American Diva by Julia London

him. Eli shrugged. “I’m okay with it,” Michael said.
    Cooper groaned. “It’s always something with you!” he said. “But what the hell? Whatever blows your skirt up.”
    Jack grinned. “Thanks, guys,” he said. “You won’t even know I’m gone.”

Five

    Eight Weeks Later
     
     
     
     
    A big, sleek, and disturbingly conspicuous black limousine, flanked by two county sheriff patrol units, and followed recklessly by a Geo metro and two SUVs, hurtled onto the tarmac of the private Orange County airstrip where Jack was waiting.
    He glanced at his watch—they were only eight hours late.
    This was not what he’d call an auspicious beginning, but Jack was determined to start this job with a good attitude. He reminded himself that he stood to profit a sizable chunk of change for two months’ work. Over the last couple of weeks, in meetings with the tour people, the label people, Lucas Bonner, and the men Jack had assembled to do the security, he’d had to push down the nagging thought more than once that perhaps this wasn’t a good idea. The work wasn’t bad, but navigating the tour sponsors was tiresome and Bonner seemed like a royal pain in the ass.
    “Twenty-four/seven coverage,” Bonner had barked at him like an army general.
    “I got that,” Jack said.
    Now that the planning stages were over and they were about to implement, Jack thought if he kept a low profile and just did his job, it couldn’t be that big of a deal.
    The limousine came to an abrupt halt a few feet away from him, as did the two patrol units, from which four sheriff’s deputies spilled out. They collectively hitched up their gun belts and sauntered to the back of the limousine, positioning themselves between the limo passengers and the eager cretins in the vehicles following them.
    The front passenger door flung open with such force that Jack was surprised it didn’t snap off the hinges. Mitzi emerged and hopped toward him in skin-tight white jeans, a tighter leopard sweater, and shoes with heels that were completely impractical for doing anything other than getting laid.
    He had to admire a woman who could strut her stuff on stilts, and Mitzi Davis could strut with the best of them.
    “Jack!” she shouted.
    “Hey, Mitz,” he said, and popped a piece of gum into his mouth, enjoying the bounce of her boobs as she came to a halt before him.
    “ So sorry we’re late, baby,” she said breathlessly.
    “Eight hours late, Mitz. I hope that’s not a sign of things to come.”
    She took off her shades and peered up at him. “ Eight hours! Oh, doll, you got my message, right? Audrey did The Tonight Show last night. We couldn’t possibly get to the airport any sooner, especially in this traffic. Did you see it?”
    “The traffic?”
    “ No , silly!” she cried, swatting his arm. “ The Tonight Show !”
    “Ah, no,” Jack said. “So you got everyone and everything together? We need to get going,” he said as paparazzi jumped out of the Geo metro and the two SUVs and started firing off shots around the sheriff’s deputies of the LaRue limousine.
    “Oh look,” Mitzi purred, “it’s impossible to keep the media off Audrey’s tail. She is probably the most popular pop star in the world right now. Do you have any idea who I had to sleep with to get The Tonight Show for her? But it was worth it—Jay loved her.”
    “Fabulous. Let’s go,” Jack said, and patted the railing of the steps leading up to the ten-seater Audrey’s label had made available to fly her to the inaugural show in Omaha. They would take luxury tour buses from there.
    Jack could scarcely contain his excitement.
    “Let’s get her moving,” he said, nodding toward the limo.
    “Keep your shorts on, sweetie,” Mitzi said with a wink. “I’ll get them.”
    Them . Jack assumed Lover Boy would ride along, but he had a feeling that them went well beyond the two primaries.
    He was right—as Mitzi turned around and strode back to the limousine, the