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“Here we are.” I stop by a small restaurant nestled in the ground level of a four-story building. The black-and-green awning seems to have gotten an update recently, bright and fresh, with no sign of its usual dust, but as luck would have it, the place is packed. There’s a line out the door. A group of what looks like twenty older teens chat at top volume, brandishing their phones and cranking out jokes.
Laurel gives out a quietHm.
“That’s unexpected.” I plaster on my most casual smile. “Let’s get in line. It’ll give us a few more minutes to get to know each other—”
“It’shim!” A shrill exclamation cuts through the air.
Laurel jumps then throws her jacket hood over her head. Adrenaline races through my blood. The whole line has their eyes trained on us, and a girl from the middle is pointing at me.
“Jace Blackmore! Oh my gosh,” she squeals. Her friends melt in a chorus of excited gasps and giggles, including guys, and it dawns on me that each and every one of them is wearing an ACD shirt of some kind.
“Are they your fan club or something?” Laurel inches away.
“There is a fan club in Portland. I never bothered to meet any of its members though. It’s not exactly endorsed by the band or The Label.” What in the blazing nightmares? Worst timing ever.
“Hello.” I give them a polite wave, hoping with all I’ve got that this won’t end in—
The teens surge toward us like a swarm of hungry locusts.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Laurel grabs my hand. “Run!”
I growl, disappointed on so many accounts, and let her drag me away. Oh, wait. She’s holding my hand. Never mind. I have no complaints. “This doesn’t happen very often. And you don’t have to run.”
“That’s true.” Laurel nicks me with a calculating look. “All I have to do is give them what they want—you.” She comes to an abrupt stop and yanks on my hand so hard I almost fall on my butt.
“That hurt,” I grouch.
“Sorry.” The apology is anything but sincere thanks to the metallic tones in Laurel’s voice.
“There’s Jace!”
My fans are still hot on our tracks, all the more excited because of the chase. The girl who headlines the fan mob is short and clad in all black and running shoes. She’s got that expression on her face—determined and delighted—that says our chances of evading this particular group are getting slimmer by the second.
“They’re going to eat you alive.” The most unexpected vengeful glint blazes in Laurel’s eyes. She takes off again. “Good luck!”
“Wait for me.” I catch up and run by her side. “How are you going to get home?”
Laurel groans.
“Come on. Let’s go back to my car.” I grab her hand, relieved she doesn’t protest. It fits so comfortably inside mine, but I don’t have the time to enjoy that. Fleeing in a straight line won’t help us. We need to disappear from the pursuit’s line of sight, so I pull Laurel into an alley between two buildings. A few seconds later we emerge on the other end of the alley, nearly slamming into a group of three dudes leaving a coffee shop.
“Sorry!” Laurel pushes herself in front of me, switching places, and all but wrenches my arm out of its socket when she hauls me into the crowded shop.
“This reminds me of Seoul,” she says through labored breaths. “And Tokyo. And Denver, Toronto, Austin, Baton Rouge—”
“You got chased in all of those cities?” I wish the same happened to me. “That’s colorful.”
Crouching, we run next to the window counter, evoking severalWhat in the…!from the store patrons.
“It really wasn’t. Hotels, cafes, airports. And it was always the same question—when are you going to fix it, Laurel?” Laurel’s voice drips with bountiful sarcasm again.
“Did people seriously ask you that?” I crack open the doors on the other end of the shop and peek out. The street is busy, but it’s mostly pedestrians and coffee cravers.
“No. They asked when I was going to get back to performing and if I was still planning on releasing that album.You and your dad must be creating a masterpiece. What are the plans for your joint tour? There will be a joint tour, right?And then—” She sucks in a deep breath, then another. “You should have seen their faces when I responded. There were no plans. No joint tour coming. There’s nothing. I was only seventeen! It was too much pressure and—” She shakes her head, eyes squeezed shut, then steps out onto the street.
I follow her, acting calm and relaxed like an average person, not a maniac who has earned a heap of weirded-out looks.
“Laurel.” I intertwine my fingers with hers and reel her back to me. The hurt she buries deep inside? She’s got to let go of it. “You—”
