Runaway Model (16 page)

"There's a better hotel than this one?" Bryce smiled. "I'll have to fire my travel agent."

Kyle mixed a second mimosa. More orange juice and less champagne in this one. Bryce didn't like it that he was always calculating how much people drank, but he was relieved to see that Kyle clearly wouldn't be finishing the bottle.

Possibly he wouldn't have usually had the second glass. But he seemed to be nerving himself up to say something. 

"What's wrong?" Bryce asked.

"I'm supposed to be blogging Stoney's tour. Me fans are waiting for me trip reports. There's a concert in San Antonio tomorrow night. They're holding me ticket at the will call."

Bryce was speechless.

"I meant to take the bus but now there won't be time. Jake said about the private jet—"

"No, Kyle. No. The answer is no."

"You haven't heard me question yet."

"I'm not flying you to the Stoney Rockland concert. Your blogging career is at an end. It's too dangerous with a stalker out there waiting for you."

"I already told you, mate. I'm not giving up me music. If you won't fly me, I'll get there on me own. But I'll get there."

Bryce should have told him in the first place. Or he should have asked Dr. Jacobsen to tell him. God knows he paid her enough.

"Kyle."

"I'm away to the airport then. If you won't fly me, I still have time to go commercial."

Bryce grabbed his elbow. He shouldn't have, but he couldn't stand by and watch Kyle walk away. Not again. "Kyle. You cannot, trust me, you cannot ever attend another Stoney Rockland concert."

Kyle carefully pulled his arm away. "Why would you say that to me, mate?"

"You and Stoney. He did come to see you. But he didn't know you. He didn't remember you until he saw the ring."

Kyle wasn't a blushing violet, but he may have blushed ever-so-slightly then. "I can explain about the ring. Stoney will understand."

"Stoney said he never wanted to see you again."

"That's not true, mate. You know it's not true. You're taking advantage of the holes in me memory. Stoney would never say that."

The hurt in those big brown eyes was killing Bryce. "Kyle. Please. Listen to me."

"You're just another jealous cunt like Nigel. I can't believe you'd make up lies about Stoney. You know what he means to me."

Were those tears? Bryce's heart twisted again. He had to find the right words. He had to. "Kyle. Please. Wait."

"Good-bye, mate. Don't try to find me."

"No. Kyle. Please. Don't go."

But it was too late. The boy was already gone. Bryce stood frozen in the middle of the floor, briefly unable to bring himself to chase an eighteen-year-old.

He was too aware of the guards—supposedly there to watch out for him. But sometimes it felt like they were just watching him.

His pride wouldn't let him break down in front of his staff. That pride kept him standing still for perhaps two seconds.

He took a step forward.

Then another.

Stopped dead in his tracks before he'd even got out the door.

Bryce couldn't chase a boy already traumatized by being chased by a stalker. He couldn't do that to Kyle. Not even to apologize. Not even to beg. It wasn't about Bryce's ego or Bryce's hurt feelings now.

He couldn't make that boy feel even more hunted and hopeless than he already did.

Bryce had no choice. He had to let him go.

It was the hardest thing he'd ever done.

Bryce went to the window instead of the door, hoping for a final glimpse as Kyle exited the hotel.

You're better off without him
, he told himself.
There's been nothing but teenage drama since the day you met.

Let him go.

Forget him.

This time, forget him for real.

Bryce never saw him leave. He never got that last long look.

There must have been a back way out.

Bryce waited at the window. Half an hour. An hour.

Kyle was gone.

I'll never see him again.

"K
yle Marchane, can you come with me please for a minute?"

It was Gerard, the second-in-command of Stoney's security team. By now, Kyle felt like he knew him well. But he'd never felt the big man's grip on his shoulder before. Two other guards, probably San Antonio locals since Kyle didn't recognize them, hovered right behind him.

"Hey Gerard, what's up?"

It's Stoney. He wants me. He's asking to see me alone.

Something stabbed deep inside of his chest. He'd thought about what Bryce had said. Of course he had. Bryce seemed so kind. And so sincere. The way he'd come galloping in like a white knight on a horse to rescue the damsel in distress... it was cute. Lovable even.

For a minute—for more than a minute—Kyle had doubted Stoney. He hadn't liked to doubt him. But he had.

It had been surprisingly hard to push himself out of bed early this morning to head out to meet the other fans. The dreams he'd had... they weren't good dreams. Stoney lost in a mist. Bryce...

But Kyle had to believe in Stoney. Had to.

And now, with a little jolt to his heart, he saw he'd been right to believe.

Kyle glanced around the little knot of fans, mostly girls, waiting with him near a back entrance. It was a good bet that Stoney would have to pass through this door for soundcheck. He could have waited to see Kyle then.

But the tall, moody star wanted to see Kyle now.

Alone.

Kyle could tell from the girls' faces that they'd reached the same conclusion. A pair of green eyes flashed with hatred. Open jealousy from that bird. But more eyes sparkled with delight. Several girls squealed. They were happy to know Kyle.

Happy to be near the magic.

Happy to know a fan could be chosen by a star.

Two girls touched Kyle's slender body—one barely brushing his lean hip but the other clutching quite greedily at his arm. Gerard had a way of getting between Stoney and his fans when he needed to walk Stoney away. Kyle had seen him in action several times.

Now the retired wrestler was using his big body to block Kyle from
his
fans.

"In private, Mr. Marchane. Please."

Kyle had been regaling the girls with the story of how he'd been abducted at the concert in Des Moines three days before. He didn't bother to soften his northern English accent for this little group of Americans. He knew it gave him an added credibility in the fandom.

"That date rape drug is bad business." When he lifted his right hand to brush a bit of his shaggy brown fringe out of his face, the gaudy ring on his pinky flashed. They all knew the six-legged star sapphire had once been worn by Stoney Rockland himself.

That too gave him a certain credibility. In some quarters.

"I lost me whole concert. Me mobile, me memories. But Stoney's people saw the perv dragging me out, and they put a stop to it straightaway."

There's one in every crowd. Here it was the movie cheerleader type with the ironed blonde hair. She was Googling Kyle's story on her iPhone even as he was speaking.

"There's nothing about that in the news," she said.

"No news report filed, love. There wouldn't be, would there?"

Kyle glanced around as if to make sure it was just us chickens. He leaned forward. Dropped his voice to a whisper.

The fans' heads bent toward him like a ring of daisies.

"They taught that perv a lesson, innit? Dropped him in the river when they were done."

"They killed him?" Another blonde. There were a lot of them in the Texas fandom.

Kyle made a gesture like a zipper across his lips. "It's not me place to say yes or no, love. But that perv won't be molesting another fan."

Lying wasn't as bad as stealing. It wasn't even lying. Just exaggerating a little. Making the story a little more entertaining. A lot more entertaining.

Kyle would rather thrill than be an object of pity.
I'm a man, not a child, innit? I have me pride.

He sensed a sudden doubt in his audience. The final embellishment might have been a bit over-the-top. There was an explosion of female voices.

"Well, the way I heard tell you went out for pizza and never came back."

"He found a way backstage. Left everybody else behind. That's what I heard."

"He had no choice. Stoney didn't want the whole crowd back there."

"Who says Stoney picked him out of the crowd?"

"I ship it."

"There's a fanfic about you two. You and Stoney."

"Yeah. She wrote it."

Giggles.

Kyle had been about to ask for the link when he felt the big man's hand on his shoulder.

"Let's go, Kyle." Gerard's voice was stone. But then it usually was. Security didn't attract men who saw the lighter side of life.

Kyle was being walked away.

Girls giggled behind him. A wolf whistle from one of the guys. It was still daylight so Kyle couldn't be sure but he sensed the flash from several smartphones.

Everybody knows they're taking me in to see Stoney. I'm old enough now. We can be together. He'll understand why I had to run away before...

The trio of men had guided him to the far side of the tour buses. The fans waiting at the stadium couldn't see him now.

There was no one else around.

The silence was a little spooky.

"Where's Stoney?" Kyle asked.

"The whereabouts of Stoney Rockland are no longer any of your concern, Mr. Marchane," Gerard said. "Mr. Rockland has asked us to inform you that you are no longer welcome to attend his concerts. You are no longer to attempt to contact him in any way. You are no longer to use his name in any... enterprise you may be involved with."

There was no enterprise. Kyle did it all for love—the blog, the Instagram account, the YouTube channel. "There's no way, mate. There's no fucking way."

"Your tickets will no longer be waiting for you at will call. All payments will be fully refunded to the credit card you used to make the purchases."

"It wasn't me credit card, mate." As if that mattered.

"If you appear at one of Mr. Rockland's concerts against his express wishes, you will be arrested. "

"You can't trespass me from Stoney's concerts!"

"Listen, kid, it wasn't up to me. I know you were the victim." The careful way he picked his words made Gerard sound tired. Kyle sensed he didn't appreciate being delegated this nasty job. "Apparently someone on Stoney's staff decided he can't afford to be associated with the victim of an attempted sexual attack. It's America, son. There's lawyers."

"Pamela, that bitch." Kyle was well aware Stoney's tour manager believed Stoney would be a lot easier to manage if he stuck with girls. A ridiculous attitude for 2014, if you asked him.

Gerard said nothing. He may have blinked. Just once.

"If Stoney knew, he wouldn't sit still for it. This is fucked, mate. You know how fucked this is."

"I'm just following orders, son." Gerard took out his wallet. "I thought it might be what you said about the credit card."

He didn't accuse Kyle of using someone else's card to buy his concert tickets. But it seemed he knew. If Kyle wasn't already in free fall, he'd be wondering who else did.

"I thought you might prefer your refund in cash."

Kyle stared at the fat envelope of bills Gerard shoved into his hand. All hundreds. He'd lived in Vegas long enough to know the feel of money. At least five thousand dollars. "This is too much, mate. Is this a payoff?"

Gerard looked steadily into Kyle's eyes. "I know you wouldn't hurt Stoney, son. You wouldn't post gossip about him. You wouldn't... sell gossip."

Did he mean the gutter press? The tabloids? The fucking
Daily Mail
?

"If you did try to sell some fantasy, you'd only hurt yourself anyway. It's easy to create a smear campaign when it's a homeless boy's words against the words of..." Gerard didn't finish the sentence.

Kyle understood now. This wasn't happening. It was a nightmare. Some crazy after-effects of the date rape drug. A delayed hallucination.

Because he wasn't hearing this.

No fucking way he was hearing this.

"You have to tell Stoney. If he knew Pamela was doing this... if he knew she was paying one of his biggest fans to go away..."

"Son. Son. Stop."

"Tell him, Gerard. Please. I'm begging you, mate."

"Son."

"He needs to know what's going on with his own fucking team!"

"Son. Kyle. Listen." Gerard put both hamlike hands on Kyle's shoulders again. The touch was surprisingly light. Almost fatherly. "I didn't want to be the one to tell you this. But Stoney does know. He gave me the orders himself."

Kyle crumbled. His life had no meaning without Stoney Rockland. Only Gerard's strong hands held him upright. The other two guards hovered some steps away, as if they were ashamed to overhear this sordid conversation.

"He doesn't want to see you again, Kyle. For the record, I don't think it's right. I don't think anything about the way he's handling this is right. But he's the boss. It's his decision."

For Stoney, he'd given up Bryce.

For Stoney, he'd given up everything.

"It might be for the best, son. Listen. Listen to me."

Gerard's voice sounded as if it were coming from very far away. From the distant end of a dark tunnel.

"You have a stalker, Kyle. We don't know if or when he'll be coming back. If all he has to do to find you is check the Stoney Rockland tour schedule..."

"It's bad publicity for Stoney." The words tasted like cheap vinegar in Kyle's mouth.

"You understand. You do understand. We all know how important Stoney's music is."

"Me stalker has taken away everything that ever meant anything to me. Me mum, me country, me education. And now you want him to take me music."

"Kyle. You know what Stoney's music means to the world. You of all people wouldn't want to put his career under a cloud."

"I understand just fine, mate. Stoney Rockland isn't the man I thought he was. Stoney Rockland is a fucking coward."

Fine. Fine. Fine.

Kyle knew what it was like to be hunted. He wouldn't do it to another man.