Only the best (closed)

[zydrate]

Sasha Hart was the next big thing. Since the age of 12, she had been an overnight sensation. Her first public appearance was a local talent show where she had won first place. And from there, it just seemed to skyrocket her fame.

Now, at the age of 18, she was going to be heading out on her first big tour where she would be head-lining it. The thing was, her tour would take her through Germany, the UK, China and then finally down to Australia with an over night detour in Cairo before heading back to Mexico, United States and Canada.

The tour was no trouble at all. The opening acts were booked as was the road crew. The only thing the record company had trouble with was the security. Sure, there was the rent-a-cops along the way but they could only do so much and really, they were not willing to risk their lives for anything.

And that was probably fine for some other act. But not for Sasha Hart. Her talent was true. She didn't sync any of her music, she didn't fake it, her music was real. It was different than anything out there. Her voice was suited for just about anything, from Jazz to Blues to matching even some of the best 'pop' stars are there today.

That was why only the best was to be hired to take care of her, make sure she was well protected.

Of course rumor super ceded anything that wasn't remotely true. Some said that Sasha was a diva. Well, she wasn't. If anything, she was down to Earth, simple but because of those managing her career, they made sure the best was hired so she could sell....sell music and sell the label.

She was their star. She needed protection. Only the best would do.

 

[Niceandbrutal]

Mark Russel had to admit it; the life of a bodyguard wasn't all he'd thought it would be. But then, almost everything paled compared to active military service, of which Mark had seen plenty. He had retired from US Army Special Forces (popularly known as the Green Berets) after a few close calls in Afghanistan and Iraq, wanting to grow old while still getting to use some of the skills he'd worked so hard to obtain. He had pondered hiring himself out to South African mercenary companies, but decided against that after taking a long hard look at the conflicts they'd engaged in.

Mark had been approached by an ex-SAS trooper he'd co-operated with on many occasions near Helmand. He wanted to know if Mark wanted to earn obscene amounts of money while working in a civilised environment. Mark had agreed of course, and before he knew it he was whisked off on assignments as a bodyguard. Or as he had come to call it, a glorified nanny.

He had worked mostly short term contracts for people who rightly or not felt they needed extra protection. He had yet to raise his voice or fire a shot in anger in his new line of work. More often than not, it was the clients that needed to be protected from themselves.

At the age of 32, Mark was still in prime condition. He worked out religiously and practised his skills as often as time and clients allowed. He was and had always been a formidable adversary in hand-to-hand combat, and he was also handy with blades and batons as well as firearms. He weighed in at 175 pounds soaking wet, the weight distributed across his 5'11" frame, all wiry muscles and sinew. He had blonde crew cut hair and deceptively soft brown eyes, complimenting his softspoken demeanor.

Mark was at home after a particularly annoying assignment. He had been hired at great expense by some fashion mogul who was convinced he'd pissed off some middle eastern nutjobs by implementing hijabs in his latest creations. The threat analysis came up a blank, but the fashion desginer would not be swayed. He had demanded the very best they had, and so they had sent Mark. Mark had spent the next three weeks being paraded around in receptions and parties. There had been advances from both sexes, which he would politely but firmly decline, seeing as he was on assignment. After that excrusiating job he'd demanded: no more self-important divas!

And so, when he learned that his next assignment would be as the personal bodyguard of the rising pop phenomenon Sasha Hart, he almost blew his top in frustration. Another diva!? He'd heard some of her music of course, and some of it was quite good. But he'd heard rumors of diva-like behaviour and all-round bitchiness, as you did with all rising stars. The office had sweetened the deal considerably by telling him that he would be responsible for all her security as well as be her personal shadow. And it was a long term contract for a world tour.

In the end, Mark had relented. One grey morning he flew back to the USA and arrived at the offices of Sasha Hart's representatives where he was told of his duties and Miss Hart's needs. The first glimmer of hope that this wouldn't be a thoroughly shitty assignment materialized when he realised that her needs and demands were actually quite reasonable. But he would reserve his judgment until after he'd met her.

He was whisked off to a nearby hotel where Miss Hart was staying in preparation for her world tour. When he entered the lobby, Mark realised he'd have his work cut out for him. The security staff was, at best, sloppy, and before he would even consider going up to Miss Hart's room, he demanded to see the shift leader. What followed was a thorough chewing out of the shift leader who, in Mark's professional opinion, had executed a sloppy and potentially dangerous deployment of security staff. Only after the security personnel had been redeployed according to Mark's orders would he take the elevator up to Miss Hart's suite.

Leaving the elevator, he was met by a rather nervous young man that volunteered the information that he was a part of Sasha Hart's entourage, that they all had looked forward to meet him, and that Miss Hart would see him momentarily. He was shown inside a suite larger than anything he'd ever lived in and told to make himself comfortable. He could hear subdued voices emanating from a door as he cased the room for potential entry points.

As his back was turned on the door, it opened behind him, and a woman cleared her throat.

 

[zydrate]

Sasha had been cooped up in her room most of the morning dealing with shit from the execs from the label and the planning committee regarding the last stages of the concert. In her mind, it should have been simple. In the execs minds, they hadn't planned on Ms. Hart being involved this much with everything. But,she did and now they had to deal with her wanting to be involved in EVERYTHING.

That included the meetings about the tour. The meetings about the costumes, the meetings about the music.

She refused to be one of those that let everyone do everything for her.

"No Blake! I just don't understand why it's so hard to understand that that's not how I had planned it! I talked to everyone and even the sound engineers said it wouldn't be a problem!"

Listening to Blake tell her that they knew what they were doing and things were different when in the final planning stages, especially when it was so close for the tour to kick off. Again, the talk. She couldn't have everything her way.

"Fine. But you know what? This is bullshit Blake. Absolute bullshit. Just be lucky if I sign again with you people once my contract is up!" With that, she slammed the desk phone down and buried her head in her hands on top of the desk. This couldn't be worth the headache she felt coming on, could it?

"Sasha?" came a timid voice from the entry way to her bedroom.

God, it was that brown nosing little shit, Alec. Alec with a C. Looking up from the desk, Sasha smiled. She refused to let anyone see her when she was down. "Hey Alec, what is it?"

"Your new security guy is here." He said, looking as nervous as ever, "And he already moved some of the other security guys."

"Ohhkay..." Sasha said at Alec's puzzlement. It didn't phase her that it was a bad thing. It just meant that at least someone took their job seriously around here. She grabbed the folder with her new head of security's information on it but before they left to te other room, Sasha stopped Alec, "Hey, why don't you go get something to eat OK? I want to meet with this guy alone."

Opening the door to the main room, Sasha entered and saw the man, with his back to her. Clearing her throat, Sasha smiled when they finally came eye to eye, "Mr. Russel, right?" She said, holding out her hand, offering it to him, "I'm Sasha." She waved to the couch, "Let's have a seat and we can talk some more, sound good?"

After they had a seat, she set his folder down next to her on the couch, "So, tell me more about your Mr. Russel. I mean, they just gave me your resume but I want to hear it from your own mouth AND I also want to know why you moved around my other security guys?"

 

[Niceandbrutal]

Mark turned around in a swift and fluid motion. There she was. He'd seen publicity photos of her of course, but as almost always seemed to be the case with celebrities she seemed smaller in real life. Not that it mattered one way or the other. "Mr. Russel, right? I'm Sasha. Let's have a seat and we can talk some more, sound good?"

He liked her smile. It seemed less guarded and less manipulative than the ones he'd seen on her photos. They shook hands and he felt his calloused hands, toughened by years of training and hard work, all but engulf her soft dainty hand. It wasn't an altogether unpleasant feeling, he had to admit. Years of experience as a bodyguard had taught Mark to read people, so that he could to some degree gauge their moods. It was a useful tool for singling out potential threats, and Mark used the ability without conscious thought now. She seemed stressed, though she hid it well. Mark decided to say nothing about that for the time being.

They sat down, and she continued: "So, tell me more about your Mr. Russel. I mean, they just gave me your resume but I want to hear it from your own mouth AND I also want to know why you moved around my other security guys?" Questions about his experience were part of the job, it seemed. people always wanted to hear tales of daring and violence. What was unusual this time was that Miss hart also asked about practical matters. That was encouraging.

"I'll answer the last part of your question first, Miss Hart. I have been hired as your personal bodyguard and head of security for this trip. It is my intention that you not be harmed or bothered in any way. As such, I will personally draw up guard rosters and approve of or fire every individual security guard on our detail and in the different nations we visit. I don't know how experienced the shift commander of the security guys here is, but the guards were not at all alert and they were idiotically deployed. Luckily, I was no threat to you or the hotel. None of the guards checked me out, and none of the guards tried to stop me as I approached the elevator. I took one of the three guards at the main entrance and placed him by the elevators, making him promise to check everyone's credentials before being allowed inside one. I also strengthened the guards at the rear entrance and the garage entrance, as well as the roof."

Mark never raised his voice as he calmly and matter-of-factly explained his actions. He drew a quick floor plan of the first floor to illustrate his point and pointed out why the main entrance shouldn't be prioritized. An overt show of force there would deter 95% of the amateurs. The devious ones almost never had the chutzpah to walk in the front door anyway. And if they did, they would have to pass through the guard by the elevator, the guard outside Miss Hart's room, and finally through Mark himself.

"As for my previous experience, my resumé says it all really. I graduated from college with a major in linguistics and a minor in psychology. I volunteered for military service and volunteered for Airborne school and Ranger school before applying for Special Forces. I got trained as a medic and learned both arabic and pashtun before I served as an advisor for the Afghan National Army near Helmand where we co-operated with british and norwegian special forces in teaching the afghans how to whup Taliban's ass, if you'll pardon my french Miss. I did a stint in Iraq where we hunted insurrectionists down as well. It was... disagreeable work." He shuddered. He'd lost some friends, had watched helplessly as they bled out in his arms. He'd saved most of those wounded close to him, but he couldn't save them all. He wasn't yet ready to share that little gem with anyone.

"After a while I was offered work for a british security company. The pay was good and the threats were few, so I wised up and said yes please." A wry selfconscious smile graced his lips. "I have yet to fire a shot in anger or raise my voice as a bodyguard. That does not mean I've grown complacent in my work, mind you. But more often than not, the mere presence of a bodyguard is enough of a deterrent."

"I have a few questions of my own, Miss Hart. I need to know how close you plan to be with your fans, for instance. Will you allow them to come close enough to touch you and for you to sign autographs? Do you have any phobias or allergies I should be aware of? Do you have any known stalkers? Do you plan on hitting the local nightlife on your tour? I'm sorry I have to ask you this, but the your label weren't very forthcoming with information. If it isn't already done, we need to set up a detail screening fanmail and packages, and we will have to screen visitors and winners of competitions that will be allowed to meet you. In short Miss Hart, I have a tremendous task ahead of me to ensure your wellbeing, and the more we can agree on beforehand, the easier my job will be."

While he talked, he never took his eyes off her. For one, she was easy to rest the eyes on. He'd also sensed that most of his clients found his unwavering gaze comforting. And a small part of him felt compelled to be just a little extra attentive towards this young woman. He made a pause to give her time to absorb the information and questions.

 

[zydrate]

“Wow...OK,” Sasha said, smiling. That was a lot to take in. Yes, it said all that in his resume but to hear him say with such conviction. Such confidence. It was different. Sasha let it all sink in as she got a bottle of water from the bar, opening it up and taking a drink before nodding, “Well, let's see, for the fans. I try to be as close as possible because, well, they're the reason I'm here. I do autographs when I can and where I can. If a fan stops me on the street and asks for a picture or autograph, I won't decline.”

She took another drink of her water and thought about the rest of what he asked. In her eyes, she saw no problem with what she normal did and that was what ever she wanted. Not as in running off at 3 AM to go shopping or demanding something stupid like most so called stars did today.

As for the phobias, she hated to admit, but flying was one of them. But, it wasn't that bad. All she had to do was pop a pill given to her by her manager, James. He had told Sasha that he had gotten them from her doctor and it was just a small pill that helped her relax on the flights. But that seemed insignificant to mention because it really wasn't a bodyguard concern...was it?

“Now, for stalkers, I don--” she started to say when the doors to her suite burst open and there stood James, her manager.

He smiled widely and held out his arms, “I heard you had company Sash, sorry I couldn't get here sooner!” He exclaimed.

Comparing James to Mark was no competition. Where Mark was tall and built, James was well...tall also but not built. If anything, he was lean and just well, probably never had an opportunity to protect himself, let alone, anyone else.

Sasha spun around at the sound of James barging in. She watched as he strode across the room and toward Sasha, embracing her almost immediately “I'm sorry my dear, but I had to finish up some other minor details when the head honchos called telling that your new security guy arrived.” He stretched out his hand and offered it to Mark, “Hello, Mr...Russel, right? I'm James Roberts, I'm Ms. Hart's manager and confidant..”

“Hey James. Mark here,” she smiled at Mark, hoping he didn't mind that she was calling him by his first name, “was just asking me some questions about the tour and getting close to the fans, as well as stalkers and having someone screening my fan mail, which I think we already do, as far as I'm aware of.”

“Of course darling, we do have your mail screened for the mail and as for stalkers, that's crazy, everyone loves you.”

“James.. stop,” Sasha said, tired of his performance, “I know there is something, I--”

“Sasha, there's nothing or no one,” James said, still smiling at her before turning his attention to Mark, “If you're done here Mr. Russel, I need to speak to Sasha for a bit and then perhaps, you can meet me in my office tomorrow and we can discuss other minor details. Besides, someone needs to get back to the studio today and from what I hear, it's going to be a late night.”

With that, James, who still had his arm wrapped around Sasha's waist, pushed her toward her room and shut the door behind him.

 

[Niceandbrutal]

“Well, let's see, for the fans. I try to be as close as possible because, well, they're the reason I'm here. I do autographs when I can and where I can. If a fan stops me on the street and asks for a picture or autograph, I won't decline.”

Mark nodded. Her fans were her -and by extension, his- bread and butter after all. Treat them poorly and her fanbase might turn sour. Mark had enough experience in handling (and if need be, intimidate) crowds to know that it shouldn't pose much of a problem. She seemed to mull things over in her mind before she started saying something about stalkers. She didn't get far before they were interrupted by a tall lanky man bursting through the door. Marks's hand instinctively flew to his belt where he had a pistol hidden in a holster. But he realised quickly that the man posed no immediate threat, and that he and Miss Hart were familiar with each other. Nevertheless, a small alarm clock went off in Mark's head. I need to watch this guy, he told himself.

“Hello, Mr...Russel, right? I'm James Roberts, I'm Ms. Hart's manager and confidant..” Mark shook hands with Mr. Roberts. It was a limp and slightly clammy grip. Mark grew more alarmed when Mr. Roberts tried to brush off the notion of stalkers, although he was relieved to hear that they had procedures for checking her mail. He made a note to himself to check up on their routines. If the checking was overseen by Mister Roberts he was sure, given how lightly he treated the issue of stalkers, that the routines for vetting the mail were flawed at best. And when mister Roberts again brushed off the issue of stalkers over Sasha's protests, Mark grew annoyed, on her behalf as much as for his own sake. He needed HER input on things so that SHE should feel safe! Not the reassurance of some twitchy manager type that wouldn't know danger if it leapt up and down in front of him, brandishing a big red "DANGER" sign.

“If you're done here Mr. Russel, I need to speak to Sasha for a bit and then perhaps, you can meet me in my office tomorrow and we can discuss other minor details. Besides, someone needs to get back to the studio today and from what I hear, it's going to be a late night.”

And with that, he swept her out the door and shut it in Mark's face. Mark didn't hesitate. He opened the door and put a hand on Mister Roberts' shoulder. "I wasn't done actually, Mister Roberts. I need to hear from Miss Hart herself about matters of her safety. If she feels there's someone out there with an unhealthy obsession about her, I need to know about it if I want to do my job right. From what I've seen and heard so far, security around here is a joke. I want to see just how you screen Miss Hart's fanmail. I want to hear from HER whether there's anything bothering her. It is my job, after all, to protect her from various creeps." Mark locked his eyes with James Roberts with that last sentence, and he kept his gaze a tad longer than necessary. The unspoken message was clear. Yes, I'm talking about YOU.

Mark was silent for two beats more, then: "And furthermore, I am Miss Hart's PERSONAL bodyguard. This means that I go where she goes. If Miss Hart goes to the studio, I go to the studio WITH her. She never leaves my sight unless she's with someone trustworthy"

He turned towards Sasha. "That is my job description, at least. If you find it to be too constricting or suffocating, please let me know right away. I can work around that. But never forget, I am hired to protect YOU, Miss Hart. In that matter, what you say goes. Within reason."

And then he turned back to Mister Roberts: "If you have details you want to discuss with me, you can discuss them with me in front of her, right here and right now. I'm not in the habit of keeping secrets from my client if it affects her."

During all this, Mark's voice never rose, but there was a steely glint in his eyes whenever he addressed Mister Roberts, replaced by a softer caring look when he addressed Sasha.

In the depth of his mind he wondered why he felt just that little bit extra protective towards her, but he ignored the question. For now.

 

[zydrate]

It looked like James was about to say something in the matter of all this but all Sasha could do was silently applaud Mark for shutting James up. No one, at least in her presense, had ever shut up James like that before. He always seemed to brush off Sasha's concern for everything and said that it was all taken care of or she was making it a bigger problem than it really was.

The truth in the matter that although he didn't seem concerned with what Sasha thought, he just wanted her to concentrate on her music. Let everyone else take care of matters.

"OK, look.." Sasha started, moving away from the tension of both men. "James, let's cancel the studio visit tonight. I still have a lot of other planning and packing, as well as finish my talk with Mark here." She tried to be the peacebearer but could see the disgusted look in James' eyes as he didn't like not making the final decisions for her.

"It's only 4PM so if I could talk with Mark for a while, perhaps send up dinner, OK James?" She knew how to play James and what would get him to listen, at least to her. Threading her arm through James', she walked him to the front door before giving a look over her shoulder at Mark, hoping he read her to hold on while she dealt wtih James.

When James and Sasha got to the front door, hopefully out of earshot of Mark, Sasha regarded James, "Look, I know you're not happy about cancelling the session for the studio tonight, OK? But you can't keep treating me like a little girl, James. I need to get more involved in all of this. I'm tired of not being in the loop anymore."

"Damnit Sasha, I don't trust that man. Who the hell is he to just take over like this?!" James hissed, giving Mark the evil eye from accross the room, "I told the label that this wasn't necessary--"

"James. Stop! Look, just go, alright?"

It took a few more moments before James finally relented, "Fine, I still want to talk with him tomorrow, in my office."

"Fine, I'll tell him."

"No, you order him!"

Sasha's headache was starting to get worse. "OK, I'll tell him. I won't order him. That's just..stupid."

A few moments later, James was gone and Sasha turned to Mark, while holding the bridge of her nose, "Alright, sorry about that Mr. Russel, James is overprotective and doesn't know he's stepping on other peoples' toes." She waved to the plush couches in the middle of the room, indicating for him to have a seat if he wanted. Sasha took a seat and leaned her elbows on her knees, "Listen. I know this is what you do for a living and I truly appreciate it. But I think each group is different. I haven't been in the business long, at least, not as an adult. Ever since coming into this business, I've had people take care of me and they still try to or want to. It sort of sucks but that's the life I have to deal with. I try not to listen to what the media says or even rumors from other performers, but sometimes, word does get back to me about how they've blown up one little misconception into something so huge, it's crazy."

"You asked about stalkers before and I knew you were coming on board, I didn't want to tell anyone until after I met you.. because I wanted to get that feeling...if you know what I mean. A feeling of trust. And believe me, there aren't many people around here I can trust." She got up, held up a finger at him, "Let me get something," she said and disappeared into her room before reappearing a few minutes later with an iPad.

"Here. I have two of these, one for business and one for personal use. Now, the personal one is one I use an alias for. But it's not like I look up things that are not appropriate, it's just, I can't let my personal information get out there. Now, this one here, my personal one, no one knows about, not even James, but, these pictures were sent to me." She showed him several pictures of her, by herself in one hotel room with her guitar. It was obvious it was taken from at least another building distance away. And next one, showed her sleeping. Although the picture was grainy, it was still a picture of her, in bed, with the distance a few feet away. "They were sent directly to my tablet. Not in email."

"And, a few weeks ago, I heard James and a rep from the label talking about some suspicious packages they had gotten in the mail, which they didn't open but had just sent them off to be destroyed. But, when I confronted James about it, he assured me that it was nothing and not to worry. But yet, I'm worried. I can't let it show but I am worried."

 

[Niceandbrutal]

Mark watched the little exchange between Sasha and Mr. Roberts at the door, including the anfry glare sent his way from Mr. Roberts. Mark could only smile in return. He'd stared down rifle barrels wielded by true believers ready to snuff his lights out. The wounded pride of one manager didn't faze him at all. He gave a curt polite nod as Mr. Roberts exited the suite.

The following talk with Sasha was enlightening. He'd never considered the life of a young woman growing up a star. Being a teen was a challenge enough in itself without having stardom and all its temptations and pitfalls thrust upon you. She displayed a thoughtfulness and levelheadedness that spoke volumes about her as a person, and Mark found he really liked her. She seemed earnest, and fully aware of her position and how she was growing up. There were a few things he needed to address, though.

"I hear what you're saying as far as life as a popstar goes. I can understand your desire to not be controlled by other people 24/7. Truly, I do, although I've never been in your position. What I maybe didn't communicate clearly enough is this: you are in charge as far as moving about on your free time goes. The label will have their itinerary which we're both bound by contract to follow. We both accept that. On your days off, you do what YOU want to do. Not what the label suggests you do. I won't stop you unless you want to try something monumentally stupid like swimming bareback among great white sharks with steaks tied to your body. I will be your shadow and I will not interfere with you unless I sense danger. But if I say 'we have to leave NOW' I need you to trust me enough to not argue with me."

Then she collected her personal iPad and showed Mark the pictures she'd been sent, and Mark grew more serious. The most troubling picture was the one obviously having been taken inside her bedroom, with her sleeping. She looks so cute and peaceful when she's sleeping that small voice in his mind said, but he brushed that aside for now.

Mark studied the pictures for a long time, not saying anything. Then: "I won't bullshit you, Miss Hart. This is serious. I need to ask you a few questions, and I need truthful answers. You said not even Mr. Roberts knew about this iPad. I need to know where you bought it, I need to know how you obtained it, I need the names of everyone who DO know about this personal tablet."

While he talked, his mind was racing. Grainy quality meant cheap electronics, so that wasn't much of a help. The pictures had been sent directly to her tablet, not e-mailed or by SMS. Hm. He needed to check up on direct transmitting ranges from tablet to tablet.

"Do you know where these pictures were taken? Do you recognise these rooms? Do you remember the exact date when you got these? Did you receive all the pictures at once or have you gotten them steadily over a period of time?"

He stopped himself and looked at her more closely. She'd admitted that she was worried. She also looked a little peaked. Poor kid. She was brave and she wanted more control of her tour. And she didn't want to be treated as a little kid anymore, that much was obvious.

"I'll tell you what, Miss Hart. I'm going to e-mail my company and ask them to send some state-of-the-art new portable equipment to check your fanmail. And I want to try and trace direct messaging on your iPad if you'll allow it. I might also ask for reinforcements to bolster the security force, but that, I'm afraid, will be up to the label. For now, I suggest I do a walkabout on the premises to look for weak spots. The security personnel are adequately stationed so that no-one should be able to just barge in here. And here," he produced a card, "is my cellphone number if you ever should need to contact me for anything. This is a new phone, and only the label, my firm, and you have this number. I won't be more than three minutes away from you, Miss Hart."

He'd got up from the sofa and he turned around and looked at her, concern on his face. "Is there anything you want to ask me before I go?"

 

[zydrate]

Sasha had to smile at what Mark said about swimming with the sharks...that was something she like she was already doing on a daily basis. "I understand what you mean by saying I'm in charge, thank you..." she was still mulling over about the part about not arguing with him. But for some reason, Sasha did trust him, even if only meeting him less than an hour ago. Hell, there were people involved in her entire career that she still didn't trust. "I trust you, Mark." Sasha said with a slight nod.

"I won't bullshit you, Miss Hart. This is serious. I need to ask you a few questions, and I need truthful answers. You said not even Mr. Roberts knew about this iPad. I need to know where you bought it, I need to know how you obtained it, I need the names of everyone who DO know about this personal tablet."

"Yeah, he doesn't know about it." She tried to keep her voice calm and steady, even though she was scared with how he was reacting to the photos. Sure, she thought the were creepy but Mark's reaction just made it seem more real.

Sasha hesitated a few moments at the other parts of his questions. "I just got it." She said turning away and she could feel his hard look on her, "I got it by sneaking out for a few hours one night. It was after 2am and the only place that was open was a Wal-Mart and so, I got it there. But I paid in cash, the guy there had to be at least 100 because he didn't seem to care. Then I left and came back to the hotel we were at then...about 3 weeks ago in Miami. But I'm pretty positive no one else knows about it because after I use it, I hide it in my bags. It's identical to the other one just in case I am caught off guard."

"As for the second picture...well, I am fairly certain that was taken last night."

She took the card from him, trying her best not to look worried...not a good job on her part since Mark asked her if she had any thing else. With a shake of her head, Sasha smiled forcefully, "No, not right now."

When he headed for the door, Sasha called out, "Mark. Thanks."

After he had left, Sasha looked around her suite and even with the added security, she felt a whole new wave of emotions wash over her and she suddenly felt very alone.

 

[Niceandbrutal]

"Mark. Thanks."

The words warmed him. It was rare that the clients thanked their bodyguards. Mark turned around and smiled and nodded. Then he left the room. He needed to process some of the information he'd received. She was, it seemed, impulsive and liable to act rashly if her little midnight jaunt down in Miami was any indication. That might spell trouble. He definitely needed a backup. Mark, like any other human being, couldn't be awake and alert 24/7. And local security guards lacked the training and skills needed for anything other than escorting her around the locales they guarded, and even that was a stretch. Nevertheless, he placed one of the local guards, a woman, outside Sasha's door with strict orders for her to follow Sasha around if she left her room and to contact Mark on radio IMMEDIATELY if Sasha said she wanted to leave the hotel.

Mark used the best part of an hour to do a cursory check of entrances and exits, as well as lines of sight from outside the hotel and potential hiding spots for stalkers and fans. Then he went to his room two floors down from Sasha's room and e-mailed his firm, asking for the portable x-ray machines and chemical sniffers for checking mail. People, could send some pretty weird and dangerous stuff by mail, he knew. He also asked for a possible co-operation with his firm's aprtner firms in the respective countries they'd visit. Finally, hge googled transmitting ranges for tablets. It seemed that for direct transmitting the tablets would have had to be on the same network, which meant that the one transmitting the pictures was in or very near the same hotel. And he or she knew about her personal tablet. Maybe it even was one of her entourage?

But who? Immediately, Mr. Roberts sprang to mind. But that seemed unlikely. Sure, the man came across like a huge creep to Mark, but Mr. Roberts had been Sasha's manager for quite some time, and he was close to her. He did seem a tad posessive of her, though. Maybe he was afraid to lose influence over her now that she was growing up? It could be a powerplay on his part to make her more dependent of him again. And he'd tried to brush off any talk about stalkers. Mark decided to keep Mr. Roberts on his lists of suspects after all. And how about that Alec character? He'd seemed fairly nervous around Sasha. He wanted to keep his suspicions to himself for the time being, though. No sense in rattling her more than he'd already done.

Stretching and sighing, he thought he'd better check up on Sasha again.

 

[zydrate]

The next morning, after a restless night for Sasha, she woke up early and took a quick a shower before getting dressed. Even though it was barely 5AM, she was ready for whatever the day was to bring. And as if on cue, her phone notified her of an e-mail. Opening it up, her schedule for the day popped up.

Starting at 7AM she was to meet with James, then while James and Mark "talked", Sasha would head to the studio and work on what she was supposed to last night...that one on the list was bolded in red, letting her know that it was rescheduled without authorization from the label. If she finished up on time then she would do a few interviews regarding the tour.

She kept telling herself that there was going to be a lot to do and that after this was all done, she would have time to rest...but with knowing that someone took her picture while she was sleeping crept her out big time. And why she didn't tell James about was weird...she usually told him everything. He was truthful when he said he was Sasha's confidant. Who else was she going to tell? Those that hung around her weren't true friends, they were just there.. at least that's how it seemed.

Making a face, Sasha fell back onto the bed and sighed. She let her thoughts turn to Mark and she smiled. He knew what he was doing and seemed so confident when doing it. It didn't hurt that he was so handsome and he was so easy to talk to. That helped a lot. Sasha wondered what Mark thought of the day's schedule seeing it was sent to him also.

 

[Niceandbrutal]

Mark had approached Sasha's room the night before, to find the security guard in place and alert, checking out people passing by and cocking her head to new and strange sounds. Mark decided to commend this security guard for her vigilance in an e-mail to the company she worked for. He had a subdued conversation with her about change of guards and that she was not to let ANYONE in, unless allowed inside by Sasha. His mind at ease, Mark went to bed after eating a late supper and watching some stupid flick on the TV.

(Her face kept popping up in his dreams.)

He awoke rested and content at 5:00 AM. He dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt, clipping on a fanny pack to keep his pistol and cellphone while the radio was fastened to the waist of his sweatpants. After checking in on the security outside Sasha's door he went for his morning jog. He kept within a block of the hotel, going in circles as he slowly worked up a sweat. Back in his room, he went through a short but intense workout regimen before showering and getting dressed in a loose fitting black suit and a gray turtleneck sweater. He checked his mail while eating a spartan breakfast, going over the program of the day.

First a meeting with Mr. Roberts and then off to the recording studio. Time allowing, she would do interviews. It seemed they would have a hectic day. Oh well, he wasn't paid handsomely to be an ornamental figure anyway. On this assignment it was clear that he was going to earn his keep. Nothing could have pleased Mark more.

Mark arrived outside Sasha's door. He found Mr. Roberts starting to raise his voice as the security guard told him in no uncertain terms that, manager or no, no-one were to barge in on Miss Sasha Hart unannounced. The guard was about to key his radio when Mark appeared. Mark greeted the guard and Mr. Roberts, then politely dismissed the guard. Mark was about to knock on the door when Mr. Roberts put a hand on Mark's shoulder. "Mr. Russel," he began, "what is the meaning of posting guards outside Sasha's door.?" Mark decided not to tell about the stalker pictures: "I placed a guard here because I wanted as many layers of security between Miss Hart and a potential intruder. I also gave strict orders that she would be at liberty to turn people away if she should choose to do so." Again, the unspoken message was clear: You do not invade her privacy whenever you feel like it. Give her some room.

Mark turned around and knocked on Sasha's door. After a moment, it opened.

 

[zydrate]

Opening the door, Sasha smiled at both Mark and James when she opened the door. James looked pissed. Mark's expression was unreadable.

"So," Sasha waved them both in, "Are we getting along finally?" she asked, trying not to smile as she stepped out of her suite and walked toward the elevator without any warning, "I say let's get going now and not waste anytime. Maybe James, we can skip the meeting and you and Mark can talk on the way?" She asked, pushing the button for the elevator.

James tried to hide his frustration from earlier and from now. "Sash, why, for once, can't you just follow what's on schedule?" He asked, clearly exasperated. It seemed that no matter what they had planned, she liked to defer from the plan. They had talked with her about it time and time again that it was like talking to a wall.

Not being at all bothered by James' tone, Sasha shrugged, "Because I personally don't think that's as conductive as I can be-"

"This isn't all about you little girl, everyone else has been notified and are ready, all you need to do is show up! Again, we've talked about this several times Sasha!!" James started to raise his voice and his patient was wearing thin.

The argument could've gone on a lot longer but they arrived on the first floor and luckily, there weren't many people there but that was probably due to the early hour. Taking advantage of that, Sasha moved forward, still not swayed by James' argument. This was a typical thing between the two but today, it seemed a bit more strained.

At least the car was ready. It wasn't the normal limo but rather, an SUV, black with tinted windows. Sasha stopped and looked at Mark, "I suppose this was your doing?"

After they got in, James continued on his little rant of why the schedule needed to be followed. Sasha wasn't listening, instead, she was looking at her phone and the schedule, mentally figuring out on with what needed to be done. "James, we leave the day after tomorrow. The least I could have is a little leeway with some things. The world isn't going to end if we stick with everything as it's written down."

James had had it, he reached over and grabbed Sasha by the arm, making her gasp in both surprise and in pain, "No. The schedule stays!" He said, vehemently before letting her go.

 

[Niceandbrutal]

"So, are we getting along finally?"

Mark had to fight hard to suppress a grin at that remark. This might just prove to be his best assignment yet. Traveling all around the world with a woman that seemed to be down to earth yet bristling with personality sounded far more appealing than being treated like the hired help by some snooty B-list celebrity that hired a bodyguard to increase his or her feeling of self-importance.

As he was busy doing his job scanning the immediate areas they passed through for threats, Mark didn't pay too much attention to Sasha's and Mr. Roberts' bickering at first. She was headstrong and wilfull and Mr. Roberts was a pestering nag, although Mark could sympathize as far as schedules and appointments went. But on the other hand, this young woman who'd been in the spotlight since she was 12 and basically robbed of her teenage years (or so Mark thought, anyway) was starting to assert herself and impose her adult will on her surroundings. It seemed Mr. Roberts didn't like being second guessed or contradicted.

"I suppose this was your doing?"
They'd reached the car that would bring her to the recording studio. Mark nodded, an apologetic smile on his face. "I thought it best after that discussion we had last night," Mark told her quietly as Mr. Roberts got in the car. "If you prefer a limo we will of course indulge you, but they don't handle as well in traffic if there is trouble."

The argument continued when they got in the car, and Mark felt his gorge started to rise. Why the Hell can't he get off her back, for Christ's sake? Mark thought as Mr. Roberts voice rose. And then she almost pleaded with him: "James, we leave the day after tomorrow. The least I could have is a little leeway with some things. The world isn't going to end if we stick with everything as it's written down."

And then he heard her gasp in surprise and pain as Mr. Roberts spoke: "No. The schedule stays!" That was the final straw for Mark. He turned towards Mr. Roberts from the front seat and gave him his coldest no-bullshit stare: "Please don't do that again, Mr. Roberts. You were hurting her." A thunderous silence settled in the car as Mr. Roberts and Mark stared at each other. It was Mr. Roberts that broke the silence first: "Bullshit! You hear that Mister Special-Ops-bodyguard-gorilla? Bullshit! I'm her GODDAMN agent! She wouldn't be where she is today if it wasn't for me! I am her confidant! I am her friend! I have to be the stern father figure when she goes off schedule! YOU don't get to tell me how to treat her!"

Mark almost casually reached back and took Mr. Roberts hand. He twisted it and locked it and applied pressure on some nerve clusters near the wrist. Mr. Roberts screamed in pain and outrage. Mark let go after two seconds. "Did you like that?" he asked Mr. Roberts. He got no reply, just an angry glare. "Did you feel what I did just now was an invasion of your personal space and your integrity as an individual?" Still no reply. Mark sighed. "Let's get one thing straight right now. Contrary to what you might believe I don't like hurting people or to see others get hurt. This makes me an excellent bodyguard, as you might well imagine. I feel that you overstepped your bounds when you grabbed Miss Hart like you did just now." He cast a glance towards Sasha: "Please correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe you don't appreciate being handled like that." Turning back to Mister Roberts: "I get that you're upset, I do. But my job is to ensure Miss Hart's wellbeing. And that includes physical harm from any source, no matter how inconsequential the result of that harm is. So this is the last time I want to see you lay your hands on her like that, Mr. Roberts."

Mark turned around again, outwardly calm, but raging within. He couldn't help himself, though: "And if I were you Mr. Roberts, I'd cut her some fucking slack. She's done well for herself these last six years. Don't you think she's earned the right to be listened to? Don't you think she's earned a little slack before embarking on a world-spanning tour in just two days?"

The car pulled up at the recording studio. A few young girls stood outside the entrance, spying on every car that entered and left the parking lot. They were clearly autograph hunters, if the little books they clutched in their hands was anything to go by. Mark turned towards Sasha. Nodding towards the small throng of teens, he asked: "How do you wanna handle this?" Mr. Roberts opened his mouth as if to protest but Mark shot him a withering stare, shutting him up.

 

[zydrate]

Sasha leaned an elbow on the side of the passenger door and hid her expression behind her hand. Hearing James cry out with how Mark shut him up made her feel better. Yet, at the same time, made her appreciate and respect Mark a little more than yesterday. Especially when he said he didn't like to hurt people. She believed him. And she was grateful with what he said about having some space.

When they arrived at their destination, she didn't hear Mark at first about what he said regarding the small gathering of fans out there waiting.

"How do you wanna handle this?"

Looking up at him, Sasha sat up straight as she reached for the door handle, "It's all good. A few autographs are fine." She said, opening up her own door and getting out after Mark got out quickly.

It took more than 30 minutes with the small group, giving them autographs and posing in pictures with them. During all that time, James was off to the side, shooting daggers at the whole scene. He preferred Sasha not to give out free signatures or pictures, but lately, she was doing a lot more of what she wanted. He wasn't sure he could get used to it.

Once inside the studio, Sasha was lost in the work for the rest of the morning. Going over vocals, warming up, listening to snippets of different tracks, talking with the other engineers, giving her input, she was in her own little world and she loved it. It had been agreed that because she was going to be in different countries, hence the world tour, Sasha would be singing one of her biggest hits in the native language of the country she was visiting. But today, she was having trouble with the German lyrics.

Which was weird, she should have gotten it. She had done songs in Spanish and French, but for some reason, this was irking her and if she decided that if she didn't get it right, the label would lose faith in her.

Finally.

After a late dinner, an hour more with her language tutor, Sasha finally got it done. The words were perfect, as was her lyrics.

Now, all she had to do was make sure she could do that during her first concert in Germany.

 

[Niceandbrutal]

Mark got out and quickly surveyed the teens. They were 13 to 15 years old, and clearly awestruck and starstruck when they saw Sasha climb out of the car. None of them looked away, which was a good sign. They all stared for a heartbeat, their mouths open. Then they ran towards Sasha and clamored and begged for autographs. Mark played it by ear and gauged Sasha's reactions. As it turned out, she had a way of handling her fans on her own which was both disarming and endearing. She chatted amiably, posed for pictures, wrote autographs and seemed to have a great time. Mark was summoned to take group photos with each and every cellphone the fans had. He happily obliged. All the while, Mr. Roberts stood to the side, scowling.

When they entered the studio, Mark saw Sasha to the recording room and checked that it was safe before reconnoitering the whole building. He had clearance from the label to do any changes he felt necessary, but the security firm that handled the building was on the ball. They knew of the recording studio's itinerary and hired extra guards if necessary.

When Mark returned to the recording room, he saw Mr. Roberts standing outside with the technicians, listening to Sasha struggle with her german. Mark looked around. He saw a vending machine that dispensed coffee. He brought two cups, one for Mr. Roberts and one for himself. Nudging Mr. Roberts, Mark handed him the cup and inclined his head to make Mr. Roberts follow him. After a slight hesitation, Mr. Roberts followed him.

"How's the hand?" Mark inquired. Mr. Roberts eyed Mark suspiciously. "It's... fine," came the hesitant reply. "I didn't like doing that to you, you know," Mark continued, "but I hope my message got through to you?" Mr. Roberts glared at Mark for a few seconds before he through gritted teeth said "hands off Sasha?" Mark shook his head. "Hug her and do whatever else you usually do that doesn't cause her harm. It's when you hurt her we're going to have a problem." He got no reply. Mark wanted to say more, but he felt that he would overstep his bounds if he did. But that Sasha felt constricted and wanted to stretch her wings and oppose the regimented life her manager and her label imposed on her? Psychology 101. Which Mark had minored in.

He returned to the technicians' table and looked at Sasha sing. She had a wonderful voice, and Mark got goosebumps as he listened to her. The hours stretched, and Mark sensed her frustration. He admired her self control and her patience as she slowly, ever so slowly learned to pronounce the german words.

As they drove back to the hotel, Mark turned to Sasha: "Please tell me if I'm out of line here, but you may recall I majored in linguistics at college? I can device a training program for you to help you pronounce the different words, if you want to. I don't know german from Adam, but I know of sounds and how to make them. Linguistics, as you may know, is the science of human sounds more than comprehension of languages per sé. I- think it over if you like, Miss Hart." Mr. Roberts just glared at Mark.

 

[zydrate]

Sasha's voice was nearly hoarse when they had finally finished up for the day. And when her voice got like this, James had no problem with cancelling the rest of the day's schedule, just as long as she rested her voice.

After all, Sasha's voice was the money maker.

Mark spoke, offering to help her with her linguistics and Sasha gave him a warm smile, "Thanks, I'll consider it. But I really do think I did a lot better today than I thought I would."

"Oh Jesus..." Sasha said after a few minutes of them driving in silence, "I'm starving." With that, she undid her seat belt and laid down on the back seat, putting her head on James' lap, "Can't we stop for something to eat? Like... I dont' know, some fast food or something? I don't want the hotel food."

"Sash.." he started but stopped and sighed, "Fine. What do you want?"

"Well, can we go in?"

"No."

"Can I order at the drive thru?"

"No."

"Fine. Can we go anywhere I want?" She asked. She knew the answer was going to be no, but it never hurt to ask.

James smiled, knowing it would be a lot of trouble, but oh well, that's what mister security signed up for. "Sure. The usual?" It pleased him to know that only he knew what Sasha liked.

Sasha nodded, "And I want to go in."

"Sash..." James said, "It's been a long day for every one. Please...just give an old man less stress and do as I say." James took her not answering as an answer. After a few minutes, it was decided that the slight detour wouldn't be a problem.

"Good God, people, it's just a fast food stop, not a change in the Earth's rotation..." It was late, Sasha was tired and starting to get fed up with all this. Usually, she wasn't emotional but lately, the stress had been a lot.

After about 30 minutes of silence, they arrived at the burger place, which was still open. When they parked, Sasha sat up and jumped out of the SUV, and ran inside the place, laughing as she did so. Of course, it was a bad idea, seeing as how the place was still open and full of people. When she entered, Sasha waved her hands, "Hey everyone!"

 

[Niceandbrutal]

Mark felt a pang of jealousy as she placed her head in Mr. Roberts' lap. There seemed to be an intimacy between them. Not sexual perhaps, but at least a level of comfort that he'd missed between them the first couple of times he saw them together. Or maybe she was just teasing Mr. Roberts? It was hard to tell. Then Mark's mind skidded to a stop. Jealous!? Well that's no good! he thought as he tried to get to grips with the situation. He had to keep his emotions in check if he were to function as a professional bodyguard.

Mark registered the little argument they had about fast food places. Sasha seemed determined to have her way, and Mr. Roberts was again being an ass. Then there was the little exchange between them about "the usual place" and Mark again felt a little jealous of Mr. Roberts. It was unnerving that he'd developed feelings for her. Especially after such a short time. But then, he rationalized, wouldn't the fact that he cared for her make him better suited to be her bodyguard?

Mr. Roberts pointedly asked Mark what he thought of an unscheduled stop, and Mark just shrugged: "I don't really see the harm in that. Less chances of trouble if we arrive unannounced. But I'd advise you to fasten your seatbelt, Miss Hart." His reply seemed to annoy them both in equal measure. Mr. Ronerts scoffed, and Sasha said: "Good God, people, it's just a fast food stop, not a change in the Earth's rotation..."

Their driver followed the directions, and after about half an hour they pulled up before an independent diner that served burgers and other assorted guilty pleasures. Sasha managed to take them all by surprise as she leapt out of the car and dashed into the diner. Swearing, Mark followed her inside to find the space around her filling up with fans. Mark repeated his tactic fromearlier today. He kept his distance and circled the crowd and surveyed them. He wasn't happy to have his charge unprotected in a place where one of the most eating utensils were steak knives, however, and so he moved in to be closer to her and to keep the crowd a little at bay.

Mark caught a nervous twitchy vibe from a portion of the crowd, and he scanned the faces until his eyes landed on a young woman. She kept looking down and then at Sasha, making Mark alert. He leaned in and whispered to her that the crowd didn't seem entirely safe. Maybe she didn't hear him or maybe she didn't care, but she made no sign to move with him.

"YOU STOLE MY SONGS YOU BITCH! YOU STOLE THEM FROM MY HEAD!" the woman with the crazy eyes yelled as she lunged towards Sasha, a steak knife in her hands. Time stood still as Mark had time to register that the BBQ-sause slathered on the knife might sting like crazy if the knife ever punctured skin. Then he was in front of Sasha, doing his job as a meatshield and protector. The knife glanced off his stab vest, and Mark grabbed the wrist of the crazy woman's hand and pulled up and out as he twisted at the same time.

A scream of pain escaped the woman's lips, reverberating through the room. She dropped the knife and sort of slumped in his grip. Only then did people realize what was happening, and chaos ensued. Two off-duty officers came forward and apprehended the woman with the steak knife, a doctor insisted that Mark was hurt until Mark held a dollop under the doc's nose to confirm that it wasn't blood or gore, merely BBQ-sauce.

With barely contained anger, Mark turned toward Sasha: "Do you still want burgers here or do you prefer a more quiet setting after all?"

 

[zydrate]

Before leaving the restaurant, James smirked to Mark as Sasha finished up with the last of the fans, “See, she’s not all sugar and spice.” He said, laughing quietly and walking over to Sasha, telling everyone it was time to go.

The ride up the elevator was quiet. Well, really, it was filled with tension; more so than when they left this morning…

James had given Sasha a thorough chewing out during the ride back. Mark hadn’t said a thing about it…hell, he looked like he was going to explode any minute. As for Sasha, well, in the end, she did get her burgers. It took a good hour to calm everyone else down and please the crowd. James wasn’t happy about having to give away some tickets to the tour for when it came back around to the US in a few months…anything to not make this all a total mess.

It was already trending on social media. They had gotten out of there in time before the paparazzi had shown up…another save on James’ part, although, he did seem a bit calmer when they reached the hotel.

But yet, when they got to the hotel, Sasha wasn’t hungry. Just mad.

When they got to her hotel room, Sasha could tell James was going to get after again, but Sasha wasn’t going to have any of it. Instead, she slammed the door closed and locked it on both Mark and James, to which she headed to her room and shut the door to that also and nearly died when she saw her room.

Her room was in shambles.

The words, “I LOVE YOU SASHA” were spray painted all over the walls and even on her bed. Her clothes were littering the floor in shreds. SHREDS. Someone cut them all up and tossed them in a little piles all over the room.

The thing was, it was only her room. The living area was untouched.

What the hell?!

Sasha didn’t remember much of what happened next, but she backed out slowly of her room and just stood there. Frozen with fear.

 

[Niceandbrutal]

As Sasha quickly locked the door in the faces of Mark and Mr. Roberts, Mr. Roberts growled as he shook his head: "I swear that brat will be the death of me. If she wasn't so damn lucrative I'd drop her like a hot potato. If you only knew..." He shook his head ruefully. Mark had heard enough. "I don't think you really mean that, Mr. Roberts. I think she's trying to shake off the shackles of a teen idol, and I think she's rebelling against being controlled like she's still a minor. Try to imagine being in her shoes for the last six years, Mr. Roberts. I know you care for her, there's a connection between the two of you. I saw it in the car tonight."

Mr. Roberts looked at Mark. He fixed his stare on Mark, and Mark suddenly understood how this man could be such a successful agent. There was a shrewdness to him Mark foolishly hadn't acknowledged. "That's interesting," Mr. Roberts said. "Yeah, I think you might be r-" and that was as far as he got.
They heard a frenetic rattling of keys against the lock on the door to Sasha's suite. They heard panicked whimpers as the key didn't catch, and then it finally caught and the door flew open. Sasha came flying out of the room, deathly pale and shivering. Mark was the one closest to the door and she slammed into him and buried her face in his chest as she mutely pointed to her room.

Mark wasted no time. He called up security on the radio. As they waited, she quietly cried. As the security guards arrived, Mark told her to stick with Mr. Roberts. He left the female guard from before with them and went inside witha young African-American man. The living room was clear, and Mark wondered what she'd been so upset about. Then they entered her bedroom. Mark was speechless. The security guard let out a soft "damn, that's fucked up". Mark mutely nodded his consent. This was serious. Seriously dangerous.

Mark marched out of Sasha's suite and went straight to Sasha and Mr. Roberts. "I need to talk to you, Miss Hart. Alone," he said in a voice that made it clear he would not suffer any objections from Mr. Roberts, or indeed, anyone. He dragged her one floor down to his room and locked the door. On his way down, he went on the radio and told security that NO ONE were to enter Miss Hart's room until further notice.

"Sas- Miss Hart, we've had two serious incidents tonight. The crazy woman at the diner seemed to me like a random Act of God. But your room? That is the work of a seriously sick mind. Is there ANYTHING you haven't told me? Are there anyone in your entourage, for instance, that behave oddly around you? Who, besides the hotel staff, has access to your suite?" Mark pondered for a moment, then: "I want to call the police about this. But that is entirely up to you, Miss hart."

 

[zydrate]

It was a good thing Sasha wasn't the fainting type because she knew for sure she'd be in a pile on the floor of her room. Downstairs, in Mark's room, she finally had dried her eyes and calmed down somewhat. She was still visibly shaken and had her head buried in her hands as she listened to what Mark was saying, "Call the police if you want, but James won't have it...he didn't the last few times."

She refused to look at Mark but she could feel his steely stare boring holes into her head. It didn't help that his voice was straining to stay calm.

"This isn't the first time this has happened...first in Miami, the night I had snuck off, I came back and my room was in shambles then. I think that if I hadn't gone out, I would have been dead. But it started in Texas, shortly after my 18th birthday party. Things just seemed off that night, I couldn't put my finger on it." She sighed, "I had gotten some gifts sent directly to my room. My room at my home! There were candles burning, and I tried to turn on my lights but they wouldn't come on. And on my bed was a note that said 'Happy Birthday Sasha. You're going to be mine very soon. I love you so much' and it was signed 'The Keeper'."

"I told James about it but he just brushed it off and said that it was probably some one playing a joke on me, like a family member or a friend that had been invited to the party that night...either I believed him or just didn't want to acknowledge it." Probably the latter, she thought, "James told me to let him worry about it and so I did."

"Tonight..well, tonight was the third time this has happened..." She stood, not able to sit still anymore, "I can't say who it's been or if someone has been acting oddly around me. I mean, they all do. I learned a long time ago not to get too close to anyone so...I'm sorry to say I can't say who has access to who or what. Again James.." she didn't have to finish. It occurred to her right then and there that James was running her life.

Every aspect of it.

"Like I said, call the police but what can they do? The media will find out and as James said once, if someone finds out about this, we'll be getting a lot of copy-cats...he said he would look into it and I trust him. As much of a leech as he is, I trust him to take care of me. Which is why he hired you."

 

[Niceandbrutal]

Mark made an inward groan as Sasha told of the previous incidents. Someone had an unhealthy fixation on Sasha, that much was clear. Whoever did these things had access to Sasha's inner sanctums. That made him or her either someone very close to her or an accomplished break-in artist. Either way, this was real trouble. Mark made a few snap decisions. He called Sasha's label and told them they needed to increase security NOW. After a short argument, Mark got what he wanted after he stressed the seriousness of the situation. He then called his firm and asked them to pull some strings with the local PD. He needed a discrete investigation without a lot of fuss.

After a little while, there was a subdued knock on the door, although bickering could be heard. Mark recognised the voice of one James Roberts, DEMANDING to see Sasha. Mark opened the door, and a female plainclothes police officer presented herself. After taking down a short statement from Mark, he was shooed out the door. She wanted to talk to Sasha privately. Mark said: "I'll be right outside," before he left. Then he was outside, facing off with a livid Mr Roberts. "You called the police!! Why the HELL did you call the police!?Publicity like this we don't need, Mr. Russel!"

Mark let him vent before he replied: "Sasha's told me about the previous incidents. I really wish you could have told me these things right away, Mr. Roberts. I really don't see why you want to downplay these incidents. And I really DON'T understand why you keep telling S- Miss Hart not to worry when she's now experienced three such incidents. Someone, some sick twisted person has it in for her. If it's sexual or homicidal, I have no clue. I'm not a behaviourist. But from what I can tell, someone shredding the clothes of the object of their desires is not likely to shyly ask her on a date and hold hands with her. This is a vicious person out to dominate her by fear."

Mark paused. He felt his anger rising, and he needed to stay levelheaded and professional. "Now, I need to ask you some questions, Mr. Roberts. How thoroughly do you check people you hire for Miss Hart's entourage? Were there recent hirings right before these stalking incidents started? Who, besides hotel staff, has access to her quarters?" Mr. Roberts seemed taken aback. "You don't mean to suggest-" he started before stopping himself. Mark replied: "I'm not pointing any fingers, Mr. Roberts. But I need to go through a process of elimination."

After a while, the door to Mark's room opened and the police officer left. Mark went back inside. "I suggest you sleep here tonight, Sa- Miss Hart. I'll be outside, guarding the door. The police need to do their thing, dusting for prints and such. Your suite won't be ready to use until tomorrow afternoon. And, uh, I guess you need to shop for clothes tomorrow?"

His features softened as he watched her. Nobody deserved to go through something like this. "Now, is there anything you need? Anything I can do for you?"

 

[zydrate]

James was not happy with any of this. He had hoped all this was just some sick game someone had been done playing when the problem was addressed in a meeting some time back. Everything was supposed to be under control, God damnit!! And fuck that damn bodyguard for calling the police in on this and expecting the investigation they were getting started to be done quietly. In his time as being a manager, nothing was ever done quietly, especially when it involved security of a pop star.

Downstairs, all Sasha could do was stare at the wall. It had been about two hours since the police left and things had quieted down...at least for her. Mark was outside, standing guard, for what reason, she didn't know. Why didn't he just stay in here with her?

Burying her head in her hands, she wanted to cry. Wanted all this to be over with. This damn tour had been nothing but trouble since the beginning stages. She had no control over anything, any say in decisions being made, the label being condescending about everything she had suggested or took part in.

"Yes, of course Ms. Hart."

"Right away, Ms. Hart."

"Anything for your, Ms. Hart."

Maybe that's why she acted out when she did. Spoiled pop princess, as the press liked to call her. Although they didn't know the whole truth about her. But apparently someone did.

Someone knew what scared Sasha. How to get in her head about things.

But as Mark had asked earlier, who could it be?

There were at least a hundred people she came in contact on a day to day basis and now, with the tour coming up, a different country...different people...

Sasha stood up abruptly...too abruptly as her knee caught the edge of the coffee table and it tipped over, causing it to crash onto the floor, she screamed in pain and frustration. There was glass on her shoe, which she started to brush off, only to end up cutting her hand...making her stop and realize what had happened.

She didn't realize Mark was there in an instant and in that moment, everything went dark.

 

[Niceandbrutal]

Mark had left her alone in his room to give her some privacy and time to think. He had had a new shouting match with Mr. Roberts about the police investigation. Mark's firm had assured Mark that the police would keep a low profile on this and only go public when the culprit had been caught. The chief of police owed Mark's boss a favour. It was as easy and as corrupt as that.

Mark had spent the best part of two hours cooling down, trying to calm down. That Mr. Roberts had managed to get under Mark's skin for some reason. Mark was almost sorry that Mr. Roberts now was off the list of suspects. Mark started pacing like a caged animal again. Why couldn't Mr Roberts see that he was treating Sasha all wrong? It was plain as day to Mark, and he'd known her for less than two days.

A bang, a crash, and a scream from Sasha brought Mark out of his reverie and into his preferred mode: action. He threw open the door and rushed inside in time to see Sasha's knees buckle. As she unceremoniously slumped to the floor, Mark rushed forward and managed to grab her before her head hit something hard and unpleasant, like the leg of that broken coffee table. Mark lifted her off the floor easily enough and placed her on the bed. A part of his mind marveled at how light and fragile she seemed just now, another part noticed how soft and warm she felt.

He positioned her so that she breathed unhindered, then took her wrist to check her pulse. Only then did he notice that her hand was cut and she was bleeding. Rolling her over on her side, he went to retrieve his first aid kit, then meticulously examined her hand and pulled out small pieces of glass with a pair of tweezers. He wasn't sure if she felt any pain as he did this, although he thought he felt her stir a couple of times. But her eyes remained closed. He bandaged her hand and then went about loosening any constricting clothes she wore, which meant he had to unzip and unbutton her pants and loosen her bra. He managed to manipulate the bra clasp from outside her shirt, thankfully. Then he removed her shoes and covered her with a blanket before he sat down beside the bed, watching her sleep.

In a perverse kind of way, he felt he was intruding on a private moment as he watched her face grow ever more peaceful. Mark decided to not leave her alone in his room, so he locked the door from the inside and settled down in a comfortable chair to watch over her. But he was tired now, and he started drifting...

 

[zydrate]

Sasha couldn't say what time it was she woke but her eyes shot open as she tried to focus on her surroundings. This wasn't her room. Hell, this wasn't even her bed. She brought her hand up to her face and immediately winced with pain and noticed the bandage on her hand.

But how she got in bed was a complete blur, as was the bandage on her hand. Sitting up in bed, she was still in her clothes but they were loosened up. Then, she saw Mark, slumped in a chair by the door of the suite.

His suite.

Then, the night came rushing back to her. The break in, the destruction to her room. The police. Mark and James arguing. All these problems because of her.

Inwardly she groaned. That's what happened.

Sasha didn't like this feeling of being helpless. Being terrified. No one was going to make her feel like they tried to last night. She almost lost it, or perhaps she did but she was determined not to let it happen again. Mark had wanted to know who was coming and going, as did she. Today, she would make sure James would know that she wasn't going to rely completely on him anymore.

Scooting out of bed, Sasha padded over close to Mark. He looked so different when he wasn't on guard. He didn't look tough, not that she wanted to fight him. Frowning, she whispered, “Mark?”

He didn't stir.

Reaching out, she poked his chest, “Mark?” she said a little louder.

As he woke, Sasha smiled at him, “Good morning. Hey, I know it's early but I have a few plans I need to run by James as soon as I can. Also, I need to talk to you about last night and what happened and what I said.”

She backed up and sat on the bed, “I'm sorry for not telling you about the previous times but seriously, James had insisted that we keep it quiet. But from now on, I promise not to hide anything from you anymore. You ask and I'll answer. Security wise, I'll back you up.” She brushed a strand of her fiery red hair behind her ear, “Listen, I know James can be...hard to handle. But the truth is, I do trust him. He's taken care of me this far. I know how he comes off strong and a complete ass, but that's what makes him make me successful. I understand now the situation is serous. And I'm scared.”

“You even asked about phobias when we first met. So let me be clear about a few things. Yes, I have one phobia and that's flying. But, we..James and I, have over come that by tranquilizers. If there's another solution for my fear of flying, I'll gladly look into it but for now, it's what works. As for last night's incident, what I told you was what happened so far. I don't know who's doing this and because of that, I need answers also, so I thought perhaps you and I could meet with James and talk like adults.”

It was probably a lot to take in when someone just woke up, but Sasha's mind was working over time. Standing up from the bed, she buttoned her jeans and fixed her bra, not batting an eye that she was doing it in the same room as him. “But, right now, I need a shower, new clothes and then breakfast. I mean a huge breakfast!” She was full of energy and it showed.

So, within the next few minutes, Sasha placed a call to Alec and had him bring over some extra clothes which he would be getting from one of the near by stores since he knew her size. Along with some shoes...basically, an entire wardrobe for her to have since her other clothes were no more.