Page 23 of Brown Sugar
“Then maybe it needs to be cut short,” he says. “You’ve been at this for ten hours.”
“My manager?—”
“I’ll handle him.”
“This is my new album and tour,” I snap, suddenly agitated. Suddenly moody and ready to take it out on him. “I’m not going to screw up the launch because the work days are long. Back off, Tyson.”
His jaw clenches as if he’s tempted to argue me on it more.
An eruption of crackling prevents him from doing so. The loud and abrasive sound drowns out everything else on the rooftop as everyone glances around and Tyson springs into action.
“Get down!”
9
TYSON
I use myself as a shield, pushing Kiana down and covering her body with my own. The crackling noise lasts for another tense second as people scatter around us and chaos follows.
Kiana’s in as much shock as everybody else, curled up into a ball beneath me. Once I’m certain I’ve got her completely covered, my right hand reaches the Glock holstered on my hip. I scan the area, searching for the source.
My gaze lands on the rooftop two buildings away. A film crew is in the middle of filming a scene for what looks like a foot chase.
It slowly dawns on me what’s going on.
“False alarm!” yells the director in charge of our interview. He, like the others, has ducked for cover. He stands back up, holding his phone out. “It’s the movie filming a few buildings away. The shots being fired are dummy rounds. No need to panic.”
The rest of the crew on our rooftop seem to give sighs of relief, laughing and joking about the overreaction.
I’m not so amused.
I rise from my crouch, helping Kiana up by the hand. She’s dazed all over again, like she can’t believe what’s happened. Even if it was a so-called false alarm.
“You okay?” I ask, giving her a once over.
“Yeah…” she answers hesitantly, running a hand over her long, wavy hair. “It’s just… feeling like I’m being shot at the second time in days is…” she sighs, her shoulders tense. “It’s wild.”
“You’ve had enough for today. Time to take you home.”
Before she can protest, I’m approaching the director and the rest of his crew.
“This interview is over,” I say. “We were never made aware there would be another project being filmed in the vicinity. When I requested the information about the location, that was never mentioned.”
The director rolls his eyes, folding scrawny arms over his chest. “Who cares if it was never mentioned? This is LA. There’re people filming all the time?—”
“I care,” I growl, taking a step toward him. “It could be a life or death situation when the client is experiencing heightened threats. We asked for specifics on the venue, and you provided inaccurate information. This event is over.”
“You can’t just cancel the rest of the interview. We can’t use unfinished footage. Get back here!”
I’ve already turned my back on him. I head in the direction I came from.
Kiana stands watching me like she can’t believe her eyes. “What did you just do?”
“Ended your interview,” I answer. “It was a clusterfuck anyway, and it’s been a long day. Any complaints?”
For a brief moment, her gaze shifts to the rest of the crew scattered across the rooftop of the music media outlet, then sheshakes her head. The corner of her lips curl as if she’s tempted to smile.
“Then let’s get out of here, princess.”