The crowd turned as one, their eyes locking on Heather. A wave of voices rose, and then the fans rushed toward her with a fervour that made her heart skip. Heather felt like she was in a zombie movie.
She didn't wait to see what would happen next. She pulled a handful of cash from her purse, tossing it toward the girl before running toward the stairs.
She pulled out her phone as she ran, dialing Marcus's number. He picked up almost immediately.
"Marcus," her breath came in short bursts. "Get the car ready. I'm coming down."
"Understood," Marcus replied. "Alex's with me. We'll meet you at the entrance."
Heather hung up. Even on her heels, she was able to run fast.
...
Heather sat in the backseat with Alex. He was staring out the window, his backpack still clutched tightly to his chest. The day had been chaotic. In her history of fame, she had never experienced something like this. That's what you get for being mysterious and loved by everyone. Heather wasn't prepared for it. She didn't think things would spiral this quickly.
"Mommy," Alex said softly, his voice breaking through her thoughts. "Mr. Marcus didn't let me see my daddy."
Heather's eyes widened. "What?" she said sharply.
"I saw him," Alex continued, his eyes dropping to his lap. "I saw Daddy. He was right there. But Mr. Marcus carried me away."
Heather stiffened. "Marcus," she paused, "Is this true? Did Caius see him?"
Marcus glanced at her in through the rearview mirror. "Yes, ma'am. But Mr. Caius didn't acknowledge him."
"Acknowledge." Alex repeated, like he was trying to understand the meaning of the word.
Heather felt relief, Caius wasn't coming back into their lives, but the relief was tangled with guilt. It wasn't fair to Alex. She had given up expecting anything from Caius years ago, but Alex hadn't. He didn't understand.
"Thank you," she said finally. She turned to Alex.
"I don't want you talking about Caius anymore," her voice was calm. "Do you understand, Alex?"
"But he's my daddy," Alex protested.
Heather sighed. "Stop it, Alex," her tone was harsher than she had intended. "I don't want to hear it anymore."
Alex flinched. His eyes were wide. And Heather immediately regretted raising her voice.
She leaned back in her seat, running a hand over her face. "I'm sorry," she murmured, closing her eyes. "I just don't want to talk about him, okay?"
The boy nodded faintly. Heather stared out the window, guilt screaming at her. It wasn't Alex's fault he wanted answers. They told her kids didn't start asking about their fathers until they were older. But Alex is a sharp and curious child who started early, and Heather isn't ready. Maybe he's curious because he doesn't have a father and is reminded of it everytime he's around other kids.