Bodyguard (Hollywood A-List #2)

I kicked off my shoes, dropped my bag, and peeled off my hoodie, jumping into the dance studio where everyone waited in their lines, chatting.

“All right!” I held up my arms and shook my hands. It took a few seconds for everyone to quiet down. Darlene came in at a leisurely pace and stood behind me. “We have five days until the show! Are you ready?”

Murmurs. A distinct lack of enthusiasm.

“If you guys could see what you’ve done from up here, you’d know you were ready as surely as I do. We’re going to run it through today and in costume tomorrow. By then, I promise you’ll be raring to go. Got it?”

Some claps.

Darlene called from behind me. “Bitches! Are you serious? You are the best team I have ever, and I mean ever, worked with. This right here is going to be the only ticket in town. We’re going to be bigger than Michael Jackson. Bigger than Beyoncé. Right now, Jesus Christ himself is clearing a seat at his right hand. They’re going to talk about this show with their grandchildren, and those kids are going to be in awe. Who hears me?”

She held up her arm, pointing to the sky.

“I hear you!” I shouted, holding up my finger.

“Who hears me?”

“I hear you!” Simon pointed.

“Who the fuck hears me?”

She had to ask only twice more before the entire troupe was shouting and pointing at the ceiling.

“Let’s run this bitch through!” Darlene clapped, and we got to work.

Because my knee wouldn’t tolerate daily shows, I wasn’t going to be onstage. I was the watcher. The checker. The improver. It was my job to make sure everyone was where he or she belonged and send everyone out into the world prepared.

By lunch, I was sure they were more than prepared. They were ready to kill it.

Carlos found me in the lunch line. “This says you’re staying at the Bellagio.” He pointed to his clipboard.

“Yes?”

“Everyone else is at the MGM.”

“I always stay separate. It’s safer.” Word inevitably got out about where the dancers, musicians, and staff stayed. If I wanted Vince to find me, I’d stay with them. Carlos had never questioned it before. I didn’t know what was supposed to be different this time.

“You’re a principal this time. I need to book a room for one of my guys.”

Hopefully, one of his guys was going to be staying in my bed, but I couldn’t say that.

“Keep me at the Bellagio, but move my room if you have to,” I said. “Sorry I didn’t let you know.”

He gave me half a salute and marked something on his clipboard before moving to the next problem.

I had lunch with my team and didn’t notice Carter was missing until the afternoon break. He wasn’t in his usual corner, in the hall, or hanging around Bart and Fabian.

“Fabe?”

“Yeah?”

“Have you seen Carter?”

“Dude. He just quit.”

I tried not to look stunned. Acting surprised was only going to make me look like an outsider. I must have failed, because Fabian put his hands up as if to say, It wasn’t my fault, so don’t look at me.

“I have no clue,” he added. “I’ll ask him after the shift.”

“Thanks.”

“Maybe he got a better offer.”

“Yeah. Probably.”

With a minute left in break, I reached into the bottom of my gym bag for the phone. I was worried about him. The previous night had been harder than either Phin or Carter had admitted.

I found a text from him sitting in my notifications.

—Phin needed me—





CHAPTER 50





CARTER


I was not like any of the other parents at Phin’s school. I expected more than they did. I had rules and clear boundaries. I didn’t pretend Phin was my friend, and I didn’t call him “buddy.” I didn’t lose too much sleep over the emotional bumps and twists of the early teens.

Until I got a call the morning after Phin found out who his mother was.

They said he was crying uncontrollably and refusing to talk about the reason for the tears.

I felt guilty for sending him to school, and that was only the most recent of a long list of things I could have done better. I didn’t know when it would be too much. When the list would get so long it would strangle him. I’d burdened myself with lies, and now he was burdened with the truth.

When I got to the office, it was worse than I’d been told. Cora, the assistant head of the school, looked up from her desk, pressed her lips together, and handed me a box of tissues. Phin was on the couch, curled into a fetal position, facing the backrest. His shoulders shook.

Cora spoke softly and clearly. “He found out something about his mother, apparently? He was presenting his project and said it was all a lie.”

I sat on the edge of the couch and stroked his hair.

“What was a lie?” she asked in a flat voice.

“Specifically,” I said, “the project and his life.”

Phin’s eyes were closed, and his skin was clammy and wet with tears. When I touched him, he didn’t react.

She stood up. “Let’s let him rest.”

We went onto a bank of couches outside her office. I was sure he was getting kicked out. The hippy-dippy school actually had very strict rules about lying and keeping your shit together. Without cooperation, the whole system fell apart.

Phin’s project was a lie, and who knew what crazy thing he’d said when presenting it? I’d seen kids get kicked out for less.

Maybe a more structured education was what he needed anyway. Except he loved his school, and taking him out would hurt and disrupt him. As Cora indicated one of the sofas, I decided I was more concerned about Phin’s stability than what he’d said to the class.

“He had a rough night,” I said as I sat, “but he wanted to come today and hand in the project, which I know was supposed to be based on fact. We understand his grade will reflect that it’s not.”

“We’re not concerned with his grade.”

“He might . . .” I couldn’t finish. He might fail. He might not be in the rest of the week or month. He might need more attention than you think. “I can’t guarantee he’ll finish the semester.”

“Mr. Kincaid, is there something on your mind?”

“He loves it here.”

“And we love having him. We’re not in the business of kicking kids out when they’re having a hard time. What happened today was normal under the circumstances.”

“What happened? What did he say?”

“That his mother was Genevieve Tremaine, and his dad is his uncle.”

I rubbed my eyes hard enough to see stars. “He didn’t know,” I said from behind my hands. I took them away so I could look at her. “I didn’t want him to. But now he does, and he’s not good at secrets.”

“We’re trying to make sure the class is discreet. We’ve spoken to them about it.”