Snippet #1784426

Char started to respond to Stef. The man’s words gave him confidence – if Stef was with him he could probably handle showing himself to the crowd. But he didn’t get the chance. One of the reporters were firmer than the others, more eager to reach the reclusive keyboardist of Vanilla Dream. He forced his way through his peers, bursting into Char’s space and separating him from Stef’s protection. Char gave a little squeak at the assault, cringing away from the reporter.

Kenzi caught onto the noise, turning as Tag approached him to watch through suddenly frigid blue eyes as their keyboardist was accosted. He would have gone back to help himself… but Tag was well ahead of him. The young man had more fire than Kenzi – who had always been considered a bit of a pacifist – did.

Tag went after the reporter, as Kenzi had expected he would. He could see the fear in Char’s eyes at the violent – and rather lusty – manner in which Tag dealt with the reporter. But Char would not stay frightened for long. He trusted the members of Vanilla Dream, and when Tag seized his hand and pulled him back up alongside the others, the boy was already relaxing, his grasp on Tag’s hand tightening with determination not to be separated again.

“Gently, Tag,” Kenzi chided him gently, smiling his usual crafty, secretive smile. “Annoying though they may be, we need the publicity.” He leaned around Tag to gaze at Char. “Are you alright?”

Char nodded slightly, flushing. Kenzi nodded back.
“The manager is waiting,” he reminded them, hitching his cane up and turning back to face the reporters that crowded the path ahead of them. He raised the cane, resting it against his shoulder. In a way, a gentle threat. There was a reason that reporters never got too rough with Kenzi. He seemed pretty, playful, gentle on the surface, but he was also tough. He had never lashed out at a reporter, but they seemed to know that he would if he had to.

Moving calmly, he pushed his way on through the little crowd of reporters, characteristically answering no question. He always let himself be seen, but questions were for interviews. He never answered them otherwise. He stopped, holding the door open for his fellow members. On the road outside, their limousine waited, with an angry-looking manager in the back seat. Char pulled on Tag’s hand, making him move faster towards the safety of the sleek white car.