Limelight || A Shourtney Story

.23 if I want to (courtney)

A massive, broad shouldered man charged toward her, his gruff and grim face barely recognizable from the hours before. He swiveled inches in front of her, effectively blocking Courtney's figure behind his back.

"Get out of here, sukinsyn! Darling girl, go back inside!" Ivan's thick Russian accent growled at the reporters.

The imaginary cement weighing down her feet disappeared immediately. Scurrying back into the club, Courtney frantically re-emerged into the now emptying dance floor.

The clock neared 4 am, far later than she had expected. By this point, only a few stragglers remained indoors. It seemed that the slew of bartenders and maintenance workers had already begun their round of clean up, sweeping the floor and clearing miscellaneous cups and napkins from the ground. Some of the main lights had been switched on in an attempt to get partygoers to leave.

A fleeting moment passed so she could catch her breath. She approached the counter of the bar, resting her elbows on the cool granite surface. The momentary panic caused her to breath heavily. Having only been outside for seconds, it was hard to say whether any paparazzi captured a clear image of her. After all, she had been standing behind a crowd of people and from the Trifecta themselves.

Still, a few seconds could have changed everything.

Warm hands clasped her shoulders, taking her by surprise. A soft tenor voice interrupted the panic.

"Hey, are you okay?" Shayne's question sounded like music. Nearly immediately, her heart slowed its rapid pace.

Courtney nodded feebly, unsure how to respond.

"I'm so sorry, Court," blue eyes drilled into hers. Sincerity pooled out of his irises. Worry threatened his brow. Damien and Kimmy quickly joined them indoors.

"Not your fault," she forced a smile. "Did they get anything?"

"We're okay. Ivan threatened legal action for trespassers, so no photos are going to circulated," Damien reassured. A protective arm wrapped around Kimmy's lanky shoulders.

Courtney assessed her friends' expressions. Despite their celebrity status, they were shaken up as well. It surprised her after all these months. She assumed they would be used to moments like these. Privacy seemed more valuable by the second.

"Does that happen a lot?" Courtney weakly questioned.

"More than I'd like to admit," Kimmy sighed. "When we were just starting out, it was fun. Now it's just annoying."

"How are we going to get home?" Shayne asked Damien. His calloused hand clasped on the small of Courtney's back.

"Maybe Cody can help us out," Damien offered. With that, he and Kimmy whisked away to the other end of the counter.

Several minutes later, his car keys were passed off to Cody's trustworthy hands. At the bartender's sage advice, the group headed out of the back entrance of the club rather than the front to avoid any fans or publicity. Cody agreed to act as a valet and bring the car around.

As the group made their way to the back, the city of Los Angeles seemed eerily empty. The back of the club opened into a narrow alleyway between two closely placed buildings. A few street lamps illuminated the pavement from afar, but the darkness of the night kept their identities hidden. Cigarette smoke and raw alcohol permeated the air.