Chapter 9

“Well done!” Reid slapped Colt on his shoulder. “All these years, I’ve never seen you this … this … electrified. It’s like you had something inside you that you wanted to feed the crowd.”

Chelsea drew back into the shadows behind the stage, watching the group as they stood around complimenting each other on their performances. Colt was looking around as Reid spoke. Was he looking for his special fans? she wondered. She had noticed his friends from the bedroom incident come into the VIP area after the show began.

“Right,” he grunted in his usual monosyllable.

“By the way, where is Chelsea?” Reid peered through the surrounding crowd.

She stepped from her hiding place. “I’m here.”

“You’re all in one piece. Nice outfit, now lose the glasses,” he said with a grin.

Chelsea shrugged. “I can’t see well without them,” she said in her low soft voice.

“We’ll get you new ones. What did you think of the concert ... of Colt?”

Her heart flew to her mouth. Why did he have to ask her with Colt’s eyes burning into her? Colt had settled his eyes on her the minute she stepped out of the shadows, and now she could feel his stare pierce her.

She gave Reid a wide-eyed stare, not knowing what to say. Her stomach fluttered nervously as well. Both he and Colt were waiting for an answer.

“Good,” she replied.

“That’s it?” Reid sounded disappointed. “Only good?”

She could tell that her chest was heaving with each breath she took. She felt the rise and fall of her breasts against the fabric of her blouse. What was she to say? Her eyes flicked to Colt, and he was still looking at her.

“He was …” she said, her breaths were now coming in gasps. “M-magnificent.”

“Wow, Colt, Chelsea gave you the thumbs up!” Reid gave him another slap on the shoulder, but he didn’t take his smoldering eyes off her, and they seemed to scorch her flesh.

Just about when she wanted to flee from his eyes, one of the guards stepped towards him, handing him a note. He took it with a frown, and then walked into the lighted area with Reid on his heels.

“What is it?” the manager asked.

Colt did not answer, so Reid snatched the paper from his hand. The man’s expression immediately hardened, and his mouth twisted angrily. Her eyes went back to Colt who had a blank stare. Something was amiss, she knew by the manager’s reaction. Colt was not reacting at all, and that was scary.

Reid started scanning the area as if looking for someone. In silence, Colt walked towards the tent he used earlier. Reid followed behind, but he was still searching the crowd. The other band members had split apart and were talking with their friends, those that were allowed through the barrier by the security.

Tony trotted up to her with a grin on his face. In his hand was a half bottle of water, and his T-shirt was soaked on the chest and back. His sandy hair was dark from the moisture of sweat. She felt bad that she hadn’t even glanced at him on stage. Her eyes and mind were only on Colt. This fact baffled her.

“Hey, there you are!” he greeted.

“You guys were great.” She returned his smile, hoping that he would avoid asking any question about his performance. She could not remember which instrument he played. Mike was on drums, she remembered that because Molly always spoke of him.

“We’re having a get together with friends for a couple of hours, how about joining us?” he asked with an expectant stare.

She wasn’t sure that was a good idea. What it Reid … or Colt needed her? “I need to ask Reid if he needs me,” she replied.

“Let’s go do that,” he stated and took her hand.

When they reached Colt’s tent, Reid was coming through the flap. He stopped when he saw them, waiting to hear what they had to say. She wondered what the note was about and why he’d reacted to it in that manner.

Tony’s voice split through her thoughts. “The guys are getting together with some friends, I want to take Chelsea along, but she felt she needed your permission first.”

Reid snickered. “You don’t need my permission.”

“Let’s go then.” Tony sounded elated.

As they moved off, another voice echoed behind them. “Chelsea can’t go.” Her legs pulled up short along with her heart. “I need her,” Colt said.

She turned, and he was standing in the entryway of the small cubicle. Reid looked at them both and threw his hands in the air before walking away. Tony glared at Colt, and he glowered back. For about a minute, they both passed daggers at each other until she turned to Tony.

“I’m sorry, I can’t go.”

“I see,” he retorted. His voice took on an icy tone.

She watched him walk away before turning back to Colt. She was about to ask him what he needed when he beckoned her inside the tent. With some amount of reservation, she went in, standing just inside the flap. His back was to her as he spoke.

“You need to set your priorities and remember who you are working for.” His tone was hard.

“Pardon me?” she asked, not comprehending what he said.

He whipped around. “You work for me, no one else,” he spat.

“I-I-I know that,” she returned.

He stepped forward. “Are you sure about that? You seem to be spending a lot of time with Tony.”

“Well … I … he …” she tried to explain. Instead, she apologized. “I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.”

What’s with the attitude? Was what she wanted to ask, but that was not her nature. She sighed. Relaxing her shoulders, she cast her eye on his white loafers as a way to avoid his eyes.

“Let’s go, I’m not in a mood to party,” he said, stepping past her. She followed right behind and almost collided with his back when he pulled up short. “From now on, you go wherever I say, got that?”

“Yes,” was her soft reply.

The guards pulled the barrier to the let the limo through. Colt let her slip in first before taking his seat. There were snacks and champagne inside, obviously prepared for a small party. She wanted to ask why the other band members did not travel in the same vehicle. She refrained. He certainly had the money for two limousines. In addition, the boys seemed to roll with different crowds.

“Are you hungry?” his voice startled her. He’d never asked about her welfare before.

“Yes,” she said.

He opened a mini refrigerator and pulled out two sandwiches, one of which he handed to her. She took it and gave him a grateful smile. Her mouth watered at the pulled pork with cheese on rye. She bit into it with gusto, remembering she had not eaten since lunch.

Though they both ate in silence, she was aware of him. His male scent was intoxicating, and his presence a little imposing. He handed her a bottle of water in silence and went back to his own. The quiet was nice. They were both people of few words, but she would have preferred at least a conversion instead of hearing her blood rush through the vein behind her ears.

When they reached the hotel back entrance and opened the limo door, there was another mob awaiting them. This time, there were flashes of light as people snapped photos. The noise was shell shocking, a distinction from the silence earlier. As before, the bodyguards were on hand to escort them safely. Colt, unlike before, was not smiling and didn’t even look at the crowd.

“Are you okay,” she didn’t know when the words slipped out.

They were at the top of the stairs, and she noticed his tension in his shoulders. He’d donned a white T-shirt after the performance, and she could see his back muscles how they moved. But there were two small bulges at the back of his shoulders that seemed to stand erect. They did not flex like the others.

He came up short. “Just dandy,” he growled. “Just fracking dandy.”

He moved off again and then stopped. There was a man leaning against the passage wall near to the suite door. He had a camera on a string around his neck along with an ID that said, Carl Benson—Journalist. In his hands were a small black device and a pen. Reporter, she noted. She moved past Colt and hurried over.

“Can I help you?” she asked, surprised at how curt she sounded.

“Colt knows me; I’m sure he wouldn’t mind telling me how his night went,” the man said, looking past her, resting his hard cobalt eyes on Colt.

“I’m sorry, Colt won’t be taking any interviews tonight,” she replied evenly.

He looked at her with a smile that didn’t pass his lips. “And you are the new aide, I suppose?”

“You can call it that. If you’ll excuse us,” she replied.

Colt approached and eyed him. She opened the suite door, and he sauntered in. She followed behind and closed the door, shutting out the reporter. However, she came to a dead halt when she noticed a man standing across the room near the window in the shadows.

Colt stood rooted to the spot. The blood had drained from his face, and he stared blankly at the man. Chelsea moved into action and plucked her cell phone from her pocket, dialing the security guard’s number. He was less than a minute away. She was sure they hadn’t yet reached the staircase.

“Hello, Colt,” the man said, stepping into the light.

Right about then, the door burst open, and the two bouncers came through. She pointed to the man, and they rushed forward. While they were at it, she dialed Reid’s number.

“I’m in the elevator, what’s happening?” he answered.

“There’s a man in the suite, I called security, but Colt looks weird, like he’s seen a ghost or something,” she said in a low voice.

“I’m in the hallway,” he said and hung up.

“Let’s go, buddy,” one of the security guards said. The two guards held one arm each in a bid to escort the fellow.

“Are you going to let them do this Colt? I’m your brother for God’s sake!”

The guards paused at the same time as Reid entered. The security men looked at them for answers, and Reid jutted his head towards the door.

“Take him out,” he said. “He has no right in this room without an invite. If he wants to see Colt, he’ll have to get in line just like everybody else.”

The men pulled at the man whose face twisted angrily. It then occurred to her that she’d seen him. He was the same man she saw that evening while leaving for the concert. The look on his face then was no different from the look now. His face was hardened with hatred, and he did not try to hide it.

When she peered over at Colt, he was still blank. He walked to the sofa and sat. She followed and perched beside him.

“Are you sure we should send him away?” she quietly asked.

“He’s not my brother. My mother married his father, and we are no longer family,” Colt told her, his tone bland.

She heard the door open and then slam shut. Reid walked over, looking down at Colt, but he spoke to Chelsea. “I’ll take care of him, don’t worry. Just rest and prepare for the press tomorrow.”

Colt stood and looked at Chelsea. “Don’t go too far,” he said and walked to his room.

She looked on as the door snapped shut. She glanced over at Reid, not knowing what Colt was asking.

“Don’t worry, he won’t bother you. Just stay here the night. I’ll be here as well. You can have the sofa.”

“Okay,” she replied. “I’ll just freshen up and get a few things.

* * * *

Colt showered and slipped naked under the sheets. The night was warm, and he turned up the AC. Sleep refused to come as flashes of things he could not fully recall entered his mind. He saw blood and heard his mother’s screams, but that was it. Try as he might, he could not remember much more.

He turned over in the bed and buried his face in the pillow, willing the images to leave him. They stayed with him. He knew those images were of when he was only a boy, but he understood the pain and felt the anger. Then there was the blood.

He must have drifted off because he awoke in a cold sweat to the sounds of his own screams. Chelsea rushed in, followed by Reid. He sat up abruptly and gasped for air. The room became stuffy, making him feel as if he couldn’t breathe.

Everything seemed blurry. He made out Chelsea running back to the hall and returning with a glass of water. He downed it in one gulp and laid back on the pillow. The dream eluded him as his breathing steadied and his heart rate returned to normal.