My eyes were welling with tears.
“I never signed up for this,” I panted. “I never wanted this. All I ever wanted to do was write songs that people liked.”
Astrid took her arm off my shoulder and took my chin in her hand, turning my face to hers. “The moment you try to do something that people like, that’s the moment the haters come for you. My darling boy, let’s stop this hater before he does something we’ll all regret. Let me put on a concert and flush this fucker out.”
“But I’m not ready to go back to LA yet.”
Astrid shook her head. “I’m not talking about holding a concert in LA. Whoever your stalker is, they’ve already seen your LA shows. They’ve been watching your every move on the West Coast, and I have no doubt they’ve seen the tabloids. They know you’re here. Darling, the only way to bring this scum to the surface is to lure them right… to… you.”
I caught my breath. “You mean…?”
Astrid nodded. “Uh-huh. The only way to catch this bastard, is to hold a concert right here, in Bumpkin Bayou.”
“It’s Mulligan’s Mill. Astrid, there’s not a swamp in sight.”
“Darling, I don’t even know what a bayou is, and I’m quite certain I neverwantto know. But I do know that holding a concert here in…” she waved her cigarette-holding hand as though trying to summon the name of the town by magic.
I helped her out. “Mulligan’s Mill.”
“Yes, Mulligan’s Mill. That’s the place. By holding a concert here, I’m certain we’ll draw your stalker out and end this reign of fear forever.”
“But… but…”
“But what?”
“But Mulligan’s Mill doesn’t knowhowto put on a concert. Nobody in this townwantsto put on a concert. I don’t think anybody in this town has everbeento a concert before.”
“You know what they say; there’s a first time for everything. I’ll call in the marketing and events team immediately. I saw the park across the way as we drove into town. It’s perfect for an outdoor concert. It’ll be just like Coachella, but in the woods of Montana.”
“We’re in Wisconsin.”
“You know what I mean.” Astrid gasped excitedly. “Oh my God, I think Benson Boone has an opening later this week. He can do a guest appearance. I’m calling his manager right now.”
“You want to bring Benson Boone to my stalker concert?”
“Darling, at the first sign of danger we’ll get Benson to sweep you up into his arms and carry you to safety, stage left. Just imagine! The cameras of the paparazzi flashing, the crowds screaming, and you in Benson’s arms. Money can’t buy that kind of publicity! Who do I need to talk to in this town to get an event up and running? Who organizes all of your town parades and Christmas festivities and whatever cornball carousels you put on here?”
I tried to breathe. I tried to act as calm as possible. “That would be… Harry.”
“I need his number. Where’s my phone? Oh my God, I was promised Wi-Fi!”
And all I could utter to myself was, “What have I done?”
HARRY
“What am I doing?”I asked myself, standing in the shower, breathless and squeezing the last drops of cum from my thick, soap-slicked dick.
Ever since Dean had returned to town my libido was out of control. Fuck, I hadn’t masturbated this much since I was a teenager.
In the shower.
In my bed.
In the kitchen.
God, I even jerked off on the couch the night before while watching two male penguins spoon each other on National Geographic.
It wasn’t until I dressed and went downstairs that I sniffed the air and realized—“Oh shit, this whole house smells like jizz.” Which normally wouldn’t have been an issue except—“Oh fuck, Madeline’s coming over for dinner tonight!”
