Bodyguard: Target

by Chris Bradford

  Ash left the stage. Donning a pair of sunglasses, Big T immediately flanked the rock star and led him out of the room. Charley joined them, blending in as part of Ash’s official entourage – a work-experience PR girl, if anyone asked.

  They crossed the almost-deserted reception area in silence.

  A flustered Zoe caught up. ‘Sorry about that,’ she said to Ash. ‘That reporter won’t ever have access again.’

  ‘Why wasn’t I told about the letter?’ Ash demanded angrily.

  ‘Kay didn’t want you worrying.’

  ‘Sounds like I should be!’

  ‘Don’t be,’ said Big T, striding alongside. ‘You’re safe as houses with me.’

  And me, thought Charley, keeping guard on Ash’s other side.

  ‘Thanks, Big T,’ said Ash, beginning to smile again.

  Approaching the exit, one of Big T’s security team took point and opened the hotel doors. Emerging on to the street, they were hit by a tidal wave of people – paparazzi with cameras blazing like strobe lights, teenage girls screaming like banshees, young lads fist-pumping the air and chanting, ‘ASH! ASH! ASH!’ Tourists and bystanders flocked to the scene to witness the commotion. Overwhelmed by sheer numbers, the police were swamped by the ocean of fans who’d broken through the barriers.

  Big T carved a path through the seething mass, a protective arm round his charge. Charley trailed behind. She shielded her eyes against multiple camera flashes and tried to scan the crowd for threats. But it was pandemonium. Never before had she tried to protect somebody in chaos like this. Disorientated, deafened and half-blinded, she could barely guard herself, let alone Ash, as the mass of fans swarmed round to get a piece of him.

  A paparazzi guy with a buzz cut and two days’ worth of stubble barged Charley aside. She stumbled and almost fell to the pavement, where she would likely have been trampled in the crush. ‘Watch it!’ she cried.

  He turned on her. ‘You watch it!’ he said in a nasal tone and flashgunned her with his camera.

  Blinking away stars, Charley soon lost track of Ash. In fact, she lost track of everyone. Jostled all over the place, she could barely stay on her feet. The only still centre amid the storm was Big T. She spotted him, towering above the gaggle of girls, groupies and photographers. Immovable as an oak tree, he barely swayed as the crowd pitched and rolled around him.

  Ash, smiling and laughing, had paused to sign autographs and pose for photos, giving Charley the chance to catch up.

  ‘You all right?’ asked Big T, barely glancing at her.

  ‘Yeah,’ Charley replied breathlessly. ‘Had a run-in with a photographer.’

  ‘Careful,’ he warned. ‘Don’t get on the wrong side of the pap. They’ll make your life hell.’

  A girl squealed in delight as Ash signed her poster. Another began crying when he hugged her. Charley thought one fan was actually going to faint when he signed her arm with a heart.

  ‘And what’s your name?’ Ash asked a lad with dark blond hair whose starry-eyed look suggested he might explode at being so close to his idol.

  ‘P-P-Pete,’ he managed to reply, grinning broadly as Ash signed his autograph book.

  Then Ash held up the boy’s camera phone and took an impromptu selfie with him. Glancing at the result, he noted the similarity in their features and said, ‘Hey, you could be my twin brother!’

  ‘Really?’ said the awestruck boy.

  ‘Well, apart from your blond hair and blue eyes, we could be identical.’

  The fan gaped at him, wide-eyed. ‘Perhaps we’re related.’

  ‘In another life, my friend!’ Ash laughed good-naturedly and patted him on the shoulder.

  Then Big T was steering Ash towards the waiting limo. Charley fought hard to keep by their side but, a few metres from the vehicle, she was caught in a riptide of fans and dragged in the opposite direction. Digging an elbow into the girl in front, she forced the fan aside. But it was no use. Another simply filled her place. Meanwhile Ash was edging further and further away.

  Then a meaty hand grabbed her wrist. Yanked through the pressing crowd, Charley was back beside Big T. ‘Keep up!’ he grunted, his other arm shielding Ash.

  Charley now stayed determinedly in his wake. As Ash disappeared inside the blacked-out limo, there was a surge of fans behind. At the same time Big T let Charley through. Her foot caught on the door frame and she landed in a heap in the footwell of the limo. The bodyguard slammed the door behind her, the driver automatically locking them in for safety.

  As Big T waded round the vehicle to the front passenger seat, the fans pounded on the roof, the thunderous sound like an army of jackhammers. Humiliated by her unceremonious entry into the limo, Charley quickly pulled herself into the soft leather of the rear seat, straightened out her top and combed a hand through her dishevelled hair.

  Meanwhile Ash sat cool, calm and collected beside her. He gave her a smug look. ‘Welcome to my life, babe!’

  ‘You’re not on the list,’ said the gruff security guard, barring entry through the artists’ entrance to Madison Square Garden, the iconic circular arena topping Pennsylvania Station in the heart of Manhattan.

  ‘But I’m a personal guest of Ash,’ Charley insisted.

  The security guard, a large man with a beer belly, let out a snort of laughter. ‘So is every other Wildling fan.’

  He turned to the other two guards manning the entrance with him and rolled his eyes at Charley’s pitiful attempt to gain entry.

  ‘Listen – if you call through to his manager, she’ll explain –’

  ‘Don’t push your luck, girly. No pass, no entry!’ he snapped.

  Charley sighed. This was all she needed. First day of the tour and she couldn’t even access the venue. Having got the security guard to check the guest list three times, she began to wonder if she’d been left off the list on purpose. Following her failure in even the most basic close protection of Ash during the press conference the previous day, perhaps his manager had decided she wasn’t up to the job and cancelled Buddyguard’s services. But, if that was the case, surely she’d have heard from Colonel Black by now?

  Charley checked her phone. No messages. She tried calling Kay Gibson direct, but her phone went to voicemail. Charley approached the security gate again.

  The guard squared up to her, his fists planted on his ample hips. ‘I told you to leave.’

  ‘Can you just radio Big T? He’ll vouch for me.’

  ‘Oh, you’re a friend of Big T’s!’ said the guard, suddenly all smiles. ‘Why didn’t you say so?’

  He shifted aside and waved her through the gate. But she hadn’t taken two steps when the guard seized her by the wrist.

  ‘Don’t be so dumb!’ he growled, pushing his pudgy face into hers. ‘As if Big T knows you.’

  ‘Ouch!’ Charley exclaimed as he wrenched her into an armlock.

  ‘I’ve had enough of you and your stories, little lady,’ hissed the guard in her ear, forcing her arm further behind her back and clearly enjoying his moment of dominance.

  But Charley wasn’t going to be strong-armed off the premises. What would Ash and Big T think when they heard about it?

  Goaded by the man’s bullying tactics, Charley threw her head back. The guard cried out as his nose crumpled under the impact. She then scraped the heel of her shoe down his shin, before stamping on his foot. Spinning out of the armlock, she promptly twisted the man’s arm and drove him to the ground. As blood poured from his nose on to the concrete, th
e other two guards rushed to his defence, one pulling out an extendable baton.

  Charley released the man and stepped away, her hands held up in surrender. ‘Just call Big T.’

  ‘We’ll be calling the police,’ said the other guard, closing in.

  ‘No, you won’t,’ grunted a voice. ‘She’s with me.’

  The three men spun to see Big T standing at the gate. They stood open-mouthed as he waved Charley through the barrier.

  ‘Here’s your security pass,’ said Big T, handing her a plastic ID card on a lanyard. ‘Don’t lose it.’

  Charley slipped it over her head. ‘Thanks … I wasn’t on the guest list,’ she tried to explain.

  ‘That’s cos you’re part of the crew, not a guest.’ He glanced at the guard with blood splattered down his shirt. ‘Well, you certainly know how to make an entrance.’

  ‘Sorry. He was a bit heavy-handed.’

  Big T strode off down the corridor with Charley following.

  ‘They weren’t going to let me in,’ she explained, wondering how much trouble she’d got herself into. ‘But at least it proves security is tight.’

  ‘Not really,’ said Big T. ‘Most of these venue guards are inexperienced jacket fillers who haven’t a clue how to do their job properly. Back in my day, the security industry was for the elite. Now muppets, like that idiot you decked, pass two-week bodyguard courses and think they’re Jason Bourne!’

  Charley looked hesitantly up at the bodyguard. ‘Do you think I’m a “jacket filler”?’

  Big T stopped, eyed her intently, then laughed a deep throaty growl. ‘That press conference exit was some baptism of fire, eh? Listen, Charley, we’ve all gotta learn from experience. Anyone would be knocked for six when confronted by a mass of crazed Ash Wild fans for the first time. Mind you, if you can take down an eighteen-stone guard like that, then I’d say you’re up to the job.’

  He grinned at her, revealing a gold-capped tooth.

  Charley smiled back, deeply relieved at his apparent approval.

  ‘Here, these are for you.’ Big T handed her a pair of designer sunglasses. ‘Essential kit for celebrity protection. Stop you getting blinded by paparazzi cameras. They’re also good for hiding your line of sight,’ he added as she tried them on for size. ‘If an attacker can’t see where you’re looking, they don’t know when to make their move. This gives you the edge over them.’

  They walked on, turned a corner and entered the main arena. Thousands of empty seats encircled a stage in the shape of a massive guitar. Suspended above like a futuristic battleship was a rig of spotlights, speakers and plasma screens. Swarming over the stage, a team of roadies and sound technicians were making their final checks for that evening’s performance. The sheer scale of the operation took Charley’s breath away.

  ‘Twenty thousand screaming fans will be packed into this venue tonight,’ remarked Big T. ‘Any one of them could be a nutter and it’s our job to spot ’em and stop ’em.’

  ‘Check … one … two … three. It’s only raining on you, only raining,’ sang Ash into his microphone.

  ‘That’s good, Ash,’ responded the sound engineer over the monitors. ‘Now your guitar.’

  A tattooed roadie, his face swamped by a caveman-like beard, ran on stage with Ash’s signature Fender.

  ‘Thanks, Geoff,’ acknowledged the sound engineer as the roadie checked the leads were all plugged in.

  Slinging the leather guitar strap over one shoulder, Ash let rip along the fretboard. A gut-shredding riff blasted out from two stacks of speakers towering either side of the stage. The sound engineer tweaked the levels, then gave a thumbs up.

  ‘OK, let’s go through the “Indestructible” routine one more time,’ announced the tour’s choreographer.

  A group of dancers joined Ash on stage. The drummer thumped out the distinctive beat that started the song and the dancers launched into a tightly synced routine.

  ‘In-des-tructible!’ belted out Ash as he simultaneously busted moves with the dancers.

  ‘Isn’t he amazing?’ came a sigh.

  Charley, who’d been watching the rehearsal from the stage’s wings, turned to see a slightly plump girl gazing in awe at Ash. Though her brown eyes were over-mascaraed, her round face was pretty in a girl-next-door kind of way and she’d clearly made an effort with her appearance. Her auburn hair was brushed into a fine sheen, she wore a flattering summer dress and her hands were manicured with dark red false nails.

  She smiled at Charley, revealing a set of braces that slightly spoiled the effect. ‘Hi, I’m Jessie! I don’t think we’ve met.’

  Charley returned her smile. ‘Jessie? You run Ash’s fan club here, don’t you?’

  The girl beamed. ‘Why, yes! How did you know?’

  Charley didn’t want to reveal that she recognized the girl’s face from a file in the operations folder that listed all the key people associated with Ash Wild. Nor that she knew Jessie was seventeen years old, lived alone with her mother in Columbus, Ohio, and that she had a cat called Ash … Charley pointed to the lanyard hanging around the girl’s neck instead. ‘Your guest pass told me.’

  Jessie glanced down at herself, then back at Charley. ‘Of course. So who are you?’ she asked, squinting to read Charley’s pass.

  ‘I’m Charley.’

  With an admiring look at her athletic physique, blonde hair and sky-blue eyes, Jessie said, ‘You’re very beautiful. Are you Ash’s …?’

  Charley shook her head. ‘No, I’m a PR trainee.’

  Jessie smiled with what looked like relief, then her gaze returned to the performers on stage. ‘I’ve been following Ash since day one. I was like the first American to truly recognize his talent – set up his fan website here, spread the word, did everything I could to build up his following. And now look at him. His first US tour! I can’t believe he’s really here.’

  The song came to an end and the choreographer dismissed the dancers. Swigging from a bottle of water, Ash strolled over to where the two girls stood chatting.

  ‘I see you’ve met my number-one fan,’ said Ash, wrapping an arm round Jessie’s shoulders and giving her a hug. ‘This girl made me in America!’

  Jessie blushed at the praise. ‘Not at all. It was your songs … your voice … your talent …’

  ‘Yeah, but without fans like you I’m nothing,’ admitted Ash. He turned to Charley. ‘That’s why Jessie’s joining us for the tour – the least I can do after all she’s done for me.’

  Ash perched on a guitar amp. ‘So, Jessie, let’s do that interview you wanted for the website.’

  Jessie looked startled. ‘What, now?’

  ‘Why not?’ he said. ‘It’ll get more crazy later on.’

  Jessie fumbled for her smartphone and a list of questions from her bag. Ash smiled for the camera and Jessie began recording. Charley could tell the girl was nervous as her hands were shaking while she held the camera.

  ‘Let me do the recording,’ offered Charley.

  ‘Thanks,’ said Jessie, passing over her smartphone. ‘So, Ash, you’re finally here in the USA. How’s it feel?’

  ‘It’s wild,’ he replied with a smile. ‘I never thought I’d be playing my first gig in the States at Madison Square Garden. It’s a real kick.’

  Jessie glanced at her question sheet. ‘Have you managed to visit any of New York yet?’

  ‘Not much. It’s all go when on tour, but I did get up the Empire State Building. Awesome view! I saw all the way to the Statue of Liberty.
’

  ‘So, what are your first impressions of us Americans? Like, when you got off the plane and saw everyone there, what did you think?’

  Ash ran a hand through his hair. ‘I was blown away. I couldn’t believe there were so many waiting for me. I only wish I could have got to meet them all.’

  ‘Would you say your American fans are any different from your fans back home?’

  ‘Well … if the fans at the press conference were anything to go by, they sure know how to scream! My ears are still ringing.’

  Jessie checked her prompt sheet. ‘Now you’re so famous, if you want to see a movie with a friend, can you go out and do that?’

  ‘It’s a lot harder than it used to be,’ admitted Ash. ‘But I suppose I could, as long as I have my security with me.’ He shot a wink in Charley’s direction.

  ‘And who would you invite as your date?’ asked Jessie.

  Ash pursed his lips and tapped a finger to his chin. ‘Well, I’m single so I’m open to suggestions!’

  Jessie stared wide-eyed at him and for a moment Charley thought that she was about to volunteer herself. But the girl buried her nose back in her list of questions, asking a few more before ending with, ‘So … do you ever get stage nerves?’

  ‘Not at all,’ replied Ash, his eyes gleaming. ‘It’s like I was born to perform.’

  Ash danced and sang his way along the fretboard of the guitar-shaped stage. As he shimmied further and further out over the arena’s sell-out crowd, the screams of the fans intensified and Charley wondered if any of them could even hear Ash singing. Big T had given her earplugs as well as a comms unit for the concert, but she could barely make out the security chatter above the noise of the band and the fans’ insane shrieking.

  Reaching the end of the headstock, Ash pirouetted on the spot, then sprinted back down the oversized fretboard. As he hit the main stage, he slid on his knees, snatched up his guitar and launched into a searing solo. His high-octane performance whipped the crowd into an even greater frenzy.