Royal Protection: Little Queens Duet 1

by Amy Briggs

  His charm was working it’s magic on me, and he’d been standing in my presence for no more than five minutes. I was going to need to keep myself in check; he was way too hot to be a writer, and it had been a long time since I’d had that little spark. Shake it off, Miranda, Shake it off, I repeated to myself silently as I smiled and motioned for him to follow us backstage where we could call our dad.

  I knew this was going to be trouble; this chick was fucking hot. Not run of the mill hot. She was smoking hot. Fire engine-red hair, a full sleeve of tattoos, and a nice round ass that was probably going to get me in trouble. Reminding myself I was there to protect her, not get in her pants, I followed the girls backstage to a dressing room, where Carmen, the younger, darker-haired sister, pulled her phone out and began dialing. Calling Mr. Royal, presumably.

  “Well hello, daughter, to what do I owe the pleasure?” I heard him say on speakerphone.

  “Cut the shit dad. You know why we’re calling,” she replied, looking over at Miranda, who appeared ready to start laughing.

  “Ohh, I’m guessing you’ve met Mr. King?” he asked.

  Miranda grabbed the phone from her sister, taking it off speaker, “Dad, seriously? You couldn’t find a way to talk to us about it?” She paused, listening to him. “Yeah, I get it. I don’t disagree but --” He must have cut her off, as she stopped mid-sentence. “Mmhmm… Mmhmm… Yea, okay Dad, I get it. I’d like to remind you that we are actual adults, though, so how about a heads up next time?” She was rolling her eyes now; he must have been being a dad. “Okay. Yes, I’ll tell her. I love you too.” She hung up the phone, and handed it back to her sister.

  “What did he say?” Carmen asked.

  “That he emailed us both and we didn’t reply, and it’s for the good of the band, blah blah blah. He’s right, you know.” I watched her red lips form the words, distracting me again, when the little sister turned quickly in my direction.

  “Okay writer, it is what it is. You’re in, but we need to set some ground rules,” she addressed me abruptly.

  “And what are these ground rules you speak of.” I felt a smirk forming. These chicks were much sassier than I’d imagined.

  “Well, first of all, you need to stay out of the way. This is our first headlining tour, and there’s barely enough room for all of us on the buses as it stands,” she said.

  “Fair enough,” I replied. “What else?”

  Hesitating, it seemed she didn’t have any other ground rules. “I guess that’s it. Just stay out of the way.” Again, Miranda grinned at her sister, who was being unnecessarily cranky.

  I decided to let them know what my rules were, “All right, ladies, I have some rules as well. Rules that your dad has already agreed to, and I have in writing, but since you don’t know, I’ll clue you in.”

  “I see, what are your rules?” those plump red lips replied.

  Getting my head back in the game, I said, “I need full access. Full. Access. I’m on the bus, I’m backstage, I’m at rehearsals. I’m essentially part of the band, without actually playing any instruments. In return, I don’t print anything that we don’t all agree upon. But the idea here is for the readers to really get to see the real you. I know this isn’t ideal for you, but I promise you that my job is to chronicle. It’s to get to know you, and to show the readers who you are, not just as a band but as individuals.” Even I almost believed what I was saying.

  Looking at each other knowingly, they both nodded. “You have a deal. Welcome aboard, writer.” Miranda ran her hand along my arm gently as she walked past me out of the room.

  Following her in tow, Carmen pointed at me and uttered, “Stay out of the way,” for the umpteenth time in our brief encounter.

  Rolling my eyes behind their backs, I followed them out to the stage, where it seemed they were going to get back to their rehearsal. I surveyed the area, taking note of the exits, the employees, and the vulnerability of Miranda on stage. She seemed kinder, and far more trusting than Carmen, who was definitely skeptical of me from the word go‘’. I suspected that Miranda’s nature was what garnered her a stalker in the first place, and we had no clue who it might be yet, so everyone was a suspect as far as I was concerned.

  Miranda waved the guys over to her as they all started returning from the break. “Okay guys, sorry about the interruption. This here is Ryan King. He’s a writer with Independent Rock out of San Francisco, and he’s gonna be touring with us.”

  As we all said our hellos, I attempted to get out of the way so they could finish their rehearsal and I could continue scoping out the venue. It had been worked out with Mr. Royal that I would be armed, and I had my pistol under my shirt, tucked into a holster in my pants where no one could see it. He had assured me that I wouldn’t need to go through any metal detectors or anything because I’d have a badge, and I’d be travelling with the band. That was the one part of this whole thing that did make my job easier. Being undercover and having my mark not know that I was protecting them was hard enough, but not being able to carry would have been ridiculous.

  Miranda strutted over to me, distracting me with her swagger, and leaned in. “It’ll probably take another hour or so to run through things, here and then we can chat about the tour and figure out how this is all going to work, alright?”

  “Sounds perfect,” I replied. “You know, Miss Royal, I promise this won’t be a huge pain in your ass. This is good for both of us.” I wanted her to think this was mutually beneficial, but I also enjoyed having her full attention.

  “Oh, I know,” .She smiled at me, revealing her perfect white teeth between those red lips. She pointed to the seats in the front row. “You can call me Miranda. And you can sit and watch from there for now.”

  As I made my way off the stage, I continued to survey the area, taking note of security weaknesses, of which there were plenty. Not only did I stroll right in wearing nothing but a VIP badge Mr. Royal gave me, there was absolutely no one around except the sound guy and a few roadies. I knew they preferred a closed rehearsal - their dad told me that - but I was still surprised at how few people were milling around.

  I watched as Miranda sauntered back to her sister at the drum kit for a pow wow of some kind, and then went through a new sound check with the microphones and such before she led them into a rocking version of Heart’s infamous song “Barracuda.” The voice that came out of that girl gave me the damn chills. I’d been in private security for about eight years, and had worked for some big names over those few years, but she had a raw voice like no one I’d ever heard.

  I spent the next hour reminding myself that I had a job to do and trying not to be mesmerized by her. She made it extremely difficult to focus. As I watched them perform, I made my mental checklist to interview everyone in the band, and then ingratiate myself further with her so that I could truly keep watch over her. Royal protection was the job, and I intended to do it well, so I shoved my impure thoughts about her down and got my head back in the game. I texted Mr. Royal, who I’d nicknamed DR‘’ in my phone. It stood for ‘Daddy Royal’; I did that in case anyone ever peeked over my shoulder or something and saw it.

  After they’d finished their rehearsal, the band looked exhausted. They played some pretty hard rock throughout the show, which I presumed took a lot of stamina; it certainly looked like it. They all sat down on stage in a small circle for what looked like a group discussion, most likely about what worked and what didn’t. I wanted to hear what they were saying, but didn’t want to step on too many toes my first day.

  About thirty minutes later, the girls got up, and everyone hugged each other. Miranda glanced in my direction, waving me toward center stage. Like a puppy, I responded, meeting her at the front of the stage, where she kneeled down to talk to me.

  “We’re all finished. I need a shower, and I know Carmen is going to want to get cleaned up too. Then we can sit down and chat over dinner. I’d like to make sure we understand each other and our boundaries. Would that work for you
? We won’t be a long time; I’m starving,” she laughed.

  “Your stage show looks like quite a workout. And yes, that works for me. I can follow you to the hotel if you want?” I knew that she actually lived in town, but was still working to establish a rapport with her.

  “I live here. Why don’t you pick me up at my house?” She grabbed a pen and a business card from her back pocket and wrote her address down. “I’d like to say that Carmen will join us, but we’ll see. I have to finish packing for the tour tonight, and I got very little info from my dad on what the deal is, so you can fill me in, okay?”

  Taking the card from her, I smiled and nodded. As I looked down at the card, I saw that her handwriting was terrible and I chuckled.

  “You can’t read it, can you?” She let out a giggle.

  “No, no. I can decipher it. I have a decoder ring in the car, no worries at all,” I laughed.

  “Ohh, you’re a funny guy too? This ought to be an interesting article,” She smiled down at me. “Pick me up in, like, an hour, and we’ll grab a bite or something and figure things out.” She stood upright and turned around, giving me a perfect view of her ass, causing me to bite my lower lip. We hadn’t even talked for more than a few minutes and I already had to work on my self-control around her.

  “Will do, Miranda.” I gave a mock salute and watched her swagger away, before pulling my phone back out to let her dad know what was going on.

  He seemed pretty hot for a writer, but what did I know. I hadn’t been anywhere but a dark and dingy club, or in some venue to play music, in forever, so my exposure was certainly not to the measuring standard, by any stretch. I walked offstage, catching up with Carmen so I could coordinate this dinner and our packing situation.

  “Hey, so the writer is gonna swing by tonight so we can talk about what Dad wants him to do and how all this is gonna work. Are you going to blow me off?” She was pretty notorious for not coming to meetings, or any other scheduled events that weren’t rehearsals or shows.

  “Yeah, that’s your thing, not really mine. Besides, it’s our last night in town. I’m gonna finish packing, and then I’m going to go out before we’re trapped on a bus for the summer with a bunch of sweaty dudes,” she replied, smirking at me.

  “Come on, you never do these meetings. You always leave it up to me to handle,” I pleaded with her, knowing that it wouldn’t make any difference at all, and I didn’t expect her to change her mind.

  “Sister,” she said pointedly, causing me to immediately roll my eyes. “You’re much better at handling these things than I am. Plus, I trust you.” She smiled in an exaggerated manner, showing me all her teeth, then laughing, which made me laugh in return. She always made me laugh, I just couldn’t help it.

  “Oh, fuck you. You’re only saying that because you don’t want to go,” I replied, trying to stifle my laughter.

  “This is true, but at least we understand each other,” she stated, nudging me gently.

  “Yes, yes we do,” I said quietly, thinking over how we’d established our roles in the band and as sisters so naturally.

  As we continued to walk to our cars, we talked about the writer a bit more. “He seemed kind of attractive for a writer, don’t you think? I would have expected a bearded, tight jeans-wearing hipster, not a muscular, clean-cut veteran looking type.”

  As I thought about those muscles bulging against his tight t-shirt, and the tattoos on both of his long arms, I nodded wistfully. “Yeah, he was pretty hot, not what I would have expected either,” I agreed. Suddenly, it hit me who I was talking to. “Keep your hands off him, Carmen. The last thing we need is bad PR because you fooled around with the writer who’s on tour with us,” I said sternly.

  “Calm your tits, Miranda,” .She held her hand up in a stopping motion. “I don’t sleep with anyone that travels with us,” she replied matter-of-factly.

  “Never? What about that one time…” -Carmen interrupted me.

  “I thought we’d agreed never to mention Phoenix again?” she snapped at me and pointed her finger firmly in my direction.

  “Well, I’m just saying,” I sang to her, starting to laugh.

  “Whatever. It’s a firm rule now. Besides, he’s not my type. With the exception of the tattoos, he’s not my type. Too clean-cut.”

  “Oh, now you have a type?” I teased.

  “I do, thank you very much. And he’s not it,” she laughed. We both knew she wasn’t as discerning as she could be when it came to the men she spent her time with, but that was entirely her choice and while I was going to tease her because she’s my sister, I didn’t judge her. We got so little personal time, either of us, that if she wanted to spend hers banging a dude here or there that she’d never introduce to daddy dearest, I couldn’t blame her.

  “All right, whatever. Go. Have your fun. I’ll be the responsible sister,” I said as we approached our cars. “Shit,” I muttered under my breath as I spotted my car.

  Meeting my eyes, Carmen knew what was wrong immediately. We both looked at the windshield of my Camaro, and saw a white piece of paper tucked underneath the wiper. I snatched it up angrily, partially crumpling it in my hand as I raised a fist to the sky. “Oh, come on!” I shouted.

  Carmen’s eyes scanned the area before she placed a hand on my shoulder. “Is that what I think it is?” We both knew it was, though.

  I unfolded the white paper, which appeared to be the same plain printer paper that was used in the past, and read the words scrawled on it in black marker.

  You looked beautiful today, can’t wait till you are all mine.

  Creepy. As. Fuck. I looked around the parking lot, knowing full well that whoever left it was already gone. I ran my hands through my thick red hair and sighed, crumpling up the paper. “Yea again, it’s the same as the others. I’ll give it to Dad. The police haven’t done anything, and I still don’t want private security getting in my way and following me around everywhere.”

  Softening her usually salty tone, she gently placed her hand on my forearm. “Miranda. This is getting to be a big deal. I totally get not wanting someone in your face all the time, but honestly, this is not cool.”

  “It’s fine. Look around you.” I waved my hands, gesturing to the entire parking lot. “There’s no one watching us. There’s no one here. It’s just other people that work here, going about their day. Whoever is leaving me notes is just fucking with me. Once we get on the road, it’ll stop anyway.” I sounded sure but deep down, I wasn’t, and it did frighten me a bit. Not enough to hire security, but enough to put me on high alert.

  “All right” - she raised her hands in surrender. “You’re the boss. But if this gets any fucking creepier, I’m telling Dad, and we’re getting security. At the very least, we should have had someone walk us to our cars.”

  “Ladies,” .A familiar voice startled us, causing us both to jump.

  “Jesus Christ, writer!” Carmen yelled.

  “I didn’t mean to scare you ladies,” Ryan replied gently. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah, yeah, everything is fine.” I opened my car door and tossed the note inside. “We were just chatting before heading out. Are you heading out now, too?” I asked, trying to change the subject.

  “I am. I was going to head to the hotel before meeting up with you two,” he replied, looking me over suspiciously.

  Carmen jumped in. “Oh, yeah, it’ll just be you and Miranda. I have other plans, but I’m sure we’ll talk plenty on the road.”

  “Ah, alright. No worries. Miranda, we’re still good though?” His voice, deep but soft, soothed my nerves which now were, more or less, shot.

  Bringing myself back into the moment, I replied with a smile, “Yes, Ryan, we’re still on for tonight. In fact, if you’d like to just follow me home, we can just order some takeout and chat while I finish packing?”

  “Lead the way, milady,” he mock bowed in front of me, causing me to laugh a little. Ryan had a fun personality from what I could tell; he did
n’t seem like he’d be any trouble on the road with us.

  “Okay kids, you two have fun.” Carmen looked at me, nodding for me to get in my car, and get moving. We were so close that ninety-nine percent of the time we could practically read each other’s mind, and were known to finish each other’s sentences regularly. While we had somewhat different lifestyles - I was less of a party animal - we were still very close.

  I had drifted off in thought, watching Carmen get in her car, when Ryan’s voice brought me back to the present. “You all right, Miranda?” he asked, giving me a casual smile.

  “Yes, of course I am. Sorry. I live about ten to fifteen minutes from here. You want to follow me?” I pointed behind me as if he didn’t know what that meant. I might be the mature one between my sister and myself, most of the time, but I had no game at all. I wasn’t even trying to hit on this dude and I sounded like an idiot.

  “Sounds like a plan,” He waited for me to get in my car before heading to his truck, which turned out to be parked on the other side of me. I gave him a small smile and pulled away for the short drive home, a writer following me home and a fresh letter from my stalker in the seat next to me.

  I saw the letter on Miranda’s windshield when I reached the parking lot, but chose not to grab it myself, wanting to observe the surroundings. Hoping I’d see the perpetrator, I hid myself behind a brick wall nearby. I had full view of her vehicle, which I’d managed to park right next to when I’d arrived that afternoon. Unfortunately, the letter was already there, so the next best move was to watch her, and see how she reacted to it.

  As I watched her grab the white paper and crumble it in her hand before reading it, she looked around cautiously herself. Good girl. She was aware of her surroundings, at least somewhat. Before approaching, I took in the relationship between the sisters, noticing that Carmen’s demeanor had changed from her saltier self to a more concerned and protective one. After they’d talked for a few moments, and I couldn’t catch a glimpse of anyone suspicious around, I approached the girls as if I’d just happened upon them.