Pop Star (Famous #1) - Eden Finley Page 0,9

the magazine. “Someone who can’t handle a gun shouldn’t be holding one.” He stares at it. “Even if it’s unloaded.”

I glance down to see the magazine is empty. I turn to Gideon. “You gave me an unloaded gun? How is that supposed to protect me?”

“I’m not an idiot. It was to make you feel safer, not to actually use.”

“Hot tip,” Rambo says. “Don’t aim a gun at someone unless you plan to shoot them.”

“I did plan to shoot him.”

“With imaginary bullets?”

“He was in my house.” I turn to the other muscular but prettier guy. “But I’m sorry I pointed a gun at you.”

He smiles. “Not the first time I’ve been shot at.”

“Hey, I didn’t shoot.” Yet. It was close. All that was running through my head was shoot now, think later. Not that it would’ve mattered anyway because it turns out the gun wasn’t loaded.

I’m both thankful Gideon did that and a little pissed.

What if this had been a real emergency?

Bang, bang, Mr. Bad Guy. I’m shooting you with air.

The dude who broke in has really messed me up.

For the first time in all my years of fame, I truly worried for my life that night. There have been close calls before, some scary moments with intense fans, but nothing compares to being face-to-face with someone who thinks they know you and wants the fantasy.

Rambo hands my gun back to me. “Call me Brix. I’ll be with you six days a week.” He nods to the pretty guy. “He’ll be with you on Sundays.”

“Brix? As in built like a brick shithouse?” Fitting.

The other guy scoffs. “Nah, as in dumb as bricks.”

Brix gives his partner the finger. “I go by my middle name Brixton. Even my parents never called me Nolan.”

I eye him again. I can’t help it. “You don’t look like a Nolan.”

“You can call me Iris,” the other one says.

“Which stands for ‘I require intensive supervision,’” Brix adds.

Iris sighs. “That is sadly true. Not that I need supervision, but that’s what it stands for.”

Brix leans in. “He totally needs supervision.”

“Only when in the vicinity of explosives.”

“Good to see you all getting along,” Gideon cuts in. “I’m going to leave you to it. I have a meeting to get to.”

My brow furrows. “Meeting?”

“With the label.”

“What am I in trouble for now?”

“They want you to do appearances about the intruder and talk about it.”

“No way.”

“That’s what I keep telling them. And since there’s a trial coming up, you really shouldn’t talk about it publicly, so I’m going to go and convince them of that for you.”

I release a loud breath. Gideon really is good at his job even if he’s more impersonal than Eleven’s manager. Cameron Verikas was like a father figure to us, but that might’ve been because we were all teenagers when we started out. We needed the guidance and reassurance that he gave. Gideon lacks that, but as an almost twenty-six-year-old, I guess I’m supposed to be above all that now.

I watch as my manager leaves me alone with the two behemoths.

They’re both kind of scary-looking, but apparently my dick likes that.

Who knew?

“I’m gonna take off too,” Brix says. “But I’ll be back soon.”

“Where are you going?” I ask.

“Getting my life in order if I’m going to be away from it for months.”

“Sorry for taking you away from your real life,” I say. It comes out a little sarcastic, but I don’t mean it to. It’s annoying that I have to interrupt someone else’s life so I can feel safe.

“He has no life,” Iris says. “You’re not taking him away from anything.”

Brix doesn’t even give Iris the satisfaction of reacting to his jab. He turns on his heel and says, “I’ll be back in a few hours,” as if Iris never said anything at all.

As soon as he’s out the door, I feel Iris’s gaze from across the room.

Nothing says awkward like facing the guy you were pointing a gun at not five minutes ago. Unloaded or not.

“So, how does this full-time bodyguard thing work, anyway?” I ask.

Iris shrugs. “You tell us. We’re not exactly … trained in protecting.”

I frown. “What are you trained in?”

“Killing.”

My eyes widen, and Iris breaks into laughter.

“We’re all ex-military at Mike Bravo.”

“Mike Bravo,” I repeat.

“The company we work for.”

“The security firm?” That’s what Gideon said they were.

Iris smirks. “Sure. Look, we’ve faced a lot scarier situations than your break-in. We’ll have no problem making sure no one gets to you, but this will go a lot smoother if Gideon has instructions or protocols

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