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Eric turns, a fake smile plastered on his face. “Nothing’s wrong.”
I cross my arms over my chest and tap my foot. “Spill, Eric. What is it?”
Gia steps in. She’s a small, zippy, powerhouse of a woman. Her delicate hand grasps my forearm and squeezes. “It can wait. Eric is just an overprotective brother bear.”
I sigh. She’s right about that. Though Eric is often clueless on things like female emotions and, well, just emotions in general, he’s a solid guy and runs my tour like he was born to do it. He’s also extremely protective of me and the band. Especially when it comes to the press and our private lives. One time he had to take anger management classes after he punched a paparazzo outside of an L.A. show. The guy deserved it full stop, and Eric says he still doesn’t regret it.
I take a deep breath, grounding myself. “Whatever it is, I can handle it. Tell me.”
Gia and Eric give each other a look—but eventually Gia’s death stare wins out. At that moment I’m almost certain these two have been screwing, but they’d never admit it. They’re too professional for that. Not that I care. If they get their jobs done, and they do, I don’t give two shits about what they do in their free time.
Eric takes a step forward. “Let’s go to your dressing room. I’d rather we not get the whole band and all your fans backstage involved.”
Agreeing, I lead the two of them to my dressing room. I casually wave at fans from some radio contest I have to take pictures with, letting them know I'll be back soon.
Once we’re safely behind closed doors, I give them both an expectant look.
“You should sit down,” Gia says.
I shake my head. “I’m fine with standing. Out with it, Gia!”
With one more glance at Eric, she steps forward, her eyes serious. “A popular gossip rag got hold of one of your stalker’s letters, it’s all over the media outlets.”
I clench my jaw. “How?”
“Well, it wasn’t anyone here, and it wasn’t the label, so I got one of my contacts there on it and it looks like the stalker sent them a copy,” she says, her voice laced with anger.
My head spins. “Why would they do that?”
“Stalkers usually want notoriety. This is his or her way of telling the world that they exist.”
Now I need to sit. I plop myself down on a nearby loveseat, rubbing my hands over my face. Most of the sweat from the show has dried, and now I just feel gritty and tired.So tired.
After a moment, I surrender to the facts. “Well, there’s nothing we can do about it. So why are you both so upset?”
Gia’s eyebrow ticks up. “You’re allowed to be upset by this, Birdie. Having a stalker is serious and scary, and now he’s made some weird public announcement to the world that he’s got it in for you.” Eric shoves Gia a little at that—I guess she was supposed to keep that part a secret.
My mouth goes dry. “Was the letter new?”
Eric’s brown eyes look to the ceiling like he’s praying, before he rubs his hand over his red bearded jaw. “I didn’t want to worry you.”
“Well, your plan is flawed. I would have found out from Wren or my mom. I’m sure my phone is blowing up.”
“I was going to tell you after you met your fans.”
I take a sip of water, willing my nerves to calm down. My stalker started sending letters to me at the beginning of the tour. The first one came in L.A. directly to my home, which was freaking scary, but shit like that has happened before.
The first letter was tame for a stalker, basically just overly admiring. But then a second letter came, then a third, fourth, and fifth. In every city and at every hotel, there is a letter waiting for me at the front desk.
Unfortunately, the letters didn’t stay tame. Each one got more perverted and gross, to the point where I told Eric to not let me see them. Now I don’t let anyone give me letters unless they’re looked at beforehand. We’ve even upped the security everywhere we go, including on the tour bus. I’ve been trying not to let it bother me, but now that the press knows, the world knows.
“What did the letter say?” I ask tentatively. I’m going to find out later anyway, and my anxiety won’t let me wait.
“They threatened you.” Eric says.
I feel like my insides are going to drop out of my butt. “How so?”
“They said they want to hurt you, that it’s only a matter of time.”
