Wicked Bad Boys

by Bella Love-Wins

  “The princesses have invited us to come and meet her friends out pool-side,” Kevin announced to us. “Johnny will make a quick appearance. Afterward, we need to get to the stage for a sound check, and to make sure everything’s ready for the show. The security staff I hired arrived earlier today with the road crew. They’ve swept the stage and concert area.”

  Fred nodded through Kevin’s update, and replied, “We still don’t have many clues on the identity of the stalker, so we all need to be observant and alert. I realize this is a private party, in a remote location, and it seems far-fetched that the stalker will make his or her appearance tonight, but we can’t know for sure. My agents and I will do a second inspection of the stage and backstage areas. Amanda and Larry, you stick with Johnny.”

  I nodded, and looked over at Johnny. His face was still masked. Larry went out front, and I followed a step behind Johnny as we made our way to the pool area. We emerged into the back deck. There was the same spectacular theme from the hallway. The area had been designed to look like a lavish oasis. The pool was surrounded by natural stone, with one elevated section that looked like an infinity pool to the Aegean Sea. There were palm trees, dense foliage and other lush greens strategically placed for shade and to accentuate the décor. It felt like stepping into a warm fantasy.

  Johnny clearly thought so too. He lifted his sunglasses, and his eyes widened as he looked around. He raised his eyebrows when he turned and caught sight of the multitude of bikini-clad women reveling in and around the water. The chaos broke out all at once. One girl spotted Johnny, and then a full-on frenzy took place. With the exception of the two princesses, all the girls ran over to Johnny, squealing and shouting for his attention.

  Johnny’s face broke out in a huge smile as he stood signing autographs on beach totes, hats, and even one girl’s bare stomach. Larry and I stayed close, but Kevin was edged out of the way as Johnny was engulfed in the crowd. At one point, Kevin fought his way back to Johnny’s side, and told Larry and me we could hang back.

  “He’s fine,” he said.

  “It’s our jobs to be with him,” Larry reminded him. “One of those girls could be our crazed fan.”

  I was astounded that Kevin, the man who had been so worried about Johnny’s safety, would be so short-sighted as to prevent us from doing our jobs well. I couldn’t shake the feeling it was simply because he didn’t like me.

  “You’ll be a few feet away,” Kevin told us. “If something happens, you’re right here.”

  He turned back to watch Johnny. I stood my ground and Larry hesitated long enough to be swept into the crazed mob. In part, Kevin could have been right. Looking at the thong bikinis most of these young women were wearing, there was no way any of them could be concealing any dangerous weapon. Still, it bothered me that he would tell us to stand down. I kept asking myself what the point was of hiring people, and involving the Feds to protect someone, and then turning around and exposing them to potential hazards.

  This assignment was turning into a joke—well, it was probably a joke from the time I had to abandon my better judgment, act like a rock star’s doting girlfriend, and change my name and appearance to make the media spin doctors happy. I felt more and more like a cardboard cutout version of a personal bodyguard with each passing hour. I couldn’t imagine how the FBI felt sometimes, but if they could take it in stride, I could too.

  Larry signaled to me and Kevin after most of the commotion had died down. “I thought Rachel was supposed to be Johnny’s girlfriend?” he asked. I had the same question, and was glad when Larry raised it. “What happened to that whole thing? You didn’t even introduce her when we got here.”

  Kevin laughed. “That plan was to meet two objectives. First, we needed to leverage the mainstream media to get some messages out to the stalker, right?” He didn’t wait for Larry to answer. “Second, so that Amanda can blend into the security team without making Johnny appear too insulated. But even if she was his girlfriend, this is exactly how it needs to unfold on the road. You think all these girls want to meet Johnny’s girlfriend? Fuck no! They want the dream, the fantasy that they have a chance with him. And it’s Johnny’s job to play into that illusion.”

  Larry was the consummate professional. He nodded respectfully, but kept his eyes trained on Johnny. I followed suit, and shifted my gaze back toward the receding swarm. There were still a few girls pulling on his arm and talking a million miles an hour. His patience and ease with the situation surprised me. The girls were so young, and so amped up. I would have been dying to get away as soon as possible, but Johnny’s face was relaxed in an easy smile, talking and laughing with them like he enjoyed their company. He allowed them to take pictures with him, signed more autographs, told jokes, and laughed right along at theirs.

  Eventually, Kevin intervened to cut it short. He politely tore Johnny away from the young women, and we returned inside. At the doors, Johnny turned and waved at the girls again. They were all pouting, begging him to stay and party with them. I was fascinated by how gracious he had been. God knows, at his level of fame, he could have been an arrogant prick about the whole thing.

  We met Fred on the way to the stage, and he informed us that the inspections had been completed. Johnny had the all clear to meet up with his band to do their sound check and get warmed up.

  “Are you ready?” I asked him.

  Fred, Larry and Kevin walked a few steps ahead of us.

  “Sure, let’s go,” Johnny said.

  He was somewhat cold and aloof to me as he strode off to catch up to Kevin. One thing was for sure—the tour would feel a lot more like a professional gig if he planned on keeping up the Johnny Q Venom act. And I didn’t mind it one bit.

  Chapter 7 - Amanda

  “Amanda, over here,” Fred called to me.

  I followed him and Larry over to the stage area. It was an outdoor arena on the other side of the mansion. It was set up like an open-air amphitheater. The stage was a large pie-shaped platform in the center, with more than half of it serving as the backstage, shielded off by decorative molding that matched the castle’s décor. The open part of stage was surrounded by bench seating installed on grounds that sloped down at an angle toward the front.

  I climbed the stairs and followed Fred and Larry backstage. Fred showed us around and introduced us to the security guards Kevin had hired. Johnny and Kevin met with the band members and worked with the sound production team. Larry and I were the last two on the team to receive our single-wire earpieces. They were a top of the line model, with the push-to-talk feature. It made it easier for the team to communicate with the FBI team member who took on the dispatcher role for the evening.

  The stage area was busy. There was less than two hours to the concert start time, so we all focused and got our heads in the game. In pretty short order, Johnny, his band and backup singers began to look like the men and women of pop-rock that I had seen on the videos when I first looked him up on his website. Sound equipment was being tested and retested. Electric guitars, drums and other instruments were tuned and synchronized, and the performers on vocals hummed a few bars to calibrate the microphones. Johnny was in his element. His cool factor rose into the stratosphere just from standing on center stage. Or maybe I was just as star struck as the giddy pool-side girls. What I knew was I had to shake off that daze, and remember why I was there.

  Within two hours, the small audience comprised mostly of teenage girls arrived. They ignored the bench seating and crowded together at the front, unable to resist the opportunity to get closer to the stage. They waited impatiently for the show to begin, phone cameras on the ready. Johnny and his crew stood backstage, awaiting their introduction. I was assigned to one section located just backstage left, with Daniel, one of Fred’s agents stationed in Europe.

  Daniel tapped my shoulder, and when I looked over at him, he gave me a nod, motioning for me to look toward center stage. It was Johnny, trying to get my attention. He smiled over at me, and I held his gaz
e for a moment, before he was pulled off in another direction by one of the guitarists. The gesture he sent my way was enough of a positive signal, and I took it to mean our connection was still solid.

  “Do you need these?” Fred’s question gave me a startle. I turned to look at him and noticed he was offering me a pair of neon orange earplugs to wear over my earpiece and in my free ear.

  “I think I’ll pass,” I told him. After seeing Johnny’s videos online, I did not want to miss out on his live performance.

  He had a dead serious expression on his face. “I hate rock music,” he said. It took real effort for me not to burst out laughing.

  Seconds later, the show began. Princess Ameena graced the stage, and gave a short, polished speech in her best friend’s honor. She then introduced Johnny, and with refinement and composure, exited stage left to rejoin the audience. Even with such a small crowd, the energy in the house was palpable. Screams echoed in the night air, drowning out some of the sound from central dispatch on my earpiece. I was relieved not to have been assigned to the floor of the house. The security guards standing at the bottom of the stage were pushed and bumped by the excited girls, all trained on Johnny as he walked down stage.

  The man had a stage presence like no one I had ever seen. He strolled up, wireless hand-held microphone in his right hand, looking like he was born to carry it. I noticed he had changed outfits at some point as well. He wore a white, V-neck t-shirt with faded greyish-black, skin tight jeans, and designer sunglasses. The down-stage lighting accentuated every tight muscle on his body, and gave his face an even more chiseled look. He was overflowing with sex appeal.

  The horde of girls was riveted. The second he lifted the microphone near his face, the gathering fell silent. He said a few words of thanks to Princess Ameena, and birthday greetings to Princess Marina-Claire. He made a sideways nod to signal the drummer, and the other instruments joined the introduction. He sang out the first verse of a rock ballad, and the young ladies were back to screaming, crying, and I thought I could make out one who fainted before he made it to the chorus. The ones who were still conscious sang along to the words of the song, memorized verbatim to match his performance. Talk about intoxicated. By the second song, the fast-paced pop-styled rock song erupted, sending the girls into a gallop-slash-bounce type of dance.

  Johnny was pretty freaking amazing. Had I not been completing a crucial task, I would have been just as wrapped up in his performance. He was so damn sexy, and his charm and confidence gave off such power. He owned the stage. Johnny was well aware of the effect he had on every girl in the audience. They all climbed over each other to get closer to him. And he relished in their affection. There was a clear exchange of energies—the excited crowd overflowed with adoration, and he absorbed in their liveliness and gave it all back to them with his performance. It was magical and beautiful to witness.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted one of the agents trained on the perimeter of the crowd, and I refocused. I was able to scan the crowd from my spot backstage, and looked for any unusual behavior. Like a magnet, my eyes kept trailing back to Princess Marina-Claire. Her face lit up each time Johnny threw her a dazzling smile or nodded in her general direction. He made a point of looking only at her as he sang a particularly sexy line of lyrics, and she fanned herself, finally breaking down to laugh and squeal along with her guests.

  Johnny ate it up. He knelt on the stage and reached a hand down to her, singing the chorus directly to her. And when she placed her hand in his, he pressed a kiss to her hand. She was in a trance. It reminded me of how he had made the same move on me when I first met him, and I wondered whether both times were just an act. If that were the case, it would only make it easier for me to let go when the time came. As much as I enjoyed his company, I was more than willing to have a clean break after this gig ended, and would be fine with parting as friends. It allowed for simplicity, and less involvement of some of the human emotions I had still been struggling to master.

  “What do you think?” A voice murmured in my ear.

  I turned, startled, and found myself staring into Kevin’s eyes.

  I shrugged my shoulders, and with the noise, I mouthed the words, “What do you mean?”

  He nodded in Johnny’s direction and shouted. “The show.”

  “It’s great,” I said, turning to focus on my job.

  Kevin was silent for a beat, and we both watched Johnny as he finished another song. He took a few moments to grab a drink from his water bottle on the other side of the stage. The volume was low enough for Kevin to resume. Unfortunately.

  “I think he’s into Princess Ameena more than the other one.”

  I nodded, unwilling to be phased by the assertion. “They’re both beautiful women.”

  “Indeed. You’ll have to watch him closely,” he added.

  My head snapped to look at him. “What do you mean?”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised if Johnny ends up with one of them tonight, or both,” he said, laughing. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

  I was tempted to tell him it wouldn’t make a bit of difference to me if Johnny did that, but I held my tongue.

  And on he went. “Amanda, I can see what’s happening between you two, but you should know that Johnny has two sides. And this”—he gestured at the stage—“what you’re seeing here is who he really is. Surely you can tell he was born to be a performer. He won’t settle down or change who he is. Not for anyone. You two have had your fun, but it looks like he’s ready to move on. Try not to take it personally. He’s an artist. It’s best to let him be free to express himself. However, and with whomever, he wants.”

  I smiled and nodded. If only he knew I had no intentions of pursuing Johnny. I didn’t give him the satisfaction of a response, and turned back to the stage just as Johnny was about to resume. Kevin finally stepped away as Johnny started a new, more upbeat song. When he got to the chorus, he leaned forward toward the crowd and reached out his arms. He held on to Princess Marina-Claire’s arm and lifted her up to the stage, and her friends helped push her up.

  The audience cheered and whistled with excitement. He placed an arm around her waist, and she began to grind on his hips. It was pretty apparent that she had been drinking, but it was her nineteenth birthday. Considering the shenanigans I had gotten into on my nineteenth birthday, this was all tame to me.

  Johnny had a short break after the song ended, and the princess left the stage to rejoin her friends as they waited. Shortly after the show resumed, a voice of the central security dispatcher came over my earpiece. He told me to meet Fred in Johnny’s dressing room so we could double-check it before he returned at the end of the show. I confirmed I was on my way, and headed further backstage to exit down the rear staircase. I did not see Fred on my way there. I got to the room. Fred was not there, and he never came.

  That’s when I saw it.

  On the foot of the bed was a huge wrapped fruit basket. It was not here when we left to go pool-side. I walked in the door slowly, and crossed the room to inspect it. The basket was filled with fruit and nuts. I flipped over the tag, which read—

  You were incredible tonight. I wish my surprise was ready. It won’t be long. I’m getting close.

  A wave of nausea swept over me, and my heart raced. It had to have been the stalker. The stalker had been here! I tried my earpiece to get back to central dispatch. When we connected, I told him what I found, and he asked me why I had left the stage. I told him he had instructed me to go to Johnny’s room, and he replied that he did no such thing. I did not dream it up, so it was clear to me that something was not right. I urged him to send Fred over to Johnny’s dressing room. Stat!

  While waiting, I carefully peeled back the layers of wrapping and used a pen to dig through the contents. There were tropical-looking fruits and bags containing various types of nuts. My gaze caught on the nuts. Something about them triggered a memory. I realized it was the LAX airport brand I had seen in the executive l
ounge.

  “Get Johnny secured now!” I yelped into the earpiece.

  I dropped the pen and raced from the room, adrenaline flooding my veins as I ran to ensure Johnny was safe. Fred met me in the hall as he was already walking back to meet me in the dressing room. He pulled the earplugs and radio earpiece from his ears.

  “She’s here!” I told him. The stalker’s been here! We need to get Johnny off that stage right now, Fred.”

  “He just finished the show. My men have him. What happened? Eric just told me there was some mix-up over your earpiece? You were supposed to be on the detail that covered him on stage.”

  I swerved around Fred. “There’s a package in the room. It’s from her. She must be here! Look. I’ll explain everything on the way. Let’s go!” I insisted.

  He took my word for it and we took off at a run to get back to Johnny.

  Chapter 8 - Johnny

  It was well past midnight, local time, when I finally finished the show—including the encore that the screaming girls demanded. I took my final bow, pouring what little energy I had left out onto the stage. I said goodnight, waved at the crowd, and exited, expecting to see Amanda waiting in the spot where she had been for most of the show. She was gone. Kevin was standing there, alone.

  “Where’s Amanda?” I asked Kevin as I walked backstage.

  “I’m not sure,” he answered.

  “Listen, Johnny. Look. About Amanda. I’m not really sure this is working out. This is only the first stop on the tour, and I know it is smaller than some of these other venues, but I don’t think she’s a fit. Fred and his team can handle it.”

  “I don’t want to have this argument again. She’s staying. Period.”

  I turned to walk away. Between the jet lag, lack of sleep, performing for three hours, and the stress over Amanda, I was in no mood for his shit. I wanted nothing more than to collapse into bed and sleep for the next two days straight—preferably with Amanda beside me.