Page 5 of Carte

It’d happened before, and it was sure as shit going to happen again. I would be damned if I helped them, though.

After I managed that feat, I looked back at Tim who still stood in front of me, barring the door to my sanctuary. “Why?” I croaked.

“Some stuff happened.” Tim now looked extremely uncomfortable.

“Stuff? What stuff?” I parroted.

“It’s better if you don’t know.” Tim scratched the side of his neck and refused to meet my eyes.

“Tim,” I barked, startling him and making him jump. Thankfully, he looked at me. “What stuff?”

When he still would say anything, I went on. “What stuff, Tim? Did a fan come into my dressing room? Was there a guy at the barricade backdoor who thinks that all my lyrics are about him? Did I get ugly flowers again?” I sighed. Damn, this was getting tiresome. “That shit happens every tour, Tim. You know that. There’s always someone who thinks I do what I do just for them. And we always just deal with it and then motor along like it didn’t happen. It’s not a big deal. I don’t need a bodyguard just because there’s some overzealous fan out there who wants five minutes of my time, and for me to assure them I love them.”

I loved all my fans. They were the ones who were keeping me in business and loved my music as much as I did.

I would always love them for it. Of course, there were times when all of this became just a tad too much. But then, I would retreat for a month or two and come back ready to face the crowd. Ready to give a piece of myself over and over, until I didn’t have anything left to give. Then I would go back in my retreat until I was ready to come back.

Rinse and repeat.

My stomach sank when there was no reaction from Tim. “Tim.” His name came out as a plea.

A plea for what I didn’t know. Answers? For him to tell me it was all just a joke? Something to show me it could be much worse, and I would cave and go talk to reporters?

Tim’s face looked pained, and I knew there was no joke. This was really happening.

He took my hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Before you get any more riled up, just listen. It’s a precaution. The label is nervous. And you know they get nervous on a regular basis for the smallest things. You won’t even notice he’s here.” His reassurances failed..

“I’ll notice,” I said, shaking my head. “You know I notice everything.” Or at least I used to.

How didn’t I see something was happening? Something big enough for Tim to get concerned.

“I know.” He sighed. “But it’s time to face the facts. You’ve become big. From time to time, there’s going to be some sicko who wants a piece of you all to himself. You have to think of yourself. And I know you hate the word, but of your safety, too.”

“Some sicko?” I echoed, that one phrase ringing in my mind.

“It’s not that serious.” He shifted from foot to foot. Not a reassuring gesture, but I didn’t tell him that. “It’s just a precaution.”

“Sure,” I mumbled, getting more desperate by the second.

“I know you don’t like it. And I’m sure you’ll be free soon. Just…” He let that hang. Even he didn’t believe his own words.

I knew many artists that had to get bodyguards. Once they’d traveled down that road, they never went back to being without one. They never felt free again.

To an outsider, it might not seem a big deal. What's so bad about having someone look out for you and your safety, right? Wrong.

The fact that you can’t make a step without someone trailing you is awful. You wouldn’t have the luxury of being alone again. Your privacy? Gone in a blink of an eye.

Probably seeing I still wasn’t sold on the idea, Tim tugged on my hand he still had in his grasp. He was more scared that I would bolt, than still trying to reassure me.

“Come meet him.”

“He’s here?” I asked, panicked. This meant the decision was final, and despite all the arguing, it was out of my hands. I could do nothing but comply with it.

“He’s waiting for you in there.” Tim pointed with his thumb over his shoulder, right at the door of my dressing room.

Oh my God. That man was in my personal space, somewhere no one had access to if I didn’t allow it.

Just like that, my privacy was gone.