Superfan (Brooklyn #3)(41)

And now I have a dilemma. Do I cop to knowing exactly who she means? Can a real man admit that he once watched the Twilight movies on a plane? Asking for a friend.

She replies with a Twilight gif where Edward is looking pretty sexy, if everyone is honest.

My other text message is from Heidi, whose full-time job these days is assisting the team’s general manager. Are you in the building? Carl Bayer is looking for you. He’s set up in the security office.

I’ll be right up, I reply.

Whistling to myself, I jog through the sunlit tunnel connecting the practice facility to the Bruisers’ office complex, then take the stairs two at a time.

Carl Bayer is the head of the security company who watches over Nate Kattenberger’s empire, including the hockey team. He’s also the father of my retired teammate, Eric Bayer.

Carl rarely shows his face in Brooklyn. He runs a big company, and his minions usually do all the legwork. But today I find Carl seated at a conference table, papers spread out in front of him.

“Hey, kid,” he says as I enter. “How’s life?”

“Not bad. You’re working here today?” His office is somewhere in Manhattan, I think. This office is usually occupied by the security staff member who works full time for the team.

“Yeah. I have a meeting with Nate and Rebecca in an hour. And I’m just working on the guest list. Next week is showtime. So let’s chat about your date.”

My stomach flips over. “Is she coming?”

The older man tips his head from side to side, as if to acknowledge his uncertainty. “I hope so. But yesterday, her security company tried to convince me that she can’t go anywhere without them. And we can’t accommodate a security team on the island where you are staying.”

“She won’t need security on this island, right? It’s tiny.”

“Tiny, isolated, and guarded by my team as well as two dozen professional athletes.” Carl grins. “But her security guys are pissed off that I won’t provide the name of the hosts, the coordinates of the island, or the guest list. It’s frankly obnoxious that they’d ask. Bayer Security isn’t just a couple of rent-a-cops. We have a global reputation for protecting high-net-worth clients. The whole thing kinda rubs me the wrong way.”

“I’ll bet. But Delilah is an adult. She can go wherever she wants. She doesn’t need their approval.”

“Agreed. I can’t imagine they’d convince her that this trip is dangerous. Honestly, her coming along is an inconvenience to me, not the other way around.”

“Why?”

“Crazy fans.” He shrugs. “There are people who would rent a boat and follow a popstar around the Caribbean. You do my job for forty years, you see some things.”

“I, uh…” I hadn’t thought this through. “Sorry to make things complicated.”

“Don’t be!” Carl chuckles. “Aside from being a little extra-vigilant when we bring her to the island, it’s not a deal killer. I assumed her security guys would just get over themselves. But then I got a Skype call from her bodyguard. He called me from home, from his roommate’s computer. And I didn’t get the feeling that it was an official call.”

“Wait, what? Was he a giant dude? No neck?”

“That’s the one. No idea where he shops for shirts. Anyway, it was a strange conversation. He says, ‘I’ll bring her to the meetup, no problem. But they keep tabs on who she’s with. They’ll know afterwards. Maybe she should stay out of pictures.’” Carl shrugs. “I’m thinking—fine whatever. After the wedding is over, the whole thing will be public anyway. Photos will be draped across the internet.”

“That guy didn’t strike me as the sharpest tool in the shed,” I point out.

“That was my first impression, too.” Carl clicks the button on his pen a few times, thinking. “But reading people is my job, and it sounded as if he was trying to warn you. He mentioned that her security detail is provided by her record company.”

“Right. She wants to change that, but she hasn’t done it yet.”

“Because she broke up with the producer guy? I Googled.”

“Yeah.”

Carl puts his meaty forearms on the desk. “I think the bodyguard is saying that if she vacations with you, the ex is going to blow his musket.”

“So?” My blood pressure spikes. “Again—adults can do what they want. He’s her ex for a reason.”

“Agreed. But I’m a cynical old man who’s met a lot of assholes. Wouldn’t want this to blow back on her.”

“He’s a sore loser.” I know this all too well. “But she’s never going back to him. He needs to understand. And I don’t see how denying her a trip to the beach is even a little bit fair.”

“All right,” Carl says simply. “I’ll tell those assholes that I’ll bring her across on the launch myself. They can just deal with it.”

“Thank you,” I say, getting up. “I appreciate it.”

He chuckles. “Oh, to be young again. See you on the island, kid.”





Delilah





I’m seated with a dozen or so people on a boat that’s cutting across turquoise waters, clutching my floppy hat against the breeze. It’s so beautiful here.