Текст книги "My Soul to Keep"

Автор книги: Kennedy Ryan

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Текущая страница: 18 (всего у книги 23 страниц)

“Rhyson, we just started.”

Her voice wavers. She better not cry. Fuck me if she cries. She has no idea that her tears are a weapon of mass destruction that would take me out in seconds.

“I don’t want to be fighting with you already over my job.” She looks up at me, her mouth and eyes unsmiling. “Just like you have a job to do, so do I. I need you to let me do this.”

“Okay.”

I capture her hand, bringing it to my lips for a kiss. I couldn’t care less who’s looking or taking pictures. They can Snapchat it for all I care.

“Are you leaving?” she asks.

She steps closer, and the fact that she still smells like pears and cinnamon comforts me. Under all the makeup, the false eyelashes, red talons, the elevator heels, she’s still my girl who wants to make her mother’s soap. Who bakes the best biscuits I’ve ever tasted. Who makes me want to be the best man I can be. For her.

“Yeah, if I stay I might strangle someone. Luke would definitely die.” My laugh is a short bark. “And I need to swing by Wood. Supposed to be helping someone with a track. Not sure how long that’ll take.”

“Can I see you tonight?”

Her voice is so soft I barely hear it. Did she really just ask me that? I can’t help it. I have to touch her. I palm the smooth, bare curve of her waist, and she doesn’t stop me. She doesn’t pull away, even with the weight of all these eyes on us. I lean down until my lips brush her ear.

“Text Gep when you’re done, and he’ll bring you to the house.”

“Kai, we need to do this now,” Dub says sharply from a few feet away.

I turn a glare on Dub that should level him, but he just stares right back at me. Reckless bastard.

“Does he always talk that way to you?” I demand.

“Only when I’m being unprofessional and cuddling with my boyfriend instead of doing my job.”

“We can cuddle when you get home.” I bury my nose in the hair by her ear. “After we fuck, of course.”

I pull back just so I can see her cheeks bloom pink.

“You actually blush.” I laugh into the sweet smell of her neck. “That’s adorable.”

The glare she angles up at me doesn’t carry much fire with her mouth fighting a grin.

“I need to work, Rhyson. They’re almost ready.”

“Okay, don’t forget to text Gep when you’re done.”

“Can I swim?”

“You can redecorate the whole house for all I care, as long as you’re there when I get home.”

“You won’t be there?” She pulls that kissable mouth into a pout.

“Like I said, I gotta get to the studio. I’ll be late getting in.”

“I’ll see you when you get home.”

Home. Hearing her say it makes me realize how much I want my home and her home to be one and the same. Is this really happening? Me, notorious commitment-phobe, wanting a girl in my house all the time? After one night together? The irony is that if I said this out loud, she’d be the one freaked out. So I’ll keep it to myself and give her the time and space Grady keeps saying she probably needs.

I’ll ask her . . . what? Like next week?

EVERY INCH OF MY BODY ACHES, but I slice through the warm water lap after lap until my arms and legs burn with exertion. Today I got another taste of what I’m meant to do. Just the tip of a glorious iceberg that is my destiny, but it was addictive. The lights. The cameras. The music. Even though I wasn’t the star. The dance moves challenging me to the edges of my ability and discipline.

The dance wasn’t as salacious as Rhyson assumed it would be. It was sensual, but not trashy. I think once the video is finished, it will be something I can be proud of. Dub thinks it will definitely get me noticed and booked for other jobs. Maybe I can quit The Note soon. I wouldn’t even be able to entertain the thought if Rhyson hadn’t paid off my mother’s medical bills.

In retrospect, I overreacted about that. I jeopardized our relationship holding onto my fears and insecurities about the past. Rhyson is not my father. I am not my mother. I want to depend on him, and I want him to depend on me. I can trust him. We can trust each other.

Our argument on set today did nothing to calm my other concerns about our career paths clashing and the speculation from others about his involvement in my career.

I reach the pool wall, ready to collapse. My arms tremble when I pull myself up, resting my elbows on the lip of the pool, heaving harsh breaths in through burning lungs.

A long body slices up through the water behind me, muscled forearms bracketing my shoulders. A warm, hard chest flattens to my back. Panic grips me for a second, accelerating my already-rapid heartbeat. Then firm lips skitter down the back of my neck, leaving a familiar tingle I’ve only felt with one person. There’s only one match that lights me like this.

“Rhyson?” I whisper, even though we are the only ones in the backyard, with its towering wall protecting us from prying eyes.

“Better not be anyone else,” he laughs, his breath heating my neck.

I lean into him, tipping my head back until I can look into his eyes upside down, barely illuminated by the lights rimming the pool.

“You’re home.” My smile melts under the heat of the look he’s giving me.

He nods, his fingers working at my back, undoing the clasp on my bikini top. His hands slip beneath the cups, and he brushes his palms over my nipples, sending desire spearing down my middle and tightening at my core. My breath comes fast and shallow. Underwater, my knees liquefy, barely holding me up. Rhyson slides one hand down my side, slipping beneath the band of spandex sheathing my hip. He slides the bikini bottoms down my legs.

“Rhyson, the cameras,” I pant, my eyes picking out the shiny glass lenses I noticed when I came out earlier to swim while I waited for him to come home.

“I turned them off.”

He presses into my back, hard and naked. Stiff and erect, he nudges between the exposed cheeks of my butt.

“Well, look at you thinking ahead.” I can barely speak. I can barely stand. I can barely think. The need to have him buried to the hilt possesses me. I push back against him, feeling him slick and ready.

“Are you wearing a condom?” A startled laugh breaks past my lips, swollen and trembling waiting for his kiss.

“I knew I couldn’t wait.” He sucks at my shoulder and slips his fingers between my legs, squeezing my clit and penetrating me with his middle finger. My hips thrust in time with the cadence of one finger, two fingers, three buried inside of me, his thumb occupied with caressing the button of flesh where all my pleasure has centered.

“I could barely concentrate in that session thinking about your ass in that non-existent outfit on set,” he says, and I go limp against him. “I’ve been hard all day.”

His fingers leave me, and the void left behind draws a tortured moan from my lips. He cups my butt, one cheek in each hand, lifting me until my feet leave the pool floor. He bends me over the edge, my elbows supporting me, giving me leverage. He squeezes and separates my cheeks, making room for him to slide in, like hot steel. We both gasp at the tight fit. At the perfect friction.

“Where has this been all my life?” Rhyson groans into the curve of my shoulder.

He pumps into me from behind, every thrust rasping my bare stomach against the smooth edge of the pool. My head drops back, the pleasure too much. One hand comes around, toying with my nipple while he slams into me, hitting a secret passage no one’s ever found, over and over until the sky above is spinning. The stars blur, melding into one bright celestial ceiling overhead. I slide my hand up and into his hair, gripping, holding on, and tethering myself to this world when everything inside me would spiral out of control.

“Pep, yes.” He grunts behind me, sliding one hand down my stomach and into the throbbing space between my legs. “I love you, Pep. I love you, baby.”

I can’t even answer with words, only managing a frantic nod as he shudders against my back, long and violent. His passion reverberates through my skin, through my bones, through my soul, shaking me to my heart.

“At least we made it to a bed the last time.” He laughs, slowly pulling out and bending behind me to scatter kisses between my shoulder blades.

I laugh too, my hands roaming through the water, searching for my bikini.

“Leave it.” He picks me up by my waist, turns me and sets me on the pool’s edge. My legs fall open, and he steps in until our bodies are flush. “No clothes.”

“Rhyson, we can’t—”

“No cameras.” He grins, running one finger from my ear, between my breasts and over the top of my thigh. “I want you naked.”

“It’s January.”

“January in L.A. . It’s not even that cool tonight.”

“You’re crazy. Okay, I guess I can be naked a little longer. I can’t be hungry though. You gotta feed me.”

Twenty minutes later, we devour the bounty of chicken breast, cheese, nuts, hummus, and vegetables Sarita left in the refrigerator.

Rhyson reclines on the patio lounge, one long leg folded under him, and the other planted to the side. I face him, naked and cross-legged, chomping on the food on platters between us.

“So how’d the shoot go?” He glances at me from beneath his lashes, dark hair flopping into his eyes.

“S’good.” I roll my eyes. “Long, but good.”

“You felt good? You did well?”

“I guess I did okay.” I shrug, dipping a cucumber into the hummus.

“Pep, it’s me.” He leans forward and grins. “You can tell me. You were amazing, right?”

I love that he doesn’t condemn my ambition or my confidence. How could he? The guy who’s been working toward his dream in one form or another since he was three years old? A deep laugh rises from my belly through my chest and erupts in the quiet of the night.

“I was freaking amazing!”

We laugh together until he grabs me by my nape, tugging my face to his.

“You are so damn talented, Pep,” he whispers against my lips. “It’s dangerous to be as gifted and beautiful as you are in this town.”

I draw back just enough to look into the dark eyes that aren’t laughing anymore.

“Why?”

“You’re a goldmine, and everyone will want in.” His eyes harden, the muscle in his jaw flexing beneath the skin. “But I’ll crush anyone who tries to take advantage of you.”

“Rhyson, no one’s trying to take advantage of me.” I pop a handful of almonds in my mouth. “I can take care of myself. I don’t want you fighting battles for me, okay? That will only play into people thinking of me as Rhyson Gray’s girlfriend.”

“You are Rhyson Gray’s girlfriend.” His eyes dare me to deny it.

“Of course I am, but I don’t want to be just that. I don’t want that to be the first thing people think about when they see me. When they work with me. I—”

My phone ringing beneath the lounge chair chops into my sentence.

“Don’t answer it.” Rhyson frowns, placing a hand over mine reaching for the phone. “We’ve had no time together.”

“I know, and I want an update on your dad. We haven’t gotten to really talk about how he’s doing.”

I glance at the screen.

“It’s San.” I lean forward to peck a kiss on his lips. “It’ll be quick. Promise.”

I grab the phone, turning away from Rhyson to plant both feet on the flagstones.

“San, hey. What’s up?”

“I promise it wasn’t me.”

“What wasn’t you? What are you talking about?”

“Spotted just broke the story about you and Rhyson. The pictures are out.“

“The story broke?” I ask. “Pictures from New York you mean?

Rhyson’s fingers, tracing lines up and down my naked spine, go still. He jumps up and strides over to his pile of clothes near the pool, naked, digging around in a pair of cargo pants for his phone.

“Yeah.” San heaves a sigh. “We aren’t the only ones who ran it. Apparently that pap sold those pics to several outlets.”

“Is the . . . I mean, it’s not bad or anything, right?” The knot in my stomach tightens.

“You look great, actually.” San laughs. “It’ll probably make folks want to see Luke’s video even more.”

“Video?” I push my fingers through my still-damp and tangled hair. “What about his video?”

“There’s pictures of you and Rhyson on the set of Luke’s video from today.”

I press the phone to my chest and close my eyes. Before I’ve even had a chance to prove anything, my abilities will be called into question.

“You there, Kai?” San’s voice echoes from the phone pressed to my breastbone.

I pull the phone back to my ear to respond, needing to end the call and see it for myself.

“San, yeah. I’m gonna go.”

“You aren’t planning to come home tonight, right?”

“No, I’m staying at Rhyson’s.” Something in San’s voice prompts my next question. “Why?”

“Our place is crawling with paps. Get used to it.”

As soon as we hang up, I go to the Spotted website. No need to search because we’re the front page story. There are pictures. The picture of Rhyson and me in the tree house. Me straddling him and looking over my shoulder, my face clear as day. We knew those were coming, but the pictures from today on set floor me. We’re standing close, intimacy and affection apparent between us. Rhyson’s face is buried in my hair for one shot, our hands clasped. In another I’m looking at him like some lovestruck puppy, my adoration clear.

“I don’t care, Bristol.” Rhyson’s voice breaks my concentration. “I told you those pictures from New York would surface sooner or later, and I have no idea who took the pictures today on set. I guess it could have been anybody.”

He nods, listening to her response, dressed now in cargo pants, feet and broad chest still bare.

“Don’t tell me to be careful, Bris. Fuck careful. I don’t care who knows. You can tell them that . . . hold on.”

He walks over to me, squatting at my feet by the lounge chair, setting the phone down on the ground.

“Bristol’s getting calls and texts about the story. About the pictures. About us.” He tips up my chin, studying my face. “Can she confirm?”

I didn’t think we’d have to do this so soon. We just got back from New York. He popped up on set, we fought, we made up, he came home, we made love in the pool. Cheese, hummus, chicken, nuts. Now I’m splattered all over the interweb. Things are moving fast. Things have broken the speed limit. Things are traveling at the freaking speed of light.

“Pep?” Rhyson flips the length of hair over my naked shoulder, his warm hand cupping my jaw. “I want to confirm. Can I?”

Our eyes lock. A lot hinges on this moment, on my next words.

“Remember I’m yours and you’re mine.” He leans up and kisses me, one hand slipping under my hair. “I kinda want the world to know.”

A part of me wants that too. Other parts of me want time to get used to this. Time to adjust to adjacent fame. Time to create my own. But it looks like I won’t get that now. Every time he kisses me, I fall deeper. Fall further. My reasons for resisting him disintegrate.

“Baby, can I confirm?”

I press my forehead into his, nodding and running my fingers through the wet, silky hair clinging around his ears. He grins, giving me one more kiss before returning to Bristol on the phone.

“Confirm, yeah,” he says.

I slip on his long-sleeved T-shirt, looking back to my phone to read the story beneath the pictures.

“Notoriously media-shy rocker, Rhyson Gray, isn’t hiding his new relationship with aspiring singer-dancer-model, Kai Pearson.”

Model? I’m five foot two. I couldn’t model my way down a grocery store aisle.

“Sources close to Gray confirm that he has been seeing Pearson secretly for months”.

No sources close to Rhyson have confirmed anything. The only “close source” is the one he’s on the phone with now. Load of crap reporting.

“Pearson, a Georgia native, recently moved to Los Angeles, teaches dance classes at a Los Angeles rec center, and works at L.A. eatery, The Note. Some speculate the two met through Gray’s uncle, Bentley Gray, who is also Pearson’s vocal coach. Pictures were obtained today on the set of Luke Foster’s new video, in which Pearson stars as a dancer. Pearson has appeared in one other music video, Drex Martin’s single, ‘Candy.’”

“You were in Drex Martin’s video?” Rhyson stands over me, scrolling through the same story on his phone, a frown puckering his face.

Drex hasn’t entered my mind in months. Seeing my name linked to his in print rattles me, floods my mind with fractured images from a dark night I’m glad I barely remember.

“Yeah, it was a fluke, but yeah.”

“Fluke?” He tosses the phone onto the lounge chair and returns his eyes to my face. “How do you mean?”

“It was my first month here.” I pick at a few chunks of cheese, but my appetite is suddenly gone. “I was taking a dance class at the rec center, and one of the instructors was booked for Drex’s video, but sprained her ankle.”

I shrug, giving up completely on the food and lying back in the lounger, crossing my ankles.

“She’d seen me dance and recommended me to take her place. It wasn’t a big deal. Didn’t get much attention since the song didn’t do that well.”

“His songs never do.” Rhyson’s voice is heavy with disgust.

“You guys know each other?” Dread creeps over me as I wait for his response.

Rhyson scoots behind me on the lounge, coaxing my head back against his chest so he can run his fingers through my tangled hair.

“Let’s just say if life was a Marvel comic,” Rhyson says, pulling my elbows up on his knees so I can get more comfortable between his legs. “Drex and I would be arch nemeses.”

The dread that was creeping over me freezes into a sheet of ice covering every inch of my body.

“Wh-why? What do you have against him?”

“Plenty, but it started with what he had against me.” Rhyson pushes my hair to the side, dropping a kiss on my neck.

“I met Drex at the School for the Arts, same as Marlon and Jim. He assumed I would be an entitled, arrogant prick and hated me on sight.”

Rhyson laughs behind me.

“When in all actuality, I was a total and complete dork. He tried to make life hell for me. Petra and I were still dating, even though she lived in Russia. We were basically glorified pen pals. I mean, my parents kind of orchestrated it. But we were dating, and she was on tour here, so she visited.”

“What happened?” I ask, afraid of how this is unfolding.

“He fucked her.”

Oh. God.

“He wh-what?” I turn, twisting around to see his face.

“Yeah, he’s the one she cheated with.” Rhyson’s mouth tips in a wry grin. “We weren’t in love or anything, but it still hurt and was embarrassing as fuck.”

“So that’s why you hate him.”

“Oh, it goes much deeper than that.”

Deeper than Drex screwing his girlfriend? How much deeper could it go? I’m afraid to find out.

“Not sure if you remember when my first album dropped,” Rhyson says, “but there were several tracks leaked. And they weren’t even mastered. They sounded awful. It almost ruined my release. Definitely cost me sales. I know he was behind it.”

“No way. Oh my gosh, Rhyson, are you sure?”

“I can’t prove it, but he was in the studio a few nights, and one of his boys was an engineer on the project. There’s no doubt in my mind.”

This is so much worse than I thought.

“Even now,” Rhyson continues. “If he’s at Wood, they give me a heads up. I’m not the only owner, and he and I are cool with some of the same people even though we aren’t cool with each other. But everyone knows we can’t be in the same room. If he’s booked, they let me know.”

“Why do you think he hated you so much?”

“I don’t know how it started, except jealousy maybe. He had no idea that I’d been through hell. From the outside looking in, it probably seemed to him that I had it all. He just always wanted what was mine.”

His phone rings, and Rhyson grunts, glancing at the screen.

“I promise this is the last call.” He swings one leg over the lounge, standing up. “It’s Bris again.”

He leans down, teasing me with his eyes before kissing my lips quickly.

“Apparently everyone’s really interested in my new girlfriend.”

He walks a few feet away, giving me just enough space to draw a deep breath and consider all that he just told me.

He just always wanted what was mine.

How can I tell Rhyson that Drex had something else that was his? How can I tell him that Drex had me?

I’M TIRED OF THIS ALREADY. IT’S been a week since the pictures posted and the story broke, and photographers still seem to be everywhere I am. I keep telling myself it will die down, but as soon as I step out of the rec center after my dance class, a pack of photographers swell forward, hurling questions at me, shoving cameras in my face.

“Kai, how long have you and Rhyson been together?”

“Are you living with him?”

“Will you be going on the road with him?”

I ignore them, just like Rhyson told me to, lowering my head even though my hair is pulled up and doesn’t shield my face from the cameras’ flashes.

I estimate how long it will take me to run to the bus stop, already regretting telling Rhyson I’d be fine without Gep. The girls from my class laugh and squeal behind me, but I don’t turn to say good-bye. I take off running, partly to put distance between me and the paps. Partly because I can’t afford to miss the next bus.

A few of the persistent ones chase me for a little bit, but honestly, I’m not that big of a deal. I expect this rabid interest to pass soon. Rhyson’s the star. Not me.

Not yet. Maybe after this lunch meeting, I’ll be one step closer.

As soon as I sit on the bus, my phone rings.

“What took you so long to call me back, San?”

“I do have a job and all, Kai. I mean, I know I’m not dating a rock star like you, but you’re not the only one with a life.”

“San, this is serious.” I can’t believe I’m having to swallow back tears on the Metro, surrounded by people who could have been Googling me this morning.

“What’s wrong, pipsqueak?” His voice holds concern that undoes me even more, forcing a tear down my cheek.

“I’m going to lose him,” I whisper, lowering my head and cupping my hand around my brow to shield my eyes.

“Kai, calm down. That guy’s nose is wide open for you.”

“No, listen to me. D’you remember Drex Martin?”

“I thought you said we weren’t ever to talk about him again?” San slows his words down because he knows for me to bring up Drex this must be serious.

“Rhyson hates Drex. Like despises him to the point of won’t be in the same room with him.”

“It can’t be that bad.”

“No, it is.” I close my eyes, replaying my conversation with Rhyson and the horror I felt the more he shared. “Petra, Rhyson’s only other girlfriend, cheated with Drex in high school.”

“Damn. That’s bad, but it was high school. I’m sure Rhyson’s not still stuck on that.”

“And then Rhyson’s convinced Drex leaked those tracks from his first album.”

“Aw, hell. That is bad.”

“If Rhyson ever finds out I . . .” I look around the bus, not sure who might be listening or have their phones recording me. “He can’t find out, San.”

“I think you should just tell him, Kai.”

“No, you don’t understand.” I press a trembling hand to my forehead. “We just started, and I love him, San. Like, I love him. I can’t lose him now.”

“You won’t. Rhyson’s not unreasonable. He’ll understand that you and Drex had your thing before you even knew him. Just—”

A beep from another call cuts off whatever San would have said. I glance at my screen. My heart lifts and falls when I see R. Geritol.

“I gotta go, San. It’s Rhys. Can you still drop me off at his place later?”

“Yes, and tell him!”

“Bye, San.”

I switch over.

“Hey, baby,” I say quietly.

“Hey, Pep. You okay?”

I try to steady my voice and sound as normal as I can.

“Yeah, I’m good. Just leaving class.”

“How was it? Any trouble with reporters?”

“Just a few, but it was no big.”

“Where you off to now?”

How to answer? If I tell him I’m meeting Dub, we may argue, and things have been perfect between us. I’ve been staying at his place for the most part, falling deeper and harder every day. Between the one-night stand with Drex and meeting Dub for lunch, the things I’m keeping from him are piling up, and I hate it.

But I have to. On both fronts, I have to.

“Just grabbing lunch.”

“Then you’re coming home?”

Home. It sounds so good when he says it. Would it freak him out if he knew home for me is wherever he is? That I’d move in tomorrow if he asked me? Where is that girl who was scared to trust him? Who wanted to take things so slow? After little more than a week together, my heart is unreservedly his.

“Yeah. Then I’ll be home.”

“Can Gep come get you?”

“Um, I’ll be fine.”

“Pep, I don’t like you taking the bus.”

“San will bring me to your place later. I need to swing by my apartment to grab a few things.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.” Someone tugs the rope to stop, and I realize I need to get off too. “Hey, this is my stop.”

“Okay.” His voice drops. “I’m at home writing. Missing you.”

“I miss you too.” I look around at the other passengers, wondering if any of them recognize me. Wondering if any of them are surreptitiously aiming their camera phones at me. “I need to go.”

“Love you.”

I catch the eye of a girl staring at me just a tad too long for comfort. Does she know who I am? Or at least who I’m dating?

“Pep?”

“I heard you. Me too. I’ll see you later.”

There’s a pause before he answers.

“Okay. See you.”

As soon as I’m off the bus, and oriented to where I’m supposed to meet Dub, I pull my phone back out and text Rhyson.

Me: There were people all around and I wasn’t sure if any of them recognized me so I didn’t want to say it, but I live you too.

R. Geritol: You LIVE me? Thanks, Pep. I live you too.

Me: LOL! Damn autocorrect. I LOVE you, idiot. TTYL.

I scan the tables lining the sidewalk, searching for Dub’s broad shoulders and platinum hair.

“Kai, over here.” He waves me over to the table where he’s already seated.

I sit across from him, and immediately wonder if it was a good idea to meet in such a public place. This needs to be fast. I don’t want to be rude, but we need to cut to the chase. I ignore the menu at my elbow and meet his eyes directly.

“So you got the footage?”

He raises his brows and turns his mouth down at the corners.

“Well, aren’t you all business?”

“Sorry. I don’t mean to be.” I glance around at the other diners on the patio. “Just been kind of crazy for me the last week, and being out has been tough.”

“Oh, yeah. You and Rhyson.”

I look up at him, not responding with anything but a nod.

“Look, I know it might be a little awkward now that you’re dating Rhyson,” Dub says, “Seeing as how I asked you out a couple of times before.”

A couple? Try six, but who’s counting?

“Okay, more than a couple.” His self-deprecating laugh reaches me across the small table. “But I didn’t know you were Gray’s girl.”

“I wasn’t at the time. We were just friends.”

“I’m not sure you were ever just friends.” Dub lifts one dark eyebrow, a wide grin showing off his white teeth. “Even when I saw you at Jimmi’s party, he was pissed off when we danced together.”

“You knew that?” I tilt my head and consider him. “Did you provoke him on purpose?”

“Maybe a little.” Dub shrugs those massive shoulders and grins. “Not many people in this town seem to have the balls to go head to head with him, but I got my start boxing in Ireland. I don’t back down from nobody.”

“Yeah, well, now you know, and Rhyson knows that you and I are just friends.”

“If things change between you two . . .” He lifts and lowers his dark eyebrows suggestively.

“They won’t.” I laugh like he knew I would and pick up the menu. “Now what’s good?”

After we’ve both ordered our salads and mineral water, Dub pulls out his phone to show me some of the footage from the video.

“Oh, wow.” My hand covers my mouth. I can’t believe that’s me. I look like . . .

“You’re a star, Kai.” Dub nods when the video ends. “It’s obvious.”

“Thank you so much for the opportunity. I can’t believe how well it’s turned out. Is Luke pleased?”

“Oh, hell yeah. Everyone is, including John Malcolm.”

“John Malcolm?” I take a sip of my water, trying to place the name. “Who’s that?”

“He’s one of the executive producers on Total Package. He flipped when he saw you dancing. When I told him you sing too, he said he had to hear for himself.”

“Are you serious?” Excitement dries my mouth out, so I take a giant gulp of my water.

“Can you be ready to audition for him in a couple weeks?”

I almost spew my water, catching the dribbles with a napkin.

“Sure, I can.”

“He wants you to audition for this season.”

“I can’t believe it.” I shake my head, unable to fully absorb this opportunity.

“Believe it.” Something catches Dub’s eye across the street. “Looks like we got company.”

I follow his glance. The camera lenses reflect the sunlight, blinding me for a moment. At first it seems to be just a few, but then I realize there are several more gathering up and down the sidewalk. They start snapping pictures.

“This won’t look good.” Dub doesn’t look upset. He tosses a few bills down on the table and stands up abruptly.

I stand up too, conscious of my capri workout pants and the cropped top. My hair is scooped up in a high ponytail and I’m wearing no makeup. I’ve never thought so much about what I’m wearing than in the last week with my own photo booth trailing my every move.

Dub and I cross the street, headed for the lot where he’s parked.

The questions bounce off us like pellets.

“Are you still with Rhyson, Kai?”

“Does he know you’re seeing someone else?”

“So are you exclusive or not?”

Their line of questioning shows me just how dangerous lunch with Dub was. This could have ended really badly. Fortunately, Dub’s car is close by. He grabs my hand so that when he increases the pace, I can keep up. He has me in his car and we’re pulling off before they get many more pictures.

They really blindsided me that time. I don’t get their interest me. I mean, maybe I do. Rhyson’s never shown any interest in one particular girl, and they probably wonder what’s so special about me. As we zip through the streets toward my apartment so I can pack a few things and go to Rhyson’s house, I can’t help but wonder the same thing.