The Revenge Games Duet

What a fucking low blow.

We both stand when a man, short, maybe five-foot-six blocks our way. He’s easily in his late forties, balding and wearing a brown jacket with some weird logo on it.

“Emerson Chase,” he beams.

But something’s not right. His forehead is dripping in sweat, and I don’t like the way he licks his lips when he called her name.

She smiles politely, saying, “Hello.”

“I love you. I mean… I honestly love you,” he pants.

I look over at Ash, wondering if this guy’s for real.

“It’s nice to meet you.” Again, her smile is fixed as she doesn’t indulge his behavior.

“I have you on my wallpaper.” He extends his hand, the wallpaper on his cell an image of her in a bikini drenched in water. Then, he continues to flick through his photos and every single one is of her.

What a fucking nutcase!

“I’m in love with you. I’ve been waiting for so long. Will you come back to my apartment for dinner?” He steps forward.

Without even thinking I place my hand on his chest restraining him from going any further. “I don’t think so. Leave her alone,” I grit.

The man seems shocked that Emerson’s not stopping me.

> Ash quickly interjects, “You need to go now. And I don’t want you near my sister ever again.”

“But you don’t understand…” he laughs nervously, wiping the sweat off his forehead with his sleeve, “… I’m in love with her. I’ve been following her since she landed. I even followed her to your apartment. We’re soulmates. We’re meant to be together.”

Emerson begins to look panicked. I grab her hand, pulling her to me. My grip is tight, but I refuse to let her go and be with some maniac.

“Let’s go,” I whisper into her ear. “You’re not staying here.”

“But my friends?”

“Let’s go, Emmy. I ain’t leaving you here with this lunatic,” Ash yells at her, the same time the man tries to push past Ash with a sense of desperation. He tries to swing a punch, but Ash’s reflexes have always been on point, blocking him and urging him to the floor.

The bodyguards rush over to where we’re standing, pinning him to the floor and yelling for backup.

The paparazzi have caught wind of the situation, snapping heavily and disregarding the instructions from the pub owner to get the fuck out of the venue.

Ash grabs her arm, forcing me to let go as we make our way out of the pub and onto the street. It’s no better outside, our sight blinded by the sea of flashes trying to catch every move. With a sense of urgency we hop into the car, instructing the driver to take off at full speed.

Ash sits in the back with Emerson, attempting to calm her down. “Have you seen that guy before?”

She shakes her head, dazed. “No. But I don’t come here, and he said he’s from here. Back home, about a year ago, I had to file a restraining order against a man who tried to break in.”

“You never told me that,” Ash scolds her. “Did Mom and Dad know?”

“Yeah, they did. I didn’t want to stress you out,” she says softly.

We drive out of the city and onto a quieter road. My adrenaline is still pumping from the heated exchange, thinking what may have happened if we’d left her. I never realized how famous she is. I mean, I know the show’s popular and that she has millions of fans, I just didn’t expect it to be at this level of crazy. Every time we’ve been together, people usually leave her alone.

I’m starting to see what she was trying to explain to me.

“Why don’t you have bodyguards all the time?” I question her, keeping my tone controlled.

“It depends on what we’re doing or where we’re going. We do a lot of the time, but mostly we can fend for ourselves.”