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Jen heard the rumbling from all the way in the kitchen. Wiping her hands on a towel, she walked to the front porch to watch the two large buses drive up the long driveway to the farmhouse. Belching smoke, they idled and came to a stop, one behind the other.
Although it wasn’t even 10 a.m. yet, the sun shone brightly in the summer sky, showcasing the dust left in the wake of the parked buses. A bird squawked loudly in the sudden silence as a serious looking young woman scurried out of the first bus, glasses askew, a clipboard gripped in one hand, cellphone in another. Two large mountains of men followed her, hulking shadows.
“Jen Oliver? The band is here. We’ll just come in and....” she moved to enter the house, but Jen stood her ground, blocking the door.
“Where are they?” she asked the woman, her tone icy. “And who are you exactly?”
The woman looked flustered for a brief moment before her stern mask fell back down again. She shuffled her cell phone into the hand with the clipboard and stuck out her now-free hand to shake. “I’m Simone. I manage the band.”
Jen ignored her hand. “Well, manage them out of those buses. They don’t get to send the help out to greet their sister.”
Simone looked confused as she dropped her hand back to her side. “They’re all sleeping. They had a late night. We'll just come in and check...."
“Still up all night and sleeping all day, huh? That’s been the same since they were teenagers.” Jen shook her head. On the farm they had all been taught the value of hard work – up before dawn, work all day, and early to bed. Somehow those lessons hadn’t really stuck with her brothers despite her grandparents’ best efforts over the years.
Of course, the boys, as she still thought of them, had been away from the farm for ten years now, chasing fame and fortune as the biggest boy band to hit the charts since N Sync. Like the band that came before them, the Oliver Boys had grown up but continued to enchant teenage girls across the world with their pop tunes.
Simone clearly felt protective of the boys. “They played last night in Wichita you know,” she said sternly. “The show went until almost midnight, then they met the fans and press for hours after.”
“By meet the fans and press do you mean got drunk and partied?” Jen’s tone did little to hide her opinion of the boys and their reputation for debauched partying.
Simone shook her head. “They’ve mostly settled down now. There’s not as much partying as there used to be when they were younger. But they still need to make an effort to meet people, it’s part of the job. Now we'll just come in and...."
Jen shook her head. "Well," she drawled. "When they wake up from their so-called job, you send them on in. The rest of you need to find some other place to bunk. I’m not running a hotel for drunken roadies here.”
A slight movement behind Simone caught Jen’s eyes. One of the giant men flanking Simone shook with repressed laughter, his mouth twisted in a smirk but his face otherwise impassive. Jen looked at him for the first time. He was the size of a small tank, several inches over 6 feet tall, with impossibly wide shoulders and large biceps. His hair was a dark blond, “dishwater blonde” her grandma would call it, worn military short. He was dressed all in black, and she noticed a gun on the shoulder holster. Jen wondered why he felt he needed a gun out here in the middle of nowhere. She felt him watching her and she raised her eyes to his, a shiver of awareness coursing through her, although she couldn’t make out his eyes behind the dark sunglasses.
“Miss Oliver...” Simone started again.
“Jen”
“OK, then, Jen, we need to do a security sweep before the boys come in. If you could just move aside, we’ll get started.” Simone nodded decisively.
“A security—-what the hell are you talking about?”
Simone turned to the man who’d been staring at Jen earlier. “This is Nick, he’s head of security for the band. He’ll be doing a security sweep and assessment with Brian here,” she pointed at the second silent man.
“We don’t need a security sweep. This place is as safe as it comes. We don’t even lock the doors in these parts.”
Simone shook her head again, vibrating with irritation and clearly not used to people disobeying her orders. “No way. The boys don’t go anywhere without a security check ahead of time. I’m afraid I have to insist.”
Jen shot her a look filled with venom, her tone as cold as ice. “You can insist all you like but this is my property. You have no right to it, and neither do the boys. Y’all can just run along now, I’m not having some ginormous strangers poking around my property. Don’t make me sic the dogs on you.” Simone’s mouth dropped open.
This was an empty threat. Jen’s three dogs looked mean, but they were incurably friendly. They were just as likely to lick a person to death as bite them. Jen had a sneaking suspicion that if someone tried to kill her the dogs would jump over her body and leave with the killer. But these music people didn’t need to know that. If there was one thing Jen hated, it was music people. They were way too self-important and proud.
“Excuse me ma’am,” the guy called Nick interrupted.
“Jen,” she repeated, a trace of irritation in her tone.
He inclined his head. “Sorry. Jen. As Simone mentioned, I’m head of security for the band. We’ve had some issues and I would be very appreciative if my team could just poke around for a bit and make sure there’s nothing amiss.” His tone was deferential and charming, which only heightened Jen’s suspicions.
“What kind of issues?”
“I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to discuss that ma—I mean Jen.”
“Then I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to grant you access to my property. You step foot off that driveway, and I’ll shoot you myself, right after I set the dogs on you. And you,” she pointed at Simone, “better make sure no one bothers me again until I see those boys on my porch.” She spun on her heel and slammed the door. It was going to be a long day.
***
For more of Jen’s story, check out Until You Came Along by Rose Bak. Available at all major online retailers.