By the time I’ve eaten and we’re ready to head out, I’ve calmed a bit, but the anxiety comes back when we all get into the car. Gideon sits up front with the driver, and I’m sandwiched between Brix and Iris much like I was in the desert.
Those first few days after the break-in, I was rattled, but since Brix has been looking after me, I haven’t actually given the guy much thought.
Now, though, in my head, he’s about seven feet tall and three hundred pounds of muscle. I’m sure he wasn’t that big, but my mind has turned him into this Goliath of a man.
For the first time in my life, I’m thankful for LA traffic and silently hopeful we’ll be too late for the hearing.
We’re not that lucky.
Not only do we make it on time, we’re there early enough to find the guy waiting outside the courtroom with his lawyer.
Yep, definitely not Goliath-sized. Actually, he might even be shorter than me. Not by much, but still.
My mouth dries, and my throat gets scratchy.
I falter in my steps and pause. Gideon’s on one side of me, Brix on the other, and Iris is at my back. Yet I don’t feel any safer.
The guy may be smaller than I remember and may look harmless, but the helplessness that had me frozen that night has me unwilling to take another step.
“You got this,” Brix says.
No, I don’t got this. I try to open my mouth, but it’s too dry. Swallowing hurts.
“Restroom,” I croak.
“This way.” Brix takes my arm and gently leads me toward the bathrooms. “Wait here.” He leaves me with Iris outside the men’s room and reappears ten seconds later. He leans in close and smiles. “All clear.”
I appreciate the running joke, but I can’t bring myself to laugh at it right now.
Brix turns to Iris. “Don’t let anyone in.”
Iris does as he’s told and blocks the door as soon as we’re through it.
I pace the small area, trying to get all this excess nervous energy out.
Brix casually leans against the counter where the sinks are. “Breathe, Pop Star.”
It doesn’t work. I keep pacing.
“Who is he?”
My gaze snaps to his. “Who?”
“William ‘Billy’ Webber. Who is he?”
“He’s the guy who broke in. You know that.”
Brix shakes his head. “Nope. Well, yeah, he is, but that’s not all he is. He’s twenty-one. Goes to UCLA. Works part-time at Rent A Geek. His parents are divorced, he has a dog named Waffles, and he may or may not run a fan site that speculates about Harley Valentine from Eleven being gay where he notes every single instance of ‘gay’ behavior. He’s also convinced you and Ryder were in love at one point and started the hashtag trend Ryley4ever.”
I finally have the ability to stop my legs from pacing. “How do you know all this?”
He folds his arms, and his biceps flexing is enough of a distraction to keep me from going back to freaking out. “It’s my job to protect you. You didn’t think I’d research the guy who made you need protection in the first place?”
“And? What else did you find? Mental illness, he used to kill animals as a child, what?”
Brix lets out a little laugh. “No. None of that. From what I can find, he’s a slightly too-obsessed fan who had his head in the clouds and got carried away on a notion that the glimmer in your eyes that you give all your fans was just for him.” He lowers his voice. “I can’t say I blame him.”
“What?”
Brix ignores me. “Now, who are you?”
“All I am right now is confused.”
“Not trying to be philosophical or deep here. Who are you to the public?”
“Harley Valentine,” I say quietly.
“Harley-motherfucking-Valentine. You’re a Grammy-award-winning artist with millions of fans. Your life is perfect. Blushing fiancée, millions of dollars, and you’re happy, happy, happy.”
“You know the fiancée thing is bullshit and about to come to an end.”
He points outside. “Everyone out there doesn’t. Putting your life next to Billy’s, he’s nothing. He has nothing. You’re above it.”
I finally get what he’s trying to get me to see. “So I shouldn’t let him have any power over me.”
“Exactly. I’m going to regret the day you finally see all this shit for yourself. You won’t need me anymore.”
That’ll never happen. Brix always manages to make me see things from another side, and I don’t want to lose that. But he’ll go back to his real job when I