“What the hell? I think I just crapped my pants!” He craned his head around and pretended to look down at his backside. “Uhhh, anyone have a spare pair of underwear they could lend me?”
Tessa could hear the laughter in his voice, but it sounded false to her ears. Her own hands were shaking. She could swear she heard a matching tremor in his voice. Was she imagining it? Just projecting?
A piece of pink fabric appeared at his feet, and he picked it up delicately, dangling it before him with one finger: a pair of women’s panties.
“Men’s underwear,” he said with a wry smile. “I probably should have specified.” He tossed the panties back into the crowd and wiped a weary hand across his eyes.
Tessa hit Pause on the TV remote to freeze the image. She knew she wasn’t imagining things. She could see the expression on his face now, clear as day. He might have put up a good front, but that look in his eyes had nothing to do with laughter. He looked like a cornered animal, watching its predator approach. Terrified and utterly exhausted.
Tessa couldn’t bear to look. She forced her eyes away. The clock icon at the corner of the screen showed the time: 9:02 a.m. She shouldn’t be watching this anyway. Her mother would be home any minute. Tessa was about to click the TV off again when her eyes landed on something else at the bottom of the screen.
Credit: Videos posted on Instagram by MET (@MrsEricThorn)
At the sight of it, Tessa’s panicky tension gave way, replaced by a tingle of excitement. MET!
Tessa took a step closer to the screen to make sure she’d read correctly. Was the Today Show really crediting MET like an actual media source? A fan account? Someone Tessa knew…even counted as a friend?
Tessa automatically reached for her phone to send off a quick DM. Not that she expected an answer. MET obviously had bigger fish to fry. But to Tessa’s surprise, the other girl wrote back straightaway.
Tessa H: Your IG is on Today! Are you watching this?
MET: Yep. It’s all over the place. E News, MTV… Gained 10K followers since I got up this morning.
Tessa H: That’s ridiculous! How did it happen? Do you know people who work on TV?
MET: Who me? Nahhhh. Right place, right time ;)
Tessa’s eyes narrowed at the other girl’s choice of emoji. Why the winky face? Did she mean…
Tessa H: Were you in Seattle? Some of those videos looked like they were from the first row!
MET: Yeah, people sent those to me. I just posted them.
Tessa H: Were you there though? Do you know that girl who jumped onstage?
Long seconds ticked by with no reply. For a moment, Tessa thought that MET might not answer. Probably distracted by one of the countless other DM conversations she must have going on…
Or was she purposely dodging the question?
MET: Was I there? Tessa, I’m EVERYWHERE!
MET: LOLOLOLOL
Tessa’s head drew back in surprise at the tone the other girl had taken. LOL? What was there to LOL about? Something truly terrifying had happened to the person they both professed to love. How could MET find it funny?
With a shaky finger, Tessa clicked the Twitter app closed. Forget it, she told herself. MET could LOL about it with one of her other half million followers.
But it wasn’t just MET’s laughter that disturbed her. A vague suspicion had entered Tessa’s mind during the lull in the conversation. Now she couldn’t erase the thought that made the hair rise on the back of her neck.
What if the fan who’d jumped onstage was Mrs. Eric Thorn herself?
11
THINK FAST
Eric sat in his trailer, perched on a narrow stool, trying his best not to scratch. There’d be hell to pay if he gave in to the maddening itch that burned across his chest. Wardrobe and grooming had just completed prepping him for his music video shoot, and they’d used some especially foul concoction to cover all the scratches—a thick, Crisco-like glop that smelled like motor oil and stung like iodine. Eric had to give them credit though. It left his chest looking smooth as a plastic Ken doll’s.
He had to find a distraction. Anything to keep his hands busy…and keep his mind off what had happened last night in Seattle.
He’d taken his private jet back to LA after the concert. Most nights, he slept like a rock after the physical exhaustion of a big show, but not yesterday. Not even in his Italian leather, fully reclining, heated airplane seat. Every time he tried to close his eyes, he felt those wiry fingers closing around his gullet once again.
“Code Del—correction. Code Charlie. Code Beta…”
He’d only remembered what the codes all meant after the fact. Code Beta: suspect armed and dangerous.
He hadn’t turned fast enough. The fan jumped him from behind and put her hands around his neck. He managed to shake her off, and he heard the faint sound of something metallic clattering to the floor as they met eyes beneath the blaze of the concert lighting. Green eyes. Brown hair. Tall… From the look on her face, he knew in an instant that she’d completely lost touch with reality.
The words she kept screaming didn’t help much either.
I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU!
He’d somehow kept his wits about him. His mind remained clear and focused, almost like an onlooker watching the whole scene unfold from out in the audience. Only after the guards led his attacker away had he felt his knees start to buckle.
The whole incident was over in a matter of seconds, but it felt like an eternity at the time. He could still hear the girl’s shrill yowls of protest as the guards removed her. “No, no! Let go of me. Stop it! Eric! Wait! He knows me! I’m telling you—he follows me on Twitter! He’s followed me for years…”
A shiver coursed through him. He should have asked the wardrobe girl for a robe earlier. Eric flicked his eyes toward the trailer door, considering whether to stick his head outside and call for one.
Not now, he thought. He’d rather enjoy a few more minutes of precious solitude. He didn’t need a robe anyway. What he needed was to get that shrieking voice out of his head. Eric picked up his phone, pressing his lips together in a grim line as he typed out a direct message.
Taylor: Hey sweet pea. You there?
A shadow fell over his shoulder, just as he hit Send.
“Think fast!”
Eric’s back went ramrod straight. He swiveled on his stool, but his reflexes weren’t quick enough. An all-too-familiar hand darted out and ripped the cell phone from his grasp. Eric looked up to see his manager eyeballing the screen.
“What the hell?” Eric lunged to grab it back, but not before he was blinded by the phone’s camera flash. “Goddammit, Maury!” Eric blinked, shielding his eyes. “Don’t sneak up on me like that! Try to have an ounce of sensitivity, would you?”
“Sensitivity to what?”
“I’m a little jumpy today, OK?”