Whirlwind

Chapter 1 Jo had never in her life been so grateful for the stereotypical “rock star” treatment. She usually felt ridiculous with the whole limousine, top of the line, special treatment thing. It made her squirm. Sure, a rock star was supposed to be looked at and get attention, but some things just smacked of desperation. When the guys at the record company gave her a private jet to get from the tour to her brother’s wedding and back, she could have kissed them. Simon, her assigned bodyguard for this trip, smirked down at her. “You feeling any better now that we’re on solid ground yet?” His dark eyes didn’t rest on her, of course. He kept them on the crowd, the way he always did. No one seemed to have noticed them, but that could change at any moment. “No.” Jo could be honest with Simon. She wouldn’t have asked him to come to a family event, all things considered, but she’d been more than happy when he volunteered. “No, not really. But it could be worse.” She took a deep breath and found her center, like that therapist she’d seen exactly three times told her. “We’re staying at a hotel. We won’t have to see family more than a handful of times, and those will be super public times when no one will want to cause a scene. So—we’ll be comfortable. Right?” “Right.” Simon put a hand on her back, right between her shoulder blades. It wasn’t long, but it was just enough to give her the support and strength she needed. “And for the rest of the time, you’re going to rest, relax, take care of yourself, and maybe get a little bit of sun.” Jo wrinkled her nose at him. “Ick. Sunshine.” They emerged from the terminal to look for their limo. Jo didn’t see a limo. She did see a car, but it couldn’t have been farther from a limo if they’d tried. The person holding up a piece of cardboard with Jo’s name on it was a woman, a little bit older than Jo herself, and she wore a light purple pants suit. Her dark blonde hair had been restrained in a bun at the back of her neck, and she wore just a little bit of makeup. She leaned against a shiny red Prius. With the exception of the Prius, she made Jo weak at the knees. Simon stopped in his tracks. “You’ve got to be freaking kidding me.” He shook his head. “No. Hell no. This is not what I ordered.” He stormed right up to the petite blonde, keeping himself between her and Jo. “What in the ever-loving hell is this supposed to be, huh?” The driver looked Simon up and down. “I’m here to give Josiane a lift to the hotel.” God, even her voice was perfect. She grimaced. “Er, Izzy didn’t say anything about two passengers, though. And she didn’t say anything about so much, er, stuff.” She eyed Jo’s baggage cart with suspicion. “Um, were you planning to play a show while you’re here, or…” Jo looked down at her guitar cases. She’d only brought two. “I can’t imagine anyone would go for that.” She made herself laugh, because she didn’t want the pretty woman to think she was some kind of dour and bitter jerk only five minutes after meeting her. Of course, Pretty in Purple had mentioned Isabelle, so who knew what impressions the woman had already formed. “But I’m going to be here for two weeks, and since I make my living playing the guitar I definitely can’t afford to get rusty.” Her shoulders settled and lost a little of their tension as she got into her topic. She was on firm ground here. “And the one in the flatter case, the electric, is too valuable for me to just leave behind. I trust the rest of the band, but I’d be foolish just to leave it lying around.” “I guess that makes sense.” Two spots of color appeared in the stranger’s cheeks. “I’m just a little irritated that Izzy didn’t warn me ahead of time. It’s not that I mind having them around, I just probably wouldn’t have said yes if I’d known. It’s going to be a kind of tight squeeze. A Prius only has so much space.” Simon folded his arms over his chest and scowled down at her. “And who exactly are you again? Because I know I made arrangements with a company I trust.” “I’m Valeria Tremblay. I’m the maid of honor. And you’d be…” “I’m Simon Parrino. I’m Ms. Avery’s head of security for this trip. I understand that Ms. Tremblay is the bride, but she doesn’t get to override security arrangements. No one does. Does she not get that my team has had to fend off six thousand fans seeking access to Ms. Avery alone, never mind to the band in general?” Valeria flinched, just a little bit. “Look, I’m sorry. She asked me to help out and I said yes. I had no idea there was going to be an issue, but honestly I probably should have thought of it. I’m not all that into rock music, but obviously I’ve heard of Whirlwind. I should have realized arrangements would have been made and looked into it further.” Jo intervened. “Look. Whatever was going on in Isabelle’s head, I’m sure we’re not going to solve it here. Right? And we’re starting to cause a scene. So maybe we can take Valeria up on her generous offer and call the limo company from the hotel.” She added another bright smile, this time for Simon’s benefit. Simon glared. They’d been working together for so long Jo didn’t need to hear him speak to understand what was going through his head. This is not what we agreed to. She shrugged. He would know she meant, No, but what are we going to do? People were staring, and it was only a matter of time before someone recognized her. Westchester Airport wasn’t equipped for a repeat of the mob scenes that had sprung up at some of the sites where they’d been. She just wanted to get out of here. She gestured toward the front seat, with the implication that Simon could have it with all of its extra legroom. After a long and tense moment, Simon rolled his eyes and slid into the passenger seat. “Fine,” he growled. “But we’re going to have to have a little chat with your sister-in-law about re-arranging travel plans without permission, do you understand me?” “Oh, I understand.” Jo rubbed the back of her neck and moved toward the back of the car. After a second, Valeria remembered herself and popped the hatchback. “Isn’t he going to help you put your bags away?” she whispered, loading Jo’s suitcase into the car. “He doesn’t, usually. The limo driver does.” Jo stuffed her laptop into the vehicle, and then her acoustic guitar. Her carryon came next. The electric would ride with her. “He has to keep his hands free. Plus, he’s in a snit. Please don’t take it personally. The last time someone changed travel plans on our security team like this, they tried to kidnap our drummer.” “Oh my God!” Valeria gasped as she shut the trunk. “Does that kind of thing really happen?” She opened the rear passenger door for Jo and closed it behind her once she was inside. Something warm sparked in Jo’s chest. She tried to push it down. It didn’t make sense. There was no way, no way in hell, that Isabelle’s sister was into women. Even if she was into women, Jo was going to be here for two weeks. She didn’t even stay in New York City for more than a short stretch at a time anymore. They weren’t going to start anything up. That just didn’t happen. “Unfortunately, kidnappings and worse do happen. All the time.” Simon tightened his jaw and glanced back at Jo. “Jo wasn’t kidding. The drummer’s family had gotten caught up in something back in her country. They were criticizing the occupying forces, and so the regime decided they wanted to send some people after her. It, ah, it didn’t go so well.” Jo looked out the window. That had been a terrifying incident, and she wouldn’t forget it soon. She figured Simon would remember it a little longer than she would. He’d been the one who’d had to fire his gun. “So why were you okay with just yelling at me a little?” Valeria changed lanes and cut a taxi off as she spoke. Jo hugged her guitar a little tighter as the taxi honked at her. “A real assassin wouldn’t have referred to Ms. Tremblay as Izzy.” Simon paused before answering, but he was honest with her. “Also, no assassin would drive a Prius.” Jo caught a little bit of his smirk as he stared out the windshield. “Excuse me? It’s a perfectly sustainable, sensible choice.” Valeria frowned at him, just a little bit. Simon gripped onto the handle and clenched his jaw. “It also can’t get out of its own way, the styling is too unique to blend in with a crowd, and it doesn’t have enough space to bring your gear or hide a body. It’s a perfectly practical city car, don’t get me wrong. It’s just not a good car for an assassin or someone like that.” He turned to look at her. “I was with the FBI for ten years chasing down people exactly like that. The ones who picked cars like this? They made it easy.” Valeria puckered her lips, just like she’d bitten into a lemon. “Now I have to rewrite something like fifteen scenes. Maybe more.” She glared at him, almost hitting a town car but swerving just in time. “I’ll be grateful after I’ve gotten some sleep, you know. I don’t suppose you’d be willing to sit down with me and talk about that a little? I’ll buy you a drink for your time.” “I guess I could.” Simon tilted his head to the side and frowned. “Is body guarding rock stars really all that exciting?” “I’m an author. I write mysteries. I can imagine some things, but some things I clearly have no clue about.” She sighed. “Like the fact that my main antagonist in my work in progress drives a Prius. I thought his concern for the environment would humanize him.” “In this case it’ll just annoy other drivers and drive them to homicide.” Simon chuckled. “I’d be glad to help you out with whatever you need, though. Just as long as it doesn’t get in the way of my job. Are you published?” She chuckled and swerved around a slow-moving taxi. “I’ve got a book or two out, yeah. I use a pen name, though. You know how my mother is about some things.” Jo grimaced. She didn’t want to say anything against Valeria’s mother, but she could hardly be expected to be unbiased. Sarah Tremblay had built her fame and fortune on bashing people like Jo, and sometimes actually Jo herself. “So do you feel comfortable sharing the name you use?” “Err, V.T. Saller.” Jo blushed. She couldn’t help it. “Wow. I’ve got, like, three of your books on my e-reader right now.” She saw Valeria’s eyes widen in the rearview mirror. “Wait, really? No way.” “Yeah. I’ve got Colonial Horror, Back to Basic, and Earning Her Wings. I don’t sleep easily, so I read to calm me down. I love—I just love—the way your characters look like the real world, you know? You’ve got characters with addictions, characters who aren’t white, characters who are gay and bi and lesbian—it’s like the real world, but with satisfying conclusions.” Jo couldn’t stay quiet. The words came bubbling up out of her, like guitar riffs. “Sorry. Remind me to be nicer to babbling fans.” “You’re too nice to babbling fans,” Simon told her with a teasing grin. “I’m really glad you like them,” Valeria said in a soft voice as she pulled up in front of the Ritz. “It means a lot to me. I’m a little—well, we can talk later. I’m sure you want to get settled in and stuff.” She passed her card over to Simon. “And yeah, I’d really love to pick your brain at some point. Thanks again.” Simon got out and helped Jo with her luggage, and a bellhop helped them into the hotel. They checked in—adjoining suites, of course—and Jo finally got to unpack and take it all in. She slipped into the shower and washed the grime of her journey away. Last night had been one of the best shows Whirlwind had done in a while. All of their shows were good, of course. Their fans gave great energy, and Whirlwind gave it back to them in spades. Last night had been special, though. She’d almost felt like she was on top of the world last night. Of course, it was easy to feel on top of the world when you knew just how far you were about to fall. She finished washing up and dried her hair. Maybe someday she could come back to Westchester County without feeling like some kind of fugitive, but today was not that day. For crying out loud, she was a grown woman and staying at the Ritz to boot. She could walk out into the mall today and have a thousand fans cheering her name. She didn’t need to worry about rejection anymore. The next two weeks weren’t about her, though. They were about Tom, and his future. She got dressed and headed back into the living room, where she found a text from Simon. You decent? She grinned and snorted. Never. But I am dressed. Simon slipped through the door between their suites. Apparently he, too, had felt the need to shower and change because he wore dress pants and a different shirt. Jo raised an eyebrow. “Got a date?” Simon snorted. “I wish. No, Marcel’s at home. But you usually do like to hit the hotel bar.” Jo made a face. “Is it weird that I feel like I’m sneaking out to grab booze behind the bleachers whenever I drink around here?” She headed for the door. “We’re not going to get dinner any other way, I don’t think.” “No, there’s only the bar and the steakhouse on-site. There’s room service, but you hate room service.” He shook his head at her and followed. “I spoke to the limo company about letting random people change plans. And then I spoke to a new limo company. We should be all set for tomorrow’s fitting. I reached out to the dressmaker on the plane. She was uncomfortable with turning the cameras off, but I made her see reason.” Jo chuckled as they got into the elevator. “I’ll bet you did. You CC’ed the lawyer, right?” “Hell yeah I did.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “Are you going to be okay, Jo? Two weeks is a long time to deal with this stuff.” Jo rolled her shoulders and stood up straight. “Tom wants me here. He’s my brother. And if he wants me here, then I’ll be here.” She let out a smirk, one that looked almost like the ones she threw people in the audience. She could see it in the elevator mirrors. “Besides, me being okay pisses an awful lot of people off. And that’s kind of what I live for, so I’m going to have to find a way to be okay. Right?” The elevator doors opened. Jo and Simon headed out to the bar together, heads held high.