Having been driven around to the back, she stepped out and looked for a familiar face. Molly had told Kit to give her a call if she couldn’t spot the crew, but right then she saw Maxwell, his black Schoolboy Choir T-shirt tucked over his beer gut and into his jeans as per usual. However, not as per usual was the busty blonde snuggled to his side.
They kissed as Kit watched, not sure quite what she was seeing. Maxwell was very married and had always seemed crazy for his wife, with whom he had two teenage boys. Kit wasn’t sure she could handle Maxwell cheating. It would be like losing a sacred touchstone that told her some people did make it.
The crew chief looked up and noticed her just as she was wondering if she should head in the other direction. Beaming, he came over, one arm around the shapely woman who was dressed in thigh-high boots over skinny jeans teamed with a black leather jacket and a fitted Schoolboy Choir T-shirt. Unlike Maxwell’s, the woman’s tee had a scoop neck that exposed impressive cleavage.
“I heard you were coming in this afternoon.” Maxwell kissed Kit on the cheek with the ease of long familiarity, his salt-and-pepper beard ticklish. “I don’t think you’ve ever met my wife, have you?”
Oh. Smiling as relief kicked her in the ribs, Kit held out a hand. “It’s great to finally meet you. Kim, right?”
“Yes.” A warm, big-hearted smile. “You were the best part of Primrose Avenue.”
Kit’s own smile deepened at hearing the name of the soap that had been her first long-term gig. “Thank you.” Yes, Primrose Avenue had been a bit of a millstone around her neck when she wanted to transition into the movies, but it was a good show for what it was, and she’d enjoyed working on it. “Are you here for the whole festival?”
“Yes. Our boys are out front in a tent, and we’re under strict instructions not to so much as look in their direction the entire weekend,” Kim said, her voice reminding Kit of Adreina’s. “Maxwell may have street cred because he works with the band, but according to our youngest, it’s ‘total loser zone’ to have your parents attend the same festival as you.”
Kit laughed at how well the other woman mimicked her son’s no doubt disgusted tone. “I’m here till Sunday too,” she said. “Maybe we can talk more.”
“I’d like that.”
Maxwell dropped a kiss on his wife’s head, so obviously in love it was adorable. “You looking for Molly or for Noah?”
“Molly.” Kit felt light-headed at the thought of being shut inside a bus with Noah. “I figured she could show me the ropes.”
“She’s in her and Fox’s bus.” Maxwell jerked a thumb toward the buses Kit could see parked not far away. “Fox is with David, so you girls can chat without interruption.”
Kit didn’t take him to task for calling her a girl. He called Schoolboy Choir his boys. No one argued. “Thanks.” Leaving Casey to deal with the car, her luggage to be stored in the trunk until later, she let Butch walk her to the bus.
“I’ll be fine if you and Casey want to go get a bite or something,” she said to the bodyguard. “I’ll probably talk to Molly for a bit, then find Noah.”
Butch didn’t look convinced. “This would be a great place to snatch you if the creep’s here, and thanks to all the publicity about you and Noah, he probably is. I’ll stay until Noah’s with you.”
“Okay,” Kit replied. “You’re the expert.” Part of the reason she’d hired Butch despite the fact she couldn’t really afford him was that he was so damn good at his job. Leaving him to stand watch, she knocked on the bus door. Molly opened it a second later and, crying out, engulfed Kit in a warm Molly hug. “You’re here! I thought you wouldn’t make it till five. Come in!”
It was the first time Kit had been in one of the band’s buses, and she was surprised to see that it was relatively roomy. “Nice living area.” She put her handbag on the small counter that fronted a compact utility kitchenette tucked into a corner.
“It works,” Molly said cheerfully. “Want a tour? It’ll take like thirty seconds.”
“Sure.”
“This is my study.” Molly pointed out a cute little desk and chair positioned in one corner of the living area, almost but not quite directly opposite from the sofa. That sofa was angled so that it faced the television screen hung on the same wall against which sat Molly’s desk.
“The facilities.” Molly took her through to the very back of the bus. “Shower’s not too bad, actually. Tiny, but that can be fun.” A wicked grin.
“I think living with Fox is a bad influence on you.”
Laughing, Molly slid aside the door to the bedroom. The bed within was neatly made up with pretty white-on-white sheets and fluffy pillows; the high windows along two sides let in light while preserving Molly and Fox’s privacy.
“The windows are reflective,” Molly told her. “We’re kind of paranoid.”
“Don’t blame you.” Kit wrapped an arm around the other woman’s shoulders, still angry on her and Fox’s behalf after the ugly invasion of privacy that had happened during the band’s tour.
Slipping an arm around Kit’s waist, Molly hugged her back. “I’m good, promise,” she said before she broke the hug to show Kit the built-in closet. “Helps to know the pathetic creep who recorded us is behind bars.” A glance at Kit. “Speaking of which, the cops have any luck with the stalker?”
Kit shook her head and took a seat on the bed. “I’m still getting letters and cards.”
“Damn. I was hoping he’d have fallen off a cliff and disappeared by now.” Molly sat with her, folding up her legs. “How are you doing?”
“Fine—really.” Kit reassured the other woman. “The stuff he’s been sending in is relatively vitriol-free for him, but it could be that he’s stewing and waiting to make his move.” Anger had her clenching her hands on the edge of the bed. “I’ve been photographed with both Terrence and Noah lately, and the police psychologist is worried that could push him over the edge.”
The police team kept in regular touch with her, the men and women who dealt with celebrity-stalking cases having seen the sometimes-fatal results firsthand. No one was taking this lightly, especially given how far the stalker had already gone by breaking and entering. “When I say it’s less hateful stuff, I’m comparing it to the more abusive messages, but his current letters, even the present he sent a month back, it’s still creepily possessive and jealous.”
She shuddered. “He sent me a fine gold chain with a small locket, said he’d ‘noticed I wasn’t wearing my favorite necklace’ in photos and he was worried I’d lost it.” Kit touched the bare skin of her throat. “The creepy thing is that I did lose it—while shooting the superhero movie.”
Molly’s eyes widened. “You think he stole it?”
“I can’t imagine how—there’ve been no other signs that he can get on set. Nothing else stolen or missing, no psycho messages.” The hairs rose on the back of her neck at even the faint possibility that he might be one of her colleagues.
“I think he really does just notice even such tiny things about me, and the way he talks, it’s like we’re intimate.” Oddly, it wasn’t the sexual messages that creeped her out the most. Those always seemed like he was trying too hard. “He says things like how we’re meant to be together, how no one will ever understand me like he does, how he’s the only one I can trust with my secrets.”
Molly shivered. “It’s like he wants to put you in a box and keep you.”
“Yes, that’s it exactly.” Kit rubbed her hands up and down her arms.
“I don’t know if Noah had a chance to tell you,” Molly said, “but the band hired extra security. Plus the entire crew knows to be on the lookout for anyone acting suspiciously.”