Fic: Caught in the Crossfire | 1 of 3
Title: Caught in the Crossfire
Word Count: ~28,000
Pairing: Kris/Adam
Type: AU | Romance-type thing
Rated: NC-17
A/N: For christig428 who donated money in the krisfansunite DonorsChoose Dollar Drive. Loosely based on the cheesetastic movie “The Bodyguard.”
Thank you to: My lovely Ernie beta pennilesspoet17! For cheering me on and encouraging me to write more crap. Love you!
Disclaimer: This is not true. This did not happen...obviously. Final mistakes are mine, and mine alone.
**
Present day
Despite the ruckus of people playing pool in the corner and the wails of Robert Plant from the giant speakers hanging precariously from the heavy wood crossbeams, the pounding of the heavy rain storm outside permeated through the walls of the bar. It was Wednesday night, and even with the non-stop rain, JP’s was packed…with people trying to escape the gloom of a long week of precipitation or their own miserable lives, Adam couldn’t tell and didn’t care. For him, it was both.
“Give me your keys, Lambert,” Mike said holding out his beefy palm. He stood ominously over the bar and in Adam’s personal space, despite the length of the sticky slab separating them.
“Don’t have ‘em,” Adam slurred slightly. At Mike’s lift of an eyebrow, Adam patted down his body mockingly. “Don’t even have my wallet tonight.” He lifted out a pair of small keys from the front pocket of his jeans and slammed them onto the bar, “My apartment keys. That’s it. Okay?”
Mike sighed, “Fine.” He grabbed the keys and put them into a glass bowl next to the register. “This isn’t good.”
“Yeah, I know. Give me another.” A pause. “Please,” he added because his mother raised him right.
“You usually don’t drink whiskey, as least not this much at one time.”
“Yeah, well, I’m usually not out to get plastered,” Adam shot back.
“You wanna talk about it?”
“No.”
Mike brought the bottle up and poured more into his empty glass, “I’m here if you do,” and left the bottle of Glenfiddich along with a bottle of water next to him before heading down the other end of the bar to tend to the other customers.
Adam turned the glass in his hands, staring at the amber liquid as it swirled carelessly within its confines, trying not to think of the eye color that matched it almost perfectly. Lifting it to his mouth, he finished the shot in one swallow and grimaced as the burn churned its way down his throat and settled into his stomach. He reached out to the bottle for a refill, but his hand wavered as his fingers grasped the neck of the bottle. Knowing he needed a few minutes to let the liquor warm him up, he released it and cupped the empty glass. He needed to feel it, be aware of the alcohol spreading to every corner of his body.
With his elbows resting on the sticky surface, he released the glass with a heavy thud and grasped his head, peripherally aware of Mike putting a clean glass in front of him. He grunted out a thanks and tried to keep this thoughts from wandering where he didn’t need them to go.
The sound of a random car splashing through the torrential rainwater came in from the heavy door whenever it opened and closed with patrons coming in and leaving. The steadying sounds lulled Adam into a trance-like state as he sat peeling back the label of the water bottle with one hand. He laid his head down on the other arm, and didn’t notice the quiet of the bar as a soaked man approached him. Adam glanced up, taking in the sight, as the man stopped next to him.
“Y-you were…weren’t h-home,” the man blurted out, shaking and shivering. “I-I wa-waited, but you di-didn’t co-come home.”
Adam shrugged and motioned as if saying I’m here, obviously and went back to staring at the frayed label. He didn’t want to take in Kris’s trembling body, the fact that he was dripping wet with no jacket, light blue t-shirt stuck to his body, brown hair, now almost black, falling in sopping chunks around his face. Kris’s bare arms wrapped around himself tighter, goose bumps standing out in stark contrast to his pale skin in the low lights.
“Are-aren’t y-y-you g-g-going to s-say an-anything?” Kris asked.
Giving the label a final rip, Adam pushed himself up and stared at Kris. He looked into Kris’s brown eyes as he sloppily poured more whiskey into the empty glass and swallowed another shot.
“Go home, Kris,” Adam ground out. “Go back to your own home and your life. There’s nothing else to say.”
“I…I w-w-anted t-to talk to you.”
“Why aren’t you wearing a jacket?”
Kris started to reply when his body jerked in a giant shudder, which had Adam moving to take his jacket off the stool next to him. He threw it to Kris, who instinctively caught it.
“Get warm,” he said. He turned back to his bottle, “Now, go away.”
**
Two years ago…
People.com
Exclusive! Kris Allen Speaks Out About Being Out
Excerpts from our one-on-one sit-down with singer Kris Allen; read the full interview in People Magazine on newsstands next week.
People sat down with artist/musician Kris Allen for an in-depth discussion about his music, his decision to come out and how life is treating him since that public announcement.
So, the decision…how did it come about?
It wasn’t easy. Despite what people might think or assume, it wasn’t a simple decision. I struggled with it for years, but eventually it became too much…for me, my family…my wife.
There’s been noise-that still hasn’t died down-people have been speculating and saying that it was a calculated decision, especially seeing that the announcement came right after your Grammy win. Thoughts?
I wish I was that brilliant. I’d be lying if I didn’t say that I did wait for a certain time, but that was more of a security thing for myself. To know that I was a musician, that I had a career, that I somehow was validated with what I do for a living. The divorce was already in process…my family, friends, now ex-wife, they all knew. It wasn’t a secret to any of them. The fact that it happened so quickly after winning? The timing of it all, that couldn’t be helped. Regardless, it would have come about with or without a win.
The tabloids have been all over you regarding your new lifestyle. How do you feel about that?
I think it’s just become common place at this point to pick on a public figure, harass them, scrutinize the minutiae, which is kind of awful, but I happen to be the target right now. I’m sure some socialite or actor will do something next week, and I’ll be old news. All in all, I know the truth, my friends and family know the truth. That’s really all that matters. I will admit to being a little excessive when I realized I didn’t have to hide who I was, but that was from having this new-found freedom in my life.
Some of your more, uh, fervent fans have been saying that it’s all a joke or a publicity stunt…
It’s not. And, I find it offensive that people would think something like that. It’s hard enough to come out and be true to who you are, and I think harder still when you’re in an industry that makes you a public figure. To say that it’s for press or a joke? Fuck them.
**
KTLA 10 O’clock News
A small electrical fire broke out at Club Nokia where a benefit concert for Children of the Night was taking place. No major injuries were reported, but the fire broke out as musician Kris Allen headed off stage after his set. A spokesperson from Club Nokia stated that they’re cooperating with the police and fire departments for the source of the fire.
**
“I’m fine!” Kris shouted for the eighteenth time. He grimaced as the EMT wiped his head with iodine. “Sorry, didn’t mean to yell in your ear,” he said, turning to the woman.
She just smiled as she pulled gauze from her pack.
Kris flinched at the pressure of her hand. Dumb-ass luck, an electrical fire breaking out just as he finished a great set, then that stupid piece of wood had to fly through the air to nick him on the side of his head.
He knocked his head back against the metal of the ambulance.
“Uh, Mr. Allen, I wouldn’t do that,” the EMT admonished. She drew a damp cloth across his forehead, wiping off the excess blood. After cleaning him up, she tossed it into the hazardous waste bin and snapped off her gloves. “It doesn’t look like you’ll need stitches, but I’d check with your doctor in the morning. Take some aspirin and get some rest.”
“Yeah, thanks,” Kris said. He got up slowly, “I can go now, yeah?”
She nodded.
“Jesus fucking cripes on a toilet, Kris!” Matt yelled out, cutting through the yellow tape. “You’re okay, right?”
“Yeah, just a little cut on my head,” Kris answered, touching his head gingerly. He looked at Matt and the girl on his arm. “Uh, I’d ask where you’ve been, but…”
“Oh, shit, sorry, yeah…” Matt stammered. “Kris, this is Laura. Laura, my buddy Kris.”
Laura stepped out from behind Matt and held out her hand, “Hi Kris, nice to meet you.”
Kris shook her hand, “Nice meeting you, too.” He turned his attention back to Matt, “You guys okay?”
“Yeah, fine,” Matt nodded. “Tried to get out of there to find you, but it took fucking forever. Crazy. You’re really okay? Do I need to take you to the hospital? Where’s Bobby?”
Waving his hand, Kris replied, “I’m fine. Bobby should have the car ready. I just want to get home. Need to take a couple of aspirin and sleep it off.”
Matt pulled out his phone, “I’m telling Bobby to bring the car to the corner. Come on, we’ll meet him there.”
**
INTERNAL MEMO: CONFIDENTIAL
TO: Jacob Hammond/Artist Management Group
CC: Veronica Adler/Keynote Communications
CC: Elliot Hutchence/Blue Tint Records
FROM: Bruce Silvan/Security Services (AMG)
RE: Kris Allen
MESSAGE: After speaking with the Los Angeles Police Department and convening with forensic and psychological profilers at both the LAPD and the FBI Los Angeles branch, the final assessment is that Kris Allen is facing a real and viable danger that could trigger bodily harm.
The threats are escalating, and the perpetrator(s) is/are getting more aggressive on an increasing level.
The scale of the intimidation is cause for alarm, and we believe Mr. Allen needs to be notified about the situation so that measures can be taken.
Our recommendation is that an independent firm be hired to evaluate and rebuild Mr. Allen’s security until the threat is contained. The LAPD and FBI have assured us of their full cooperation with the team that is hired. They will continue with their investigation; however, as we all know because of budget cuts, the LAPD is unable to provide the level of protection needed by someone in Mr. Allen’s position.
We have a list of recommendations of potential security companies, and an RFP has been sent out. An initial round of interviews has been conducted by the security team at AMG. Please contact me for the information, and we will arrange additional meetings as soon as possible.
**
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Adam asked. He slammed the folders in his hand onto Anoop’s desk and glared.
“It’s just a meeting, jeez,” he replied, nonplussed by Adam’s display of temper.
From the corner, Cale chuckled from the battered recliner that Anoop refused to get rid of. He leaned back further in it. “Adam, seriously, lighten up. It could be fun.”
Adam moved and slammed an uncomfortable chair around so he could see his friends and business partners. Sitting on the edge of it, he placed his elbows on his knees and pleaded with them, “I’m not afraid that we won’t get the job. I’m more afraid that we will. Have you read the dossier on him?”
Anoop moved from behind the desk to sit on the edge of it next to Adam. “If we do get the job, and that’s a big if considering our competition, I think it might be a great challenge for the rest of the team. Plus, they’re signing on for a minimum of two years. The retainer itself would be a huge boost.”
“And, not to mention, should be fun,” Cale added, pulling a blanket over himself.
“Fun?” Adam shot up from the chair. “Fun? Seriously? Following a new out and proud public figure who doesn’t seem to have enough sense to keep it in his pants?” He walked over to Cale and leaned over him. “Have you read the RFP? You won’t have a life for two years. On-site security, 24-hour detail, events, tours…”
Cale yawned and stretched, then winked at Adam, “You mean we won’t have a life.” He looked over to Anoop who was flipping through the files. “It’s nothing we haven’t done before.”
“We need the revenue Adam,” Anoop stated flatly.
Adam sighed and fell into the couch next to the recliner, “I know.”
Cale leaned forward and slapped his knee, “Come on, study the files. It might not be as bad as you think it is.”
“It’ll be worse,” Adam snorted. He grabbed the files, “Let’s see who we’re all dealing with.” He held them up, “This from the management team, LAPD, FBI or our guys?”
“Our guys,” Anoop confirmed taking a seat next to Adam. He grabbed the top sheet, “Had Brian go through what Allen’s management team sent to all the prospective agencies...”
“Let’s see, the folks in his life,” Adam started to say, rifling through the file folders, “Parents come to LA three to four times a year, but are in Arkansas the rest of the time. Matt Giraud, personal manager; Bobby Hoppus, live-in driver, de facto bodyguard; Tommy Joe Ratliff, bass player and keyboardist for his band; Andrew DeRoberts, guitar player and keyboardist in band; Isaac Carpenter, drummer; Carla Tessern, personal assistant…fuck, how many people are in and out of his house?”
Anoop laughed, “That’s not even counting the people on the business and music end of things, agent, business manager, attorney, publicist and their assistants and other peripheral team members. Oh, and the house staff, maid, chef, trainer…”
Adam threw his head back onto the couch and groaned, “This is gonna be a nightmare.”
“Again, nothing we haven’t done before,” Cale said, clearly amused.
“What’s so funny about this, Cale?” Adam asked, smacking Cale’s arm.
“Wondering if you’re against this because of the circumstances or because it’s Kris Allen?”
Anoop cut in, “We’ve had worse clients and even worse situations.” He grabbed the file folders from Adam’s hands. “We’re doing this, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Adam replied. “Fuck me, but yeah…let’s land this client.”
**
To: inquiries@amgroup.com
From: Fans4KrisAllen@email.com
Subject: Make Kris Allen Stop Being Gay
Dear Sirs:
As part of Kris Allen’s management team, we feel you are not doing your best to ensure that Kris Allen, who is an amazing artist, reaches his full potential. This game of him being gay needs to stop. You need to get him to return to his wife and live the life he was meant to live, promoting family values and being a proper role model. As his management, you are obligated to make sure that his career is not being harmed, but you have stood by and allowed him to lead a wayward lifestyle which is not acceptable to his fans.
Please make it stop.
Sincerely,
The Fans 4 Kris Allen Appreciation Club
~ ~ ~
To: inquiries@amgroup.com
From: Fans4KrisAllen@email.com
Subject: Kris Allen
Dear Sirs:
We are concerned fans that are having a hard time understanding why you can’t keep an amazing artist like Kris Allen from self-destruction. The way you are managing his career is imprudent and just reckless as he continues to make a fool of himself. We believe that we could do a better job in promoting him and his music than you have. If you are truly “managing” him and his image, then you should be able to make the malicious gossip about his exploits stop. As his true fans, we are concerned that this ridiculous ploy to pander to a new audience will alienate members of his fan-base and prevent him from gaining new fans.
Do your jobs.
Waiting for your reply,
The Fans 4 Kris Allen Appreciation Club
~ ~ ~
To: inquiries@amgroup.com
From: Fans4KrisAllen@email.com
Subject: Unwise Decisions
Dear Sirs:
After months of this “joke” that really isn’t funny and Kris Allen’s team, both management and label, studiously ignoring our requests, we find that this lack of respect to his fans’ wishes too much. We will no longer be contacting you, but rather finding a way to reach out to Kris directly, as we feel that the layers that have been erected between your amazing artist and his fans to be too large and overwhelming.
You’ve given us no choice.
Thanks for nothing,
The Fans 4 Kris Allen Appreciation Club
**
The club was packed, music thumping, shiny, sweaty bodies writhing on the dance floor and spilling out to the bar area. Adam and Cale stood at the bar, back to the walls so they could optimize their viewing area of the people around them.
“I think our target is giving you the eye,” Cale said casually as he swung around to face the bar.
“Yeah?” Adam replied, winking at the bartender as she put his drink in front of him. “Good eye or stink eye?”
“We’re in a gay club,” Cale responded. “Do they even give stink eye in here?”
“You’d think knowing me all these years, you’d know the intricacies of gay hook-ups a little more.”
“More than I care to know, buddy,” Cale said slapping his shoulder. “Just saying.”
Adam lifted his glass and deftly moved to his left as a couple nearly ran into him as they were making out while trying to get to the bar. He lifted a brow as they rolled down the length of the bar, then shook his head and gazed back out to the dance floor.
“He’s careless,” Adam stated.
“Shocking.”
“No wonder his management is freaking out,” Adam said, eyeing everyone carefully as he took another sip. “He’s got the instincts of a flea.”
“Kind of like the size of one, too,” Cale laughed.
Adam slapped Cale’s shoulder and chuckled, “Be nice. He’s a client.”
“Totally your type.”
“Shut up.”
“Keeps glancing over at you.”
Adam smiled, “He’s probably looking at you.”
“Nah, man,” Cale smirked and took a sip from his beer. “He’s definitely curious about you.”
“He’s a client.”
Cale nudged his shoulder, “And if he wasn’t?”
“He is,” Adam shrugged. “Now, drop it.”
**
Kris was enjoying another night out. Sure, his management wasn’t too happy about it, but why should he have to hide and be a pathetic loser inside a big house by himself? And what was “be respectable” about anyway? It wasn’t as if he was fucking his way through Los Angeles-despite what the tabloids and gossip-mongers claimed. Yes, he enjoyed kissing cute guys. Yes, he might have gone into a dark corner or two with a random stranger, but it wasn’t like he was being a slut about things.
Tonight was no different. He was at Club Chaos, having a few drinks and dancing with people. It wasn’t like he was alone; Bobby was outside with the car and Matt was hanging out in the VIP section making sure things didn’t get out of hand.
It was while he was dancing to a mix of whatever song the DJ was spinning when he spotted him. Kris couldn’t take his eyes off him. Despite being in the middle of two gorgeous and sweaty boys, both vying for his attention, Kris’s eyes kept wandering to the bar. The man looked over briefly and seemed interested, but glanced away too fast, not giving Kris enough time to make decent eye contact.
The man was leaning against the bar, chatting with his friend, browsing over the crowds way too much, like he was looking for something. Kris wanted to be that something like he never wanted anything else. Tall, lean, dark hair tinged with brown and red highlights, a coolness around him like he knew he was hot and didn’t want to bother with anyone or anything…and didn’t that just make Kris react with a teeny jolt.
He decided to ditch the two boys and make his way to the bar when the man turned around and put his arm around his buddy. That made Kris freeze for a bit, but then said “fuck it” to himself. If the man wasn’t interested in anyone at the club, especially him, then Kris wouldn’t be the one to be doing the chasing. People chased after him, not the other way around.
Smiling at the boy in front of him, Kris threw himself into the music and decided to forget. And, the hazel-eyed cutie would help him.
**
Adam looked over the reports as Anoop carefully went through the box with gloved hands. He pulled out pages from envelopes and laid them out on the table.
“Fuck, that’s some disturbing shit right there,” Adam said as he stood over the evidence.
“Yeah, don’t understand how people this fucked in the head are living out there,” Anoop replied, placing another batch of pages down. He pointed to one, “See that one? I mean, using the man’s photos to spell out a death threat?” Anoop peered down closer, “Shit, these look like pics from a high-powered zoom. They’re not pap photos.”
Grabbing a magnifying glass, Adam took a closer look. “When were these found?”
“Eight months ago, if the logs are accurate,” Anoop answered. “Why would his management team not address this sooner? I mean, LAPD and FBI can only do so much, and considering they haven’t gotten to the source of it…”
Face grim, Adam straightened up and put the magnifying glass down, “I guess Mr. Allen needs a reality check.”
**
@KrisAllen Ur being gay is a joke right?
@amgroup @KrisAllen STOP WITH THE CHARADE. IT’S NOT BEFITTING SUCH AN ARTIST.
@BlueTintRecords @amgroup @KrisAllen GOD WILL PUNISH YOU ALL
Hard to believe that @BlueTintRecords & @amgroup is ok with this @KrisAllen crap
@BlueTintRecords STOP THE MADNESS. YOUR ARTIST @KRISALLEN IS A JOKE.
Why is @amgroup @BlueTintRecords allowing this stupidity. Make @KrisAllen go back 2 how he was!!!
@BlueTintRecords How can you stand by @KrisAllen when he’s making a mockery of what an artist should be @amgroup
@KrisAllen Why can’t U C that your fans don’t like this change? STOP IT OR LOSE FANS
**
“…and then, this juiced-out guy is screaming his head off like a five-year-old girl, and seriously, his hair only got a little messed up…”
“Kris, this is serious!” Jacob Hammond shouted out as he slammed his hands onto the hard wood of the conference table. Crystal cups jostled about as file folders and papers flew to the floor. The laughter stopped abruptly around the room.
Kris’s story telling faded as he leaned back to stare at his manager. “What?” he asked drolly as his fingers started to tap along the edge on the table.
“I called you all here because this is something we,” Jacob waved his arm around, “need to address. Now. Today.” he finished. Standing up, he started to pace the room. “We’re all here because there’s a major issue we need to take care of.” He turned to the room to look at everyone, and stopped as he leveled his gaze on Kris. “They have your home address.”
Making a face, Kris shrugged, “Yeah? So?”
“What part of the fact that your crazy fans know where you lay your head down at night don’t you understand? It’s all over the internet. And, in case you’ve forgotten, they’re a tad bit insane, and they know…Where. You. Live.” Jacob finished by pounding his hand with each word.
Propping his feet onto the table, Kris folded his hands behind his head and settled into the leather conference chair, “Whatever.”
“Have you forgotten the part where they’re insane? Fanatical? Bizarre? Ridiculous?” Jacob asked. He walked around the table and stood over Kris. “What about the part from the other end of the crazy spectrum where you’re enemy number one? You’re allegedly damaging the moral values and integrity of home and hearth. You have homophobic extremists sending you death threats!”
Kris raised an eyebrow and smirked, “I’m enemy number one? Damn, didn’t know I was even in the top ten. All that without an album out right now.”
Jacob crossed his arms, “You find this funny? What about the stalkers who follow you pretty much everywhere?”
Kris stifled a laugh, “No one follows me everywhere.”
“What about the group of crazies that call themselves the DrunkenHoars for fuck’s sake,” Jacob shouted out in exasperation.
Kris burst out laughing, “They’re harmless. Sweet, even. They buy cupcakes for the band and me.” He rested his hands on his stomach and crossed his ankles, “Besides, they only come to my shows; they’re not camping out in front of my house or following me around when I run errands. They’re fans that are actually fun and are having a good time. Fun is a good thing, Jacob.”
Jacob threw his hands in the air, “You’ve had things thrown at you. What about that secret show at The Viper Room last month!”
“It was a fucking stuffed baby unicorn,” Kris chuckled. “So, what’s this really about? Why are we here on a gorgeous Saturday morning when I should be sleeping in?”
Jacob rolled his eyes and checked his watch, “They’ll be here any minute.”
“Who?”
At the ding of the elevator, all eyes from the conference room turned to look out of the windowed walls. Jacob pulled on his cuffs, “Here they are, right on time.” He left the room to meet the three men in black suits who walked into the lobby.
Kris turned to Carla, his assistant, who shrugged. Tommy, his best friend and guitarist was busy playing “Shark Attack” on his iPad. Eyeing everyone else, Kris saw only confusion on the faces of the rest of his management team, so he focused on the men in the lobby. He quirked an eyebrow at the tallest of the men, who still had his sunglasses on. Black hair, shiny lips pursed out in reflection as he nodded to whatever it was Jacob was saying.
“Who are they?” Kris asked the room.
Margo, Jacob’s assistant shook her head, “Don’t know. He made this appointment himself and told me to make sure everyone was here today.”
**
Adam was barely listening to Jacob Hammond, just nodding along in all the right places. He knew Cale and Anoop would fill him in if he missed anything important. They knew the drill. The man before them was obviously stressed out, his $300 dress shirt wrinkled, face lined with worry. It was very different from the one Adam met months ago where his sharp Armani suit and crisp shirt screamed confidence, power and success.
Adam snuck a peek over to the group sitting in the conference room, quickly assessing every one of them. It’s one of the main reasons he never took off his sunglasses until he actually had to; he wanted to see people’s reactions when they didn’t think he was paying attention to them. And in this room, people were curious. He could work with that.
He focused on their client…one Kris Allen…Grammy-award winning, platinum-selling musician and activist. His work with various music- and art-related charities, along with his “aw-shucks” mannerisms and cute factor made him America’s sweetheart. However, after winning two Grammies for his second album three years ago, Kris went on to divorce his high school sweetheart and came out of the closet. Naturally, sales sky-rocketed, his albums jumping back into the Billboard 100, his most recent back into the top 10.
And with the boost in sales, came the inevitable boost in ego. Kris lived his life unapologetically since coming out, behaving recklessly and causing enough problems to keep his agents’ hair colorists in business, have his manager’s masseuse upgrade her studio and cover the tuition for his publicists’ children’s private school education.
Of course, with the new attention, came the unhappy fans and basement dwellers who wanted attention. It was business as usual…until the “electrical mishap” at one of Kris’s shows; and the emails and letters to Kris’s label, management and publicist’s office. Something apparently Kris was unaware of because his management kept it from him. Today’s meeting would remedy that.
“…and he’s not taking this seriously at all. I don’t know how to emphasize...” Jacob was saying.
Adam smiled and interrupted, “We understand, Mr. Hammond. Let’s see what Mr. Allen has to say about this, yeah?
“Of course,” Jacob nodded.
As he led them into the conference room, holding the doors open, Adam took off his sunglasses and tucked them into his inner jacket pocket. Cale and Anoop took their spots at the head of the table, while Adam stood slightly behind them to the left. While Jacob took his seat, Anoop lifted the strap of his messenger bag over his head and took out some files.
Clearing his throat, Anoop started the meeting. “Good morning everyone,” he smiled. “We’re from Praesidio Associates. Jacob asked us to come in to meet with you so we can tell you a little about us and answer any questions you might have.” He leaned over to hand the reports to get passed around. “Now, to answer the basics, we’re a security consulting firm, and we’ve been retained to provide our services to Mr. Allen.”
“What?” Kris yelped as he stood up. He turned to Jacob, “What the fuck?”
“Kris,” Jacob started to say.
“Mr. Allen,” Anoop interceded calmly. “If you would sit down and listen to what we have to say.”
“Fuck that,” Kris stated and pushed back from his position at the table. The chair rolled back and hit the window with a thud. “I can’t believe this shit.” He started to move towards the door when Tommy’s hand grabbed the back pocket of his jeans.
“Kris, stop it,” Tommy demanded, pulling Kris back. “Shut up and sit down.”
“Et tu, Tommy?” Kris growled out.
He stomped back to his chair and sat it in heavily with a scowl.
Adam bit his lip and tried not to laugh at the display. Yeah, their background checks and research proved to be right. Kris Allen was not a diva-in-the-making, he was a full-on diva slash drama queen, period…and a fucking pain in the ass. No matter how cute he was.
**
Kris looked up at the three men standing ominously at the front of the room in their matching, expensive suits and ties. Kris’s eyes shifted and caught the tall one with black hair who was standing a little off to the side and pretending like he wasn’t amused by the little burst of emotion that had just played out. He scowled even more when he saw the man biting his lip to keep from laughing. The arrogant fucker. So what if he was hot?
Shit, he thought. Where the fuck did that thought come from?
He quickly picked up the spiral bound report in front of him to have something to do other than think about how hot-ridiculously hot-the tall guy was. Pretending to read instead of paying attention to whatever the one talking had to say was a better way to pass the time, though he was racking his brain trying to figure out why hot guy looked familiar.
Kris didn’t know how much time had passed, but he started to pay attention.
“…introductions. I’m Anoop Desai,” the man, Anoop, was saying. “This is Cale Mills,” he said motioning to his right as Cale nodded. Anoop turned and moved his hand to the left, “And, this is Adam Lambert.” Adam’s mouth lifted in a semblance of a smile. “Because of the severity and high-profile status of the case, we’ll be your main points of contact. We’ll be taking shifts as part of Mr. Allen’s security detail. And, depending on the day or night, one of us will always be with you. There will be times when more of our colleagues will be joining us, say for an event or other public functions where more security is necessary. Brian Campbell is head of our tech services, and he and his team will be at the office monitoring everything, including venues and locations on a regular basis.”
Anoop stopped and looked around the room, “Any questions?”
“What if I don’t need you around at all?” Kris asked snottily. “I mean, what if I have a friend over and need some privacy?”
Cale spoke up, “We’ll be running the necessary background checks for any sudden friends that make an appearance in your life, and once everything has been secured, you can, uh, entertain them as you wish.”
“Clubbing?”
“Someone from our team will be with you,” Cale answered.
“I can still bring folks backstage?”
“Nothing doing,” Anoop replied.
“What the fu…”
“Kris,” Jacob spoke up quickly. “Until we find the person or persons behind these threats, I’m afraid your, uh, social activities are going to have to be put on hold.”
Kris slammed his hand down, “What threat? What the fuck is going on?” he demanded. “So what if my home address is out there? I have the most fucking expensive and extensive alarm system around the property. I have a fucking bodyguard with me at industry events. Each venue provides security. I have so many people around me, I can barely take a shit by myself in my own house!”
Jacob cleared his throat, “Kris…we’ve been trying to figure out how bad…”
“Mr. Allen,” Adam stated quietly as he stepped forward. “Your team contacted us a few months ago when some rather disturbing communications were brought to their attention.” Adam held out his hand as Anoop slid a thick envelop into it. “We went through what Jacob and Elliot sent us, so yes, Mr. Allen, your life will be a little inconvenienced, but I think that’s a sacrifice you need to make at this time to ensure you have a life to live.”
Kris’s scowl turned into a pout. He didn’t want their help, didn’t need their help. This Adam character could help him by getting on his knees and sucking Kris off with those full, shiny lips, as his bright blue eyes stared up at him. Other than that, everything was fine. He shifted in his seat uncomfortably, getting that image out of his mind and stared daggers at Jacob.
Knowing he was being a brat, Kris blew out a long breath. He crossed his arms and looked at the three men standing stoically.
“Tell me everything,” he demanded. “Now.”
**
Though Adam and his team had started working with Kris months ago, it had been from afar. After the face-to-face meeting, they started the in-person protective detail. After getting the necessary information from Jacob and Carla, Anoop, Cale and Adam reconvened at their office to finalize a rotating schedule based on Kris’s.
It was a process, to say the least; Kris was uncooperative like no other client Praesidio’s had before, which was saying a lot. Just because he was cute and talented didn’t mean he was a nice guy, and every day with him was making it more and more difficult to work with him. At least Kris’s people were being more accommodating in making sure their friend/boss was protected.
Adam exited the SUV, quickly surveying the street while barely moving his head. Satisfied with what he saw, he opened the passenger door. Bobby stood by stoically on the other side, also checking out the environment around them.
Kris pushed his guitar out, practically shoving it into Adam’s face. Adam stepped back and Bobby automatically took the case by the handle as Kris stepped out of the car.
“Is this really necessary?” Kris asked as Adam shut the door. He grabbed the guitar from Bobby and headed towards the side door of the beige building in front of them.
Adam nodded to Bobby, who jumped back into the SUV. Addressing Kris, “For the thousandth time, yes.” He followed Kris to the door, barely flinching when he threw the door open, which missed him by mere inches.
“It’s a quick meeting with a producer about a song for a movie soundtrack,” Kris whined as he stomped up the stairs. “I think Bobby could protect me for an hour. I’m still alive and kicking,” he said snidely.
“We’d still have to go through this even if you were meeting the Queen of England,” Adam responded. “If you just go with it instead of being antagonistic and fighting us every step of the way, it might be easier.”
“Right,” Kris sneered. “Because having men in black on my ass…” he looked over his shoulder at Adam, “and not in a fun way…” he turned back to focus on the stairs, “…day and night is totally making my life easier.”
Adam moved in front of Kris and blocked the door, “Being alive to actually complain is better than being dead, don’t you think?”
Kris stood angrily and moved into Adam’s space, “Fuck you.”
“I don’t fuck entitled, spoiled little boys.” Adam moved aside and opened the door.
**
“The IP addresses have been pinging off different servers in India and China,” Brian said as his fingers flew across the keyboard. “They keep jumping around every time we’re close. I think we have some names, obviously fake, from their various accounts, but it’s going to take longer to pin them down to an actual location and get the real people behind this.”
Anoop started to pace the room, “Great. We’ve got smart, tech-savvy wackos.”
Adam started to say something when one of the large-screen televisions that lined up the wall of the tech room interrupted a soap opera. “Shh…Mason, turn up the volume on TV four,” he ordered.
“…a five block radius has been shut down in Beverly Hills around the Artist Management Group office. An LAPD spokeswoman has confirmed that a couple suspicious packages were delivered this morning and contained crude homemade bombs. She would not confirm if they were live and active, but that SWAT and the bomb squad have possession of them. We did learn from a source that one of the packages was marked for a client on Artist Management’s roster. Reporting live from Beverly Hills, I’m…”
“Shit,” Adam shouted. He jumped up from his chair and started to bark out orders. “Dev, get Jacob on the phone and figure out why the fuck we weren’t contacted immediately. Brian, hack into LAPD servers to see what the threat situation really is. Deena, get a hold of your contacts from LAPD and see what they’ll share. Anoop…”
“Already on it,” Anoop said, phone in hand.
**
Kris smiled as he moved around the room. Five hundred dollars a plate and the food still sucked. He was glad they stopped for In-N-Out before arriving at the Beverly Hilton, even though Tommy argued that Taco Bell would’ve been better. The guys started fighting, trying to pick out the best fast-food drive through they should go to until Kris ended the discussion by making the decision. Between that and the snacks in the green room from his rider, he was able to function and perform at the fundraiser. And, now, he was mingling and networking, per Jacob and Ronnie’s instructions.
Glass of vodka soda in his hand, he stopped and exchanged words with a few people he knew at this event. He winked at Tommy and Andrew as three female fans cornered them, trapping them at their table. As he was talking and laughing, he felt eyes on him and turned to see Adam Lambert watching. Excusing himself from…oh, who the fuck cared, he made his way to the wall where Adam was standing.
He hated to admit it, but Adam looked amazing in his tuxedo. The other security folks and bodyguards hanging around the edges of the ballroom looked like hired muscle, awkward in formal attire they normally don’t wear; but, Adam was the exception, almost like he was one of the guests. Only his sharp eyes, the occasional hand to the ear, as well as the steady and deliberate movements separated him from the rest of the crowd.
“You stick out like a sore thumb and look a little crazy talking to yourself,” Kris said sidling up next to him. “Even if it’s an earpiece. People won’t know that.”
“Nothing this crowd isn’t use to, I’m sure.”
“Having fun?”
“We’re here to make sure you’re safe, me inside and two of us outside. Doing what the other security teams are doing by standing around and talking to ourselves like crazy people.”
“But are you having fun?” Kris insisted.
“A blast,” Adam replied dryly.
Kris took a sip from the glass and pursed his lips, “You don’t like me, do you?”
“That’s not relevant. You’re a client, and we’re here to make sure you’re safe.”
Taking a giant gulp, Kris finished off his drink. He held the empty glass loosely between his fingers, tapping the side of it. “Did you like the performance?”
Finally, Adam stopped perusing the room and focused those black-lined, blue eyes at him. Kris’s breath hitched for a second, and he gripped the glass tightly as he felt the impact of Adam gaze directed at him.
“Didn’t realize you were the type to fish for compliments,” Adam commented.
“I’m not,” Kris laughed shakily. “Just trying to make conversation.” He quickly dropped the empty glass on a passing waiter’s tray. Rubbing his hand, he licked his suddenly dry lips. He glanced over in time to see a flicker in Adam’s eyes as they followed the path of his tongue.
With just that fleeting look, Kris’s body warmed up as images of Adam moving him into the dark corner and taking his mouth assaulted his brain.
“…let me know when you’re ready to head out. I think it’s winding down,” Adam was saying.
“Uh, yeah. Give me ten minutes or so, need to say good-bye to a few people,” Kris said, recovering from his thoughts.
Ignoring the strange look on Adam’s face, Kris grabbed a bottle of water from the table behind Adam and took off.
**
“Kris, we should get going,” Matt said, leaning closer so that Kris could hear him over the music thumping in the club.
“A little longer, Matt,” Kris said as he eyed a tall, dark-haired man making his way past them. “It’s barely after midnight.”
“I think you’ve had enough fun for the night,” Matt insisted, turning Kris around to face him.
“I’m not even close to having the kind of fun I want right now,” Kris scowled as he lost sight of the guy. “Between you and that guy Cale, I’ve barely managed to have a couple drinks. I agreed to this protective detail shit, but shouldn’t that mean I can let loose? Isn’t that what having a bodyguard is for?” He looked up to see Matt’s face and rolled his eyes. “Fine, I’ll leave at last call, okay? Only another hour.”
Matt saw the stubbornness factor set in and nodded, “Fine. An hour. But, that doesn’t mean you drink until you can’t see what’s in front of you. You still need to be aware of what’s going on around you.”
Kris tossed back a shot of vodka and smiled, “Oh, I’m aware of what’s going on.” He peeked over Matt’s shoulder and spotted the guy. “I’m going to walk around and see what’s in front of me right now.”
“Kris…” Matt reached out to grab Kris, but he slid away quickly into the crowded heart of the club. Using the edge of the bar to peer over the mass of bodies, Matt let out a breath of relief when he saw Cale follow Kris in.
Kris didn’t remember how the fight started. All he had done was try to move away. One minute his back was against the wall, eyes closed, trying to enjoy the sensation of warm hands traveling down his body, and the next, as he looked down, the eyes that looked back up were wrong; they were green or hazel or whatever.
Knocking his head back and trying to block out brilliant blue-gray eyes from his mind, Kris tried to settle his body and enjoy the tongue licking down his stomach. He sighed. It wasn’t working. Reaching down, he cupped the raven-haired man’s cheek and tried to pull him up. Only, he wasn’t having it. He bit down on Kris’s hip, making him jerk back.
“Stop,” Kris strangled out. “Come on, man. Not feeling it.”
“Since when is Kris Allen not slutting it up along a dark hallway?” the man said as he finally rose up. “You too good for this now?”
“Just not in the mood,” Kris replied as he zipped his jeans back up. He tried to step away from the wall.
“Not in the mood?” the man questioned, and stuck his hand out blocking Kris from escaping.
Suddenly the man was jerked away, limbs flailing. Cale was holding the man by the collar, but glared at Kris. “Get Bobby and go home,” was all Cale had the chance to say before the man threw a punch.
Kris shook himself out of his shock and ran out of the club.
**
Adam’s body was on fire. Heat was spreading through him, over him, as he opened his eyes. He reached out, his warm palms sliding across cool silky sheets. That right there should have given him a clue, but the thought was chased away by a shot of electricity that blasted up from the tip of his toes. His body bowed up at the delicious pull at his groin. Groaning, he looked down to see himself spread eagle on blood-red silk sheets in a bedroom he didn’t recognize, and then he saw a shock of brown hair moving up and down over his cock.
He gripped the sheets tight, as calloused hands tightened over his thighs, moved over his hipbone holding him down, as the vibrations of the man’s hums traveled through him.
“Oh, god,” Adam groaned again.
The man took another pull with his glorious mouth, wet and tight, as he moved one hand from Adam’s thigh and clenched the base of his cock. Twisting his hand, the man licked over and under and with a final draw, sucked hard, and Adam came undone.
Breathing hard, Adam felt his liquefied body melt into the bed. He tried to reach out for the man, needing to touch him. He got enough energy to lift his head up and his eyes widened at the self-satisfied smirk on Kris Allen’s face. Sitting between Adam’s legs, Kris’s right hand slowly wiped come and spit from his mouth and chin, while his left caressed Adam’s hip and thigh.
Adam shivered from the touch and fell back onto the pillows. He tried to rise up, sit up, move his body, anything to get closer to Kris, to touch him back, but it felt as if a heavy weight kept him pinned to the bed. He opened his mouth to say something, yet no noise came out except a low buzz. The buzzing continued, confusing him. Biting his lip, Adam closed his eyes and waited. The sound droned on, no matter how tight he shut his eyes, seeping into his brain.
He jackknifed up off the bed, realizing the buzzing sound was coming from his phone. Throwing the covers off, he reached for the nightstand and blinked at the bright display. 1:57AM.
Pressing the button, he growled, “Anoop, it’s almost two in the morning.”
“It’s Kris Allen.”
“What happened? Where’s Cale? It’s his week.”
“Cale’s at S & G with Matt trying to sort things out with the cops and getting reports. He called me first thinking I’d be closer, but I’m in Pasadena right now for the Tranglor case, so you need to help out.”
“S & G? What…” Adam blew out a breath and tried to focus. “Why the fuck did Cale let Allen go there?”
“Kris wanted to go out, someplace…” Anoop started to say irritably. “I know, I know, but there’s nothing we can do about it now. Bobby hustled Kris out of there. I don’t know all the details, but you need to get to the house ASAP.” Anoop stopped to mumble something to another person. “Adam?”
“Yeah, I’m on my way. Give me 15.”
“Okay.” Click.
Adam took the phone away from his ear and stared at the default screen. He scrubbed his hand over his face and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
**
Adam walked around the property, taking in the line of trees and the fence. He nodded at the two daytime security guards walking along the perimeter as he took one last look around and headed back to the guesthouse.
He passed Kris huddling with his mother by the pool, heavy blankets covering their shoulders as they sat side-by-side on the Adirondack chairs. He paused, wanting to say something, but instead shook his head and kept moving.
Nine weeks since the office meeting, three weeks since the night of the fight at S & G, and even then, it was the car accident involving Carla and her being hospitalized that finally convinced Kris that the threat was real. Shaken to the core, Kris was shocked into letting Adam and his team move forward with their plans. The new house was ready and secure. Boxes were still stacked up, slowly being unpacked by movers vetted by Cale and Anoop. They and Matt Giruard, Kris’s personal manager, had overseen the move and got everything and everyone set up in less than a week.
Adam opened the door to the guesthouse and was greeted with a maelstrom of papers, magazines and photos all over just about every surface in the small living room. Cale and Matt sat on the floor, backs hunched over a stack of photos, magnifying glass moving over a black and white sheet.
“What’s going on?” Adam asked as he closed the door.
Cale continued to move the magnifying glass, but answered, “Got something, I think. Just double-checking before I have Brian go through it.”
Matt stood up and greeted Adam with an outstretched hand, “Hey. So, how’s everything out there?”
“Everything looks good. Stan’s checking over the cameras and motion sensors one last time, everything will be relayed back to our office real-time, backed-up on DVD.”
“Good, good,” Matt said slapping Adam on the shoulder lightly. “I should, uh, get back to the main house.” He turned to Cale, “See ya later.”
“Yeah,” Cale replied absently, shuffling more photos in his hands.
Adam waited until Matt closed the door behind him, “What was that about?”
“What was what about?”
“Why was Matt here looking at all this shit with you?”
“He handles Kris’s personal shit,” Cale said, putting the photos down. He turned to Adam, “Why?”
Adam shook his head, “I know that, just wondering why you’re sharing all this with him?”
“Well, who else would I be sharing it with?”
“No one except us,” Adam retorted. “We don’t share information until everything’s been handled.”
Cale snorted, “Yeah, but he’s the one that brought this shit in.”
Adam arched a brow and crossed his arms, “Really, now.”
He didn’t like this at all. There was being cooperative, but bringing over boxes of stuff over, especially when it was requested months ago, the timing was off.
Raising up his hands, Cale laughed, “Just thought you should know.”
“Curious.”
“I suppose,” Cale replied carefully.
(Part 2? Go here...)
Word Count: ~28,000
Pairing: Kris/Adam
Type: AU | Romance-type thing
Rated: NC-17
A/N: For christig428 who donated money in the krisfansunite DonorsChoose Dollar Drive. Loosely based on the cheesetastic movie “The Bodyguard.”
Thank you to: My lovely Ernie beta pennilesspoet17! For cheering me on and encouraging me to write more crap. Love you!
Disclaimer: This is not true. This did not happen...obviously. Final mistakes are mine, and mine alone.
**
Present day
Despite the ruckus of people playing pool in the corner and the wails of Robert Plant from the giant speakers hanging precariously from the heavy wood crossbeams, the pounding of the heavy rain storm outside permeated through the walls of the bar. It was Wednesday night, and even with the non-stop rain, JP’s was packed…with people trying to escape the gloom of a long week of precipitation or their own miserable lives, Adam couldn’t tell and didn’t care. For him, it was both.
“Give me your keys, Lambert,” Mike said holding out his beefy palm. He stood ominously over the bar and in Adam’s personal space, despite the length of the sticky slab separating them.
“Don’t have ‘em,” Adam slurred slightly. At Mike’s lift of an eyebrow, Adam patted down his body mockingly. “Don’t even have my wallet tonight.” He lifted out a pair of small keys from the front pocket of his jeans and slammed them onto the bar, “My apartment keys. That’s it. Okay?”
Mike sighed, “Fine.” He grabbed the keys and put them into a glass bowl next to the register. “This isn’t good.”
“Yeah, I know. Give me another.” A pause. “Please,” he added because his mother raised him right.
“You usually don’t drink whiskey, as least not this much at one time.”
“Yeah, well, I’m usually not out to get plastered,” Adam shot back.
“You wanna talk about it?”
“No.”
Mike brought the bottle up and poured more into his empty glass, “I’m here if you do,” and left the bottle of Glenfiddich along with a bottle of water next to him before heading down the other end of the bar to tend to the other customers.
Adam turned the glass in his hands, staring at the amber liquid as it swirled carelessly within its confines, trying not to think of the eye color that matched it almost perfectly. Lifting it to his mouth, he finished the shot in one swallow and grimaced as the burn churned its way down his throat and settled into his stomach. He reached out to the bottle for a refill, but his hand wavered as his fingers grasped the neck of the bottle. Knowing he needed a few minutes to let the liquor warm him up, he released it and cupped the empty glass. He needed to feel it, be aware of the alcohol spreading to every corner of his body.
With his elbows resting on the sticky surface, he released the glass with a heavy thud and grasped his head, peripherally aware of Mike putting a clean glass in front of him. He grunted out a thanks and tried to keep this thoughts from wandering where he didn’t need them to go.
The sound of a random car splashing through the torrential rainwater came in from the heavy door whenever it opened and closed with patrons coming in and leaving. The steadying sounds lulled Adam into a trance-like state as he sat peeling back the label of the water bottle with one hand. He laid his head down on the other arm, and didn’t notice the quiet of the bar as a soaked man approached him. Adam glanced up, taking in the sight, as the man stopped next to him.
“Y-you were…weren’t h-home,” the man blurted out, shaking and shivering. “I-I wa-waited, but you di-didn’t co-come home.”
Adam shrugged and motioned as if saying I’m here, obviously and went back to staring at the frayed label. He didn’t want to take in Kris’s trembling body, the fact that he was dripping wet with no jacket, light blue t-shirt stuck to his body, brown hair, now almost black, falling in sopping chunks around his face. Kris’s bare arms wrapped around himself tighter, goose bumps standing out in stark contrast to his pale skin in the low lights.
“Are-aren’t y-y-you g-g-going to s-say an-anything?” Kris asked.
Giving the label a final rip, Adam pushed himself up and stared at Kris. He looked into Kris’s brown eyes as he sloppily poured more whiskey into the empty glass and swallowed another shot.
“Go home, Kris,” Adam ground out. “Go back to your own home and your life. There’s nothing else to say.”
“I…I w-w-anted t-to talk to you.”
“Why aren’t you wearing a jacket?”
Kris started to reply when his body jerked in a giant shudder, which had Adam moving to take his jacket off the stool next to him. He threw it to Kris, who instinctively caught it.
“Get warm,” he said. He turned back to his bottle, “Now, go away.”
**
Two years ago…
People.com
Exclusive! Kris Allen Speaks Out About Being Out
Excerpts from our one-on-one sit-down with singer Kris Allen; read the full interview in People Magazine on newsstands next week.
People sat down with artist/musician Kris Allen for an in-depth discussion about his music, his decision to come out and how life is treating him since that public announcement.
So, the decision…how did it come about?
It wasn’t easy. Despite what people might think or assume, it wasn’t a simple decision. I struggled with it for years, but eventually it became too much…for me, my family…my wife.
There’s been noise-that still hasn’t died down-people have been speculating and saying that it was a calculated decision, especially seeing that the announcement came right after your Grammy win. Thoughts?
I wish I was that brilliant. I’d be lying if I didn’t say that I did wait for a certain time, but that was more of a security thing for myself. To know that I was a musician, that I had a career, that I somehow was validated with what I do for a living. The divorce was already in process…my family, friends, now ex-wife, they all knew. It wasn’t a secret to any of them. The fact that it happened so quickly after winning? The timing of it all, that couldn’t be helped. Regardless, it would have come about with or without a win.
The tabloids have been all over you regarding your new lifestyle. How do you feel about that?
I think it’s just become common place at this point to pick on a public figure, harass them, scrutinize the minutiae, which is kind of awful, but I happen to be the target right now. I’m sure some socialite or actor will do something next week, and I’ll be old news. All in all, I know the truth, my friends and family know the truth. That’s really all that matters. I will admit to being a little excessive when I realized I didn’t have to hide who I was, but that was from having this new-found freedom in my life.
Some of your more, uh, fervent fans have been saying that it’s all a joke or a publicity stunt…
It’s not. And, I find it offensive that people would think something like that. It’s hard enough to come out and be true to who you are, and I think harder still when you’re in an industry that makes you a public figure. To say that it’s for press or a joke? Fuck them.
**
KTLA 10 O’clock News
A small electrical fire broke out at Club Nokia where a benefit concert for Children of the Night was taking place. No major injuries were reported, but the fire broke out as musician Kris Allen headed off stage after his set. A spokesperson from Club Nokia stated that they’re cooperating with the police and fire departments for the source of the fire.
**
“I’m fine!” Kris shouted for the eighteenth time. He grimaced as the EMT wiped his head with iodine. “Sorry, didn’t mean to yell in your ear,” he said, turning to the woman.
She just smiled as she pulled gauze from her pack.
Kris flinched at the pressure of her hand. Dumb-ass luck, an electrical fire breaking out just as he finished a great set, then that stupid piece of wood had to fly through the air to nick him on the side of his head.
He knocked his head back against the metal of the ambulance.
“Uh, Mr. Allen, I wouldn’t do that,” the EMT admonished. She drew a damp cloth across his forehead, wiping off the excess blood. After cleaning him up, she tossed it into the hazardous waste bin and snapped off her gloves. “It doesn’t look like you’ll need stitches, but I’d check with your doctor in the morning. Take some aspirin and get some rest.”
“Yeah, thanks,” Kris said. He got up slowly, “I can go now, yeah?”
She nodded.
“Jesus fucking cripes on a toilet, Kris!” Matt yelled out, cutting through the yellow tape. “You’re okay, right?”
“Yeah, just a little cut on my head,” Kris answered, touching his head gingerly. He looked at Matt and the girl on his arm. “Uh, I’d ask where you’ve been, but…”
“Oh, shit, sorry, yeah…” Matt stammered. “Kris, this is Laura. Laura, my buddy Kris.”
Laura stepped out from behind Matt and held out her hand, “Hi Kris, nice to meet you.”
Kris shook her hand, “Nice meeting you, too.” He turned his attention back to Matt, “You guys okay?”
“Yeah, fine,” Matt nodded. “Tried to get out of there to find you, but it took fucking forever. Crazy. You’re really okay? Do I need to take you to the hospital? Where’s Bobby?”
Waving his hand, Kris replied, “I’m fine. Bobby should have the car ready. I just want to get home. Need to take a couple of aspirin and sleep it off.”
Matt pulled out his phone, “I’m telling Bobby to bring the car to the corner. Come on, we’ll meet him there.”
**
INTERNAL MEMO: CONFIDENTIAL
TO: Jacob Hammond/Artist Management Group
CC: Veronica Adler/Keynote Communications
CC: Elliot Hutchence/Blue Tint Records
FROM: Bruce Silvan/Security Services (AMG)
RE: Kris Allen
MESSAGE: After speaking with the Los Angeles Police Department and convening with forensic and psychological profilers at both the LAPD and the FBI Los Angeles branch, the final assessment is that Kris Allen is facing a real and viable danger that could trigger bodily harm.
The threats are escalating, and the perpetrator(s) is/are getting more aggressive on an increasing level.
The scale of the intimidation is cause for alarm, and we believe Mr. Allen needs to be notified about the situation so that measures can be taken.
Our recommendation is that an independent firm be hired to evaluate and rebuild Mr. Allen’s security until the threat is contained. The LAPD and FBI have assured us of their full cooperation with the team that is hired. They will continue with their investigation; however, as we all know because of budget cuts, the LAPD is unable to provide the level of protection needed by someone in Mr. Allen’s position.
We have a list of recommendations of potential security companies, and an RFP has been sent out. An initial round of interviews has been conducted by the security team at AMG. Please contact me for the information, and we will arrange additional meetings as soon as possible.
**
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Adam asked. He slammed the folders in his hand onto Anoop’s desk and glared.
“It’s just a meeting, jeez,” he replied, nonplussed by Adam’s display of temper.
From the corner, Cale chuckled from the battered recliner that Anoop refused to get rid of. He leaned back further in it. “Adam, seriously, lighten up. It could be fun.”
Adam moved and slammed an uncomfortable chair around so he could see his friends and business partners. Sitting on the edge of it, he placed his elbows on his knees and pleaded with them, “I’m not afraid that we won’t get the job. I’m more afraid that we will. Have you read the dossier on him?”
Anoop moved from behind the desk to sit on the edge of it next to Adam. “If we do get the job, and that’s a big if considering our competition, I think it might be a great challenge for the rest of the team. Plus, they’re signing on for a minimum of two years. The retainer itself would be a huge boost.”
“And, not to mention, should be fun,” Cale added, pulling a blanket over himself.
“Fun?” Adam shot up from the chair. “Fun? Seriously? Following a new out and proud public figure who doesn’t seem to have enough sense to keep it in his pants?” He walked over to Cale and leaned over him. “Have you read the RFP? You won’t have a life for two years. On-site security, 24-hour detail, events, tours…”
Cale yawned and stretched, then winked at Adam, “You mean we won’t have a life.” He looked over to Anoop who was flipping through the files. “It’s nothing we haven’t done before.”
“We need the revenue Adam,” Anoop stated flatly.
Adam sighed and fell into the couch next to the recliner, “I know.”
Cale leaned forward and slapped his knee, “Come on, study the files. It might not be as bad as you think it is.”
“It’ll be worse,” Adam snorted. He grabbed the files, “Let’s see who we’re all dealing with.” He held them up, “This from the management team, LAPD, FBI or our guys?”
“Our guys,” Anoop confirmed taking a seat next to Adam. He grabbed the top sheet, “Had Brian go through what Allen’s management team sent to all the prospective agencies...”
“Let’s see, the folks in his life,” Adam started to say, rifling through the file folders, “Parents come to LA three to four times a year, but are in Arkansas the rest of the time. Matt Giraud, personal manager; Bobby Hoppus, live-in driver, de facto bodyguard; Tommy Joe Ratliff, bass player and keyboardist for his band; Andrew DeRoberts, guitar player and keyboardist in band; Isaac Carpenter, drummer; Carla Tessern, personal assistant…fuck, how many people are in and out of his house?”
Anoop laughed, “That’s not even counting the people on the business and music end of things, agent, business manager, attorney, publicist and their assistants and other peripheral team members. Oh, and the house staff, maid, chef, trainer…”
Adam threw his head back onto the couch and groaned, “This is gonna be a nightmare.”
“Again, nothing we haven’t done before,” Cale said, clearly amused.
“What’s so funny about this, Cale?” Adam asked, smacking Cale’s arm.
“Wondering if you’re against this because of the circumstances or because it’s Kris Allen?”
Anoop cut in, “We’ve had worse clients and even worse situations.” He grabbed the file folders from Adam’s hands. “We’re doing this, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Adam replied. “Fuck me, but yeah…let’s land this client.”
**
To: inquiries@amgroup.com
From: Fans4KrisAllen@email.com
Subject: Make Kris Allen Stop Being Gay
Dear Sirs:
As part of Kris Allen’s management team, we feel you are not doing your best to ensure that Kris Allen, who is an amazing artist, reaches his full potential. This game of him being gay needs to stop. You need to get him to return to his wife and live the life he was meant to live, promoting family values and being a proper role model. As his management, you are obligated to make sure that his career is not being harmed, but you have stood by and allowed him to lead a wayward lifestyle which is not acceptable to his fans.
Please make it stop.
Sincerely,
The Fans 4 Kris Allen Appreciation Club
~ ~ ~
To: inquiries@amgroup.com
From: Fans4KrisAllen@email.com
Subject: Kris Allen
Dear Sirs:
We are concerned fans that are having a hard time understanding why you can’t keep an amazing artist like Kris Allen from self-destruction. The way you are managing his career is imprudent and just reckless as he continues to make a fool of himself. We believe that we could do a better job in promoting him and his music than you have. If you are truly “managing” him and his image, then you should be able to make the malicious gossip about his exploits stop. As his true fans, we are concerned that this ridiculous ploy to pander to a new audience will alienate members of his fan-base and prevent him from gaining new fans.
Do your jobs.
Waiting for your reply,
The Fans 4 Kris Allen Appreciation Club
~ ~ ~
To: inquiries@amgroup.com
From: Fans4KrisAllen@email.com
Subject: Unwise Decisions
Dear Sirs:
After months of this “joke” that really isn’t funny and Kris Allen’s team, both management and label, studiously ignoring our requests, we find that this lack of respect to his fans’ wishes too much. We will no longer be contacting you, but rather finding a way to reach out to Kris directly, as we feel that the layers that have been erected between your amazing artist and his fans to be too large and overwhelming.
You’ve given us no choice.
Thanks for nothing,
The Fans 4 Kris Allen Appreciation Club
**
The club was packed, music thumping, shiny, sweaty bodies writhing on the dance floor and spilling out to the bar area. Adam and Cale stood at the bar, back to the walls so they could optimize their viewing area of the people around them.
“I think our target is giving you the eye,” Cale said casually as he swung around to face the bar.
“Yeah?” Adam replied, winking at the bartender as she put his drink in front of him. “Good eye or stink eye?”
“We’re in a gay club,” Cale responded. “Do they even give stink eye in here?”
“You’d think knowing me all these years, you’d know the intricacies of gay hook-ups a little more.”
“More than I care to know, buddy,” Cale said slapping his shoulder. “Just saying.”
Adam lifted his glass and deftly moved to his left as a couple nearly ran into him as they were making out while trying to get to the bar. He lifted a brow as they rolled down the length of the bar, then shook his head and gazed back out to the dance floor.
“He’s careless,” Adam stated.
“Shocking.”
“No wonder his management is freaking out,” Adam said, eyeing everyone carefully as he took another sip. “He’s got the instincts of a flea.”
“Kind of like the size of one, too,” Cale laughed.
Adam slapped Cale’s shoulder and chuckled, “Be nice. He’s a client.”
“Totally your type.”
“Shut up.”
“Keeps glancing over at you.”
Adam smiled, “He’s probably looking at you.”
“Nah, man,” Cale smirked and took a sip from his beer. “He’s definitely curious about you.”
“He’s a client.”
Cale nudged his shoulder, “And if he wasn’t?”
“He is,” Adam shrugged. “Now, drop it.”
**
Kris was enjoying another night out. Sure, his management wasn’t too happy about it, but why should he have to hide and be a pathetic loser inside a big house by himself? And what was “be respectable” about anyway? It wasn’t as if he was fucking his way through Los Angeles-despite what the tabloids and gossip-mongers claimed. Yes, he enjoyed kissing cute guys. Yes, he might have gone into a dark corner or two with a random stranger, but it wasn’t like he was being a slut about things.
Tonight was no different. He was at Club Chaos, having a few drinks and dancing with people. It wasn’t like he was alone; Bobby was outside with the car and Matt was hanging out in the VIP section making sure things didn’t get out of hand.
It was while he was dancing to a mix of whatever song the DJ was spinning when he spotted him. Kris couldn’t take his eyes off him. Despite being in the middle of two gorgeous and sweaty boys, both vying for his attention, Kris’s eyes kept wandering to the bar. The man looked over briefly and seemed interested, but glanced away too fast, not giving Kris enough time to make decent eye contact.
The man was leaning against the bar, chatting with his friend, browsing over the crowds way too much, like he was looking for something. Kris wanted to be that something like he never wanted anything else. Tall, lean, dark hair tinged with brown and red highlights, a coolness around him like he knew he was hot and didn’t want to bother with anyone or anything…and didn’t that just make Kris react with a teeny jolt.
He decided to ditch the two boys and make his way to the bar when the man turned around and put his arm around his buddy. That made Kris freeze for a bit, but then said “fuck it” to himself. If the man wasn’t interested in anyone at the club, especially him, then Kris wouldn’t be the one to be doing the chasing. People chased after him, not the other way around.
Smiling at the boy in front of him, Kris threw himself into the music and decided to forget. And, the hazel-eyed cutie would help him.
**
Adam looked over the reports as Anoop carefully went through the box with gloved hands. He pulled out pages from envelopes and laid them out on the table.
“Fuck, that’s some disturbing shit right there,” Adam said as he stood over the evidence.
“Yeah, don’t understand how people this fucked in the head are living out there,” Anoop replied, placing another batch of pages down. He pointed to one, “See that one? I mean, using the man’s photos to spell out a death threat?” Anoop peered down closer, “Shit, these look like pics from a high-powered zoom. They’re not pap photos.”
Grabbing a magnifying glass, Adam took a closer look. “When were these found?”
“Eight months ago, if the logs are accurate,” Anoop answered. “Why would his management team not address this sooner? I mean, LAPD and FBI can only do so much, and considering they haven’t gotten to the source of it…”
Face grim, Adam straightened up and put the magnifying glass down, “I guess Mr. Allen needs a reality check.”
**
@KrisAllen Ur being gay is a joke right?
@amgroup @KrisAllen STOP WITH THE CHARADE. IT’S NOT BEFITTING SUCH AN ARTIST.
@BlueTintRecords @amgroup @KrisAllen GOD WILL PUNISH YOU ALL
Hard to believe that @BlueTintRecords & @amgroup is ok with this @KrisAllen crap
@BlueTintRecords STOP THE MADNESS. YOUR ARTIST @KRISALLEN IS A JOKE.
Why is @amgroup @BlueTintRecords allowing this stupidity. Make @KrisAllen go back 2 how he was!!!
@BlueTintRecords How can you stand by @KrisAllen when he’s making a mockery of what an artist should be @amgroup
@KrisAllen Why can’t U C that your fans don’t like this change? STOP IT OR LOSE FANS
**
“…and then, this juiced-out guy is screaming his head off like a five-year-old girl, and seriously, his hair only got a little messed up…”
“Kris, this is serious!” Jacob Hammond shouted out as he slammed his hands onto the hard wood of the conference table. Crystal cups jostled about as file folders and papers flew to the floor. The laughter stopped abruptly around the room.
Kris’s story telling faded as he leaned back to stare at his manager. “What?” he asked drolly as his fingers started to tap along the edge on the table.
“I called you all here because this is something we,” Jacob waved his arm around, “need to address. Now. Today.” he finished. Standing up, he started to pace the room. “We’re all here because there’s a major issue we need to take care of.” He turned to the room to look at everyone, and stopped as he leveled his gaze on Kris. “They have your home address.”
Making a face, Kris shrugged, “Yeah? So?”
“What part of the fact that your crazy fans know where you lay your head down at night don’t you understand? It’s all over the internet. And, in case you’ve forgotten, they’re a tad bit insane, and they know…Where. You. Live.” Jacob finished by pounding his hand with each word.
Propping his feet onto the table, Kris folded his hands behind his head and settled into the leather conference chair, “Whatever.”
“Have you forgotten the part where they’re insane? Fanatical? Bizarre? Ridiculous?” Jacob asked. He walked around the table and stood over Kris. “What about the part from the other end of the crazy spectrum where you’re enemy number one? You’re allegedly damaging the moral values and integrity of home and hearth. You have homophobic extremists sending you death threats!”
Kris raised an eyebrow and smirked, “I’m enemy number one? Damn, didn’t know I was even in the top ten. All that without an album out right now.”
Jacob crossed his arms, “You find this funny? What about the stalkers who follow you pretty much everywhere?”
Kris stifled a laugh, “No one follows me everywhere.”
“What about the group of crazies that call themselves the DrunkenHoars for fuck’s sake,” Jacob shouted out in exasperation.
Kris burst out laughing, “They’re harmless. Sweet, even. They buy cupcakes for the band and me.” He rested his hands on his stomach and crossed his ankles, “Besides, they only come to my shows; they’re not camping out in front of my house or following me around when I run errands. They’re fans that are actually fun and are having a good time. Fun is a good thing, Jacob.”
Jacob threw his hands in the air, “You’ve had things thrown at you. What about that secret show at The Viper Room last month!”
“It was a fucking stuffed baby unicorn,” Kris chuckled. “So, what’s this really about? Why are we here on a gorgeous Saturday morning when I should be sleeping in?”
Jacob rolled his eyes and checked his watch, “They’ll be here any minute.”
“Who?”
At the ding of the elevator, all eyes from the conference room turned to look out of the windowed walls. Jacob pulled on his cuffs, “Here they are, right on time.” He left the room to meet the three men in black suits who walked into the lobby.
Kris turned to Carla, his assistant, who shrugged. Tommy, his best friend and guitarist was busy playing “Shark Attack” on his iPad. Eyeing everyone else, Kris saw only confusion on the faces of the rest of his management team, so he focused on the men in the lobby. He quirked an eyebrow at the tallest of the men, who still had his sunglasses on. Black hair, shiny lips pursed out in reflection as he nodded to whatever it was Jacob was saying.
“Who are they?” Kris asked the room.
Margo, Jacob’s assistant shook her head, “Don’t know. He made this appointment himself and told me to make sure everyone was here today.”
**
Adam was barely listening to Jacob Hammond, just nodding along in all the right places. He knew Cale and Anoop would fill him in if he missed anything important. They knew the drill. The man before them was obviously stressed out, his $300 dress shirt wrinkled, face lined with worry. It was very different from the one Adam met months ago where his sharp Armani suit and crisp shirt screamed confidence, power and success.
Adam snuck a peek over to the group sitting in the conference room, quickly assessing every one of them. It’s one of the main reasons he never took off his sunglasses until he actually had to; he wanted to see people’s reactions when they didn’t think he was paying attention to them. And in this room, people were curious. He could work with that.
He focused on their client…one Kris Allen…Grammy-award winning, platinum-selling musician and activist. His work with various music- and art-related charities, along with his “aw-shucks” mannerisms and cute factor made him America’s sweetheart. However, after winning two Grammies for his second album three years ago, Kris went on to divorce his high school sweetheart and came out of the closet. Naturally, sales sky-rocketed, his albums jumping back into the Billboard 100, his most recent back into the top 10.
And with the boost in sales, came the inevitable boost in ego. Kris lived his life unapologetically since coming out, behaving recklessly and causing enough problems to keep his agents’ hair colorists in business, have his manager’s masseuse upgrade her studio and cover the tuition for his publicists’ children’s private school education.
Of course, with the new attention, came the unhappy fans and basement dwellers who wanted attention. It was business as usual…until the “electrical mishap” at one of Kris’s shows; and the emails and letters to Kris’s label, management and publicist’s office. Something apparently Kris was unaware of because his management kept it from him. Today’s meeting would remedy that.
“…and he’s not taking this seriously at all. I don’t know how to emphasize...” Jacob was saying.
Adam smiled and interrupted, “We understand, Mr. Hammond. Let’s see what Mr. Allen has to say about this, yeah?
“Of course,” Jacob nodded.
As he led them into the conference room, holding the doors open, Adam took off his sunglasses and tucked them into his inner jacket pocket. Cale and Anoop took their spots at the head of the table, while Adam stood slightly behind them to the left. While Jacob took his seat, Anoop lifted the strap of his messenger bag over his head and took out some files.
Clearing his throat, Anoop started the meeting. “Good morning everyone,” he smiled. “We’re from Praesidio Associates. Jacob asked us to come in to meet with you so we can tell you a little about us and answer any questions you might have.” He leaned over to hand the reports to get passed around. “Now, to answer the basics, we’re a security consulting firm, and we’ve been retained to provide our services to Mr. Allen.”
“What?” Kris yelped as he stood up. He turned to Jacob, “What the fuck?”
“Kris,” Jacob started to say.
“Mr. Allen,” Anoop interceded calmly. “If you would sit down and listen to what we have to say.”
“Fuck that,” Kris stated and pushed back from his position at the table. The chair rolled back and hit the window with a thud. “I can’t believe this shit.” He started to move towards the door when Tommy’s hand grabbed the back pocket of his jeans.
“Kris, stop it,” Tommy demanded, pulling Kris back. “Shut up and sit down.”
“Et tu, Tommy?” Kris growled out.
He stomped back to his chair and sat it in heavily with a scowl.
Adam bit his lip and tried not to laugh at the display. Yeah, their background checks and research proved to be right. Kris Allen was not a diva-in-the-making, he was a full-on diva slash drama queen, period…and a fucking pain in the ass. No matter how cute he was.
**
Kris looked up at the three men standing ominously at the front of the room in their matching, expensive suits and ties. Kris’s eyes shifted and caught the tall one with black hair who was standing a little off to the side and pretending like he wasn’t amused by the little burst of emotion that had just played out. He scowled even more when he saw the man biting his lip to keep from laughing. The arrogant fucker. So what if he was hot?
Shit, he thought. Where the fuck did that thought come from?
He quickly picked up the spiral bound report in front of him to have something to do other than think about how hot-ridiculously hot-the tall guy was. Pretending to read instead of paying attention to whatever the one talking had to say was a better way to pass the time, though he was racking his brain trying to figure out why hot guy looked familiar.
Kris didn’t know how much time had passed, but he started to pay attention.
“…introductions. I’m Anoop Desai,” the man, Anoop, was saying. “This is Cale Mills,” he said motioning to his right as Cale nodded. Anoop turned and moved his hand to the left, “And, this is Adam Lambert.” Adam’s mouth lifted in a semblance of a smile. “Because of the severity and high-profile status of the case, we’ll be your main points of contact. We’ll be taking shifts as part of Mr. Allen’s security detail. And, depending on the day or night, one of us will always be with you. There will be times when more of our colleagues will be joining us, say for an event or other public functions where more security is necessary. Brian Campbell is head of our tech services, and he and his team will be at the office monitoring everything, including venues and locations on a regular basis.”
Anoop stopped and looked around the room, “Any questions?”
“What if I don’t need you around at all?” Kris asked snottily. “I mean, what if I have a friend over and need some privacy?”
Cale spoke up, “We’ll be running the necessary background checks for any sudden friends that make an appearance in your life, and once everything has been secured, you can, uh, entertain them as you wish.”
“Clubbing?”
“Someone from our team will be with you,” Cale answered.
“I can still bring folks backstage?”
“Nothing doing,” Anoop replied.
“What the fu…”
“Kris,” Jacob spoke up quickly. “Until we find the person or persons behind these threats, I’m afraid your, uh, social activities are going to have to be put on hold.”
Kris slammed his hand down, “What threat? What the fuck is going on?” he demanded. “So what if my home address is out there? I have the most fucking expensive and extensive alarm system around the property. I have a fucking bodyguard with me at industry events. Each venue provides security. I have so many people around me, I can barely take a shit by myself in my own house!”
Jacob cleared his throat, “Kris…we’ve been trying to figure out how bad…”
“Mr. Allen,” Adam stated quietly as he stepped forward. “Your team contacted us a few months ago when some rather disturbing communications were brought to their attention.” Adam held out his hand as Anoop slid a thick envelop into it. “We went through what Jacob and Elliot sent us, so yes, Mr. Allen, your life will be a little inconvenienced, but I think that’s a sacrifice you need to make at this time to ensure you have a life to live.”
Kris’s scowl turned into a pout. He didn’t want their help, didn’t need their help. This Adam character could help him by getting on his knees and sucking Kris off with those full, shiny lips, as his bright blue eyes stared up at him. Other than that, everything was fine. He shifted in his seat uncomfortably, getting that image out of his mind and stared daggers at Jacob.
Knowing he was being a brat, Kris blew out a long breath. He crossed his arms and looked at the three men standing stoically.
“Tell me everything,” he demanded. “Now.”
**
Though Adam and his team had started working with Kris months ago, it had been from afar. After the face-to-face meeting, they started the in-person protective detail. After getting the necessary information from Jacob and Carla, Anoop, Cale and Adam reconvened at their office to finalize a rotating schedule based on Kris’s.
It was a process, to say the least; Kris was uncooperative like no other client Praesidio’s had before, which was saying a lot. Just because he was cute and talented didn’t mean he was a nice guy, and every day with him was making it more and more difficult to work with him. At least Kris’s people were being more accommodating in making sure their friend/boss was protected.
Adam exited the SUV, quickly surveying the street while barely moving his head. Satisfied with what he saw, he opened the passenger door. Bobby stood by stoically on the other side, also checking out the environment around them.
Kris pushed his guitar out, practically shoving it into Adam’s face. Adam stepped back and Bobby automatically took the case by the handle as Kris stepped out of the car.
“Is this really necessary?” Kris asked as Adam shut the door. He grabbed the guitar from Bobby and headed towards the side door of the beige building in front of them.
Adam nodded to Bobby, who jumped back into the SUV. Addressing Kris, “For the thousandth time, yes.” He followed Kris to the door, barely flinching when he threw the door open, which missed him by mere inches.
“It’s a quick meeting with a producer about a song for a movie soundtrack,” Kris whined as he stomped up the stairs. “I think Bobby could protect me for an hour. I’m still alive and kicking,” he said snidely.
“We’d still have to go through this even if you were meeting the Queen of England,” Adam responded. “If you just go with it instead of being antagonistic and fighting us every step of the way, it might be easier.”
“Right,” Kris sneered. “Because having men in black on my ass…” he looked over his shoulder at Adam, “and not in a fun way…” he turned back to focus on the stairs, “…day and night is totally making my life easier.”
Adam moved in front of Kris and blocked the door, “Being alive to actually complain is better than being dead, don’t you think?”
Kris stood angrily and moved into Adam’s space, “Fuck you.”
“I don’t fuck entitled, spoiled little boys.” Adam moved aside and opened the door.
**
“The IP addresses have been pinging off different servers in India and China,” Brian said as his fingers flew across the keyboard. “They keep jumping around every time we’re close. I think we have some names, obviously fake, from their various accounts, but it’s going to take longer to pin them down to an actual location and get the real people behind this.”
Anoop started to pace the room, “Great. We’ve got smart, tech-savvy wackos.”
Adam started to say something when one of the large-screen televisions that lined up the wall of the tech room interrupted a soap opera. “Shh…Mason, turn up the volume on TV four,” he ordered.
“…a five block radius has been shut down in Beverly Hills around the Artist Management Group office. An LAPD spokeswoman has confirmed that a couple suspicious packages were delivered this morning and contained crude homemade bombs. She would not confirm if they were live and active, but that SWAT and the bomb squad have possession of them. We did learn from a source that one of the packages was marked for a client on Artist Management’s roster. Reporting live from Beverly Hills, I’m…”
“Shit,” Adam shouted. He jumped up from his chair and started to bark out orders. “Dev, get Jacob on the phone and figure out why the fuck we weren’t contacted immediately. Brian, hack into LAPD servers to see what the threat situation really is. Deena, get a hold of your contacts from LAPD and see what they’ll share. Anoop…”
“Already on it,” Anoop said, phone in hand.
**
Kris smiled as he moved around the room. Five hundred dollars a plate and the food still sucked. He was glad they stopped for In-N-Out before arriving at the Beverly Hilton, even though Tommy argued that Taco Bell would’ve been better. The guys started fighting, trying to pick out the best fast-food drive through they should go to until Kris ended the discussion by making the decision. Between that and the snacks in the green room from his rider, he was able to function and perform at the fundraiser. And, now, he was mingling and networking, per Jacob and Ronnie’s instructions.
Glass of vodka soda in his hand, he stopped and exchanged words with a few people he knew at this event. He winked at Tommy and Andrew as three female fans cornered them, trapping them at their table. As he was talking and laughing, he felt eyes on him and turned to see Adam Lambert watching. Excusing himself from…oh, who the fuck cared, he made his way to the wall where Adam was standing.
He hated to admit it, but Adam looked amazing in his tuxedo. The other security folks and bodyguards hanging around the edges of the ballroom looked like hired muscle, awkward in formal attire they normally don’t wear; but, Adam was the exception, almost like he was one of the guests. Only his sharp eyes, the occasional hand to the ear, as well as the steady and deliberate movements separated him from the rest of the crowd.
“You stick out like a sore thumb and look a little crazy talking to yourself,” Kris said sidling up next to him. “Even if it’s an earpiece. People won’t know that.”
“Nothing this crowd isn’t use to, I’m sure.”
“Having fun?”
“We’re here to make sure you’re safe, me inside and two of us outside. Doing what the other security teams are doing by standing around and talking to ourselves like crazy people.”
“But are you having fun?” Kris insisted.
“A blast,” Adam replied dryly.
Kris took a sip from the glass and pursed his lips, “You don’t like me, do you?”
“That’s not relevant. You’re a client, and we’re here to make sure you’re safe.”
Taking a giant gulp, Kris finished off his drink. He held the empty glass loosely between his fingers, tapping the side of it. “Did you like the performance?”
Finally, Adam stopped perusing the room and focused those black-lined, blue eyes at him. Kris’s breath hitched for a second, and he gripped the glass tightly as he felt the impact of Adam gaze directed at him.
“Didn’t realize you were the type to fish for compliments,” Adam commented.
“I’m not,” Kris laughed shakily. “Just trying to make conversation.” He quickly dropped the empty glass on a passing waiter’s tray. Rubbing his hand, he licked his suddenly dry lips. He glanced over in time to see a flicker in Adam’s eyes as they followed the path of his tongue.
With just that fleeting look, Kris’s body warmed up as images of Adam moving him into the dark corner and taking his mouth assaulted his brain.
“…let me know when you’re ready to head out. I think it’s winding down,” Adam was saying.
“Uh, yeah. Give me ten minutes or so, need to say good-bye to a few people,” Kris said, recovering from his thoughts.
Ignoring the strange look on Adam’s face, Kris grabbed a bottle of water from the table behind Adam and took off.
**
“Kris, we should get going,” Matt said, leaning closer so that Kris could hear him over the music thumping in the club.
“A little longer, Matt,” Kris said as he eyed a tall, dark-haired man making his way past them. “It’s barely after midnight.”
“I think you’ve had enough fun for the night,” Matt insisted, turning Kris around to face him.
“I’m not even close to having the kind of fun I want right now,” Kris scowled as he lost sight of the guy. “Between you and that guy Cale, I’ve barely managed to have a couple drinks. I agreed to this protective detail shit, but shouldn’t that mean I can let loose? Isn’t that what having a bodyguard is for?” He looked up to see Matt’s face and rolled his eyes. “Fine, I’ll leave at last call, okay? Only another hour.”
Matt saw the stubbornness factor set in and nodded, “Fine. An hour. But, that doesn’t mean you drink until you can’t see what’s in front of you. You still need to be aware of what’s going on around you.”
Kris tossed back a shot of vodka and smiled, “Oh, I’m aware of what’s going on.” He peeked over Matt’s shoulder and spotted the guy. “I’m going to walk around and see what’s in front of me right now.”
“Kris…” Matt reached out to grab Kris, but he slid away quickly into the crowded heart of the club. Using the edge of the bar to peer over the mass of bodies, Matt let out a breath of relief when he saw Cale follow Kris in.
Kris didn’t remember how the fight started. All he had done was try to move away. One minute his back was against the wall, eyes closed, trying to enjoy the sensation of warm hands traveling down his body, and the next, as he looked down, the eyes that looked back up were wrong; they were green or hazel or whatever.
Knocking his head back and trying to block out brilliant blue-gray eyes from his mind, Kris tried to settle his body and enjoy the tongue licking down his stomach. He sighed. It wasn’t working. Reaching down, he cupped the raven-haired man’s cheek and tried to pull him up. Only, he wasn’t having it. He bit down on Kris’s hip, making him jerk back.
“Stop,” Kris strangled out. “Come on, man. Not feeling it.”
“Since when is Kris Allen not slutting it up along a dark hallway?” the man said as he finally rose up. “You too good for this now?”
“Just not in the mood,” Kris replied as he zipped his jeans back up. He tried to step away from the wall.
“Not in the mood?” the man questioned, and stuck his hand out blocking Kris from escaping.
Suddenly the man was jerked away, limbs flailing. Cale was holding the man by the collar, but glared at Kris. “Get Bobby and go home,” was all Cale had the chance to say before the man threw a punch.
Kris shook himself out of his shock and ran out of the club.
**
Adam’s body was on fire. Heat was spreading through him, over him, as he opened his eyes. He reached out, his warm palms sliding across cool silky sheets. That right there should have given him a clue, but the thought was chased away by a shot of electricity that blasted up from the tip of his toes. His body bowed up at the delicious pull at his groin. Groaning, he looked down to see himself spread eagle on blood-red silk sheets in a bedroom he didn’t recognize, and then he saw a shock of brown hair moving up and down over his cock.
He gripped the sheets tight, as calloused hands tightened over his thighs, moved over his hipbone holding him down, as the vibrations of the man’s hums traveled through him.
“Oh, god,” Adam groaned again.
The man took another pull with his glorious mouth, wet and tight, as he moved one hand from Adam’s thigh and clenched the base of his cock. Twisting his hand, the man licked over and under and with a final draw, sucked hard, and Adam came undone.
Breathing hard, Adam felt his liquefied body melt into the bed. He tried to reach out for the man, needing to touch him. He got enough energy to lift his head up and his eyes widened at the self-satisfied smirk on Kris Allen’s face. Sitting between Adam’s legs, Kris’s right hand slowly wiped come and spit from his mouth and chin, while his left caressed Adam’s hip and thigh.
Adam shivered from the touch and fell back onto the pillows. He tried to rise up, sit up, move his body, anything to get closer to Kris, to touch him back, but it felt as if a heavy weight kept him pinned to the bed. He opened his mouth to say something, yet no noise came out except a low buzz. The buzzing continued, confusing him. Biting his lip, Adam closed his eyes and waited. The sound droned on, no matter how tight he shut his eyes, seeping into his brain.
He jackknifed up off the bed, realizing the buzzing sound was coming from his phone. Throwing the covers off, he reached for the nightstand and blinked at the bright display. 1:57AM.
Pressing the button, he growled, “Anoop, it’s almost two in the morning.”
“It’s Kris Allen.”
“What happened? Where’s Cale? It’s his week.”
“Cale’s at S & G with Matt trying to sort things out with the cops and getting reports. He called me first thinking I’d be closer, but I’m in Pasadena right now for the Tranglor case, so you need to help out.”
“S & G? What…” Adam blew out a breath and tried to focus. “Why the fuck did Cale let Allen go there?”
“Kris wanted to go out, someplace…” Anoop started to say irritably. “I know, I know, but there’s nothing we can do about it now. Bobby hustled Kris out of there. I don’t know all the details, but you need to get to the house ASAP.” Anoop stopped to mumble something to another person. “Adam?”
“Yeah, I’m on my way. Give me 15.”
“Okay.” Click.
Adam took the phone away from his ear and stared at the default screen. He scrubbed his hand over his face and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
**
Adam walked around the property, taking in the line of trees and the fence. He nodded at the two daytime security guards walking along the perimeter as he took one last look around and headed back to the guesthouse.
He passed Kris huddling with his mother by the pool, heavy blankets covering their shoulders as they sat side-by-side on the Adirondack chairs. He paused, wanting to say something, but instead shook his head and kept moving.
Nine weeks since the office meeting, three weeks since the night of the fight at S & G, and even then, it was the car accident involving Carla and her being hospitalized that finally convinced Kris that the threat was real. Shaken to the core, Kris was shocked into letting Adam and his team move forward with their plans. The new house was ready and secure. Boxes were still stacked up, slowly being unpacked by movers vetted by Cale and Anoop. They and Matt Giruard, Kris’s personal manager, had overseen the move and got everything and everyone set up in less than a week.
Adam opened the door to the guesthouse and was greeted with a maelstrom of papers, magazines and photos all over just about every surface in the small living room. Cale and Matt sat on the floor, backs hunched over a stack of photos, magnifying glass moving over a black and white sheet.
“What’s going on?” Adam asked as he closed the door.
Cale continued to move the magnifying glass, but answered, “Got something, I think. Just double-checking before I have Brian go through it.”
Matt stood up and greeted Adam with an outstretched hand, “Hey. So, how’s everything out there?”
“Everything looks good. Stan’s checking over the cameras and motion sensors one last time, everything will be relayed back to our office real-time, backed-up on DVD.”
“Good, good,” Matt said slapping Adam on the shoulder lightly. “I should, uh, get back to the main house.” He turned to Cale, “See ya later.”
“Yeah,” Cale replied absently, shuffling more photos in his hands.
Adam waited until Matt closed the door behind him, “What was that about?”
“What was what about?”
“Why was Matt here looking at all this shit with you?”
“He handles Kris’s personal shit,” Cale said, putting the photos down. He turned to Adam, “Why?”
Adam shook his head, “I know that, just wondering why you’re sharing all this with him?”
“Well, who else would I be sharing it with?”
“No one except us,” Adam retorted. “We don’t share information until everything’s been handled.”
Cale snorted, “Yeah, but he’s the one that brought this shit in.”
Adam arched a brow and crossed his arms, “Really, now.”
He didn’t like this at all. There was being cooperative, but bringing over boxes of stuff over, especially when it was requested months ago, the timing was off.
Raising up his hands, Cale laughed, “Just thought you should know.”
“Curious.”
“I suppose,” Cale replied carefully.
(Part 2? Go here...)