by Anna Lewis
“Well, ma’am, we should probably get going to the venue,” he said, his voice clipped and polite.
The taxi ride to the venue was quiet, both Alasia and Zach lost in thought.
When they pulled up to the stage door, the tour crew was bustling in and out. Singers, musicians, technicians were all working in a flurry of motion, but one figure was still, leaning against the wall right under the sign that read Stage Door. He was tall, with a dark hoodie pulled over his head and Alasia instantly recognized his form, although she never thought she’d see him here in Kansas City.
“Hey babe,” the man said, straightening up as Alasia and Zach emerged from the back.
“Hi, Devan,” Alasia greeted her boyfriend. “What a pleasant surprise.”
***
Devan made himself right at home in Alasia’s simple dressing room while she bustled about, getting ready for that night’s show. Zach had grown quiet, crossing his strong arms across his broad chest and standing silently in the corner.
“I couldn’t miss my girl’s first time headlining now, could I?” he announced, taking a swig of beer. Devan had been coolly cheerful, hugging Alasia at the stage door and refusing to let go of her as they’d navigated the bustling corridor toward her dressing room.
Alasia knew she should be more excited to see her boyfriend, especially since he’d been so distant for the last few days, but she couldn’t ignore the tightness in her chest. There was something menacing under Devan’s bright white smile, a hint of danger in his eyes.
“I’m gonna need some space, baby,” she told him, as he tried to come over and embrace her as she applied her makeup. The contour sponge slipped and she sighed. “Maybe you can head to your seat and check out the beginning of the show?”
The concert was starting in less than thirty minutes and Alasia really needed some space to settle her nerves.
“Anything my baby wants,” Devan said, but he sounded territorial. He flashed a quick glance in Zach’s direction. “You want this guy to go with me? Give you some privacy?”
Alasia shook her head, thick braids swinging around her pretty face. “No, baby, Zach’s all right. Just head out and I’ll see you after the show.”
Devan rifled through his duffle bag in the corner for a moment, then emerged with his phone. He’d dropped his things off in her dressing room while she and Zach were still at the barbeque place, and piles of his belongings filled her small space. It was strangely suffocating. Alasia rubbed her nose and sniffled. She was feeling cramped and itchy, something she chalked up to the stress of the situation.
“Break a leg, girl,” he said, a touch coldly, then headed out into the crowded hallway, slamming the door behind him.
“He seems nice, ma’am,” Zach said, once Devan had departed. Alasia couldn’t tell if he was being serious or snide. Everything, even insults, sounded so pleasant in his honey-coated southern accent.
“He is,” Alasia felt the need to defend her boyfriend, even though he’d been acting like a prick. “I mean, he usually is. He’s been stressed lately, recording an album and all.”
Zach just nodded politely, then leaned back against the wall as Alasia pulled her costume off the rack and slid into it. The snug leather jumpsuit felt itchy coming on, like it had been lined with sandpaper somewhere between Albuquerque and Kansas City.
Alasia shrugged it off, launching into a quick vocal trill to get her voice ready to step on stage. A light cough caught in her throat and she cleared it, but a larger cough took its place.
“Ma’am?” Zach looked over at her, light blue eyes full of concern.
Normally, Alasia would have answered that she was fine, but she suddenly couldn’t speak. Her throat was tight and skin prickling dangerously.
“Ma’am?”
Alasia stared up at him, eyes bright with panic. She clawed at her throat and managed to get out a strangled a strangled word. “Help,” she rasped.
Zach didn’t hesitate. He rushed to her, stripped off the leather jumpsuit and scooped her up, rushing toward the private bathroom. Alasia didn’t have time to worry about her nakedness as he tossed her into the shower, turning up the water and jumping in with her.
She was struggling to breath now, eyes red and itchy with irritated tears. Zach scrubbed his strong hands over her light brown arms, lathering soap over every inch of her. The water dripped off her full breasts, running down her firm stomach and down between her legs.
Tears were pouring down her face now, smearing her mascara as she gulped down long swallows of air. The shower had done the trick, washing away any hint of whatever had set off the allergy attack.
Alasia sat there for a moment, reveling in each breath that filled her strangled lungs. Zach just held her, sitting fully clothed in the hot shower, drenched to the skin.
She needed to go get her inhaler, take one more step to keep air in her tortured lungs, but she didn’t want to get out of the shower and leave Zach. His head bent low over hers, their foreheads touching under the strong spray of the shower.
“I’m so sorry, ma’am,” he whispered. “I’m so, so sorry.”
“Hey, it’s not your fault,” Alasia heard herself saying, reaching up to stroke his wet beard. She didn’t know why she felt the need to comfort this strong man, when she was the one who’d just had a violent allergy attack, but the despair in his voice set off something inside her. “It’s not your fault, Zach, it’s not your fault.”
The bang of the dressing room door startled both of them and they turned toward the source of the sound. Devan had returned to the dressing room and was standing in the doorway, mouth agape and dark eyes wide.
“What the hell is this?” he snarled.
Alasia realized how bad this looked. She was naked in the shower with her fully dressed, white boy bodyguard wrapped around her like a handsome bath towel.
“Devan—” she croaked, trying to explain, but he cut her off.
“No, I get it, Lay-Lay,” he growled. “I totally get it. You’re all famous now and you found yourself something new and pretty to play with. I guess I’ll see you later.”
With a final door slam, Devan was gone.
***
“Someone coated your costume with horse hair,” Zach snarled, pacing back and forth in the small dressing room as the sounds of the concert crackled over the monitor.
The fallout from the allergy attack had been worse than either of them had imagined. Alasia was fine, she’d taken a couple of Benadryl and the attack was under control, but the damaged to her reputation was already done.
There was no way she’d have been able to sing after her poor throat had nearly closed up, so the producers had pulled her from the line-up, returning Demetrius to the headliner spot and giving Genna the chance to perform solo as an opening act. Devan was long gone, presumably heading to the airport to catch the first flight back to LA.
The real problem was her fans. Her loyal followers had been livid that she’d been pulled from the line-up and her phone kept pinging with alerts of angry tweets directed at her.
“What?” she raised her tear-stained face toward Zach. Her perfect make-up was ruined, shiny streaks cutting through the mocha matte of her foundation. “Somebody did what?”
Surely there was some mistake. Her costume had come into contact with some random bit of rodeo gear that was tucked around the venue.
“This wasn’t an accident, ma’am,” Zach continued, tapping out a quick message on his phone to the tour producers. Marty had been understanding (kind of), but Zach was keeping him up to date with all the latest developments. “Somebody definitely did this on purpose.”
“But, who would do something like this?” Alasia choked out.
Who would profit from her near-death experience? The answer was: a lot of people. It could have been Demetrius, who was desperate to regain his spot as top dog on this tour. It could have been Genna, who got her chance to shine because Alasia couldn’t perform. Hell, it could have been Devan, jealous o
f her new success and pissed about her new bodyguard.
Alasia suddenly felt exhausted. She headed to the mini-fridge, pulled out a split of champagne and drained the whole thing in one long swallow. The bubbles burned her damaged throat.
“Whoa there, ma’am,” Zach said. “You might want to go easy on that. You just took some antihistamines and you’re not supposed to mix those with booze.”
Instead of answering, Alasia popped another small bottle and polished it off. In one quick hour, she went from the darling of the pop music circuit to a disgrace. She deserved to get well and truly drunk.
Zach allowed her to swig one more half bottle of champagne, then pried it from her carefully manicured fingers. “Let’s get you back to the hotel, shall we?”
Alasia allowed herself to be led down the busy hall, ignoring the stares and glares from passersby, and loaded into a cab. They reached the hotel, and Zach had to help her out of the car. She stumbled up the steps to the hotel entrance, and Zach stepped in front of her to both catch her and shield her from the angry flashbulbs of the paparazzi.
They reached her room and Zach carried her across the threshold and laid her gently on her bed.
“Zach,” she moaned, voice thick and slurred with alcohol. “C’mere.” She pulled him down toward her, wrapping her dark fingers in the soft strands of his blond hair that curled at the nape of his neck.
“Ma’am, I think you’ve had too much to drink,” he said. “I’m just going to—“
Her mouth was on his, her soft, full lips pressing hungrily against his. She felt Zach pull back in shock, but she pulled him closer, her eager tongue flicking against his firm mouth.
He softened into the kiss, lips parting to allow her curious tongue access to his mouth. Alasia slid her hands down his thick, firm arms, savoring the strength of his ropy muscles. She explored lower, fingers fumbling with the waistband of his jeans. He pulled back suddenly, although jolted with an electric shock.
“No, ma’am,” he said gently, pushing her away.
“Please, Zach,” she begged. “Please, I need something… I need you…” Her words were thick and slurred, her voice sounded entirely foreign to her ears.
He was gentle, but he still pushed her away. Alasia couldn’t see him well in the shadowy light of the hotel room, but she thought he looked sad.
She reached out to him one more time, mouth searching to find his again, but he pushed her back gently.
“You’ve had a rough day,” he told her, laying her back on the pile of fluffy hotel pillows. “You need to rest, Alasia.”
“No!” she argued. “I need you.”
“You’ve had too much to drink, ma’am,” he calmly replied, pulling the comforter over her. Zach stepped away from the bed and she moaned in dismay.
“Zach, please,” she slurred again. Her eyes were so heavy, but she kept forcing her lids open so she could keep him in sight. His solid presence was so comforting, made her feel so safe. “Don’t go!”
He was back at her side, stroking her braided hair. “I’m here, ma’am, I’m here.” He slipped a few ibuprofen into her mouth, then pressed the edge of a glass against her lips, helping her swallow the pills down with a few gulps of water.
“Zach,” she begged once more, eyes drooping. “Please stay. Hold me, please. I’m so… sad.”
Zach sighed heavily. He set the glass of water down on the bedside table and clicked off the light. There was the rustle of sheets, and he slipped in beside her, fully clothed, and wrapped his strong arms around her tiny, curvy frame.
“I’m not going anywhere, ma’am,” he whispered, his voice reassuring in the shell of her ear. “I’m here. I’m here.”
Alasia finally drifted off to sleep, the drama of the day soothed by her bodyguard’s tender embrace.
***
When Alasia awoke the next morning, Zach was curled up on the sofa across the room, his large form tucked into the tiny piece of hotel furniture. She wondered if she’d dreamed the whole thing, but there was a decidedly Zach-shaped dent in the sheets next to her.
They didn’t speak for the rest of the morning, loading onto the tour bus and sitting in silence. He’d retreated into the cool professionalism that had been his trademark, leaving Alasia alone to wallow in her guilt.
“Ma’am?” he finally asked as they stopped briefly at a rest stop. “Are you feeling okay this morning?”
Alasia sighed. Her head hurt, her throat still burned and her conscience was killing her. “I’m fine,” she lied. “I’m sorry about last night, I got too drunk too fast and I’m afraid I did something stupid.”
“Do you not remember last night, ma’am?”
“Oh,” she muttered. “I’m so sorry about that, Zach—“
“No, ma’am,” he protested, his head bowed. “That was all my fault. You were drunk and I… I didn’t behave like a gentleman.”
Alasia started to argue, but Zach wouldn’t be swayed. “I think it’s best if I resigned as your bodyguard.”
This was the final blow. Alasia forced back hot tears as she shook her head. “Please, Zach,” she said, miserable. “Please don’t go. I need you.”
He sighed. “All right, then, ma’am. I’ll stay, but only until the end of the tour, until Fresno. Then you can go back to your usual fellas.”
“Thank you, Zach. I appreciate it. And I promise that nothing like that will happen again, I swear.”
Zach nodded. Alasia wasn’t sure, but it looked like Zach’s shoulders relaxed slightly. He was decidedly more comfortable around for the rest of that day’s drive.
Their remaining tour dates zig-zagged them back across the southern part of the United States, stopping in mid-sized cities and playing mediocre venues, on their way to their final destination: scenic Fresno. Zach’s professional detachment remained and he spent every night in his own hotel room.
When they arrived in Phoenix, two weeks later, a large bouquet of red roses was waiting for Alasia in her dressing room. There was a card with a message, informally printed by whatever florist shop had prepared the bouquet.
Baby, I’m sorry. I love you. Also, my single just debuted at #1 on the hip-hop charts. –D
Alasia sighed, crumpling the note and tossing it in the direction of the trashcan. She missed, but Zach stooped down to pick it up. She waited for his to ask his typical “Are you all right, ma’am?” but he just silently retreated to his chair in the corner.
Typical Devan. Getting in touch with her, offering this fake apology only because he wanted some attention about his single. Alasia had had just about enough of him. As far as she was concerned, they were through. She wanted to be single, she wanted to keep her options open, she wanted Zach. But Zach, it seemed, only wanted to keep his distance.
Her social media impact had declined since Kansas City and her popularity on Twitter showed a sharp decrease. She used to be consistently trending upward, but now a depressing red arrow greeted her when she checked her stats.
Alasia needed this tour to be done. Only two more shows, Phoenix and Fresno and then she could get on with her life, mend her damaged career and see what else this new world held for her.
She couldn’t wait for the tour to be over, but dreaded saying goodbye to Zach, if he’d even bother with a goodbye. The retired SEAL had been speaking to her as little as possible these days, answering most questions with taciturn “Yes, ma’am” or “No, ma’am.”
A quick knock echoed on the door of Alasia’s dressing room and Zach quickly crossed to answer it. Marty stood in the entrance, looking a little nervous.
“Lay-Lay!” he grinned, voice oozing charm from across the room. “We’ve got a great opportunity here!”
Alasia listened skeptically as Marty laid out the plan. Apparently, one of her biggest admirers, a teenaged girl who ran a dedicated Alasia Jackson fan site, was in the Phoenix Children’s Hospital. The girl’s mother had contacted the tour to see if Alasia would be willing to come by and do a quick visit.
&nb
sp; Normally, this would be a no-brainer. Alasia knew that her fans had gotten her to where she was and she was beyond grateful. Besides, a sick kid in the hospital deserved some special attention, attention that Alasia would usually been happy to give.
But now?
Now she just wanted to crawl into a hole until the tour ended. Alasia told Marty that she’d think about it, and the producer’s frown was evident as he exited the room.
“Talk to her, Zach,” he muttered to the bodyguard before slamming the door behind him. Slamming doors in Alasia’s dressing room seemed to be the new trend on the end of this stupid tour.
“Well?” she said, as Zach turned to her. “Are you gonna talk me in to it?”
Zach didn’t answer, just sat down beside her on the sofa and took one of her small brown hands into his. He stayed silent for a moment, then began to speak.
“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, ma’am,” he said, his voice low and steady. “I know it sounds like a terrible PR stunt, a photo opportunity.”
Alasia nodded. That’s exactly what it sounded like.
“But there might be a chance,” Zach continued, “That you showing up to that hospital could make a difference in that little girl’s life, brighten up her day. I know you don’t want to face anyone right now, but if you could swallow your pride, just for today, and go pay that girl a visit, it might do both of you some good.”
Alasia dropped her head, ashamed. She’d been so wrapped up in her own cloud of self-pity that she’d forgotten that there were other people in the world, people who might need her.
She opened her mouth to speak, but Zach continued. “When I got back from Afghanistan,” he told her, “I was in the hospital for a long time getting my knee put back together. I wasn’t doin’ so hot, mentally, so my momma arranged to have my favorite football player come visit me. I know it sounds stupid, a grown man, a damn Navy SEAL, getting a visit from a celebrity, but I was in a bad way.