King of Her Desire

50

Abra looked like she was going to have some kind of stroke when I leapt out of the little crowd of guests waiting to be seated and came running her way.

She grabbed hold of my arm and said, "You have to be seated! The pre-show starts in—"

"She can't fucking see!" I hissed. And I yanked her ass all the way over to Elliott.

Who just raised a palm and said, "Sweetheart, it's passing already. The one side is taking longer, but there's no headache thank God."

Abra sort of huddled us all together like we were talking about some deep dark secret or something and asked, "What's going on? What's wrong?" Because if something was wrong she had to make it magically disappear, like...now.

But I told Elliott, "You're gonna lay down or something 'til you're sure."

"Oh, please, I can—"

"And you better go find Gerri, too," I snapped at Abra. "She's the only one who knows what to do."

That terrified her even more. That security might have thrown out the only person who could save her silly ass.

She flapped her arms at some woman with a headset and clipboard and all kinds of lavaliers with these little cards that got her "All Access," "Backstage Access" and all that.

Even with all the passes she looked a little frazzled. But once she actually started hearing what Abra was saying, she rushed us to some sort of lounge and put security in front of it while she barked at somebody to get a doctor "as fast as you fucking can, you got that?! And tell Ivy or the cameras'll pan to an empty seat! Go!"

The thought of that empty seat moment sent Abra running to find Gerri. It was like dominoes falling. Little disasters knocking into each other and threatening to bring the whole show down.

But I didn't give a shit about their show. I sat down and put Elliott's head on my lap while she massaged her temples real show and steady with those long, tapered fingers of hers.

And I said, "We should just take you to Emergency—they'll call your doctor, right? From there?"

But she frowned and said, "Oh, I'm gonna be on that stage tonight. Even if they have to put me in one of those harnesses you guys fly around in on the set."

I laughed, in spite of the panic I was in. And said, "I bet you'd really do that, wouldn't you?"

"Bet your ass I would. They could drop me right down in front of the band—talk about an entrance!"

I didn't want to laugh. I wanted to strangle her, actually, for not saying anything.

Had she even really seen me, when she told me how beautiful I was? Did she know how beautiful she was that night? How all those people's eyes and the cameras flashed when she got out of the car?

Sochi flew through the door with this security guy right behind her and I yelled, "Whoa, hang on, dude! We need her," just as he was about to lunge.

And then I told Sochi what happened in Spanish to stop her from hyperventilating.

And she said, "I can be here. You can go! Because...the cameras...they're looking."

"She has a point," Elliott said. "You've gotta hold down the fort, kiddo."

"I'm not gonna just—"