Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75862 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75862 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
“You have no right,” I say, walking forward, but she snatches the phone backwards.
“I do have a right when you’re interacting with criminals, Scarlett. Your career is on the line, and I’ve worked hard to keep it in a good place. I can’t have you contacting bikers and making a scene. It’s dangerous.”
“Please give me my phone.”
“I’m sorry, I can’t do that.”
“Susan, I won’t ask you again. Give it to me.”
“Scarlett, I know you don’t see it now, but I’m doing what’s best for you. If word gets out that you’re hanging around with ... with ...”
“With what?” I snap.
“With those kinds of people. Those ... men ...”
“Those men are no different to you and me, those men are not doing anything but keeping an eye on me and protecting me. Which, by the way, if your men did their jobs properly, I wouldn’t need ...”
Her face gets red. “I’m not going to argue with you again. We’ll be heading back to the hotel momentarily. Have your things ready.”
I’m done.
So. Done.
I turn, without another word, and walk out of the dressing room. “Scarlett!” Susan calls. I ignore her.
I storm down the halls, past security who quickly realize when Susan’s voice trails down the hall after me, that I’m not meant to be storming off. I know where the back exits of this place are, and I’m not spending another second in the confines of this ridiculous fucking world Susan thinks she’s going to create for me, and trap me in. I start running, hard and fast, toward the back exits. Security barks at me to stop. I don’t listen.
I hit the back doors and slow down, calming myself so as not to make too much of a scene, and step out. Every entrance is guarded, for obvious reasons, but the back exits not so much because the doors only open outward, they don’t open in, which means no crazy fans can get in, even if they did get past security and get close enough. There are two guards standing by the back door, who have yet to realize I’m not allowed out. They don’t question it. They know the show is over. Their job is not to protect me but to simply make sure nobody gets in.
“Goodnight, guys,” I smile happily and give them a wave. “Thank you.”
They nod at me, and I run. Fast. There is a parking lot behind the stadium, and if I weave through the cars and keep going, eventually I’ll end up out in the street. I’m not covered, I’m still dressed in my show outfit, and the second I hit that sidewalk people will recognize me. It’s a risk I’m willing to take. Because I’ve had enough. I duck around cars, using them to block myself from view. I can hear frantic, angry voices. Susan’s, no doubt, and I know she is going to lose her mind over this.
Screw her.
Screw it.
I have every right to a life.
I reach the sidewalk and peer out. There are still people pouring out of the stadium. It’ll take a good hour or more for them to clear the streets. If I walk out there now, I’ll be swarmed.
That’s when I notice them.
Maverick, Koda, and Malakai standing to my right, a good distance away from the entrance, which is to my left. They’re leaning against a few street lamps, watching the crowds of people flow out. No doubt keeping an eye out for any sort of danger. Considering there wasn’t much they could do, I guess that’s the best they were able to offer tonight. The fact that they’re still here, and have been for probably hours, makes my heart swell.
So, I take a deep breath, I do not think it through, and I put my head down and run.
I hear someone call out my name the second I hit the sidewalk, and then I hear the frantic chatter of fans as they realize who I am. Mal is the first to notice me, and when he does, he shoves Maverick. By the time Maverick’s eyes hit me, swing to the fans, and then back to me, Koda is already moving toward their bikes parked on the street.
I pick up the pace.
My fans scream behind me.
I run hard and fast toward Maverick’s bike.
He has his leg over it and the engine running by the time I reach him. I launch on the back, with little thought going to the fact that I’m wearing a sparkly, silver, short dress. I hang onto Maverick’s waist and he pulls out with an angry rumble from his bike, weaving through the traffic until we’re out of sight.
I already know someone would have captured a photo.
I know by morning, Maverick’s face will be all of the news right alongside of mine.
But right now, I don’t care.