Double Act

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Emerson watched the news story with his mouth open. The anchor offered vague details without relating information about the incident. It was “allegedly this” and “allegedly that.” But they played a cell phone video of Emerson pushing Sean out of the way. The video looped, over and over and over. When he viewed it from the outside, as a watcher, it looked unreal.

The footage caught him diving for Sean, but where he remembered his hands thrusting Sean out of the way, the video showed something different. In actuality, Emerson’s arms encircled Sean, pulling him into Emerson’s chest. Then they fell sideways and rolled. No wonder Sean was nearly unharmed. It was Emerson who took the brunt of the fall. From this perspective, he did look like a f*****g hero.

The news anchor gave more information on Sean, a three-time Grammy-winning pop singer, and how lucky he was to keep his hands unscathed. With an upcoming tour, the solo star needed both to play his guitar.

After the shock wore off, Emerson grabbed his laptop and googled Sean’s name. Thousands of news articles, interviews, videos, and pictures popped up. The man was a media darling. He’d attended the president’s State Dinner last month. His Twitter account had ten million followers. His songs were played on the radio, on commercials, on television shows.

Curious, Emerson played one song—“Flyin’ High”—and realized he’d heard it before. It wasn’t bad. Not really his taste. But the vocals were amazing. While talking, Sean had a monotonous voice, with very little inflection, and was pitched a tad too high. But singing…it was like a dream. Deep and smooth, with one hell of a range. It was amazing.

Looking at the pictures online, Emerson had a hard time connecting the beautiful singer to the bloodied man he’d met today. Sure, the outfits were the same—that posh model look—but the photos hadn’t caught his personality. His spark of boyish charm and whimsy.

And the man had kissed Emerson.

This is so unreal.

He expected his parents, or his siblings, to call and beg for the gossip. But as the night wore on, and he ate dinner alone in front of the television, his phone didn’t ring. Well, he hadn’t been identified, so maybe all his relations had missed the news tonight.

He brushed his teeth and dressed in his pajamas. As soon as he plugged in his phone to charge, it rang and vibrated in his palm. He answered it quickly, not even glancing at the caller ID. It had to be Mom.

“Hey,” he answered cheerfully, getting ready to dish all he knew.

“Hi, Emerson? This is Sean Stirling.”

A long, unintelligible sound emerged from Emerson’s throat.

“Hello?” Sean said.

“H-hi, Sean? Hi, this is Emerson.”

“Oh, thank God. You were harder to track down than I anticipated.”

“Okay,” he replied stupidly.

“How are you feeling?”

Emerson gave himself a mental shake to get his mind working. This was an easy question, one he could answer without thought. “I’m sore. How about you?”

“Better now that I’m home. Macie—my manager—made me sit through a meeting with my record label. Can you believe it? She doesn’t even treat me like I’m a person.”

Emerson snorted. Then he realized that would sound rude. He rushed on to cover his blunder. “That sucks. But I’m glad you’re better now. How’s the head?”

“The pain meds are doing the trick. I’m just sad I can’t wash it down with a beer. Macie’d kill me if I mixed drugs and booze.”

“Not a good combination,” Emerson agreed.

“So, did you see all the media coverage you got?”

“Me? They didn’t say anything about me. But they gushed about you.”

Sean laughed, a sound like bells. “I’ll set them straight on who my savior is, if you want. I’m sure they’d love a name to go with your beautiful face.”

“No, thanks,” he said, trying to ignore the fact that this famous man was trying to flirt. This guy flirted with everyone. Emerson had to keep reminding himself. “I’m fine staying anonymous.”

Sean didn’t press it. Instead, he said, “That video was amazing, though. I can’t believe how badass you looked, swooping in like superhero. God! It was so incredible to see.”

“I’m just glad you weren’t seriously hurt.”

“You’re a very kind man.”

Emerson shut his eyes. The man is a manipulator. “Thanks.”

“I was wondering if I could take you out for coffee tomorrow. As a way to express my thanks.”

“Uh, I have to go to work tomorrow.”

Sean made a noise similar to grunt, but coming from him is was so much flatter, almost like a dog bark. “I forgot about work. At Olympus Cruise Line, right?”

“Yeah. I’m surprised you remembered that. I was pretty sure you were in shock the whole time we spoke.” Some of the things the singer said had sounded like he wasn’t thinking clearly.

Sean laughed again. “I probably was. I probably still am. But what about before work? You go in at…what? Eight?”

“Eight.”

“So, coffee at seven? We can meet somewhere close to your office.”

Emerson hesitated. What purpose could this celebrity have in meeting Emerson for coffee? Simply to say thanks? Rich, famous people didn’t give a f**k about poor saps like Emerson. So what was Sean’s real reason for wanting to meet?

Was it worth finding out?

It wouldn’t really harm anything. I mean, I’m the one who will get the perks out of having breakfast with a Grammy-winning pop star.

“Yeah, I guess that works. There’s a coffee shop in my building on the ground floor. We can meet there, if you want.”

“I’d love to. What’s the crossroads?”

“I’m in the 461 Fifth Avenue building. It’s at—”

“That’s right where I fell!”

“Yeah, I just got off work. You’re lucky the elevator was full and I had to wait for the second one.”

“Wow, talk about fate.”

Emerson almost snorted again. He wasn’t one who believed in grandiose ideas like that. Work hard and life was rewarding. Fate didn’t play into it.

“What were you even doing out in that outfit? You looked dressed for a runway.”

“I actually was ditching a photoshoot. Some stagehand was being a f*****g i***t and talking about my ex-boyfriend.”

“Oh, Carl Flores.”

Sean made a soft gasp. “So you do know who I am?”

Heat touched Emerson’s cheeks and he was glad Sean couldn’t see him. “Actually, I googled you.”

“Just don’t believe everything you read.”

Grinning, Emerson said, “I read that you’re really talented and your past two albums have hit number one on Billboard’s pop charts.”

“Well, that you can believe.”

Emerson’s smile widened. He couldn’t believe he was actually flirting back with Sean Stirling. This was going to be a slippery slope.

“Well,” Emerson said. “I better let you go, Sean. Some of us mortals need our beauty rest.”

“You don’t need any. But I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, have a good night.”

Emerson ended the call and realized his heart wasn’t racing. Talking to Sean hadn’t been nerve wracking or scary. They’d fallen into easy banter and calm discussion. Emerson started out nervous, but it had left him. No knot formed in his stomach as he thought of coffee tomorrow.

Probably because my mind doesn’t believe this is happening. Give it time to sink in.

He plugged in his phone then lifted Ninotchka onto the lumpy mattress. He climbed in beside her and flipped off the light on his bedside table.

“Goodnight,” he told her, giving her soft ears a quick stroke.

She grunted in reply.