Page 55 of Layla

Layla

“You’re in a weird mood today, girl.”

I look up from my perch on the couch in the dressing room to see Lance frowning at me.

“I’m just sitting here,” I point out, holding up my magazine. “Not bothering anybody.”

“That’s why it’s weird,” he argues. “When the hell do you ever go a whole day without bothering anybody?”

I roll my eyes and return my attention back to my magazine, trying to hide my annoyance when he sits down on the couch next to me. “That was pretty interesting,” he says, his tone suspiciously casual. I narrow my eyes at him over my magazine—he’s up to something. “Earlier,” he clarifies. “With John.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“He’s so standoffish, you know,” Lance goes on. “All the other guys on the security team are cool. They hang out with us, joke around sometimes. But not that guy.”

I shrug, gluing my eyes to the magazine that I’m no longer reading, not wanting him to be able to see anything in my face. “He seems like the type to take his job pretty seriously, I guess.”

“But he was totally different with that friend of his,” Lance continues. “He actually seemed like the kind of guy we would hang out with, you know?”

I grit my teeth. I had been thinking the same thing all afternoon. It was a nice change, I suppose, from thinking about how fucking mortified I was by his rejection this morning. But it was still annoying—the way he seemed to occupy my thoughts no matter what. That Tim guy showing up had thrown me for a loop. Because Johnwasdifferent with him, just like Lance said. More relaxed. Humor in his eyes. His friend had clearly been the gregarious sort, the way he was joking around with us and John. Not exactly the kind of person I would expect the surly bodyguard to be close with—they seemed so different.

But then, John had been that way with me—open, relaxed, laughing—just last night.

“He always seems like such a hard ass,” Lance goes on. “I don’t think he’s really said more than a few words to any of us in all this time.”

I finally give up on my magazine, looking up at Lance in exasperation. I don’t want to talk about John. Isn’t it bad enough I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him? “Is there a point to any of this?”

His gaze on me is intense, eyes searching mine. “Why did the label hire him, Layla?” he finally asks, his voice soft.

I gape at him, an excuse on the tip of my tongue. Because we’re getting too big, the crowds, usual procedure. All that bullshit Louis has been telling them for weeks. But somehow, I can’t make the words come. The way Lance is looking at me, that tone in his voice…it’s like he already knows.

“They brought him on for me.”

His jaw tightens but that’s his only reaction. He doesn’t even look surprised. “Tell me what’s going on.”

I glance around the room to make sure we’re alone. To make sure Haylee won’t overhear any of this. She’s on the other side of the room, deep in conversation with James, Cliff the roadie, and one of the guitar techs. It does little to ease my mind, but I return my attention to Lance. “I’ve been getting letters.”

He frowns. “Like the ones Haylee got before…?” He trails off, clearly not wanting to saythe abduction.

Worse. But I don’t say that. “They’re worried because he’s been able to deliver some of them in person…in different states. So, they think he’s following me.”

“Fuck,” Lance mutters.

I nod. “You could say that.”

He’s still watching me in that searching way and I wish he would stop. “What else?”

I shrug. “He’s taken some pictures.”

“He’s been able to get close to you. And he’s following you around the country.” That tick goes in his jaw again. “Are the letters threatening?”

They’re fucking terrifying. I nod.

Lance is quiet for a long time. “So, John isn’t a security guard for the band.”

I grimace. “Nope. He’s my own personal babysitter.”

“You’re doing what he says, right?”