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Tick tock, tick tock, the seconds trudged as the reporter’s eyebrows curved higher and higher. She waggled a finger. “You can’t get away with a one-word answer. Tell us the truth. Is Julian a demanding tyrant?”
If the crown fits… “Sure.” Then, although it was a really, really bad idea, she continued, “Although diva would be a better term. He’s lucky he has me.”
“Really?” The reporter’s nostrils flared, caught on a whiff of something delicious. “Would he be lost without you?”
Cheyenne seemed to have lost control of her mouth. “I just started, but I can already say he definitely needs help.” She lowered her voice to a loud whisper, as if sharing a deep, dark secret. “You don’t know the extent of it. He wasn’t joking about needing help with his toothbrush.”
Now everyone laughed, and even Julian cracked a smile. More people watched them, drawing attention she couldn’t afford. She formed an excuse to leave, but the reporter had already turned back to the star. “Julian, those are challenging words. Are you sure there isn’t anything going on between you two?”
Cheyenne’s breath hitched.
“Nope,” he said. “Definitely not.”
She relaxed.
“Absolutely, one hundred percent not.”
They probably got the idea, but it was okay to make it clear.
“For sure no.”
Why was he continuing?
“Not a chance.”
People were starting to smile.
“The answer is negative.”
“They get it,” Cheyenne broke in. He was joking, but a strong enough negative could convey a positive. Curious expressions had already turned to outright suspicion. She swept forward. “If we don’t leave now, you’ll have a lot of disappointed fans.”
“What would I do without her?” Julian nodded at the reporter. “It was great to see you, Stacy. I’ll see you soon?”
“Count on it.” Stacy gestured for the cameraman to cut, then exchanged handshakes with the men and hugs with the ladies. “And you too, Destiny. I’d love to talk more about what it’s like to work with Julian.”
Cheyenne stiffened. She – and the mission – could ill withstand another interview. Yet before she could decline, Julian stepped forward. “I’m afraid Destiny won’t be available. She has too much to do with a tyrant as a boss.” He tempered the words with a wink, and the crowd laughed.
It was a welcome and unexpected save. Taut muscles relaxed, and oxygen came easier. Despite his earlier actions, Julian had just saved her, more than he could possibly know.
“Of course,” the newswoman replied smoothly, with a speculative glance that snipped Cheyenne’s relief. The reporter may be one of the tamer ones, but she was still a professional. If she caught a whiff of a story, she’d come looking for a taste, and then she might discover an entire feast.
She couldn’t worry about that now, however, not with a full day of undercover work. The actors bid goodbye and resumed their journey, hustling down a long corridor flanked by posters of movie stars from the past and present. An entire battalion of uniformed police officers accompanied them, well-built and heavily armed. When they passed through two heavy metal doors, the reason for the security became clear.
Cheyenne had seen Julian’s fame in and outside the studio, but nothing could prepare her for a journey through the mania. The cavernous room held thousands of people, swarming around a huge stage, rows and rows of chairs and booths running up and down the perimeter. Even before the crowd caught sight of their beloved star, they called his name, chanted it, screamed it while fanning themselves. They gasped and squealed, pointed and clapped, jumped up and down. A few looked ready to faint. Though there were other stars, there was one unequivocal king: Julian Starcroft.
“Julian, I love you!”
“Marry me, please!”
“Can I have your baby?”
The scrutiny was unbelievable. Flashing cameras blinded her, set to deafening screams that made her eardrums quiver. Huge screens flashed on the walls, playing action scenes set to lively music. A thousand scents tangled, perfumes, incense and the mash of hundreds of bodies. Excited fans pressed closer,held back solely by the flexible fence of police officers. Only years of crisis and crowd training kept her poised, as she stopped to observe.
Julian leaned down and whispered. “It can be overwhelming, so let me know if you need a breather. I’ve got you.”
He meant it, and not as a jest. Her neutral mask faded, just a little, as they locked eyes, carving a private world in a realm of thousands. In all this commotion, he’d stopped to make sure a single person was okay. That was not how actors were supposed to be. Actors were supposed to be arrogant and cold and care only for themselves. They were supposed to use women for what they wanted and then…
Then they were supposed to leave.