The Prospect

THE PROSPECT: CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Tricia

The alarm on my phone pulled me out of my deep sleep and I woke, rubbing my eyes at the sunlight streaming in through the crack of the taupe curtains draped over Kiddo's window.

Curtains I had hung myself two weeks ago.

If I was going to be a prisoner in this apartment, I was at least going to make it feel like home. And I had to admit... it almost did.

Mama and the pups lifted their heads, eyes still heavy with sleep and blinking at me as I padded quietly out of bed. I did my best to be quiet as I woke up, even though Kiddo barely ever woke up when I did. That man slept like the dead. Granted, we had completely opposite schedules. He hadn't come home from some club stuff until well after two a.m. last night. Whereas I was a solid morning person—a product of my early mornings working in the coffee shop, I thought as I crossed the small studio apartment into the kitchen and pressed start on the coffee maker.

Even when I had shows and performances, I was still usually awake by eight a.m. at the latest.

Not that I was performing lately. At all.

Kiddo, Rig, and the rest of HSC thought it was too 'dangerous.' Which was fine for these last couple weeks. The band and I only had some rehearsals and time in the recording studio. But the team was getting restless. I could feel it. They were ready to take some of our new songs for this album on the road.

Hell, I was contractually obligated to perform.

And soon.

I could only stave off the inevitable for so long. I wasn't sure I believed them that my producer, Brie, was in the pocket of the DA or whatever their insane conspiracy theories were this week.

Eventually, I'd have to perform in a crowded space. And after that, I'd have to go on tour. Live on a bus for months at a time with Kurt, Jenna, and Jamie. Even though I knew Kiddo was going to shit a brick at that thought.

But that was a concern for another day. I pulled two mugs down from the cupboard and poured one for myself, adding a splash of cream and a packet of sugar. The other, I left black.

Then I clipped a leash to Mama's collar first, then the pups next. Balancing the two mugs in one hand, I opened the front door, smiling at Bandit, sitting at the top of the steps.

"Good morning," I whispered.

"Mornin," he said as he hopped up, taking one of the mugs from me as well as two of the leashes.

He took a sip and murmured some sort of appreciative grunt. "Damn good cuppa joe."

"Well it should be," I whispered, shutting the door behind me. "I am a professional."

I smiled as the big gruff of a man bent, snuggling the puppy, whom he had affectionately named Lyla for reasons I still wasn't sure of.

"Mornin' Ms. Lyla. How's my beautiful girl?" He scratched behind her ears and she leaned into his snuggles, hopping up on his leg when he stopped petting her, begging for more. "Potty first," he said to her.

I pressed my lips together to stifle my chuckle at the sight of this hulk of a man saying the word potty. It warmed my heart.

Bandit and I had our routine down to a science. He was pretty much my personal bodyguard for the foreseeable future. Usually from the hours of seven p.m. until whenever Kiddo woke up and took over for him.

He hung out at the coffee shop while I worked. Came to my rehearsals and the recording studio. But my favorite part of the day was our morning walks with the dogs. He didn't know it yet, but as soon as the pups were weaned, Kiddo and I planned on gifting him Lyla. I hated to give up one of the dogs, but I couldn't imagine a better home. Mama and the other puppy, whom we had begun calling Thor, would stay with us. And that way Lyla could still see her mama and brother whenever she wanted.