I stick close to Katie at all times. I wait outside her dressing room when she changes and I escort her everywhere. Nobody bats an eye at it, and I fucking love it, because it means I get to pull her aside at random times and kiss her, tease her, drive her wild. I get her all worked up until finally, after the show, she’s ready to burst.
That’s how it goes in Chicago. She plays the show and it sounds great, and when it’s through, we head back to the hotel. I fuck her pretty little cunt for a couple hours, get her nice and sweaty and happy, then head back to my room. I whisper sweet things in her ear, let her know I’ll take care of her, and then get out of there. We don’t want a repeat of that other night, so now we’re careful.
I wish we weren’t. The next morning, I wake up to someone pounding on my door.
I’m up and ready in a heartbeat. I’m used to this, going from sleep to action in a second. It’s part of what makes a good Marine, since you never know when the shit’s going to happen. I fling open the door and a nervous-looking maid is standing there. It takes me a second to register her before I open my mouth.
“Come back later,” I grunt.
“Wait,” she says, glancing around. “You are Katie’s bodyguard, yes?”
I narrow my eyes at her. “Yeah, might be.”
“Her door.” The maid points down the hall, in the direction of Katie’s room. “I just saw. You should… you should see.”
I step out, past the nervous-looking maid, and walk over to Katie’s room warily.
I stop and stare at the door, jaw hanging open.
It’s covered in little Post-It notes. That might sound cute, but on each note, something horrible is written.
SLUT
BITCH
WHORE
DUMB
BORING
UGLY
FAT
And on and on and on, maybe a hundred of them. Some of them repeat, like there are a lot of SLUT and BITCH and some of them are pretty stupid (DONE UP HOE) but mostly, it’s awful. I’ve never seen anything like it.
Back in the desert, soldiers could be fucking tough to the new guys. It was part of making them a part of the team. The guys would haze anyone new, not too bad, I’d never let it get out of hand, but at the end of it everyone would go into battle together and be fucking happy and polite. Not everyone was best friends, but they were comrades and that was better.
But this, this isn’t a fucking prank. This isn’t the sort of thing you did to make someone smile or to feel like they’re part of the team.
This is straight up malicious.
I get out my phone and snap a few pictures before I start to tear them down.
“Did you see who did this?” I ask the maid. She’s still lingering, wringing her hands nervously.
“No, no,” she says.
“When’d you see it?”
“Just now. I went straight to you.”
“How’d you know to come to me?” I ask without looking.
“I saw you two. And... I’m a fan.”
I hesitate. “You’re a fan?”
“Of Katie.” She perks up. “That song, “Your Booty,” it’s my song.”
I grin at her. “Yeah, same.” I turn back to the door and finish tearing off the notes. I don’t want Katie to have to see it like this, although I’ll show her the phone pictures.
When I finish, I look at the door then down at my phone. I can’t believe some motherfucker would do this.
But worse, I can’t believe someone knew this was her room.
“How many people know she’s staying here?” I ask the maid.
“Not many,” she says. “Front desk. Manager. A couple cleaning staff.” She shrugs. “I don’t know. Ten maybe.”
“Would any of them do this?”
“No,” she says, looking horrified. “We’re all fans.”
I grunt a little. “Anyone hanging around? Anyone suspicious?”
“No,” she says, shaking her head. “Nobody.”
I sigh, annoyed. What the fucking shit is going on. First the horse head, and now this? Motherfucker.
“There is one thing,” she says, glancing up at the ceiling.
I follow her gaze. Up on the ceiling, pointing down the hall, is this boring looking light fixture. Except it’s not shining.
It takes me a second. That light fixture isn’t a fucking light. It’s a goddamn camera.
I grin at her. “Thanks. You’ve been a big help.”
“Just make sure Katie is okay, okay?”
“She’ll be fine,” I grunt at her. “I’m watching out for her.”
The maid nods and heads off. I linger outside Katie’s door, wondering if I should wake her up, but I decide against it. She’s tired enough and doesn’t need this right now. I’ll tell her later.
I head downstairs to the lobby. The woman behind the front desk looks up at me and smiles. “How can I help you?”
“Manager,” I grunt at her.
She hesitates. “You need the manager.”
I nod. “Please,” I add. I’m not in the desert anymore, after all.