Marvin sent her flew out of her purse and clattered to the ground.
“ Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” the girl exclaimed, crouching down to pick them up. Before Isabelle could grab them, the girl had gathered them together and was handing them back. Suddenly, she paused and her face paled. She stared at the disks. “Holy shit, this is Vin’s handwriting. He touched these!”
Isabelle blinked. His fans recognized his handwriting?
The girl peered at the marker on the disks. “He wrote this!” she squealed, pointing at the song title: Beautiful Belle .
“ Can I please have my music back?” Isabelle asked, hand closing over the plastic. She was already embarrassed that he’d written a song with her name in the title. Having a complete stranger freak out over it was somehow even worse.
The girl protested under her breath and reluctantly let go. “Where did you get them?”
Isabelle sighed, wanting nothing more than to get away from this admittedly nice, but extremely hyper person. “He sent them to me.”
The words only made the girl more hysterical. “Oh my God!” she exclaimed, loud enough that a few heads turned.
Isabelle snatched them from her hands and stuffed them in her bag. “Nice to meet you.” She turned away.
The girl grabbed her arm. “Wait!”
Isabelle shook her off. “Look, I know you’re very excited, but I need to get back to work now.”
“ I just want to know if his tattoo really goes down over his hip. I read that it does, but he never takes his shirt off when he’s performing, or at all, really, and…”
Oh my God , Isabelle thought, appalled by the crazy. “It’s really none of your business, is it?” she asked, gently interrupting. She shrugged off the girl’s hand, desperately trying to block the memory of the tattoo curling down over Marvin’s hip. She failed. The feathers from the birds on his arm did indeed go down to his groin, but no one else needed to know that. “Marvin’s body belongs to him. Not to the whole world,” she pointed out, pivoting and walking away when the girl didn’t give up. She ignored the girl’s entreaties, needing to get out of there. She swiped her card and squeezed into her building, grateful that the girl didn’t follow her in.
Unfortunately, that incident was just the beginning of the insanity.
Chapter Eight
The flight to L.A. exhausted her more than she expected. She tucked her hair back into her hat and secured the large sunglasses she’d purchased back home on her nose. She hoped no one recognized her, but she wasn’t going to hold her breath. She walked down the ramp, dragging her carry-on bag behind her. A few of the other passengers gave her sharp looks, probably because she kept almost tripping over her bag because the glasses obscured her vision, but no one pointed or yelled her name.
At the end of the tunnel, she turned left because everyone else was going right. When she found a semi-quiet spot near the wall, she pulled out her cell phone and turned it on. Eighty-five messages appeared on her screen. Ugh. She didn ’t know any of the people who’d tried to call and didn’t even try to scroll through them all. She mass-deleted them and called her brother.
“ You’re here?” he asked, not bothering to say hi. It didn’t matter.
“ Yeah, my flight just got in. Gate thirty-two.” She rubbed her eyes under the glasses. “Does he know?” A jet taking off just outside the window was loud enough to make her head ache.
“ No. I didn’t tell him.” Ian sounded tired.
“ Good. Can you still pick me up?” she asked.
He sighed. “Yeah. I don’t understand why you didn’t want me to tell him you’re coming.”
“ I just need a break from the chaos. It’s not his fault and I don’t want to drag him into it.” Isabelle rubbed her forehead, trying to dispel the pain in her skull, but her fingers didn’t do a damn thing. “He’s a nice guy. He did a good thing.”
“ Belle, he feels terrible about
“ Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” the girl exclaimed, crouching down to pick them up. Before Isabelle could grab them, the girl had gathered them together and was handing them back. Suddenly, she paused and her face paled. She stared at the disks. “Holy shit, this is Vin’s handwriting. He touched these!”
Isabelle blinked. His fans recognized his handwriting?
The girl peered at the marker on the disks. “He wrote this!” she squealed, pointing at the song title: Beautiful Belle .
“ Can I please have my music back?” Isabelle asked, hand closing over the plastic. She was already embarrassed that he’d written a song with her name in the title. Having a complete stranger freak out over it was somehow even worse.
The girl protested under her breath and reluctantly let go. “Where did you get them?”
Isabelle sighed, wanting nothing more than to get away from this admittedly nice, but extremely hyper person. “He sent them to me.”
The words only made the girl more hysterical. “Oh my God!” she exclaimed, loud enough that a few heads turned.
Isabelle snatched them from her hands and stuffed them in her bag. “Nice to meet you.” She turned away.
The girl grabbed her arm. “Wait!”
Isabelle shook her off. “Look, I know you’re very excited, but I need to get back to work now.”
“ I just want to know if his tattoo really goes down over his hip. I read that it does, but he never takes his shirt off when he’s performing, or at all, really, and…”
Oh my God , Isabelle thought, appalled by the crazy. “It’s really none of your business, is it?” she asked, gently interrupting. She shrugged off the girl’s hand, desperately trying to block the memory of the tattoo curling down over Marvin’s hip. She failed. The feathers from the birds on his arm did indeed go down to his groin, but no one else needed to know that. “Marvin’s body belongs to him. Not to the whole world,” she pointed out, pivoting and walking away when the girl didn’t give up. She ignored the girl’s entreaties, needing to get out of there. She swiped her card and squeezed into her building, grateful that the girl didn’t follow her in.
Unfortunately, that incident was just the beginning of the insanity.
Chapter Eight
The flight to L.A. exhausted her more than she expected. She tucked her hair back into her hat and secured the large sunglasses she’d purchased back home on her nose. She hoped no one recognized her, but she wasn’t going to hold her breath. She walked down the ramp, dragging her carry-on bag behind her. A few of the other passengers gave her sharp looks, probably because she kept almost tripping over her bag because the glasses obscured her vision, but no one pointed or yelled her name.
At the end of the tunnel, she turned left because everyone else was going right. When she found a semi-quiet spot near the wall, she pulled out her cell phone and turned it on. Eighty-five messages appeared on her screen. Ugh. She didn ’t know any of the people who’d tried to call and didn’t even try to scroll through them all. She mass-deleted them and called her brother.
“ You’re here?” he asked, not bothering to say hi. It didn’t matter.
“ Yeah, my flight just got in. Gate thirty-two.” She rubbed her eyes under the glasses. “Does he know?” A jet taking off just outside the window was loud enough to make her head ache.
“ No. I didn’t tell him.” Ian sounded tired.
“ Good. Can you still pick me up?” she asked.
He sighed. “Yeah. I don’t understand why you didn’t want me to tell him you’re coming.”
“ I just need a break from the chaos. It’s not his fault and I don’t want to drag him into it.” Isabelle rubbed her forehead, trying to dispel the pain in her skull, but her fingers didn’t do a damn thing. “He’s a nice guy. He did a good thing.”
“ Belle, he feels terrible about
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