“Are you all right?” Chelsea asked Blue.
“I’m fine,” he responded, but he couldn’t look her in the eye.
“Anyway, they had that going on in Detroit, but then Detroit went bust. At first the drop in the economy was good since it provided plenty of poor and desperate men for the fights, plus there were always businessmen in the city for work. These men were from Wall Street and they had come to handle the bankruptcy papers for the failing city. But then all the big businesses were gone and then the city was gone and then they had more fighters than they had people paying to watch.
So one day, this man in a cheap suit with a whole lot of attitude comes walking into a fight with an offer. He used to run some fighting pits out in Idaho, but then he said things fell apart. He wanted to start up again and was looking for some people interested in the game. He said there was some lot men who wanted to bet on fights in Snowbird; they just lacked fighters. He wanted an advance so he could pay for the type of fighter he wanted. The boys from Detroit would just have to supply the capitol and they would split their earnings fifty-fifty. The deal was agreed upon and they set up some fights down here and, boom, before you know it they’re practically printing money. There’s nothing else like it around so fellas come from states away to see them. Hell, some guys even fly in just for the flights. Can you imagine that? Paying for airline tickets to see one fight? But they do it. So now, they’re more the boys from Snowbird instead of Detroit, they’re doing very well here and don’t want to leave.”
“So Terrance has been involved in this since the beginning?” Blue asked.
“He’s the reason we’re here,” Mitch said with nod. “But I don’t know othing’ about no kidnapped girl or any fights that are coming up.”
“Does that mean it’s one of the secret ones? Is it a fight to the death?” Chelsea asked.
“Could be, but I don’t know. You should leave, though, can’t have that car sitting outside the house this long. If somebody sees and it gets back to the boss, I’ll be screwed.”
“The boys from Detroit, what are their names?” Chelsea asked and she and Blue were pushed towards the door.
“Isaac and Amos Sonata, but you won’t exactly find them in any telephone book,” Mitch said as he opened the door and stuck his head out to look around. He opened it wide and motioned for Chelsea and Blue to leave. “Now, don’t forget what you promised me. Lifelong backstage passes.”
“I remember,” Chelsea said as she walked to her car. “Don’t let anything happen to you, now. I want to make sure you get to come to a lot of shows.”
He waved and smiled as they drove away. Blue drove down the streets quickly, leaving that sad and desolate part of town behind them.
They drove down the highway in silence, each one wrapped up in their own thoughts. Chelsea’s phone was on silent and buried deep in her bag and so she missed the warning from her publicist. It took her a moment to recognize what she saw. Lining the street to her house were black vans and men with huge cameras and long, telephoto lenses. The paparazzi had invaded Snowbird.
“Shit,” Chelsea whispered, sinking down into her seat. This was not good; she looked terrible, wearing an old pair of jeans two sizes two big, a ratty t-shirt, and no make-up. Plus, there was Blue. Either they were going to think he was her boyfriend or her stepbrother, or both.
Blue rolled his eyes as cameraman snapped their cameras at the car and called out her name.
“Chelsea! How are things with Ryan?”
“Why isn’t Ryan with you, Chelsea? Doesn’t he love you?”
“Who’s the guy Chelsea and does Ryan know you’re riding around with some other man?”
Blue continued to ignore them. He neither sped up nor slowed down, but drove as if they weren’t there at all, which caused a few of them to have to jump back quickly to avoid being hit. They pulled into the driveway and Blue and Chelsea emerged from the car.
“Stay off the property,” Blue ordered as the paparazzi all tried to converge on the small front lawn. Chelsea hurried to the door and began to unlock the many locks Blue had added.
“Who the hell are you?” one of them asked.
“I’m her bodyguard,” Blue said taking a menacing step towards the photographers; they all shrank back as Chelsea opened the front door and held it open for Blue who shut it behind him.
“That was awful, I’m sorry,” Chelsea said, she brought her hand up to his chest, but Blue just shrugged and walked away, leaving her hand hanging in the air.
It took twenty minutes for Chelsea to get her first alert. “Is It Over Already? Pop star Chelsea Riley Heartbroken and Back Home.” She opened the link and saw the image of what she looked like right now, rumpled and tired and with red eyes like she had just finished crying. Below that was an article where a source who was a “close friend” of Chelsea Riley’s had this to say, “Chelsea is devastated. She thought she and Ryan were forever. She’s been looking at wedding dresses and expected him to propose any day now; instead he tells her that he needs space and isn’t ready to settle down.”
Chelsea shook her head and took a deep breath determined to not let this nonsense get to her. She wondered who the “close personal” friend was. Chelsea sighed. She needed damage control on these headlines, but she couldn’t call her manager and ask. She was already on thin ice with Lauren and any she knew that the only way to get her help would involve returning to LA and Chelsea couldn’t do that yet.
But there was one person who could help. Chelsea headed towards her childhood bedroom and shut the door. Blue was taking a shower and she knew she didn’t have long.
“Hey, babes, what’s up?” Ryan answered cheerfully on the second ring.
“Hey,” Chelsea said. “I’m freaking out a little bit about these headlines. I look awful in those photos and I’m worried Lauren is going to freak when she sees them. I was hoping you could help me with a little damage control.”
“Sure, what did you have in mind?” He sounded so relaxed on the other end of the line, like he didn’t have a care in the world. Chelsea was jealous of that, she couldn’t remember what it felt like to not be anxious and afraid.
“I don’t know; how do these things normally work?”
“Well, I’ll send out a jokie tweet with the headline, you know, make it seem it like I don’t even take it seriously. Then I’ll have my agent plant a story that we’re going to the Ivy on Friday. That should get everyone out of your hick town and back here. That should buy you a few days.”
“I can’t come back to LA right now,” Chelsea said.
“Yeah, it’s cool. I’ll have a friend tell someone that we were having too good a time in bed and didn’t want to leave.”
“Wow,” Chelsea said. “That’s kind of genius.”
“Yeah, just make it look like you’re packing up, put bags in the trunk of the car and for god’s sake put some make-up on. They’ll fall for it. I’m the one they really want, no offense, but right now I bring in more than you.”
“Fair enough,” Chelsea said with a nod. She still couldn’t quite figure Ryan out. At times it seemed like he was genuinely interested in her and by planting the story with the paparazzi he was helping her. But then he would say something shallow and she would be reminded that none of what they had was real unless she wanted it to be.
Chelsea sighed and fell back against the wall. That was one crisis averted, but her manager and her label weren’t going anywhere. Eventually she would need to go back to LA, or she would lose everything. But the fight was tomorrow night. She was almost done, she could get her sister and get the two of them out of there and they could try and forget about this whole horrible incident.