Her SEAL

by Tara Wylde

  Xander looks up and catches my eye. He drops me a wink that reminds me so much of when we were kids. Whenever things got weird with me and my mom, or if a teacher or another kid in school was being a jerk to me, Xander would always wink to let me know everything was okay, that he was there for me.

  It prompts a flutter in my belly that runs all the way down between my legs, and suddenly I’m blushing yet again.

  And there go my nipples, popping like corn. It’s not sexy, and right now I really don’t feel that way.

  Dammit.

  Chapter Thirteen

  XANDER

  I gotta say, I’m pretty proud of myself right now. So far today I’ve managed to keep from killing Jason Lane, I’ve kept my hands off of Tina, and I haven’t made fun of a single reporter or photographer all day, even though they’ve given me plenty of opportunities.

  As a reward, I’m running up StarPower’s bills on supper: mole enchiladas and the salt-crusted Wagyu beef, and I’m on my third bottle of Pacifico, and I’m going to order a churro ice cream sandwich for dessert. The food at Toca Madera is like what I imagine it’s like in heaven.

  My old CO would send me on a ten-mile hike with a fifty pound bag if he saw me making a pig of myself like this, but I don’t care. I glance over at Tina and catch her eye. I’m over the moon for her — she’s been dreaming of meeting this Janelle woman since we were freshman. Even I remember that. How could I forget?

  I drop her a wink and she blushes.

  Then Jason speaks and things get weird for a moment.

  “So what exactly did you do in the Navy?” he asks through a mouthful of ceviche. Trust him to find the most pretentious thing on the menu. “You never gave any details.”

  This is where it always gets tricky. SEALs are under strict orders never to talk about missions, but we’re allowed to confirm that yes, we were SEALs. Last year the Naval Special Warfare Command urged us all to lower our profiles after a handful of former members started running their mouths about their time in the service so they could get into politics. That kind of shit makes my stomach turn.

  So I just avoid the subject altogether. It’s easier that way.

  “Lower deck maintenance,” I say. It’s an inside joke, since SEALs spend so much of their time in the bowels of ships, away from the general crew.

  To my surprise, Jason doesn’t so much as smirk. He just nods and sips his Manhattan.

  “I guess it takes all kinds to run a ship,” he says. “I probably would have washed out in basic training. You know me: anything physical isn’t really my thing.”

  Jason’s been civil to me all day, and I always say I’ll come at a man the same way he comes at me. I tip my bottle of Pacifico towards him.

  “You were probably the smartest guy I knew in school,” I say. “You’ve got a degree, so you would’ve signed on as an ensign and been a junior lieutenant in two years. Guys like you belong on the bridge, not on the deck.”

  He raises his glass back to me. “I appreciate that,” he says.

  If someone had told me back in high school that Jason Lane and I would be having a “special bonding moment” like this a few years later, I’d have laughed in their face. We got along like cats in a sack. Jason was the kind of guy who’s so smart, everything he says comes out sounding like he’s talking down to you. Plus his family owned the cannery where my daddy worked, and I always kinda blamed that job for his lousy attitude.

  The only thing Jason and I had in common was Chris. I mean Tina. Again.

  That’s still the case now, but I guess we’ve both matured enough to realize that we need to put her first, not some stupid high school rivalry. If that means chewing our tongues instead of taking shots at each other, I guess we’re ready to do that.

  Look at me, all grown up.

  “These press tours can be a pain in the ass,” says Jason. “But they’re a necessary evil, especially these days. People have so many choices for music now, so many artists don’t even bother with physical albums. They go straight into online music sales, and record companies be damned. StarPower has to make sure that they get their money back on Tina, and to do that, they need to keep her in the public eye.”

  I glance over at Tina and the Rolling Stone woman again, laughing like old friends. A bunch of people prying into my life would rank right up there with a back alley root canal for me, but she takes it all in stride. Tina doesn’t need any distractions. She needs to focus on justifying StarPower’s multi-million-dollar investment in her career.

  I’m so proud of her, even though I have no right to be. I wasn’t by her side on the road to this moment; that was all Jason. Another reason I owe it to him to keep my smart mouth shut. I was hired to do a job, and I owe it to everyone involved to keep my feelings to myself and forget about last night.

  Of course, that’s easier said than done. One time in Kabul, I was so focused on a target in the sights of my rifle that a bird landed on my helmet. I should be able to keep my feelings for Tina under control for a couple of weeks, right?

  Right?

  Chapter Fourteen

  TINA

  My career is over.

  This is it, I’m done.

  I’m a complete fraud, and everyone here is going to realize that the second I open my mouth. They’re going to boo me off the stage, and I’m going to slink back to New Orleans with my tail between my legs.

  Years from now, people are going to stare at me and whisper behind their hands: “There goes that crazy woman who thought she was going to be a star and then totally blew it at her first big concert.” Oh God, I bet it’ll be plastered all over YouTube forever, knowing my luck.

  All of this races through my head as I look at the monitor in my dressing room. It shows almost five thousand people milling around on the circular floor of the Hollywood Palladium. All of them are waiting for me.

  Why did we have to kick things off here? Why couldn’t we have started off small at the Whisky a Go Go? It was good enough for The Doors!

  “It’s a packed house!” Carol crows as she breezes into the room. “Hall-e-lujah! Our first show pole vaults over the break-even line. All praise Mammon, the god of greed.”

  She plants a peck on my cheek, which, from anyone else in Hollywood, would seem as fake as Tila Tequila’s tits. But I know it’s sincere because I know Carol.

  Jason and Xander follow her in.

  “This is absolutely unbelievable,” Jason says, scanning a stack of papers he’s carrying. “The box office said there was a major surge in ticket sales starting this morning. Apparently that Instagram pic last night had the desired effect on your fans. I gotta hand it to you, Carol,” he shrugs. “you nailed it.”

  Well, hell, I think, impressed at how maturely Jason’s taking this particular piece of news. I guess a leopard can change its spots, after all.

  I see Xander smile. He notices me looking and turns serious.

  “I’d best get moving on my recon,” he says. “I’ll head up to the balcony for a bird’s-eye view and then move down to the floor seats.”

  Jason shocks me by dropping a hand on Xander’s shoulder. “Good idea,” he says. “Could you use a seating chart? They gave me one with all this box office data.”

  I’m pretty sure my jaw actually drops open as they go over the chart together. Images from high school play in my mind’s eye: Jason giving Xander the finger behind his back, Xander pretending to stumble and knocking Jason into the lockers.

  It’s almost enough to make me forget that I’m about to crash and burn in front of five thousand people. Almost.

  Carol must see it on my face. She comes over and fixes me with a look.

  “This is not the time for nerves,” she says sternly.

  “Okay,” I say. “When is the time for nerves, then? Because I figure I should probably make a reservation, before they’re all booked up.”

  “Darling, I love you like the daughter I never… had time for, but you need to get your head in the game right fre
aking now. Every person in that auditorium spent hard-earned dollars for the privilege of watching you perform on that stage. You owe it to them to be amazing.”

  Carol doesn’t seem to realize that’s exactly the root of my problem. If everyone thinks I’m just a fraud and they want their money back, what happens then?

  “Not to mention StarPower,” Jason says, dropping an arm over my shoulders. “They’re expecting tonight’s show to set the tone for the rest of the tour. If the last-minute sales today are any indication, we can expect a jump in gross revenues of probably eighteen percent over estimates based on current sales figures.”

  “Guys,” I groan. “You’re not helping…”

  I squeeze my eyes shut to fight the onset of near panic, but it’s already taking hold. I can almost hear the blood rushing in my ears. My breath is shortening now. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit…

  Suddenly I feel powerful hands on my arms and I open my eyes to see Xander’s face close to mine. His gaze is like a magnet, locking me in and pushing everything else in the room away. All I can see is his face; all I can feel is his hands.

  “Hey,” he says softly. “Breathe. You got this. You know you do.”

  And with those few words, I can already feel the panic ebbing out of me. He says it as if he’s never been more certain of anything in his life. He knows me better than anyone in the world. If he has faith in me, I guess I better have some in myself.

  Still…

  “How can you be sure?” I whisper. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so naked in my life.

  “I know a little bit about stressful situations,” he says. “The more you imagine is going to go wrong, the more will go wrong. Clear your head of expectations. And when you get on that stage, you give it everything you got. Don’t think about anything but the moment, and believe that you’re going to kill it. Know it like you know you’re going to take your next breath, like there’s no other possible outcome. You do that, you’ll do fine. I know you. And I know you will.”

  His voice is the only thing in the universe right now. Not the sound of Carol and Jason talking, not the growing noise of the crowd in the stands, not the bustle of people walking in and out of my dressing room with food and drinks and clipboards. Just Xander.

  “Tell me you believe me,” he says.

  “I do believe you,” I hear myself say.

  And hell if it isn’t the truth. I do believe it. My heart rate and breathing are back to normal. The sense of vertigo is gone. Xander’s like some kind of wonder drug.

  “Good,” he says, slapping me on the shoulder, and suddenly the spell is broken. “I better get out there and earn my keep.”

  And with that, he’s gone.

  Chapter Fifteen

  XANDER

  I’ve scanned the entire crowd and I don’t see a single person who doesn’t look like they’re having the time of their life. The room’s like a Disney concert. Easiest money I’ve ever made.

  Maybe ten percent of the crowd is over eighteen and of those, maybe twenty are men, and if they’re not the fathers of kids in the crowd, I’ll eat my dress cap.

  In my line of work, both in the SEALs and as a doorman, you learn something called situational awareness. It allows you to be at ease but still alert to any situation that might require attention.

  I walk past a gaggle of teenage girls in the balcony who point at me and talk behind their hands. They single out one of the pack, a blonde in a Union Jack t-shirt and long black leggings, and push her towards me. She looks up at me sheepishly and asks: “Are you Xander?”

  This isn’t the first time someone has approached me — usually for a selfie — in the weeks since my video went viral, but no one ever knew my name until now. These girls must have seen the pic from last night on Instagram.

  “That’s me, miss,” I reply and reach out a hand. “And you are?”

  She giggles furiously and looks at her friends, who giggle furiously themselves.

  “Brittany,” the girl says. I pump her hand three times and drop it.

  “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Brittany. Are you guys fans of Tina’s?”

  “Oh my God, yes,” she says. “Tina is the coolest.”

  “Well,” I say. “I’ll be sure to tell her that. Or maybe you’d like to tell her yourself?”

  I pull a couple of backstage passes out of the back pocket of my jeans. Carol gave them to me earlier in the day for just such an occasion.

  Brittany’s eyes are saucers. She looks at the laminated tabs, then up at me.

  “Are these real?”

  “Of course. Just flash them backstage after the show and security will take you to Tina.”

  Before I know it, her skinny arms are around my neck, squeezing. Her shriek is like a siren in my ear, but I can’t help laughing. The excitement is kinda infectious.

  She runs back to the gaggle, all of whom immediately start arguing about who’ll be Brittany’s plus-one backstage. I wave at them and head down to the floor.

  I can see motion in the darkness of the stage as backing band moves into position. They’re all pros out of L.A. and Nashville, good guys who know which side their bread is buttered on. Of course, I also ran background checks on them last night.

  The whispering in the crowd gets louder as the band warms up. By the time the lights go down, a large chunk of the people are already chanting: Ti-NA, Ti-NA, Ti-NA! A thrill runs down my spine in spite of myself.

  I’ve been in more dangerous situations than I can remember, but I’ve never experienced something like this. The tension in the air around me is almost physical.

  Every one of these people came here to see little Chris Kennedy, the skinny little girl who laid next to me amongst the mangroves so many times, sharing her dreams with me under the stars. I’m so proud I could burst, even though I didn’t have anything to do with any of it.

  Suddenly the whole place goes pitch black and the roar of the crowd ratchets up ten notches. For a handful of seconds, there’s silence. Finally the bass line starts to build, followed by the keyboard and guitar, and finally the drums. A deep male voice, obviously a radio guy, blares out of the darkness through the PA system: “Ladies and gentlemen,” it rumbles in its smooth bass tones. “Are you ready?”

  “YES!” the crowd screams. The tension builds until I swear I can smell it.

  “Then put your hands together for the one… the only… TINA QUINN!”

  The spotlight drops on center stage and Tina comes bounding out like a wild cat. She jumps and claps, then runs to the edge of the stage and slides her palm through the crowd there, touching as many people as she can. My instincts twitch a bit at that, but they calm down just as quickly as I move behind the big gate, just a few yards from the stage.

  The Palladium’s security guys nod at me in acknowledgement. If any of them are pissed about having a dilettante hanging around them, they don’t show it.

  Tina is fully into the first song now, belting it out along to the driving beat of the band around her. It’s not the first time I’ve seen her on stage — that would be when she played Sarah Brown in Guys and Dolls in high school — but it’s the first time I’ve seen her performing the way she always wanted to, with an original song and a huge crowd dancing along with her.

  An idiot grin creeps across my face and I don’t even try to stop it. This is the culmination of all of Tina’s dreams, everything she ever wanted in life summed up in this moment, and I got to be here to see it. I can’t believe this is happening.

  Ah, hell. Who am I kidding. I always knew she’d turn out alright.

  And before I even know what’s happening, she’s right in front of me on the stage, looking me directly in the eye, singing straight to me. I can’t look away. I don’t even understand the lyrics — something about you’re the one — but it doesn’t matter. This is like hypnosis. The way she’s moving, the intensity of her gaze. I can feel the blood rushing into my cock again, feel it straining painfully against the buttons of my fly.
My heart is racing like I’m in battle.

  Then all hell breaks loose.

  Chapter Sixteen

  TINA

  I shouldn’t be doing this, but I can’t help myself. As soon as I see Xander in the crowd, I have to run to him. To sing to him.

  It’s my first hit, the first one that climbed into the Top 10 on iTunes.

  Okay, between me and you, it only made it to No. 10, but hey — it still counts.

  It’s about someone who knows you better than you know yourself. Like almost all of my songs, really, I never really know where the idea for it came from. it just sort of showed up in my head one day.

  Now, here on the stage, looking into Xander’s eyes, I wonder if I wrote the song about him.

  My voice rises and hardens as I reach the chorus. It’s a workout for my vocal chords but I barely notice. I’m on my knees on the stage, belting it out straight to Xander like we’re not surrounded by the population of a small town. I can see he feels the same way.

  The connection is undeniable.

  Now his eyes are widening and he’s yelling at me. He bridges the distance to the stage in a single stride and vaults onto it, landing on his knees and then leaping to his feet. He’s moving towards me quickly, purposefully, like an animal in the hunt. Jesus, is he going to jump me right here on the stage in the middle of my concert?

  Would that be such a bad thing?

  He reaches me in less than a second. Then he runs right past me. What the hell is going on?

  I realize I’m still singing and the band is still playing as I turn to follow Xander’s movements. It’s then that I finally see what he sees: the guy behind me who’s rushing in my direction with something in his hand.

  And just as suddenly, Xander is out of my line of sight, along with the other guy. I see motion in the left wing and there they are, Xander landing on top of him and disarming him in under a second. Now the regular security crew in their black t-shirts are on the stage, running around like chickens with their heads cut off.