Bodyguard: Target (27 page)

‘It’s not what it looks
like,’ protested Charley over the phone the next morning.

But Gonzo’s photo was compromising
in every way – the candlelit restaurant, a red rose on the table, Ash
with his
hand cupping her face and her mouth slightly parted.

From the angle the photo had been taken,
it appeared the famous rock star was about to kiss her. And the camera never
lies.

Charley stared in dismay at the image
now making the front page of every tabloid and celebrity newsfeed in the world.
‘Wild Boy Tames Wild Cat’ and other puns accompanied the picture
that
had been published within hours of their dinner.

‘Yeah, you’re just doing
your job,’ said Blake flatly. ‘It’s good to see you’re so
committed.’

‘For heaven’s sake, nothing
happened. Please don’t get jealous.’

‘How can you expect me
not
to be jealous?’

‘I expect you to trust me,’
pleaded Charley.

‘Well, that’s a little hard
considering the evidence,’
he
replied frostily.
‘And you rarely return my calls. You’re obviously too busy with Ash. I
think we should end it, don’t you?’

Charley couldn’t speak; Blake had
been her friend since joining Buddyguard. He’d been the one to stand by her
when all the others had doubted her abilities. She didn’t want to lose him,
not like this.

But before Charley could manage a reply
he dropped another bombshell.

‘Anyway, I’ve started seeing
someone else, so it’s probably for the best,’ he said.
‘That’s what I’ve been wanting to tell you.’

‘What?’ exclaimed Charley,
but he’d already ended the call. For a moment she sat staring at the mobile
still in her hand. Then she picked up the newspaper with the offending photo and
flung it across her hotel
room. It hit the opposite wall, its pages scattering like
autumn leaves.

‘I warned you the paparazzi could
make your life hell,’ said Big T, leaning his great bulk against the door
frame to her room.

Her vision swimming with tears, Charley
sobbed, ‘Blake’s dumped me because of it!’

Stepping into the room, Big T wrapped a
heavy, tattooed arm round her shoulders to
comfort her. ‘Then the boy’s
an idiot. He’s no idea what he’s lost.’

‘H-he says he’s seeing
someone else!’ said Charley, her voice hitching.

Big T scowled. ‘Then he’s a
double
idiot! But maybe it was just a cheap shot to have the last
word?’

‘Why would he
do that?’ asked Charley.

‘He’s a boy. His
pride’s been hurt.’

‘But I didn’t cheat on
him!’

‘I know,’ said Big T with a
sympathetic smile. ‘But bodyguarding and boyfriends don’t mix, I’m
afraid. There’s little room for relationships in this line of work. I should
know. I’ve two ex-wives!’ He gave a hollow laugh.

‘None of this would have happened
if it wasn’t for that photo!’ Charley ground her teeth, her sorrow now
replaced by anger. ‘How did Gonzo find us?’

Big T shrugged. ‘Most likely an
informant in the restaurant itself. Pap agencies spend literally tens of thousands
of dollars a year on their snitch network. It’s hard to keep any
celebrity’s movements secret these days.’

‘But wasn’t he fooled by
Pete?’

‘Yes, hook, line and
sinker,’ said Big T. ‘Gonzo followed us all the way back to the hotel.
He staked out the
entrance with everyone else. The only way he could have known you
were at that restaurant was a tip-off. And whatever he paid the snitch it’s
nothing compared to the small fortune he’s raked in selling that single photo
of you two.’

Charley clenched her fists in frustrated
fury; while she suffered the consequences of the lie, that leech had profited.
‘Well, he’d better
leave us alone now.’

‘Fat chance. They’re
vampires, remember?’

Charley’s phone rang. It was
Colonel Black. She braced herself for another reprimand.

‘Charley, this
isn’t
what I meant by keeping a low profile,’ he began, his
tone surprisingly even and restrained.
‘But I suppose it
was inevitable. You can’t protect one of the most famous pop stars in the
world
without attracting attention yourself. I just need to know, has a line been
crossed here?’

‘No, of course not,’ she
replied.

‘Good. If that’s the case,
then stay on the assignment, for now at least.’

‘Thank you, Colonel,’ she
said, relieved simply to have escaped a shameful dismissal. Besides, after her messy
break-up with Blake, she didn’t want to go back to headquarters
any time soon.
‘I assure you it won’t happen again.’

‘No, I’m sure it
will,’ Colonel Black corrected her, much to her astonishment. ‘Kay and I
are both in agreement. Considering the circumstances, being Ash’s girlfriend
is the perfect cover.’

‘There are literally millions of
girls who’d kill to be in your position … me included,’ said
Jessie, giving Charley a brief congratulatory hug when they met at the side of the
stage for
Ash’s Dallas concert. ‘Ash always had eyes for you, so
I’m not really surprised. You two are a match made in heaven.’

‘Well, it was certainly a surprise
to me,’ Charley replied with an awkward smile. She was still reeling from
Blake’s betrayal.
How could he be so heartless?
She’d tried
calling him on his mobile, but he refused to answer – his determined silence
as hurtful
as his sudden dumping of her. However, becoming Ash’s official
girlfriend overnight was an even greater shock to the system. Suddenly everyone
wanted to know her – fans and paparazzi alike.

There’d been a huge explosion of
online chatter and gossip about the blossoming romance. More of Gonzo’s
pictures had been released: early shots of the two of them leaving the after-show
party in New York; the time they’d sneaked out of the hotel in Pittsburgh to
go running; the now-infamous moment she’d leapt to Ash’s defence; the
anxious seconds after the car crash in New Orleans and other
random shots from the rest of the tour. Ignoring any timelines or contexts, the
press had created a whole fiction around the photos – a celebrity story of
young love through
the tabloid lens of the paparazzi.

Guardian Angel Turns Love Angel
…

Ash Runs Wild With New Girl
…

PR Blonde Captures Rock Star’s
Heart
…

Investigative reporters had tried to dig
up dirt on Charley, some even resorting to fabricating lies about her past, but
Charley knew the press wouldn’t find anything on her. Besides her surname
being changed for the
assignment, the personal records of all Buddyguard recruits
were meticulously doctored to conceal their double lives as young bodyguards. This
was for the security of the Principals as well as the recruits.

But the past wasn’t as interesting
as the present for the celebrity-hungry masses. Besides the big question of whether
it was true love or not, Charley’s looks were a huge
subject of debate among
girl fans – her blonde hair, her sky-blue eyes, her slim neck, her athletic
figure, her teeth, her nails, her taste in clothes. There was no part of her body or
image not dissected and commented upon.

The internet was teeming with these
posts and, against her better judgement, Charley had read some. She couldn’t
stop herself. Skimming the comments,
she was relieved to discover many opinions were
flattering and supportive. But there were also a lot of spiteful remarks and cruel
barbs. Some had been deeply personal and truly hurtful. Even
though Charley realized they were written by trolls – bullies who only
wanted to offend and humiliate – she couldn’t help feeling upset at the
unjust and unwarranted abuse. Many fans wrote
that they hated her and she
didn’t deserve to be Ash’s girlfriend. Some wished her dead. A few even
threatened to kill her if she hurt Ash or broke his heart.

After a miserable hour of internet
surfing, Charley forced herself to stop. Like poison ivy, the hate infected all the
fan forums and dominated her thoughts, sending any nice remarks into oblivion.
Charley’s sense
of self-worth was becoming seriously undermined. She was
having a taste of Ash’s celebrity life and she didn’t like it one
bit.

Pete, on the other hand, was relishing
his role as Ash’s decoy.

He’d once again fooled the fans
and diverted the paparazzi before the real Ash left his hotel for the gig at the
Dallas arena. A few photographers had lingered behind, hoping for
an exclusive shot
of the rock star’s new girlfriend. But Charley, along with Ash in a hoodie and
dark glasses, had managed to evade detection, departing from a side entrance thirty
minutes later. The two Ash Wilds had eventually been reunited in the venue’s
dressing room.

Now disguised in a baseball cap and
horn-rimmed glasses, Pete stood beside Charley and Jessie, his
backstage pass worn
like a medal of honour on his chest. He had the biggest grin on his face and his
eyes never left Ash as his idol entertained the Dallas crowd.

‘How are you
enjoying the show from backstage?’ Charley asked him.

‘It’s amazing,’ he
replied, his gaze not wavering from his rock-star hero. ‘I feel this affinity
with Ash. It’s like we’re one.’

Charley
just nodded. The background
check had revealed Pete lived in Norwich, England, with his grandmother. He was
actually eighteen years old, but looked and behaved much younger. He worked for a
delivery company as a packer, had six GCSEs and a Diploma in Computing to his name,
and held no criminal convictions. The boy was totally unexceptional. He simply
seemed to live his life
through Ash, as confirmed by the photo he’d posted on
a Wildling fansite of his bedroom plastered with Ash Wild posters and memorabilia.
For that reason alone, Charley thought the boy a little weird and intended to keep a
close eye on him.

When the band kicked off with the track
‘Been There, Done That’, Pete started busting moves, playing air guitar
and belting out the
words to the song. Charley and Jessie exchanged glances, trying
not to laugh. Pete may have looked like Ash and been able to replicate his dance
routine, but he certainly couldn’t sing like him.

‘Hey, Pete! Do you want your own
mic?’ suggested Jessie, grabbing a microphone from a nearby stand.

Pete glared at her, his eyes flashing
like a wild animal’s and his lips curling
into a snarl. Any resemblance to Ash
vanished and for a moment Charley thought he might pounce on Jessie.

Then the bearded
roadie Geoff intervened and snatched the mic back from her. ‘I told you before
–
don’t
touch the gear!’ he hissed.

The joke having fallen flat, Jessie
meekly apologized and backed away. Pete returned to staring at his idol, the mocking
apparently
forgotten.

On stage Ash proved why he was the
superstar he was, dazzling the audience with a guitar solo that would have made Jimi
Hendrix proud. In response the Dallas crowd almost lifted the roof with their
screams. Charley spotted the chef in the front row with his two daughters. He looked
to be having the time of his life.

When the song came to an end, the stage
lights faded and the roadie hurried past Charley to set up the stage for Ash’s
final acoustic set. This was the part of the show Charley enjoyed best. Stripped of
all the high-end production, video effects, dancers and backing band, this was Ash
at his most pure and honest.

A boy, his guitar and a voice.

It was hard for anyone not to fall in
love with him when he performed
like this.

The arena darkened until a single spot
illuminated Ash in a halo of golden light at the tip of the guitar-shaped stage. He
adjusted his stool, checked the tuning on his acoustic guitar, then put his lips to
the mic. At once his whole body went rigid and he keeled sideways, crashing to the
floor.

Charley raced out on to the stage. She
had no idea what had happened. Had a fan thrown something at Ash? Was it a heart
attack? Had he been shot? Had the maniac promising ‘no more encores’
struck? Whatever the cause, her overriding instinct was to protect him from further
harm – if he was still alive.

The whole arena had fallen into stunned
and horrified silence as Ash lay motionless in a heap at the far end of the stage.
For Charley, the guitar-shaped runway seemed to extend forever as she sprinted
towards his inert body.

A technician reached Ash first.
He took
hold of Ash’s shoulder, then shuddered, jerked his hand away and fell
backwards. In that instant Charley knew what was wrong. Ash had been
electrocuted.

Picking up the fallen wooden stool,
Charley shoved the lethal microphone away from Ash’s body. She checked for any
other dangers, then knelt down beside Ash, praying he wasn’t dead. An electric
shock with a
strong enough current could stop the heart.

‘ASH!’ she called, but there
was no response.

Confirming his
airway was clear, she checked his breathing and circulation. His pulse was a little
weak, though the fact he had a pulse was reassuring. The problem was … he
wasn’t
breathing.

This time Charley knew Ash wasn’t
faking it.

Pinching his nose, she leant over
him,
covered his mouth with her lips and began CPR. She was vaguely aware of anxious tour
crew and security gathering round her. The offending microphone was isolated and
disconnected. A stretcher was brought down by two medics. The audience were softly
whispering and weeping as they watched the scene play out. Still Charley kept up her
rescue breaths, focusing on the task in
hand and not letting panic control her
emotions.

‘Charley, it’s Big T,’
said a voice in her ear. ‘The medics can take over.’

Charley shook her head and persisted
with CPR. Ash was her responsibility. She would not let him die in her arms. She
lost all track of time. It could have been seconds, minutes or hours that passed,
but halfway through a set of rescue breaths
Ash regained consciousness. His eyes
flickered open and he took several breaths on his own.

‘Hey, Charley …’ he
said, smiling. ‘Hope you’re not going to break my arm for
this.’

‘No,’ she replied with a
relieved smile, recalling her previous threat about if he ever tried kissing her
again. ‘As you said, it’s worth the risk.’

One of the medics helped Ash sit up.
Seeing their idol rise from the dead, the whole audience applauded and whooped.

‘OK,
let’s get you to the hospital,’ said the medic.

‘Later,’ said Ash, waving
off his help. ‘I’ve a gig to finish.’

‘But we need to do a thorough
medical examination,’ insisted the medic.

‘I feel fine,’ declared Ash,
standing up on his own. ‘If Dave Grohl can finish a tour with a
broken leg, I
can certainly perform after a little shock to the system.’

‘Little?’ queried the medic.
‘You were knocked unconscious and stopped breathing.’

‘That’s rock ’n’
roll for you!’ Ash laughed. ‘Besides, can’t you hear
that?’

His legion of fans stamped their feet
and chanted, ‘ASH! ASH! ASH!’

‘The show must go on,’ he
said, grabbing a wireless mic.

Charley thought Ash was a little high on
adrenalin, but otherwise he seemed unharmed. It was nothing short of a miracle. Ash
took hold of Charley’s hand and raised it to the sky.

‘Talk about the kiss of
life,’ he announced to loud wolf whistles and rapturous applause. ‘My
guardian angel!’