by Mandy Baggot
“You make me sick!” Autumn hissed into his face.
“Likewise! Now, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. The easy way, hopefully no one gets hurt. Try it the hard way and you might not make it to the music awards, not because of this terrorist organization who wants you as bait, but because of me.”
“I want Juan!” Tears formed at the rim of her eyes.
He let out a laugh and let go of her wrists, rising up and putting his hands to his head.
“Juan fucking Staffordshire Bull, or whatever he calls himself,” Nathan said. He shook his head at Autumn and picked up a broken pack of complimentary biscuits from the tea tray.
“It’s Rockweiler, and yes, Juan! My boyfriend! He takes me to nice places, and he buys me things. He listens when I talk, and he’s interested in me. He’s smart and attractive, and he wears custom-made clothes.” Autumn sat on the bed and rubbed her sore arms.
Even as the words tumbled out of her mouth, the conviction dropped away. Juan listened less than fifty percent of the time. She’d tried to have a conversation with him about a news item she’d watched on homelessness. She’d known nothing about it. Of course she knew not everyone lived in the lap of luxury like she did, but it had never occurred to her that people really did live on the streets. One of the older men in the film had reminded her of her father. He sang for money, out of tune and awful, but he made people laugh, saw the humor in life despite having nothing more than a backpack and a dirty coat to his name. Had she seen these people she’d have walked by hoping she didn’t contract anything nasty just from breathing the same air, but hearing their stories, she’d approached her financial advisor about making an anonymous donation to the charity. Something about the characters in the documentary had struck a chord. It wasn’t the fact they didn’t have wealth, it was that most of them didn’t have family or emotional support—they were just like her. When she’d tried to tell Juan, he had nodded, patted her hand, and changed the channel to watch Cribs on MTV.
“Juan listens when you talk, huh?”
“Yes, always. That’s what people do when they have manners.”
Why was she lying?
“Manners, too,” Nathan said, ripping open the packet and putting a whole biscuit into his mouth at once.
“Yes, he’s nothing like you!”
“You’re not wrong there.”
“He won’t stand for this. If this threat is real, he’ll protect me. He’ll get the best people, and he’ll put me up somewhere better than this. Somewhere five-star. Somewhere that has a mini-bar at the very least.”
Juan would make the calls, she would probably pay for it.
“Somewhere like the Marisson?” Nathan suggested.
“What?”
“The Marisson, you know, the Marisson. Overpriced place on Lincoln Avenue. Where Juan takes Janey every Thursday when you’re either at the studio or having reflexology to manage your disorders.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Autumn folded her arms across her chest.
“Listen, he may have custom-made clothes, but in my book, sleeping with your girlfriend’s personal assistant isn’t such great fucking manners,” Nathan stated.
Autumn stared at him, trying to detect something, anything in his expression that would explain what he’d just said to her. Was this some sort of mind game to assess how she dealt with bad news? What was he going to say next to test her? What else could he say? Nothing else would have any effect. Her father was dead, her mother was a bitch, and she had no siblings. No, this was the worst thing he could have said, and it had to be a test or a bad joke.
“If you’re expecting me to rise to that ridiculous statement then you’re going to be disappointed.” Autumn tried her best to sound confident.
“I couldn’t care less what you think about it. Just putting it out there. Your boyfriend’s a cheating shit, and your personal assistant lies to you on a daily basis to cheat with him. Neither of them can be trusted, and you won’t be seeing them again until I need you to see them,” Nathan told her.
Autumn sank down onto the bed, pulled her purse into her, and cuddled it like a comfort blanket. There were diamond shapes on the wallpaper of the room. One…two…three…four… five.
“I’m starving. I hope you eat more than just fancy shit because we’re having pizza,” Nathan said as he swung his jacket over his shoulders.
Chapter Five
Watching her eat was painful. She’d insisted on having a knife and fork to eat the pizza, then she’d cut each slice into miniscule mouthfuls a mouse could have swallowed whole. Then there was the counting. Every piece was counted. Every slice of pepper, each and every olive, odd pieces were separated, everything had to be ordered and arranged just so. What he wanted to do was grab the plate and shove everything into her mouth at once. There was practically no flesh on her. He was starting to wonder whether she actually ate anything at all. She was thin, pale, and anxious, nothing like the assured, confident performer he’d watched over and over on YouTube.
Watching him eat was horrendous. He picked every giant slice of pizza up with his fingers and ate it like a Neanderthal. He folded the pieces up, jammed them into his mouth, and chewed with his mouth open. There was cheese on his lips and grease on his fingers. She wanted to look away, but she also wanted to know where he was going to wipe his hands. She knew it would be the bed or his trousers. She wasn’t sure she cared about his trousers; the suit was awful, grease wouldn’t worsen it at all. She watched him get up and reach for a tissue from the box on the dresser. That was unexpected.
“It’s good,” he said, his mouth full.
“What?”
“I said, the pizza’s good. You should eat some.”
“I’m full.” Autumn put the plate on the bed and closed her knife and fork together.
“Full! You’ve only eaten two small pieces. Don’t you have to get up to five?”
“Don’t mock me.”
She was close to tears again. What was the matter with her? She wasn’t this person. She was capable, a professional, a music artist at the very pinnacle of her career. That’s who she needed to be to keep her sanity. Yet, since she’d been herded out of the hotel by this uncouth individual in a second-hand suit, she had gone to pieces. She needed to speak to Janey. Janey would know what to do. If there was one thing her PA was good at, it was knowing what to do for the best. She didn’t believe Nathan’s accusations about her friend and Juan. It was unrealistic. What could Juan possibly get from Janey that Autumn couldn’t give him?
“Where’s my new phone?” Autumn asked, distracting herself from her thoughts by picking up the plate and putting it on the dresser.
“I threw it out the car window remember?”
“No, my new phone. You told my mother you would tell her my new number,” Autumn reminded.
“Yeah, well, I lied about that,” he said, pulling the chair away from the dresser and positioning it to the side of the bed, facing the television.
“I need to call Janey.”
Nathan looked at his watch. “Oh, she’ll be putting her clothes back on right about now,” he said.
“I don’t believe what you said. She wouldn’t do that to me, Juan wouldn’t do that to me.”
“No?”
Autumn moved to stand in front of him. “Just let me call her,” she begged. “Let me tell her I’m okay, please.”
“She doesn’t give a shit about you. She’s sleeping with your boyfriend,” Nathan retorted, taking his eyes away from the television and looking at her.
“I don’t believe that. I don’t. I won’t.”
Her voice didn’t come out the way she wanted it to. There was no real conviction in her tone. A seed of doubt had been planted in her mind, and she couldn’t help but wonder if the two people closest to her had been deceiving her. And if they had, for how long? Janey always spoke so enthusiastically about Juan, his music, his clothes, his schedule…she knew his schedule, just like
she knew Autumn’s. She directed them together; she would be capable of directing them apart. She swallowed. No, this was all wrong, the whole situation. She needed to focus on what she knew, what she was familiar and comfortable with.
“The only person you need to trust right now is me,” Nathan told her. He reached for the remote control and turned off the television.
“Trust you! I don’t know you, and… I don’t even like you!” Autumn screamed.
“Those feelings are mutual, but you need to know exactly what my job is, and you need to understand and trust that I’m the best at what I do.”
He reached into the back of his trousers and pulled out a handgun. He placed it down on the dresser and watched for Autumn’s reaction.
“What? Am I supposed to throw my hands in the air and be shocked, like I haven’t seen a gun before?” Autumn folded her arms across her chest once more.
“Do you know how to use it?” Nathan asked her.
“Oh yeah, right up there with a microphone and a mixing desk.”
Nathan shook his head and moved toward the window. He separated the curtains a centimeter and looked outside. It was starting to get dark, and Autumn looked at her watch. She should be at home now, feeding Diamante cyber treats and exercising him in his virtual doggy gym. She had also promised herself some time to write some new material. Everyone’s focus was on the forthcoming awards, but after that—win or lose—what then? She hadn’t written anything in months, and she had a deadline to meet for her next album. The record company was pushing. They wanted something out twice a year now to make the most of the summer and Christmas purchasers. She had always worked hard, but now she felt the pressure every second of every day.
“What do you remember about your father?” Nathan asked, turning back to her.
“I don’t talk about him,” she replied.
Her response had been immediate and controlled, but inside her heart felt like it had been pierced by an icy dart. The bond of love she’d shared with her father seemed such a distant memory but it was instantly recalled, painful yet comforting.
“That wasn’t what I asked.” Nathan’s eyes fixed on her.
“I just don’t talk about him. Mother doesn’t like it, and he’s dead. What’s there to say? He was killed in a car accident when I was ten. That was seventeen years ago. It’s not relevant to anything now.”
She swallowed hard after that last statement. All lies. She remembered everything about her father. When he was alive, there had been perfect moments in her life—riding her bicycle, crabbing at the beach, writing songs he listened to then joined in with. He had a terrible voice, but he’d tried, and they’d both cried with laughter. She couldn’t remember the last time she had cried with laughter since then. Perhaps she hadn’t.
“He was a decent bloke, a good man,” Nathan said, reaching for one of the bottles of beer he’d ordered with the pizza.
Autumn couldn’t disguise her shock. Her eyes widened, and all her senses became alert. Now she was interested in what Nathan Regan had to say.
“You knew my father,” she said in no more than a whisper.
“Yeah, we worked together a few times,” he responded, watching her.
“But he was an engineer,” Autumn stated, confused.
Nathan nodded. “Yeah, that’s right.”
“Did you used to be an engineer?”
“An engineer of sorts, yeah.”
“He went away a lot, but when he came back, he always brought me something interesting. Like a funny shaped rock or sand from the desert. It was like he’d been on this adventure and he was bringing me back the treasures.”
Her guard had dropped just as he’d hoped it would. She was an annoying bitch, but a cooperative annoying bitch was better than one who was non-compliant. Bringing up Rick O’Toole in conversation had worked wonders. She had stopped toying with the clasp on her purse and was actually sitting still. He almost didn’t want to speak again in case it broke the spell. But he needed to. She had to know how much danger she was really in, and it looked like he would have to lay it on the line for her.
“This group is going to come for you, Autumn,” Nathan stated.
“What?” Autumn replied, almost dropping her purse on the floor. She caught it by her knees and hugged it to her.
“And when they come, we’re going to have to be ready. Me and you,” he emphasized. “Tomorrow, we’re leaving and getting on a plane. You’re not going to see Juan or Janey or that fucking yapping computer dog you arse about with until I decide it’s time. You need to get that fixed in your head. You might hate me, but you can trust me. You’re my responsibility right now, and I take that responsibility very seriously.”
“I don’t know what to do. What do I do?” She looked at him, her gray eyes pleading for guidance.
“First, you start by eating more than a fucking bird’s portion of everything. Be under no illusion, you’re going to have to fight for your life at some point in the near future, and the crust of a crust of a Hawaiian from Dominos isn’t going to bode well for you coming out on top,” Nathan said, handing her the plate.
“I’m scared.” Autumn’s hands shook as she took the plate from him.
“Yeah, me, too. I lied. I hate cold pizza.”
Chapter Six
She hadn’t slept. Nathan had kept his word and stayed in the chair while she took the bed. It was nothing like her queen bed at home. The sheets here were not from anywhere remotely near Egypt, and whatever they’d been washed in hadn’t softened their texture.
She’d slept in her clothes, apart from her hat, and she’d clutched her purse tight to her all night. She was too worried that if she put it down, Nathan would take it. She needed it near.
She knew it was morning now, but she didn’t want to open her eyes. If she did, all the events of the previous day would come back to her and she’d have to continue to react to them.
“You awake?” Nathan asked.
Autumn closed her eyes tighter and held her breath.
“We need to get going soon,” he said.
She sensed him moving across to the side of the bed. Her heart quickened in response. What if he touched her?
“Hey, wake up!” he barked in her ear.
Autumn shot up and out from under the covers, her hands still holding her purse.
“Why did you do that? You could have deafened me! What would that have done to my career? I can’t sing if I can’t hear.”
Smoothing down her skirt and adjusting her jacket, she was acutely aware that she had been in the same outfit for twenty-four hours. The thought made her queasy.
“I need new clothes,” she stated, watching Nathan as he toyed with his mobile phone.
“Yeah, when we get where we’re going,” he responded.
“You haven’t said where we’re going yet.” Autumn played with the catch on her purse.
One…two…three…
“No, I haven’t,” Nathan answered.
“Don’t you ever have a normal conversation? Why can’t you tell me where we’re going? You say I have to trust you, well, how about showing a little trust in me?”
“Trust has to be earned.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means, I know as soon as my back’s turned, you’re going to try to make a call to your PA, you know, the one sleeping with your boyfriend.” Nathan locked eyes with her as he turned around.
“Stop saying that. It isn’t true,” Autumn hissed.
She opened and shut the clasp on her purse even faster now, back and forth, open, shut, open, shut.
“Put the fucking purse down!” Nathan yelled.
The suddenness and volume of his voice made her drop the purse. She snatched it back up and hugged it to her.
He was looking out the window and had parted the net slightly at one side. He looked deep in concentration. His breathing was steady and slow, deliberate and controlled.
“Is something wrong?” she
ventured.
“No.”
“Are you sure? I mean—”
Suddenly there was a knock on the door. Autumn’s heart leapt into her throat, and Nathan immediately reached into his waistband for his gun. He strode toward the door and motioned Autumn to go into the bathroom.
“Room service,” the voice called from outside in the hall.
“Please, tell me you didn’t order fucking room service,” Nathan hissed to her.
She was shaking, loitering by the bathroom door, not knowing what to do. She shook her head at him. His eyes were on her all the time. She’d not had the means to call room service even if she’d wanted to.
Nathan reached out and put his hand on the doorknob, preparing to open it. Autumn took a step back into the bathroom and squeezed her eyes tight shut. What should she do? She’d not been in a situation like this before. Should she pick up something to use as a weapon? There was a choice of a toilet brush or a razor she would have to unwrap from its plastic wrapping. She heard the door open, flipped her eyelids up and took a deep breath, waiting.
“Room service, Mr. Martin. Two full English breakfasts,” the voice announced.
“You must have the wrong room. I didn’t order breakfast, and I’m here alone. The name’s Shepherd,” Nathan replied.
“Oh, I do apologize, sir. I’ll go check the order with the kitchen. Sorry for any inconvenience.”
“Not a problem.”
She heard the door close and Nathan practically ripped the bathroom door from its hinges as he came to find her.
“We’re leaving. Get everything you came with. Leave nothing,” he ordered.
He’d noticed the black transit van pull into the car park earlier. Two men had left it. One returned fifteen minutes later and had been sitting in it ever since. The man seemed to be reading a newspaper, but he also kept looking at his watch and checking his rear view mirror. It wasn’t normal behavior for a normal person. It was, however, normal behavior for someone in a similar line of work to his.