The doors to the outside pool and garden area opened, Sam slipping inside. Immediately, I tensed up further. This was just not my day.
“Done a full sweep of the surrounding area, Sam the Man?” asked Mal. “We under attack from rabid teenage girls again or what?”
The red had faded from my right eye, but I kept my face angled downward just the same. What with the amount of concealer I’d been using, no one could possibly see the bruising. Still, the bodyguard tended to notice things others didn’t.
Sam’s expression never slipped from his business-as-usual demeanour, regardless of the drummer’s ribbing. God knows where he found the patience. Though he had been working with the band for years. Guess he was used to it by now. “A few fans and some paparazzi are hanging around the front gate. Ziggy’s keeping an eye on them. Otherwise, you’re as safe and sound as I can make you, Malcolm.”
“Does that happen often?” asked Adam. “The rabid teenage girls thing?”
Sam shook his head. “Nah. Their fan base has grown up with them. These days, they’re more likely to just want to have a chat and take a picture. It’s the odd one who’s unbalanced that we have to watch out for.”
“Like the chick that broke into Jimmy and Lena’s place last year. The woman used their shower then took a little nap in their bed,” said Mal. “Crazy town.”
Adam’s eyes opened even wider.
“My bed I could have understood, but Jimmy’s? That woman needs help.” Mal paused, remembering. “Then there was the dude following me around last year and sending me poetry. He actually wasn’t bad.”
“How’d the one about your eyes go again?” Jimmy smirked.
“Don’t get him started,” groaned David.
With a heavy sigh, Mal smiled. “Yeah, it was all fun and games ’til he tried to rip some hair out of my head. I mean, I can understand where he’s coming from, me being a sex god and all. But he scared the crap out of Anne. Pushed her out of the way to get to me. She could have been badly hurt.”
Jimmy took in Adam’s seriously alarmed expression. “That’s about when we brought Ziggy and Luke on board to help Sam out,” he said, in a soothing, nonchalant tone. “We always had a team on tour, but with wives and kids involved…better to be safe than sorry. They rotate between us, keeping an eye on things.” Jimmy scratched at the stubble lining his jaw. “Plus Lena and I got a place with better security. Our daughters needed more space anyway, a bigger yard to play in and stuff like that.”
“Oh, please, your old place was like a freaking mausoleum.”
“It was not. That house won an architectural award.”
“It was cold and ugly,” said Mal. “Lena made you move, admit it. Your wife runs the show and she’d had enough of all the butt ugly monochrome and marble. That’s the truth.”
After first checking Gib wasn’t watching, Jimmy flipped the idiot drummer the bird.
The small child, however, had already found something inappropriate to latch onto. “Butt! Butt-butt-butt!”
“Good work,” grumbled Ben.
Mal laughed, spurring the kid on. Figures. They were both about the same maturity level.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to take him?” I asked, one brow arched high.
Ben shook his head, setting Gibby down once he started wriggling, wanting to explore. With more shouts of “butt,” he ran over to his Uncle Mal, who immediately set him up on his lap. A pair of kid-size earmuffs, no doubt hanging on the kit for this very reason, went on Gibby’s head, and soon Mal was helping him wield the drum sticks. The resulting noise was without rhyme or rhythm and astonishingly loud. Made me wish Mal had earmuffs for the rest of us too. But at least Gibby had been distracted from yelling out any colorful language.
“Having second thoughts about the fame thing?” I asked Adam, wandering closer.
The young man shrugged. “I just want to play my music. What happens happens, you know?”
Sam stood in the corner, doing his silent sentry thing. Every now and then his gaze would take in the view of the pool outside, checking for anyone who didn’t belong. With all of the guys gathered in the one place, security would be more intense than usual. Today he was wearing thick black boots, jeans, and a matching T-shirt. It suited him, the whole dark and dangerous thing he had going on.
I might have been somewhat distracted and lost track of the conversation when something caught my attention. “What did you say?”
Ben looked up. “I said Adrian’s talking about getting Adam a place in the Mackee Festival line-up.”
“That’s a terrible idea.”
“Why?”
“The festival’s under new management and apparently they’re clueless as all fu…fudge. Odds are it’s going to be a disaster. What the hell is Adrian thinking?”