I literally had to shoulder and elbow my way through them to the door. Hannah was holding on to her top hat, eyes wide, as I finally got the door unlocked. I slid us in, and as I went to shut it, a man stuck his foot in the door.
I twisted Hannah away from his reach, but he just held a business card out.
“I can give you a half-page inThe Exhibitorfor fifty grand.”
My eyes probably looked as big as Hannah’s. He was offering me money to spill my guts about Brady and me? To tell personal information about us? It seemed ludicrous. Wild. Out of this world. I looked pointedly at his foot in the doorway.
“We’re not open yet, please leave,” I said pointedly.
“No one else is going to offer you more than that,” he said.
“If you don’t leave, I’m calling the cops.”
He slid the business card into my hand and then stepped back. I swung the door shut, locking the bolt, and resetting the alarm before all but running up the stairs to the studio with Hannah still clinging to me.
“Why were those people taking our picture, Mommy?” Hannah asked. She wasn’t scared as much as overwhelmed, whereas I was rattled beyond belief.
“Remember, Brady is a famous singer, honey. They just wanted to know about him.”
“But why?”
“I… I don’t know. Maybe it makes them feel like he’s their friend, too,” I said, setting her down and throwing the business card into the trash. “Why don’t you go practice while I talk to Brady.”
“Okey dokey, artichokey,” she said, heading toward the practice room with the piano in it.
I took several deep breaths before pulling out my phone and hitting Brady’s number.
“Good morning,Cariño,” his voice greeted me on the other side. It was warm and gritty, and it loosened the tightness of the nerves in my neck and my shoulders slightly.
“The store is surrounded by the press,” I told him.
“What?” he growled.
“They were taking our picture and asking questions about us. About you and me. One of the men tried to force himself into the store.” My voice shook more than I wanted. I was trying to be strong about this, but I hated confrontation almost as much as I hated the limelight.
“I’m calling Waterton Security right now. I’ll have someone there in just a few minutes. I’ll call you back,” he said and hung up.
The store was filled with the sound of my daughter’s voice and the rhythm of the keys. “Let It Be” was one of her favorites. She was using it to warm up before she would move on to practicing the other two songs Brady had taught her. What would the press think if they ever found out about her abilities? Would they hound her like they were hounding Brady?
A shiver went down my spine.
I paced the room while waiting. It was a good fifteen minutes before the phone rang again.
Brady’s voice was an attempt at soothing me. Soft. Gentle. “Waterton is sending two men down. They’ll be there in just a few minutes, but don’t open the door until they get there,” Brady said. “Their names arePrabhjot and Josh, and they’ll be in black clothes with the Waterton logo on it. They’ll show you IDs. I’ve also talked with Lee and Garner, and Marco and Trevor will be here before the end of the day.”
“How did they even find out?” I breathed out.
“There was a post a week ago when you first danced with me at Mick’s,” he said. “It didn’t get picked up anywhere, so I wasn’t worried about it. It looked like it was just me with some random. But then we were seen dancing together at Mick’s again on Thursday, and that’s kind of gone viral. There’s a whole video.”
“There is?” I sat down on the futon, shocked.
“I didn’t know about it ‘til I just logged into my Insta account while I was talking to Lee.”
I pulled up my phone, openedthe app, and put in Brady O’Neil in the search bar. There it was. Brady and me dancing together. We were smiling at each other, but the look on his face was what had my heart pumping extra hard. It was as if there was no one else in the room but me. He was completely focused on my face and on my smile even as the song progressed. When it ended, he caught my hand, and we left the dance floor. The video continued, following us all the way until Marco led us out of the kitchen door.
“Oh my God,” I said quietly.
I hadn’t even thought about this part of Brady’s life when I’d invited him over. I’d been so focused on my mixed-up feelings about dating someone again, about letting someone into our lives, that I hadn’t once stopped to think about what it meant to let someone in who was followed around by fans and paparazzi and stalkers. Oh, holy hell. He had stalkers.
