Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75862 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75862 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
She’s incredible.
After her song is done, she opens her eyes and gazes out to the crowd, her eyes scanning over me and a small smile playing around her lips. “This next song is one of ya’ll’s favorite songs. I know you’re gonna know it ...”
The crowd starts screaming as the band beings to play what is obviously a favorite of theirs.
“I wrote this song back when I was ...”
Her eyes catch something in the crowd, and she stops mid-sentence, staring with a haunted expression. At what, I don’t know. I turn around, but I can’t see anything but screaming people. By the time I look back to the stage she’s pale as a ghost and the microphone slips from her fingers. Someone rushes out onto the stage, some lady, and tries to talk with her, but she says nothing. The lady stares at whatever she’s looking at, shakes her head like she’s confused, and keeps trying to talk to Scarlett. But she’s gone. Whatever she saw has taken her somewhere else.
The woman pulls her off stage.
The crowd loses it. Screaming.
I turn and start shoving the fuck out of this crowd of people. I get shoved and sworn at, women try to grab me, but I make a beeline for the exit. Something is wrong. I’m going to find out what it is. Security is tight so there is no way in fuck I’ll get close enough to talk with her. Why the fuck didn’t I take her number when I had the chance? I’m a fucking idiot.
When I finally get past all the people and outside, I take a deep breath of fresh air. I can’t get to her here, that’s for damned sure. I can get to her when she gets home, though. So, with long strides, I walk back to my bike, throw a leg over, and head toward the house she’s staying at. It takes me over twenty minutes to get there, and I park my bike up down the road and walk toward the house. There are security guards and cars out the front.
Fuck.
No way I can get in while they’re all standing there like that. They’ll see me. I find a nearby building and just lean against it casually, pulling out a smoke and lighting it up, putting one booted foot up behind me on the wall. Casually, I keep an eye on the chaos happening out front of the house right now. What the fuck happened? Why is security suddenly on high alert? What has gotten them so wound up? Who the fuck did she see in there?
My heart races and my fingers clench.
Is someone trying to hurt her?
Over my dead fucking body.
A black car pulls up another half an hour later, and I see two massive men escort Scarlett inside the house. I’m going to have to wait even longer, but at least I know she’s safe. I stand, puffing through cigarettes, anxiety gripping me for another half an hour. Finally, security at the front leaves and I am able to get around toward her room. Carefully, I go, watching for any sign that I might be seen.
I reach the little deck coming off her room and peer over the railing. She’s not in there. Fuck. I clench my fists again and wait. I can hear voices inside, some shouted, some hushed, some upset. Another ten minutes pass before, finally, I hear her door slam. I peer up again to see her locking it then spinning around in rage and pressing her hands over her face, her body shaking.
She’s crying.
Fuck no.
I’ll kill whatever motherfucker made her cry.
I launch over the railing, walking to the glass doors and pounding on them. She jerks, her hands dropping down quickly, and she stares at me with that tear-streaked face. “Open up,” I mouth at her. She walks over and, with shaky fingers, she unlocks the door. The minute I step in, I put my hands on her shoulders, shaking her just a little. “What happened? Are you hurt? What the fuck went down back there?”
She looks up at me, makes a little squeaking sound, and then starts crying again.
Fuck me if it doesn’t break my damn heart.
She falls forward and face plants into my chest. I hesitate for a second, because I’ve never been good with this comfort shit, and eventually wrap her up in my arms, putting my chin on the top of her head. “Take a big breath. Need to calm down, yeah?”
She hiccups and starts crying harder.
“Scarlett, calm down so you can tell me what’s goin’ on and I can go break some motherfucker’s neck.”
She goes silent for a second and then starts hysterically giggling. Fuck me. She’s losing it. I take her by the shoulders and push her back, looking down at her. She looks up at me, all big puppy-dog brown eyes, tear-streaked face, a little snot running out of her nose, big puffy lips, and fuck me, she still looks like a god damned angel. Even ugly crying. And hysterically giggling. All at the same time.