“That’s bullshit. You are supposed to. I don’t give a shit what the label says or what they think they can force you to do. Whatever it is they think they have over you, I’ll handle it. Do you trust me to?”
Slowly, she nodded. “We’ll talk about it later. For now—”
“Yes, for now, I’ll see Daphne. For you.” Cade gave Kylie another quick kiss, then turned and headed for the hall that Daphne had disappeared down. He noticed that no one in Daphne’s staff volunteered to accompany him as he went, which told him volumes. Whatever loyalty or affection Daphne might have had from her people was long gone. Sad that she should have been on top of the world at the moment and now she had no one who cared for her.
The hall was empty except for a lone security guard at the end of the hall. It was obvious which one was Daphne’s door. Cade headed toward the door, grimly determined.
The security guard gave him a carefully blank look as Cade approached.
“I’m here to see Daphne,” Cade told him, stating the obvious. “She needs to go up on stage and her assistants are worried she’s going to hurt herself.”
“I’m . . . not supposed to let anyone in,” the man said slowly.
“Well,” Cade said, pulling out his wallet. He peeled a few hundreds out of his pocket and held them out to the man. “I’m sure that’s a good rule when she has rabid fans. But I’m not a fan. I’m a concerned friend. So we can do this two ways. We can either pretend I’ve overpowered you and pushed my way inside, or you can take this money and the knowledge that you’ll have a job with me if Daphne should fire you. Either way, I’m getting in that door. You just let me know which one you decide, all right?”
The security guard hesitated, then grabbed the crisp bills from Cade’s hand and stuffed them into his pocket. “I’m not paid enough for this shit, man. Eighty-fifty an hour doesn’t cut it when you have to put up with this crap.” He shook his head and stepped aside. “I’m going on a bathroom break.”
“Thank you,” Cade murmured, and tried Daphne’s door. It was locked. He knocked as the security guard strolled away. “Daphne? Let me in. It’s Cade.”
Silence.
A hint of worry began to cloud his thoughts. What if Kylie was right and she tried to hurt herself? She’d overdosed before in front of him. “Daphne?” he asked, knocking again, this time more urgent. “Let me in. I’m serious. You need to get up on stage. There are two thousand fans out there waiting for you.”
No response.
He considered the door. It was made of heavy industrial metal—there’d be no heroic breaking down of this door. Realizing that, he pulled out his wallet and shoved his black card into the doorjamb, trying to push against the lock. They made this stuff look so easy in the movies.
Five minutes later, his card was scratched to hell, but the door fell open. Cade pushed inside, scanning the room for Daphne.
At the far end of the room, on a bright red old-fashioned sofa, Daphne’s small form was curled up. He headed toward her. “Daph?”
No response. He sprinted the rest of the way across the room and rolled her onto her back. Her eyes were rolled back in her head, three empty pill bottles near her cheek. One pill was still stuck to the corner of her mouth, and drool pooled down her face.
Fuck. Kylie had been right. He shoved the pill bottles into his pockets and scooped Daphne’s frail form into his arms. “Hang on, Daphne.”
Cade carried her into the backstage area so they could call 911.
NINETEEN
Guilt was an extremely unpleasant companion, Kylie decided.
She sat next to Cade in the emergency waiting room at the hospital. Out of the rest of the staff, only Carmela and Daphne’s manager had shown up out of loyalty to Daphne. The rest were calling contacts and pulling strings, because as soon as word got out that Daphne Petty’s North American tour was canceled, they’d be out of jobs and it would be time to scramble once more.
Cade was quiet, a book in his lap, and he was scribbling notes on a piece of scrap paper. She rubbed his shoulder absently, being there for him while not trying to hog his attention. Weirdly enough, she felt . . . guilty about being here with him. That she shouldn’t be so giddy to have him at her side while Daphne’s stomach was being pumped in an effort to save her life. It almost felt like Kylie was profiting off of Daphne’s troubles. After all, she was getting the guy, right? And Daphne was getting . . . her career destroyed.
Something about this didn’t strike her as right.