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I don’t want anyone to need to sacrifice themselves for me, but keep my mouth shut.
“I don’t think Layla has any concerts for the next couple of weeks after tonight. We can bring everyone in,” Derek plans, thinking. “You can practice, maybe write new songs, and hype up the concert.”
“Limited tickets, special media privileges to a select few, this will be eaten up by people,” Greg says with a grin.
“We may as well get a video conference up and running,” I sigh, shivering.
I’m finally feeling the cold in a very delayed manner.
“I’m grabbing you some knee high socks,” Turner mutters, cursing under his breath as he runs upstairs.
“Late dinner anyone? We all napped through it,” Roark says, opening the refrigerator door.
Fuck, it really is going to be a late night. Orion grabs his laptop, setting it up next to me.
“Let’s see if Jordan’s busy,” he sighs, hitting the button to video chat with him.
A window opens, and a frazzled Uncle Jordan comes on. “Lennon?” he barks, seeing me. “Wait just one second, honey.”
I can see he’s getting people into shape as he walks, giving directions and commands.
“I’m going to be in the green room on a call, do not let the stadium fall down around our ears, Patrick!” Uncle Jordan barks.
“No, sir. Everything will go as planned,” the man promises.
I can’t help but smirk at how calm the man sounds in the face of my uncle's demands. He isn’t usually this anxious, so I wonder what’s going on.
A door slams behind Jordan as he walks to a couch and drops into it.
“Is everything okay?”Uncle Jordan asks, his eyes intent on me.
“Umm. That’s relative. First, why do you sound so off?” I ask.
Jordan’s eyes narrow, but he responds, “Leo came to the stadium today, and threatened to tell your father that Layla’s a whore, which is far from the truth. Either way, I refuse to slut shame, but I’m pretty sure Atlas and Mav haven’t touched Lay. I had him thrown out, but she’s been a little in her head,”he explains. “And then, I swear this stadium is fucking cursed because things keep falling or breaking. We’ll be gone tomorrow thankfully, and then have a break for a few weeks.”
“How many weeks is a few?” I ask, chewing my lip as I think about the amount of time we’ll need to launch promo for a show and practice.
There’s also the tiny fear I have about freezing on stage to think about. Fuck.
“Lennon… dammit I’ve had this weird feeling all fucking day,”Uncle Jordangrumbles. “Three and a half weeks is how long we’re on a break. Please tell me what happened?”
Swallowing, I nod. “We caught two people outside of the house that were hired to kill me,” I explain, leaving the worst details to myself. “I came downstairs to write, and since the curtains weren’t drawn, I noticed an emergency spotlight turn on next door. I caught a flash of one of the men, ran, and bumped into Orion. We’re all fine and they’re dead, but—”
“Aren’t there eyes on the dark web for new jobs?” Jordan asks, his jaw gritting against his anger.
“Sorry, Jordan, there are, but Xav hired second rate mercenaries. He’s getting desperate, and we need to change our strategy,” Orion says, leaning in to speak to him.
Turner comes back into the kitchen, dropping to his knees to put my socks on. He does it in such a way that Uncle Jordan doesn’t even notice.
“Of course,” my uncle says, blowing out a breath.“Okay, so what’s the new plan? Are we dangling my niece again as bait?”
Wincing at how that sounds, I nod. “How does aDarkest Nightsperformance sound at a small club in Georgetown? We need to draw Xav out, and if we promote this properly—”
“Lennon,” Jordan sighs. “Are you going to be able to get a handle on your fear of performing in that small amount of time? I can handle the promotion of this, and talk to the owner of the club, but you’re my worry.”
I shrug because I love that his focus is me. “Yes, I’ll figure it out. I can’t live in fear that I’m going to have my throat cut while I’m sleeping,” I tell him honestly. “I need to end this, before anyone else finds out I’m pregnant. I’m already starting to show, so this needs to happen soon. Also, I heard there were a few journalists who were supportive while I was at Hidden Hills?”
Uncle Jordan brightens, picking up his clipboard that I swear is never far from him. “Yes, there were quite a few. Would you like me to give them press passes to the show?”he asks.
