Bewitching the Bodyguard

His client has a stalker, so how’s he the one in crisis?

Liam

Being famous in the metal scene isn’t like normal fame. Our fans are simply better. They’ve got taste. They’re respectful. If I’ve got a ‘stalker,’ it’s obviously some idiot who claimed to have become a fan after the latest floppy-haired boy band decided to do a pop cover of one of our early songs without our permission.

But that’s a battle for the labels. My battle is against the stuffed shirt of an ex-military tone deaf shadow my manager decided I needed since someone managed to get past a venue’s security. He might be nice to look at, but Sigurd Aldersson is the most boring man alive.

Nothing I do shakes him. If I’m stuck with him, he’s going to get an education in hardcore queer.

Sigurd

Billy Blüd is a walking nightmare of a client. Most people don’t cop attitudes with the guys trying to keep them safe, but he’s got no respect. Schedules get ignored. He throws himself into his audience almost nightly, and his latest stunt involves seedy clubs with whips and velvet that would glow under a blacklight.

Whatever he does, I can’t react. Inside, I’m reeling. I swore off relationships, and even if I hadn’t, I’ve never looked at another guy twice, but no matter how he rebels, the glimpses of Liam underneath the drummer of Blüdthørne have me on my knees.

Am I bi? Is he just that charismatic? It doesn’t matter. He’s a client. Nothing can happen.