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I nod. “Yes. I’ll do the performance. Meet you at the same spot you drop me off. Then I have two minutes to get back here, change and Kyle will get me to my seat.”
“You’re sitting between Booker and Salish, so if she gives you grief about not coming, you can remind her we have a show this weekend and you are a guest on the night show tomorrow.It’s common knowledge. Just make sure anytime you talk to her you’re smiling. The cameras like to pan to her frequently,” he reminds me while we’re walking to the stage.
I listen the whole time while also making eye contact and politely nodding and smiling at anyone working backstage. At all times I need to look approachable and friendly, while also paying very close attention to what my security is doing and what Ezra is saying. It's another skill he’s taught me to help me survive this industry. It all comes down on how to read people and how I want people to read me; even if I’m annoyed or angry, I do not want anyone to be able to use my emotions against me.
We make it to the side stage where I’ll walk out. No eyes are on me for a few seconds, so I let my shoulders relax and take a few deep breaths. Ezra glances over and I see the concern in his eyes. I give him a smile, my real smile. “I’ll be fine.”
He hums under his breath and nods like he doesn’t really believe me. “I hate award season.”
A small laugh escapes my mouth. “It’s not my favorite either. I’m fine though. Really.”
“If you need more time in between we can build that in,” he reminds me again, and I roll my eyes at him dramatically.
“You already built me in too much time. Mr. Townsend and my uncle were questioning if I was sick.” I slap him gently on the arm. He cracks a smile, and his hand squeezes mine. He’s still holding onto me even after we’re through the small crowd of workers. It’s moments like this I wish I could have this forever. Just me, Ezra, and him holding my hand.
“Ocean!” The stage director calls my name, indicating it’s time for my performance.
“I’m up,” I tell him and look at him reassuringly. He nods and only then does he let go of my hand. But not before raising it to his mouth, where his lips gently brush my knuckles.
“Give them hell.”
I laugh and head out to my spot. Heat tingles up my spine and the feeling is so unfamiliar that I have to look back over my shoulder. Ezra is still there. Watching me. The heat in his gaze is there and gone before I can even be sure it was real. His normal protective stare takes over. I shake my head and run out on the stage the moment my name is called, right as the crowd goes wild and the stage lights hit me. I let my daydreams of Ezra and the way he makes my heart race fall away. It’s performance time.
Chapter Seven
Ezra
Every day for the past half year, I’ve gotten used to wearing more than one face. Always professional on the outside, then cold and hard when I’m pissed off. There’s the face I use with my friends and family, namely my uncle who is still insisting being a handler is giving me the leg up on what I really want to do, which is manage. In the past year though, I don’t feel the ever present need to do anything other than what I’m doing, handling Ocean.
Ocean. The only person I ever show my other half to. I smile around her. She jokes with me, she trusts me, and she touches me in a way no one ever has before. And I don’t mean physically, even though a few times I have caught her running her fingers through my hair when I’m sleeping. And somehow her hand always finds its way into mine backstage, in the car, or on my jet. I mean the way that I now trust her with everything. We’ve become so in tune with each other that we’ve raised a few eyebrows along the way. Not that I give a fuck. My guys knowbetter than to ask or question anything I do. She’s become my pride and joy, both in business and in private.
The minute Ocean asked for my help, she has done everything I’ve asked. It wasn’t difficult to convince her that cutting some of her uncle’s influence out of her life was a good thing. Cliff is steadily going down the wrong path of fame and fortune. He spends more time drinking and gambling than he does at his niece's shows. The company he’s keeping is known for being shady in the entertainment world, and often is under fire for having underage celebrities at its parties where drug-use scandals occur. Ocean sees it and is handling her disappointment with him as well as she can. With my guidance, she’s keeping her distance from him. When he does contact her, she brings the problem to me or Kyle and we all figure out how best to handle Cliff’s current predicament without BNE finding out. If she needs a break, I make it happen for her so that she is always in a healthy state of mind. While I want to bury Cliff for the way he’s leeching off of Ocean, I manage to keep my handlings with him professional for her.
She never shies away from asking questions, begging me to teach her every facet of my work so that she can protect herself and her brand. I’ve never been more proud of a client before. Who she is now is a far cry from the lost girl she was when I first jumped on board. And she knows it. She basks in the praise I give her. She lives to learn what we can do better next time. She enjoys the new and exciting things that come with her time with me. Like shopping around for her own private jet. Or planning the house she wants someday with trellises of Moon flowers. I couldn’t be prouder of her and her accomplishments. For the first time, I enjoy being a handler. Having complete control over her security, her media, and of her life gives me purpose. Ocean is my priority.
Even now, walking into a studio where I know she’s getting her make-up retouched for her television interview, my eyes seek her out, needing to see her. She feels me right away and her head swivels in my direction. Her face is masked, but I can sense the underlying tension in her features and the way she’s holding her shoulders. I watch as she excuses herself, gets up and hurries to my side. I’m already prepared to inflict harm on whoever has upset her.
“Who do I have to crush today, baby Heart?” I ask her, hoping I was able to gloss over my mistake of words. In my mind, calling herbabyis one thing. Speaking the pet name out loud and to a room full of strangers is not smart. Thankfully, she doesn’t think twice about it and no one else seems to be paying too close attention.
She sighs in frustration. “I had the chance to look at the interview questions.”
“Mhmm.” I keep my eyes trained on her face and fold my arms over my chest, waiting.
Her eyes roll. “They plan to ask about who I’m dating. I don’t understand why that is at all relevant to the tour for next year.”
My back tightens and I fight to control the words I want to say, which is that she’s not available to date anyone. The idea that I’d have to share her time and her big moments with some faceless idiot makes my stomach clench and my skin prickle. Ocean belongs to me. My fingers itch to pull her into my side, wrap my arms around her and take her out of here. Of course I know I can’t do or say the things I want to. I realize how insane and possessive I sound, obsessing over every little thing about her. And the fact that she is only sixteen. I’m fine in the role I’m in. I’ve got all my shit locked down tight.
I glance down at her, marveling again at the fact that even in the high heels she wears for these appearances, she only comes up to my shoulder. She is forced to look up at me when I’m thisclose to her, when she’s talking to me. “No comment. That is how we have been fielding those questions and how we will continue to do so.”
“Until I am seeing someone then it will change, you mean.” She glances around the room at the crowd of people who are thankfully still too busy to pay us any attention.
And thank fuck because her words just sent a jab of jealousy right to my chest. My jaw clenches just imagining someone trying to take her. “Are you trying to tell me you’re seeing someone, princess?”
She scoffs and turns her big brown eyes up to mine. “No. I just assume someday maybe there might be.”
Over my dead fucking body. I will have to be buried in a concrete grave before I let her date anyone. Even if she wanted to or thought she did, none of the men she meets in this industry would be worthy of her. I can’t tell her how this conversation is making me extremely jealous or that my eyes have flicked down to her glossy lips more than once. In my head, I give myself a mental warning that I can’t kiss her here or ever. That would be messed up. Some lines just can’t be crossed. I’m not actually going to haul her back into the dressing room and run my hands all over her either. So I lie to her instead.
“Well, when maybe-someday happens we’ll prepare more.”
