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Uncle Cliff set it up for Ezra to meet us at the hotel right before getting on the plane for the first concert the next morning. For the hundredth time, I rub my hands on my jeans and will my nerves away.
“He’s here.” My uncle stands from the couch and I follow his lead. His business smile pulls at his lips. “Ezra, nice to meet you. We’re excited to have you on board.”
“Sir.” A low, masculine, voice pulls my attention and I stand in response, turning to face him.
One thing is certain, Ezra Hamilton is the most impressive man I’ve ever seen in my life. He’s standing there in a navy suitjacket over a V-neck t-shirt that clings to his muscular body. He looks casual, his hair a few shades darker brown than my own is slightly windblown. My uncle might see him as carefree, a young man who is working his way up the ranks, but one look at him and I think they’re all lying. How can they not see the underlying danger in him that simmers under the expensive suit or read it in the sharp angles of his jaw and cheekbones. He wears the telltale sign of the California sun. He’s beautiful and lethal.
“Hi,” I manage to say, giving him a small, friendly smile.
His pale green eyes touch on me briefly before giving his attention back to my uncle; yet, it’s enough to cause heat to wash over my entire body. My cheeks turn pink and I fight to rein in the feelings I can’t name. I’m used to celebrities by now. None of them have affected me so much though as one small glance from Ezra.
“I’m Cliff, Ocean’s uncle. Booker spoke highly of you in our meeting, and we’re excited to have you with us.” My uncle keeps going, his schmoozing voice in full force. I peek at Ezra under my eyelashes and notice he looks bored. Almost angry. His eyes slide to me again, the coolness in them takes the smile right off my lips.
“Booker says a lot of things. I’m here to get this babysitting job under control for him. I think he explained that while I’m involved, I make the calls. And you listen to every word I say.” He says the last part to me, his gaze locking with mine. I want to close in on myself with embarrassment. He’s livid he has to be herebabysittingme.
“Ocean,” My uncle says to me, but all I can do is blink at him. Wait…he’s mad at me? He thinks this is my doing that I need a handler all of a sudden?
“Yeah,” I choke out the word, feeling completely lost about what just happened. When we met with Booker, he made it sound as if this was his idea to help my security and for things torun smoother. Did they all think I was a trouble maker because of one incident?
“You will arrive at my airstrip at the new designated time.” Ezra hands me a black folder, nodding for me to open the page.
“Four in the morning.” My eyes jump to his. “We aren’t even expected to be there until ten. Our last flight left at eight.”
“This flight, my flight, ensures privacy and security. When you arrive earlier, you throw off fans or anyone waiting because they don’t expect this.” I watch as he picks a fleck of lint from his sleeve before motioning for me to continue reading.
Security check 7 a.m.
Arrival at hotel at 8 a.m.
Leave hotel at 8:30 a.m.
Arrive at location at 9:30 a.m.
Practice 10 a.m.- 12:00 p.m.
Lunch 12:30 p.m.
Secure backstage by 2:00 p.m.
Doors open at 6:00 p.m.
First performance at 7:10 p.m.
The list and details go on and on, each one of my performances is systematically broken down. He even labeled who picks me up and who drops me off from which side of the stage. Names of people I don’t even know. Nothing is missed. I scan the very bottom again, where it details that he will escort me to the secure location to meet Theo and Brenda to go back to the hotel. He even highlighted it and drew a diagram. I shift on my feet. I wish I could explain the frustration growing in my chest. The plan itself is the most thought-out plan of action I’ve ever seen, but I can’t shake the feeling that it's meant to put mein my place somehow for the incident that happened with the paparazzi.
No matter how many times I think over that night and run the scenario in my mind, it’s always the same. I followed the directions my uncle gave me. Theo and Beth did their best to protect me from the situation. I wasn’t physically hurt; it was more the overwhelming emotion of people rushing us. I was almost separated from them, trying to get to the car. And once I was inside, it took forever to maneuver us to the road. I cried. I know I did. All of the country knows it too thanks to the images in the tabloids.
“This is the new plan. I expect you to follow it, princess.” His firm voice breaks me out of my thoughts. I almost miss that he called me princess. Right. The princess of pop is what I’m being dubbed, though I doubt he’s using the term as an endearment.
“I will,” I say so quietly it’s almost a whisper, but I make myself look him in the eyes. He looks back to my uncle, clearly dismissing me. They shake hands and I watch his back move through the lobby to the doors. That's when I notice her. A gorgeous woman with red hair dressed similarly in style. Her ripped jeans show off shapely legs and the blouse she wears is haphazardly tucked into the waistband. Elegant yet casual. The heels on her feet are at least five inches and I’m amazed she can stand. This woman is elegant, mature, and definitely older than me. I watch the smile on her lips grow wider as he gets closer. For some reason, I want to think they’re co-workers, but then his hand slides around her waist to her side. The touch is intimate and her cheeks flush. He says something in her ear before ushering her out the doors. I can't stop watching even as the whole scene makes my heart squeeze in my chest.
“I need to talk to Booker,” my uncle mutters. I glance at him and notice he’s loosened his neck tie and his face is red. “Hesaid this handler is to help keep things in line, not that he was running the whole goddamn show.”
I glance at the black folder in my hand. Four in the morning. If I’m going to even function, I need to get back and finish packing. “We should probably go get ready.”
Uncle Cliff scoffs and reaches for his phone. “You head back. I need a drink and to talk to Booker.” He takes off walking, leaving me standing in the private space.
Me
