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I stood up, set the blanket down, and walked down the aisle to reclaim my original seat.
Distance was what I needed. Away fromhim. from the reminder that my life would be out of my hands for the next while.
Grabbing my headphones, I blasted the loudest, angriest rock music I had in my downloads and drowned out any more thoughts of Dawson or our discussion.
An hour later, we descended into Charles de Gaulle airport.
Dawson and the rest of our security team moved us through the terminal quickly, but fans spotted us when we went through customs.
As soon as we cleared, we were bombarded with requests for autographs and selfies.
“Keep moving,” Dawson bit out.
“No.”
I stood my ground and glanced at Brodie, and he nodded.
“A few photos, and we’re done,” Brodie declared.
Dawson’s hand gripped my bicep, and I looked up at him. “Dawson?”
He had his sunglasses on, so I couldn’t see his eyes, but he gave a curt nod.
One woman began to talk, first in broken English and then French, proclaiming how excited she and her friends were to meet us.
This was the type of thing I loved. That I lived for.
When a total stranger from the other side of the world connects with the music you created, when it brings them joy, it makes all the other shit in this business worthwhile.
We signed the T-shirts they were wearing, someone’s bag, and, in one case, a guy’s arm. He said he was going to have the signatures tattooed. Now that was a superfan.
More people stepped forward and asked for selfies.
We posed for photos, but I noticed that the crowd around us was swelling.
Flashes went off.
Someone yelled out Brodie’s name. Another voice screamed for Ronin and Faise. Cheers and yells echoed in the arrivals area as more and more people began to push around us.
Then I heard my name being chanted. Everything got louder, and I got jostled. A tendril of fear sparked, and my ears started to ring. Fucking hell, not here, not now.
God damn those messages for fucking with my head.
“Okay, that’s enough. Too many people,” Dawson barked as he and Lennie took hold of me.
I felt immediate relief at Dawson’s words and his quick action. And for the first time in a long time, I was grateful to have him at my side. I forgot how fast these situations could spiral.
Our fleet of security ushered us away, cutting through the mass of people. We filed out of the terminal to the pick-up location.
More flashes went off as we passed the final doors and exited to our SUVs.
“Holloway, I love you!!” someone screamed, and I turned my head, but I couldn’t see who was yelling.
“Arretez! Stop,” Dawson yelled out and turned to Lennie. “Get him in the vehicle.”
Lennie opened the back door of the first SUV, pushing me, then Brodie and Van, inside.
Ronin and Faise were usually in the second car, with the rest of our group in car number three.
