We’re all panting and hot, the water and exertion bringing a pink flush to our cheeks.
And as I come down from the most intense orgasm of my life, it’s only then that the outside world creeps in again.
I hold Luna tight against me, knowing that this will be the last time we’re this close.
Sometimes love is fleeting.
It sweeps into our lives, taking us by surprise.
Sometimes love can’t be the permanent state we want it to be, no matter how much we want or how much we fight.
Sometimes we have to let go because it’s the only way to save the person we love. Luna can’t be the superstar she is with seven lovers.
Tomorrow will be a terrible day, but for now, my girl is in my arms, and everything is okay.
24
LUNA
I can tell that there is something going on.
All the indications are there in the constantly worried looks passing between my bodyguards. It’s there in the fact that I heard Angelica banging on the door to the hotel suite, but nobody let her in. It’s there when I go to look for my phone, and it’s not in my purse.
I don’t ask what’s happening, though. I’ve learned to trust that my men are doing everything they can to shield me from stresses in the outside world, and I’m tired. So tired of trying to keep me together.
I miss home. I miss my brother and my best friend, Jordy. I miss having my feet firmly on home ground.
So instead of asking why, behind all the bright smiles, there’s an atmosphere similar to a funeral, I settle into bed with Connor and Mo and let them shoulder the burden. I keep my worries stuffed down deep the way I’m used to doing. I swallow my fears and rest my voice like I’ve been ordered to do. In the morning, we’re flying to London.
At daybreak, when everything is packed, Connor gives me a black baseball cap, sunglasses, and a scarf to try to shield me as much as possible from the prying eyes of the pap photographers and rabid fans. “Keep your head down,” he says.
Then Mo hands me some earbuds and a phone that isn’t mine. It’s already playing some calming music, and I don’t question why they want my attention focused elsewhere.
I’m hustled into the waiting car so fast I feel as though my feet never touched the sidewalk. At the airport, we enter into a VIP security area, and all the checks are handled by Steel 7. Today, they seem even fiercer than usual, their eyes darting in a way that seems fearful, muttering observations into their audio equipment.
I have to take off my hat, scarf, sunglasses, and earbuds to pass through the scanning equipment, and it’s then that I hear “Is that really them?” and notice some of the security team whispering behind hands cupped furtively over their mouths.
Someone whistles the way people do when they get a bill that’s too high, or they see something surprising. I’m used to unwanted attention, but this doesn’t feel right.
When I’m approved to fly, I reapply my disguise like a shield that I’m grateful to cower behind.
As soon as we board the flight, the atmosphere changes. Connor sits on one side of me and Hudson on the other. The weight of unspoken words curls Connor’s shoulders and prevents Hudson from directly meeting my gaze.
As I fasten my seatbelt, I pull a sheet of paper and pen from my pocket that I stashed for emergency communication.
Please tell me what’s going on, I write.
Connor exhales, his shoulders slumping even further.
“Someone took pictures of us in the sea in Melbourne,” he says. “They’ve been published worldwide.”
A shivery feeling passes over my face, and my grip loosens on the pencil. Even though Connor warned me about this possibility, I never imagined it would come to pass. We were careful. The only time we did anything in the open, it was so dark I could barely see who was in front of me. How did they get pictures? Stupid question, I think. When people want to uncover dirt badly enough, they’ll find a way to dig.
What’s going to happen? I write.
Connor shrugs a single shoulder; the hopelessness he’s feeling is evident in every movement and gesture he makes. “Blueday is going to fire us. Most likely, we’ll be relieved of duty when we land in London. I’ve avoided talking directly to my contact so we can get you safely to your next destination. You will need to speak to your agent and to the record company and decide whether you will comment on the photos or not. How you deal with it from your side will be up to you. From our side, we won’t make any comments about the images. Everything that happened will remain a confidence between us.”
As I take in what Connor is saying, tears prickle my eyes and constrict my throat. These men who are such an important part of my life will be removed from it, and I don’t have the power to disagree. They’re losing their jobs because of what we’ve done, and their first thought isn’t about themselves. It’s about protecting me and my reputation.
I don’t want them to leave me. I don’t want to face the rest of this tour without them. I won’t feel safe, even in the care of another bodyguard team. I don’t want to be protected by men who don’t care for me. I want the love and affection that we’ve built up together.
But I can’t tell them any of that. My voice has been taken in more ways than one.
Reaching for Connor’s hand and then Hudson’s, I hold onto them like I never want to let them go. Tears slide down my cheek, but I don’t bother to wipe them. I’m so sad inside; my heart is broken into shards that radiate ache right through me.
I don’t even care about my reputation. I don’t give a fuck that Blueday is going to be raging about the damage I’ve potentially done. I mean, what parent is going to want to bring their child to see a singer who is sexually promiscuous? Not exactly ideal role-model material.
This tour is already sold out. The tickets have been purchased. Blueday is going to make their money whatever happens, and I will too. The only people losing out here are my bodyguards.
“It’ll be okay,” Hudson says. “Blueday will hire you a great team, I’m certain of that. Your performances are perfection. All you’ve got to do is keep going the way you have been. Keep your mind on the job this time, and everything will be fine.”
I pull my hand from his to write. No one they hire will be as good as you guys.
“I’m sure they’ll protect you just fine. And they’d better keep their hands to themselves,” Connor growls.
We all laugh at the ridiculousness of the idea that anyone could replace what they are to me. We laugh because Connor’s jealousy doesn’t fit with a relationship that started the way ours did. I made it clear what I wanted was men in my bed. They don’t know that I’ve fallen in love with each of them. They have no idea that when they walk away from me in London that they’ll leave me bereft.
Even though I know it’s impossible, a childish and ridiculous part of me wants them to fight for me. It wants them to argue with Blueday and demand that they stay on to look after me. It wants them to be willing to tell the world that they love me and show that the love we share is the most important thing.
I don’t really know what love is supposed to be like. My parents didn’t love me in any kind of way that I could feel nurtured by. If they did, it was a selfish love that was more about using me and controlling me than it was about supporting and cherishing. My brothers loved me but in an imperfect sibling way. Looking back, I don’t know how much of it was real love and how much was about duty and desperation to have something to cling to when everything around us was falling apart.