.
Taking a shaky breath, I back up against Mae and force us both backward a few steps. “Sir, I’m going to call the police if you don’t leave at this instant. You’re trespassing.”
“Don’t send me away now,” the man says suddenly flustered, taking several aggressive steps toward us. “I’ve been waiting around here for weeks to scrounge up the courage to talk to you.” His hand moves toward his back pocket.
Mae reaches out for my wrist and grips it hard. The man’s words and actions have made us both take pause. Mae has hadambitious fans reach out before but never a true creep that’s followed her home. “Sir,” I begin again. “I need you to step away.”
He takes another step forward, this time with a small camera, and I rip my mace canister from my purse. Holding it up at him, I’m seconds away from pushing the button when he takes a few steps back. Mae is quick to pull out her own phone and call 911.
“Please don’t do that, Mae!” the man whines. Mae doesn’t listen and speaks frantically to the dispatcher. The man rubs his free hand on his hat and whirls in a circle, contemplating running. The police must have been close because the first responder is down the street with their lights blazing. As the first car enters the lot, the man finally bolts. An officer tears from the driver’s side. Pulling her gun, she runs past us chasing after the perpetrator. Her partner approaches us.
The next hour is a blur. The officers take our statements as the night grows chillier. Thankfully, Mae was able to take a photo of the man which helps our claim exponentially. Passersby on their way home from the bars capture it all on their devices, and I know I have a long day ahead of me.
From my place next to the responding officer, Sgt. Lancer, I watch as Mae curls up on the curb and speaks with Trenton on the phone. I can hear him yelling from his side of the line. He’s livid, demanding to speak with the security officers on duty and swearing they’ll catch the man who would dare touch her, even though the perpetrator didn’t get that far.
“Are you her security?” Officer Lancer asks.
I scoff at that, “No, I’m her publicist.”
“As needed as that is in a situation like this, you might want to look into that. We haven’t found anything on the suspect, which tells me he could be a new offender. Besides what we can see on his social media pages, we don’t know what he’s about or what he’s capable of.”
My gaze slides back to Mae, curled up with her phone in hand and a furious Trenton on the line. She deserves to feel safe and that is something I cannot give her alone. “If you find him, can you charge him?”
“Trespassing, perhaps. We’ll know more when we catch him.” I nod, understanding they might not be able to get him on much more than that. Not caring that my focus is elsewhere, the officer tears out a copy of her report and hands it over to me. “We have your number. We’ll be in touch.”
All at once, I’m left alone…alone to console country music star, Mae Evans, my friend, my employer. My everything.
Chapter 8
Dalton
ME AND SOME OF THE other guys had been called in late last night. We didn’t know what it was about until we showed up at Trenton’s home and found the girls hunched over on the couch, fighting sleep. Trenton had been pacing the floor, phone in hand, waiting on a call.
Trenton was too busy and Mae was too wrapped up in her thoughts to tell us what happened. Luckily, the voice of reason, Raleigh, was able to fill us in. I had chills listening to her relive what happened. They are so, so lucky things didn’t go further and that there were no other men with him.
From there, Mitch took over the communication with police and Trenton carried Mae off to bed. Raleigh sat beside Mitch and me well into the early morning hours helping us but also getting her own ducks in a row. She told us passersbys had seen what happened and that it was all over the internet already. Eventually, the police phoned, telling us that they had caught thesuspect and there was nothing more to do for the time being. That was good enough for Raleigh; she enlisted Mitch to drive her home, insisting she’d see us all tomorrow at a meeting that was inevitable.
Hours later, we’re reconvening at headquarters for the same large meeting Raleigh warned us of, even the higher ups want in on this one. As a member of security, I’ve never had to be a part of something like this, but the label’s queen was threatened and the king is furious about it. Hopefully we’re being court martialed to offer advice. Mae has really needed a security detail for a year or two, but no one wanted to put that money down. It’s sad that something like this had to happen before they took the idea seriously.
As we all take a seat around the table, I notice that Raleigh is missing. I’m not the only one who has seen the obvious.
“Where’s Raleigh?” Mitch asks.
Some executive raises his eyes to the empty seat next to Mae before his eyes go back to the report in front of him. “She’s busy handling her mess.”
“Hermess?” Mitch asks, only loud enough for me to hear. I have to bite my tongue before making a comment I’d regret. Mae has also become uncomfortable by the comment, but she can only bury her face in her hands. Unfortunately, no one makes any moves to comfort her and the meeting goes on.
Mae can’t even get a word in as they argue back and forth about her safety and how to not let something like this happen again. It’s as if no one cares about what the victims have to say, one isn’t even in the room to voice her opinion.
Minutes tick by, and we are no closer to coming up with a solution. Money, resources, and overall image come up over and over again. I’m sick of it.
“Why don’t I just run a new detail?” I throw the comment into the ring, half-assed and not expecting anyone to bite.
