Mrs. Hildebrandt meets me at the limo and yanks open my door before the chauffer has stopped the car, and before I can find the handle to open it for myself.

“You’re late.” She taps her watch as I exit.

“They sent the limo when they sent the limo, so what could I do?”

“Right. I’m sure it’s fine.” Her pinched frown smoothens out. “I suppose we’re both a little nervous? Are you?”

I nod as she looks me up and down. “Your hair is still wet. Don’t you have a blow dryer? And that outfit.” She scrunches her nose. “This isn’t a camp counselor position. It’s a professional nanny job. Didn’t you have anything better than shorts, flip-flops, and… is that a concert t-shirt from a different band other than Guarderobe? What if they’re insulted?”

I flush as she points at my t-shirt that reads: I Love the Avett Brothers straight across the front, and answer with my head held high, “No one in the music industry would ever be insulted by the Avett Brothers.”

She crinkles her nose in a way that makes me able to tell she has no idea who my favorite band is, and continues to shake her head disapprovingly at all that is, me. “Even though you were hired privately by them, I’m sure they will want to keep up appearances. I suppose you heard that Mrs. Felix owns this entire hotel chain?”

I nod. “Angel explained that.”

“Which is why we all bow down to her so much. Are you going to have a problem with that? With bowing down and being treated like a servant, should they wish to treat you that way?”

“No. I suppose that if I’m the nanny, then I am sort of a servant. Right?”

“Excellent answer.” Mrs. Hildebrandt seems appeased, and smiles for one second before crinkling her brow at me all over again. “I will ask them if they’d like me to send up one of the hotel uniforms for you. Now, whatever you do, do not gush over the members of the band.”

“I’m not a gusher.” I wince a little thinking of me staring at Royce’s six-pack, and then thinking of my elbow connecting to Royce’s face. “And I think they might know that already.”

“Well, good. I’m supposed to give you a long training session about comportment in front of famous people, but we don’t have time, so in short: do not approach the members of the band unless they approach first, do not touch them or any of their personal items without permission, don’t speak out of turn, do what they ask, take no photos, ask for nothing band related, work hard, etcetera, etcetera. Got me?”

Her words are not statements. They’re threats.

“They won’t have any problems with me. I promise. Also, I’m happy I have a second chance to prove myself to you.” I’ve slipped that in, because I need this woman to believe that then hire me after this nanny job is finished.

“So am I.” She hands me a bright red lanyard with a reinforced clear plastic pocket attached to it. “You’re to keep this on at all times. It states you’re staff—not of the hotel—but rather you’re now staffed at a special VIP level for the band. All hotel employees know what that lanyard means, and you will have all access to whatever you need. This red color means you’re part of the actual band family.”

“It does? Why?”

“Because that’s where Mrs. Felix wanted you placed, and because I don’t ask my superiors stupid questions. I also hope you can stop doing it with me, and listen.”

I almost laugh at that, but manage a serious-looking nod and a contrite, “Yes, Ma’am.”

“Good. Our security guards as well as the band’s entourage will know to let you pass. All you have to do is flash the lanyard and say your name. Should they have questions they will find you in the computer system using the number on the bottom.”

“Wow.”

“Yes. Wow. Now, put it on.”

Mrs. Hildebrandt waits for me to comply, and then straightens the red strap so it sits flat and facing forward around my neck.

“Please know that people would kill to have this type of access to Guarderobe.” She next hands me an iPhone. “All red lanyard holders have been pre-programmed with Find My Friends. Do not turn off your location services because the family uses these phones to find each other should there be a fan incident or a paparazzi mob where you’d need to run and hide and require a rescue of some sort.”

I blink. “That sounds scary.”

She nods. “It shouldn’t happen to you as they’ve sworn not to let the baby out of the suite again.” She sighs. “Also against my personal advice, Gregory had me pre-program the telephone numbers for Royce, Adam, and Hunter as well as Vere Roth’s number into your phone. Do you know who she is?”

My brows shoot up, and I start making a list of things I can never tell my brother, as I answer her, “Vere is Hunter Kennedy’s girlfriend. They met in a high school in Colorado and have dated ever since.”

“Nice to know you did your research.” She smiles approvingly.

“My brother gave me the entire low-down. He’s a huge fan.”

Ignoring my comment about Sage, she forges ahead. “Gregory also asked me to add the numbers for Mrs. Perino and Angel. You have permission to text them and check in on your breaks. Don’t abuse it.” She puts a hand on my shoulder and gives it a small shake. “Should the wrong person—like the press or some screaming fan—get the lanyard away from your body, I’m sure you can imagine the terrible ramifications that would have on the band’s privacy. You would also lose your job, of course.”

“I understand. I won’t let it out of my sight. Heck, I will probably sleep with it when I get home, just to be safe.”

“That’s exactly what I wanted to hear you say.” She takes my arm to pull me toward elevators that are almost hidden at the far side of the lobby. “You will go up and down from here as well as enter always from that unmarked side door you came inside using today. I hope you understand my initial reservations when we met. I was following the rules of this hotel. They say no one under eighteen will be hired, and this place is very, very…”

“Strict?” I finish.

“Yes.”

“Angel also mentioned that. He really loves working here, by the way,” I add, hoping my words will help Angel somehow.

“I wish you had told me you and Angel were friends and that you were staying with his family when we first met.”

“If you remember, I left rather quickly.”

She winces at the direct reminder of how badly she treated me. “I hope you can understand I was in too much of a rush. I should have explained myself and the rules,” she says lamely.

“I—I should have tried harder to communicate better.” I smile, hoping she and I will be allies instead of enemies after this. “Angel was really nice to speak up for me.”

“He couldn’t say anything bad about you. He put his personal reputation on the line for you as well, which means a lot after all he’s been through. I know he wouldn’t jeopardize that lightly.” She’s giving me this knowing look. “He’s a good boy and his mother is wonderful, despite their horrific past, right? That poor family.”

I only nod and bite my lip, wondering if what she’s referring to has something to do with Cara’s death.

She leans toward me and whispers, “I’ve thought long and hard about what I would have done if it had been me. One of my siblings. My own mother in danger like that. Many felt Angel should have been locked up, too. Self-defense or not, that boy did kill a man.” She shrugs like she thinks I know what she’s talking about, and my chest grows tight because her words scare me. I can’t ask her a thing, because I’m supposed to already know this. Because Angel and the Perinos are supposed to be my close family friends.

I cross my arms, trying to replay all that she said.

Did she say murderer? Did she say…Angel killed a man?

Mrs. Hildebrandt keeps babbling. “I was with the majority. I agreed that our city was better off without that rat bastard criminal alive. You know?”

I nod, throat closing with more unease.

“Though it’s strictly off record, the judge who tried his case and his attorney think the same thing, that Angel is a hero. That he got a bad rap thanks to too much public exposure, you know?”

She blinks, waiting for me to give some sort of response, but all I can do is nod again as my stomach only drops more.

Judge? Court case? Was Angel in prison or something? Is that why he’s got all the scary tattoos and muscles?

It’s all I can do to hold my calm expression while I wonder if I brought my brother to a house where a convicted killer was sleeping in the basement all night long. The only thing that keeps me calm is that Angel will not be near Sage all day. That he’s here working this hotel’s parking garage right now, and that Mrs. Hildebrandt had said self-defense. She also just called him a hero. Angel and I are supposed to get off work and return to the house at about the same time.

At which time I will be trying to figure this story out. Or, I’ll just ask him to his face.

Mrs. Hildebrandt misinterprets my silence and adds, “Well, you’re right not to talk about it. Too sad to bring it all up again, isn’t it? The press loves re-hashing the whole story. Those ‘true-crime’ TV shows replay it all the time. You can’t stop the press from reporting what’s on public record.” She sighs, and fiddles with my lanyard one more time. “Were you part of those huge protests surrounding his court case?”

I can hardly keep the shaking from my voice. “I—we—uh, no. We didn’t live here.”

“Yes. Of course.” She pats my shoulder. “He’s coming out of it well, though it’s been ten years. I’m happy he has a friend like you.” She blinks at me like she’s all choked up. “Maybe you’re just what that poor boy needs. Are you his girlfriend? Is that why he was so protective of you?” She winks at me.

“Oh. No-no. No!” I feel my face heat.

“Not even a crush?”

“What? No,” I almost shout, flinging my arms wide. “Angel is—he’s not my type, or my anything. I told you, we’re friends… of the family. I have no boyfriend.”

She smiles at my outburst. “Well, I wish you’d answered differently, because now I’m going to be worried. You are young and beautiful in that rosy-cheeked, wholesome way. I don’t think you’ll be the kind of girl the band would ever wish to date, but let me officially inform you that we can’t tolerate any untoward behaviors happening from you. Don’t set your sights on any of the band members. Do you know what I mean? Are we understood?”

“What?” I ask again, shocked by the direction of her thoughts. “Believe me when I tell you I’m here on survival mode. Yes, the band members are all very good looking, I’m not blind or immune to a few blushes or heart flutters, but I’m not here to do anything but work. I want to save money and start a new life for myself here in Orlando. I don’t have stupid Cinderella ideas about rock stars falling in love with the hired help, that’s for sure.” I blush. “I’m not even looking, hoping, or wishing for anything from Guarderobe but to get paid on time. I’ll do a good job and I’ll make you and the hotel proud. That’s all. Officially.”

She laughs. “Mrs. Perino also assured me that you are, in fact, an honest and good girl. I’m happy to note your answers match what she told me you’d probably say. Forgive me, but I had to bring up this unsavory topic. It was like, a test.”

“That’s the same thing Royce told me in the limo yesterday. What’s with that?”

“Working for people like this is not easy. Nor is it easy to be them. Every day it’s a new plan, a new story or a new crisis in play. You will need to learn how to smile and fake that you can keep up with whatever comes at you. They are operating on a different plane of reality. As they most probably won’t trust you, you can’t believe in any of them either. Nor can you believe anything you are told. All they do is make up stories and run from the press, then make up another story, and then keep running. If you’re in the inner circle you must become good at navigating on unstable ground.”

I shake my head, trying to wrap my head around the paranoia levels of these people, but at the same time, I can relate to what she’s just told me more than Mrs. Hildebrandt will ever know. Maybe I have more in common with the band than I thought.

“Anyhow.” Mrs. Hildebrandt shrugs like she didn’t just go too far with her interview questions. “If it helps, I like what I’ve seen and heard so far, outfit aside. Keep up the good work and we shall see about that waitress job.”

Even though she’s said exactly what I wished for, I’m so nervous that I don’t agree or disagree, only make what I hope looks like a real smile and nod a bit more while she pushes the elevator button. The double elevator doors slide open with weighted silence. Mrs. Hildebrandt motions me to go inside, but makes no move to accompany me. “Up you go, dear.”

She hands me a card with a magnetic strip on the back. “This will bring you all the way to the top floor suite, past the receiving floor where Guarderobe’s entourage and extra band members are staying. Tuck it in the lanyard case when you’re done using it. Please…don’t lose this either, or mess up.”

“I won’t. Believe me, I won’t.” My chest feels like it’s got a clamp on it.

The doors close without sound, and I feel the elevator burst up so quickly it drops my stomach to my knees. It zooms even faster, then slows to a stop, opening the doors in to what has to be the top floor, because there’s a view all the way to the sea. Afraid the elevator might send me back down, I quickly step out and find myself in some other world.