Playing it Kale (The McCain Saga Book 4)

by Keary Taylor

“This isn’t a bad thing,” Hadley says as she starts scrolling through her phone. “Everyone is talking about you. Hashtag who is Whitney Ford is trending right now. So is Kale and Whit. And Whale. Really, Whale? Not the nicest sounding celeb mashup name.”

  “Calvin is on the other line,” Kale says through my phone. “He’s probably going nuts right now. I breathed without his permission.”

  I take a deep breath of my own and lean back in my seat. “Is it always going to be like this for us, Kale?” I ask quietly.

  He takes a second to respond. Like he’s trying to make sure he words this very carefully. “I hate to say it, but probably,” he finally says. “Do you regret it?”

  And that yank in my heart, the one when I hear how scared he is to ask that question, that serves as all the answer I need. “No. Not one second of it.”

  “Good.” I can hear the smile in his voice. “Cause I miss your face like hell, and I can’t wait to see you in a few days.”

  “Me too,” I say as a grin spreads on my face.

  “Crap,” he hisses. “That’s Calvin again. I’ve got to deal with him. I’ll call you tonight?”

  “You better.” And then he’s gone.

  “Welcome to the world of being a celebrity couple,” Hadley says. “Way to break into Hollywood with a bang.”

  I can’t help it. I watch all the celebrity news channels that night. There’s a whole slew of pictures of Kale. There’s a handful of me. All ones that they pulled from my infrequently used social media profiles. There’s that picture they managed to snap at my apartment in Seattle, the one of him in his underwear, mad, behind me. The picture he posted of the two of us today. And the video.

  They play it over, and over.

  They talk about me, how I’m an unknown. How I was a wedding singer—even though that’s not really true, it was a one-time thing. They’ve dug up my bachelor’s degree and how I got it at eighteen, how I’m almost done with my masters. How I’m a “scientist.” Who is this girl? they’re all saying.

  Then there’s Kale. They talk about his insane career. They talk about him always being with women. How he dated Angelique Harris for five months. How he is the bomb-diggity.

  And they talk about how we just met. How fast this happened. They speculate that we must have known each other from before, cause how could this gain so much serious traction if we just met?

  My phone rings, and I answer it absentmindedly.

  “Are you watching all this?” Kale’s voice comes through the other line.

  “It’s kind of hard not to,” I say as I turn the volume on the TV down. “But it’s also kind of like watching a train wreck.”

  “Ouch,” he says with a laugh.

  “No,” I say, shaking my head even though he can’t see it. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “I know,” he says, and I hear him shift, like he’s standing. I hear a door open and there’s the faint sound of a breeze. I imagine him standing out on his balcony, looking down over his city. I go out onto my own balcony.

  I’m on the twenty-first story, so I’m not too worried about getting recognized from this high up. But knowing we’re both doing the same thing, looking down over our cities, I don’t feel like he’s quite as far away.

  “I saw the news about Elysium Tracks today. Congratulations.”

  “Thanks,” I smile.

  “So what do you have going on the next few days?” he asks. There’s sadness in his voice.

  This distance is killer.

  “We have meetings tomorrow,” I start. I don’t really want to talk about work—crazy as it is that it’s work now—but I don’t want to talk about how bad my heart aches right now either. “I’ll talk with the producers, meet with some back up musicians. All that stuff, I guess. Then we’ll start playing with the instrumentation for the songs over the next few days. They’re hoping that we can start recording the actual album a week from Monday.”

  “Man, they’re not wasting any time, are they?” he asks.

  “It’s crazy!” I say with a chuckle. I watch people walk on the streets below, and it’s bizarre to think that just a week and a half ago, I had a life as normal as them. “How’s your week gone?”

  “Good,” he says, like everything he does is normal. “We just finished the new underwear shoot today.”

  “Wish I had been there for that,” I say, trying to sound confident, not awkward and out of place saying something so presumptuous.

  “I’ll give you a private viewing when I get there in a few days.” I can almost imagine him, that confident smirk I just know he’s wearing. The mischief in his eyes. The perfection.

  “Are you really my boyfriend, Kale McCain?” I say, even as I blush. “Cause I’m pretty sure I’m still in one of my crazy, fanfare dreams in my outdated apartment in Seattle.”

  “This is a really cruel dream if it is one,” he says. And always, Kale surprises me with his moments of sincerity. “I don’t want to wake up from this. Knowing I’m your boyfriend and you’re waiting for me is what’s getting me through the longest week in the history of mankind.”

  I sink into the chair on the balcony with a contented sigh. “Three more days.”

  “Three more days,” he echoes. We’re quiet for a while, each lost in longing and the distance between us. “Will you sing to me?”

  And his request closes that gap. Music is what brought us together. And singing to him makes me feel like he’s here.

  “What do you want to hear?” I say quietly. I don’t know why, but maybe I’m trying to pretend like we’re still at that cabin, trying not to wake Calvin up. We’re still in our own little world.

  “The Angel one,” he says like he’s breathing it right into my ear.

  I finished writing Kale’s song on the plane ride down here. And it may be my favorite song I’ve ever written. So I sing it for him, softly, and pretend like his arms are around me and nothing bad will ever happen.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Elysium wants a twelve track record. I give them the terrible recordings I made with my phone in my bedroom of all the songs I’ve done, which is a lot. They start going over them immediately, picking them over, requesting lyrics.

  And they ask me to perform all my new stuff. I’ve got seven new songs I haven’t had time to record yet, brand spanking new in the last few weeks. And that doesn’t include the viral video song.

  I debate the entire time if I’ll sing Kale’s “Angel” song. But in the end, I sing “Angel On Your Shoulder” for them. And they go crazy.

  This will be my headline song. This is what’s going to be played on every radio station. This will launch my career.

  Of course it will. My career started with Kale. Of course it will continue with Kale.

  “Okay, I’ve been on the phone with Shurrock’s representatives all day,” Hadley says as we climb into the car at the end of the day. We’re on our way to a dinner with some media mongrels. “Everyone, and I mean everyone, is scrambling to do a photo shoot with you and Kale together.”

  “What?” I ask, choking on my water from my water bottle, that’s now dribbled all down the front of my shirt. “An actual shoot? Like, for the press?”

  “Yeah,” Hadley says as she scrounges through her purse for something to clean up my clumsy mess with. “Everyone wants to see something official and Elysium and Shurrock are going ballistic trying to maximize the press while it’s all still hot. The shoot is scheduled for a week from Wednesday.”

  For some reason, the thought makes me sick. Like everything secret and hush-hush about me and Kale’s private life is being ripped away and exposed naked for the entire world to see. I’ve only gotten a few days of him to myself. I’m not ready to share us with the entire world.

  Because us still doesn’t quite feel real.

  Hadley must see it all on my face, because she grabs my hands and my eyes snap to her face. “I know you were cannon shot into all this, and you’re not ready for the entire celebrityhood to b
e dropped on you, but the world already loves you. They adore you, and they barely know you. And they really love you and the world’s most beautiful face together. So don’t worry. I’ll make sure everything goes smooth.”

  “Promise?” I say as I try to calm the storm inside of me.

  “Promise,” she says with that smile of hers.

  Each day of my new life, I grow slightly more accustomed to it. Just slightly.

  The flashing cameras that follow me everywhere are still scary and overwhelming, but I don’t feel like I’m going to have a panic attack. The questions that are flung at me eventually don’t shock me so much with their brutal honesty and prying nature. And seeing my face on the news or online isn’t such a surreal experience.

  One day at a time.

  I’ll adjust. I’ll survive.

  I wake in the morning on Wednesday with gleeful anticipation. I roll over and check my phone. There’s a text from Kale.

  Hope this doesn’t wake you up, but I’m boarding the plane now. See you in t-minus six and a half hours.

  He sent this three hours ago. I knew he was catching the red-eye flight, and we’re three time zones apart. Three and a half more hours.

  I spring from my bed and jump into the shower. I think of how he’s going to look getting off that plane. The smile that will curl on his lips. The glow that will reach his eyes when we finally see each other. How his shirt will stretch across his muscled chest, how his biceps will flex with a backpack slung over one shoulder. That chiseled jaw.

  I barely get all the conditioner washed out of my hair, I’m in such a hurry to get out of the shower.

  I dry my hair, roll it into curls. I pull on a gray T-shirt and some black shorts. My favorite pink Converse shoes. I throw my phone into my purse, and head for the door, when…

  Hadley knocks on it.

  “Hey,” I say, startled. I open the door wide for her, and she lets herself in without looking up from her phone.

  “You’re not going to the airport,” she says as she clicks away on it, never once glancing in my direction.

  “Why?” I asked, annoyed that people are starting to think that they can tell me what to do. Even more annoyed that technically they can.

  “Mobs showed up at the airport this morning when Kale tried to leave,” she says. “He couldn’t even get into the airport. Calvin had him taken to a smaller airport and they chartered a private jet.”

  “Holy crap,” I say as my purse slides to the ground. He didn’t mention that in his text.

  “There’s a crazy crowd downstairs waiting for you,” she says as she holds her phone up to her ear. “Somehow word got around that he was headed here. Everyone’s in a Whitney-Kale-Whale-whatever frenzy to get a real live look or pic of the new favorite couple.”

  Tony lets himself into the apartment, glancing over his shoulder as he does.

  Hadley starts talking into her phone, and from everything I can figure, she’s arranging a place for us to stay. There’s lots of “uh huhs, that’s not good enoughs, and how’s the securitys.” Finally, she seems satisfied and she hangs up.

  “How do you feel about going home?” she asks. “Sort of.”

  “What are you talking about?” I ask. Everything happens so fast and crazy in this new life of mine. I don’t know how to keep up.

  “The press is getting too hot and crazy,” Hadley says, already back on her phone. “Elysium wants you to be able to focus on the recording of this album for the next few weeks and they’re afraid you won’t get that done around here. They have a few houses scattered around the country with recording studios in them. They’re going to send you back to some place called Bellevue? Know of it?”

  “Yeah,” I say with a nod. “It’s really close to Seattle. Kale’s sister and brother-in-law live there.”

  “Great,” she says absentmindedly. She starts talking non-stop about what the plan is.

  Bounce. Bend. Go with the flow. Don’t shake apart.

  That’s what I am.

  “Bet two weeks ago you never would have thought you’d be bouncing up and down the west coast,” Tony says as he raises an eyebrow at me. I just look at him and give a little disbelieving laugh.

  “Okay,” Hadley says, finally putting her phone into her purse. “Pack a bag. The helicopter will be here in five minutes to pick us up and take us to meet Kale’s plane.”

  “A helicopter?” I question.

  “Yes!” she says with exasperation. She starts pushing me toward my room. “Go grab whatever. We need to get moving. They’ll be on the roof any minute!”

  I pack. A helicopter does indeed land on the roof. There is a landing pad there and everything. And then we take off to some airport I didn’t even know existed. I guess it’s a popular spot for celebs to get transported from.

  There’s a limo waiting for us there, as if in replacement of a waiting room. So we wait in there for about a half hour.

  And then we see this shiny, beautiful jet descend and land.

  My heart breaks out into rocket speed, cause I know exactly who is on that plane.

  As soon as it has the stairs rolled up to the side, I open the door and dash out before Tony or Hadley can stop me.

  My Converse slap across the pavement as I dart for that plane.

  And then, there is his beautiful face.

  He only makes it down two of the stairs, before he hops the freaking rail and jumps to the ground.

  We collide when we meet, and we both go down, me on top of him.

  We’re both laughing and smiling, and there might be tears that are stinging the back of my eyes. I can feel the heat of him underneath me, protecting me from the hard concrete. His eyes dance as one of his hands wraps around behind my back and his other comes to my cheek.

  “Hell, I missed you,” he laughs before he consumes my lips.

  It’s hot. And crazy. And a million degrees of passionate.

  I feel him harden underneath me. And instead of freaking me out like it probably would have a few weeks ago, it turns me on so freaking hard.

  One hand splayed on the concrete next to his head to hold me up, another slipping up his shirt cause I just can’t get enough of him, my lips part and his tongue teaches me a million new moves.

  “You’re here,” I say as emotion and heat and all the stars in the universe are a thrashing typhoon inside of me.

  Kale squeezes me closer to him, like he wants to climb inside of me and be one single person. At least that’s how I’m feeling.

  “Damn, I love you, Whitney Ford.”

  And I suddenly jerk back, my shocked, wide-open eyes staring down at him.

  “Shit,” he whispers as he looks back at me in horror. “Way too soon, huh?”

  But I’m not horrified, or scared, or ready to run or anything. I’m just…I shake my head. “No,” I say as I reach down and caress his cheek. There’s a bit of stubble there. Like he was in too much of a hurry this morning to shave. “There are seven point two-two billion people on this planet. You’re my one in, Kale McCain.”

  A relieved smile erupts onto his face and he sits up, rocking me into his lap, my legs wrapped around his waist. “You say the most amazing things.”

  “I may even sing them for you later,” I say as his lips meet mine again. I bite his lower lip.

  “Time to get back in the air!” Calvin yells from the plane.

  “Just give me like, twenty minutes!” Kale yells back without looking away from me.

  “I’m afraid we don’t have twenty minutes!” And the tone of Calvin’s voice makes both of us look. He’s pointing toward something at the terminal building.

  There, standing in plain sight, is a photographer. And his flash is going crazy.

  “They’re freaking everywhere!” I say as I scramble off of Kale and pull him to his feet.

  “Ignore them,” he says as we all head for the jet. “It’s just me and you, angel. Nothing else is real.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  There’s
that saying, floating on cloud nine. And I’m that.

  It’s just me and Kale, and a very embarrassed looking flight crew. We stay lip locked for what is probably seventy-five percent of the two and a half hour long flight.

  But I could care less. I’m making them all uncomfortable, but that’s just going to be the way it is today.

  Cause I have my Kale back.

  My. Kale.

  Just before we land, Kale pulls a box from under his seat. “I got you something.”

  The box is wrapped in gold paper and a white and pink bow is wrapped around it. “Kale,” I laugh as I take it from him. “You didn’t have to.”

  “Open it,” he says, a crazy smile breaking out on his face.

  I pull the bow and the ribbon falls into my lap. I tear the paper open and open the box.

  Inside is a pair of brilliant yellow, four inch tall pumps.

  “They’re gorgeous Kale.” Seriously, I love the color. “But I can’t wear these.”

  “Yes, you can,” he says, locking his eyes on mine, giving me this serious look. “Just try them on. You’ll like them.”

  I sigh, feeling my chest grow tight. Finally, I slip my flats off. The pumps fit perfectly, but my feet scream against being bent into such an unnatural shape.

  “Damn, those look good,” Kale says. He has a look of utter pride on his face. “Try them out. Give us a little walk.”

  I give an awkward smile and shake my head as I stand up.

  And feel like a freaking giant. My head brushes the ceiling.

  “Yes,” he says, totally delighted. He stands and rests his hands on my hips.

  “Kale, I feel awkward,” I groan. “Look how much taller than you I am right now.”

  “It’s amazing,” he says, standing on his toes and pressing a kiss to my lips. “I want to see you wear those to your next meeting. They’ll make you feel powerful.”

  “Really? Powerful?” I say with a laugh and my brows furrowed together.

  “Look at Sage,” he says, giving me a look. “She wears heels every damn day, and she’s the most powerful woman I know.”