I don’t move it away, so he puts his pinkie out for me to grab it. I run my hand up his finger and take his hand. He entwines his fingers with mine. I put my head down and feel the sensation of his skin touching my skin.
There’s something sensual about hands touching hands. Palm to palm is holy palmer’s kiss, as Juliet says to Romeo when they meet for the first time. When you’re allowed nothing more, it can be just as intimate as a real one.
“What’s your middle name?” I ask Kolton.
“What made you think of that?” He squeezes my hand. It’s like a secret, an invigorating one.
“The car guy showed me the paperwork, and your credit card said Kolton J. Royce. Ever since, I’ve been wondering, what’s the J?” I ask.
“James,” he says, and as Darth Vader, it’s kind of weird to have him talking to me at all, let alone touching me and telling me his secrets.
Riley walks to another house and the woman inside hands Riley a king-sized Snickers. “We never got whole candy bars when I was a kid,” I tell her when she comes back to us, flashing the biggest grin.
“You’re in Beverly Hills,” Kolton says. “Plus, they don’t get as many kids as they do in the suburbs.”
“True.” I answer. “How you doing, Riles?”
“It’s a long ways between houses. My feet hurt.”
“How ‘bout one more?” I ask.
“Two,” she counters.
That night we walk around, Kolton and me, like a couple in love. When he takes us home, Riley munching on candy, and Deloris in the front seat fretting over how much sugar she’s consuming, it feels like we’re a family. He doesn’t take off the mask. The windows aren’t tinted enough, I think, so I don’t take off mine either.
“You look happy,” he says.
“I am,” I say, knowing he can see most of my face as I’m looking out the clear glass into the dark night.
It was almost a normal thing to do. Except that Kolton had on a thousand dollar mask and we were walking around million dollar homes.
But I had fun. “I can’t come up,” he says, his voice a little sad and distant.
“I know,” I say, as we pull into the parking garage. Riley climbs over me and hops out with Deloris and walks toward the elevator, leaving Kolton and me inside the car. “Thank you for doing this for Riley.”
“She’s a good kid,” he says taking off his helmet. “I was glad to do it. Plus, I got to hold your hand in public. So, that was a bonus.” His hair’s mussed up and his skin looks a little pale.
“For me, too. Were you alone when I called?” Not like it’s any of my business. He shifts a little in his seat; his eyebrows furrowing as he realizes why I asked it.
“I’ve never brought anyone to my parents’ house but you,” he says, his voice earnest and true, his expression sincere—painful even. I nod and take his hand again. I have to. I feel like it will ease some of his angst.
“Thank you,” I say, and get out before I feel the pull toward him that I had the night we kissed in the car the last time.
As I walk away, he’s not chasing me, but somehow I know he would if he could.
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
The Phoenix
“My name is Mia, and it’s been four weeks since my last confession,” I say into the phone pressed to my cheek.
“You should be glad I answered the phone at all after how you screamed at me,” Kaya responds.
“I am. What do you think of the show?”
“You did really, really good, yesterday. And I’m glad you weren’t in the bottom three today,” Kaya says.
“Did you vote?”
“Uh, yeah, bitch. Of course I did, just maybe not for you.”
“Shut up. I know you love me,” I say.
“The coaches singing tonight were pretty hot!” I smile a little, thinking about Kolton on stage, in his element. I watched from the monitors back stage. I could watch him all day –the way he moves. How he feels the music. The faces he makes, the command he has of the stage. His voice vibrates up and down my spine, he makes me tingle in places I didn’t know I had.
“They did great!” I say, a little late since I was imagining Kolton singing.
“How are things? I’ve been worried about you,” she asks.
“It’s been so busy here. My days are jam packed. I barely see Riley.”
“You like Deloris, though, right?”
“Of course. We love her.”
“How about those jealous people on the show?” she asks.
“Still jealous, but they’ve been keeping their distance once they saw that they were being cast as the rude bitches of the show.”
“They really were. It’s like a look inside bullying. They’ll probably make you the poster child.”
“Hmm. Maybe. I’m not supposed to read the comments online, so I don’t know what people are saying about me. I didn’t watch the interview with that model, Katharina, either, but I’ve heard that she came off—well, bitchy.”
“She did. No one believes her. They think she’s psycho. Denise Chung asked her if she’d popped your tire. She denied it, but the body language interpreters say she was lying.”
“Body language interpreters?”
“Yeah. They did the same thing with you. They replayed your answers on that one show that comes on after Minute by Minute—whatever it’s called, and they said you were being honest. Especially when you said you haven’t slept with Kolton.”
“I know, ‘cause I haven’t. He’s a real gentleman with me.” She starts laughing like a hyena in my ear. “What?”
“Kolton. Gentleman. That’s what!”
“He is. You know what he said to me the other day?”
“What?” she asks, like the gossip she is.
“You can’t tell anyone. Promise me. If it shows up in GOS~P, I’ll know it was you.”
“I promise. Have I told any of the other stuff you said?”
“No.”
“And I was pissed at you, too. Spill it.”
“Okay, so we passed each other in the hallway. There was no one else around and he brushed his hand along mine, softly. I think I moaned or gasped or something.”
“You moaned? You fucking whore!”
“Shut up! Okay, now pay attention. When I did that, he stopped just behind me. I knew he’d stopped, so I did, too. I could feel him so close, but not touching me. I could hear his breathing. My heart was pounding.”
“Yeah!” she’s squealing.
“Then I turned around, but he didn’t. He stood there facing the other way. I knew at any minute someone could come and catch us, but I didn’t care. I missed him. So bad. I reached my hand out to his, put the outside of my hand against his palm, and he took it. It was so—sensual as our fingers entwined. He rubbed his thumb so lightly on the inside of my palm that I almost—well, you know.”
“This is so romantic, Mia. Like this forbidden love and you’re not allowed to be together. He wants you so bad. Do you see how he looks at you?” she gushes.
“I’ve seen, a little. But then he said, ‘I wish I could hold your hand anytime I wanted. I wish I could tell everyone how I feel about you.’”
“What did you say?” she’s whispering now. I guess my story has an effect on her.
“I said, ‘Me, too.’”
“Oh! O.M.G! You said that, Mia? Do you mean it? Do you think you two have a chance?”
“There’re so many things in our way. I don’t know. But, I can say this. When he says things like that to me, it’s really hard to remember why I don’t want to be with him.”
“You know how I feel about this. I’d be all over that man.” She laughs. “What did the producer people say about the press and stuff?”
“They said the interviews boosted ratings.”
“They didn’t threaten you again?”
“Nope. Joyce McKim reminded me to be professional, but she didn’t threaten me.”
“But, you haven’t seen Kolton alone
all these weeks?” I don’t want to tell her about Halloween. It’s our secret.
“I haven’t, not alone. Just at the show.”
“I heard he got a tattoo.”
“When?”
“Tonight.”
“Of what?”
“A phoenix rising from the fire. The tattoo artist even leaked pictures.”
“You’re shitting me.” I stand up from the chair in my room. My heart is thumping inside my chest, my skin heats up, and my hands are flailing around to release the jolt of adrenaline passing through my system. Where would he put a tattoo? Did he put it over his heart? In the blank spot where I told him I want to be?
“Nope. They came out right before the results show started tonight. Look it up yourself.” I’m so antsy. My body got the message: must find out if she’s right. “I gotta go.” She laughs again.
“I know you do. Love ya.”
“Love ya, too.”
I press the big red end button and type “Kolton Royce tattoo phoenix” into Google on my phone. I tap the GOS~P article that says, “The tattoo says it all.” On top is a picture of a new tattoo. The skin around it is red and puffy. There’s even some blood still oozing from one of the wings. It’s definitely Kolton’s chest. I can tell because of his tanned skin, soft, but hard underneath. Plus, all the other tattoos around it are his. I lick my bottom lips remembering how it tasted when I kissed him there.
It is a phoenix, wings outstretched, coming out of fire. Being reborn. Out of its beak, musical notes are forming and flying out to make a chain of notes in the air around it. It’s beautiful. My hands are shaking so bad, I almost can’t see the picture.
11/19/13 7:55 PM PDT BY GOS~P STAFF
The tattoo says it all.
It’s true. GOS~P has just obtained this photo which shows Kolton Royce’s new tattoo. And ladies and gentlemen, this can only mean one thing. Kolton has a thing for Phoenixes. First he helps them by giving them a place to live, buys them a car, wards off throngs of hot ladies for them, and then tattoos them on his chest. Right. Over. His. Heart.
As you know, GOS~P has been following Mia Phoenix’s rise to stardom via The Stage. Fans love her moxie, her dedication to her sister, her talent, and her honesty. But the surfacing of this tattoo does beg the question, what is going on between her and Kolton? Is he pining away over this girl? Is he having a mid-twenties crisis? Is this love? From all appearances, it might be one-sided. Insiders say that Mia is turned off by Kolton’s lively past.
Either way, we can guess that women all over the country, all over the world, have all just gasped in horror. Their walking-one-night-stand seems to be off the market. What will they do now?
I drop the phone on the bed.
Tattoos. Insiders telling them why I’m not reciprocating Kolton’s feelings. Was it Kaya? She’s the only one who knows that about me.
I make my legs move. They take me down the stairs, through the house and into the family room. I turn on the TV. It’s after ten PM, but I check the DVR for GOS~P’s TV show.
After the beginning teaser that promises to dish about the tattoo, some celebrity rehab updates, and after some other random celebrity gossip, Kolton is on the screen. He’s being ambushed by someone with a camera crew and a microphone as he’s walking to his car outside the studio.
“What’s your new tattoo mean?” the voice behind the mic asks. Kolton actually stops, does that side smirk, and puts his hand over his heart. My breath hitches, and I put my hand over my heart, too. He has a face that one could get lost in. Smooth skin, perfect profile. Strong jaw. His eyes are actually sparkling.
“Some people come into your life to inspire you. That’s what my tattoo is about.” He looks into the camera’s lens as if he’s looking into my eyes. #koltonstare
Now I see why it’s trending on Twitter. I actually flutter, down there. I have to squeeze my thighs together to make it stop. As he walks away the mic-holder asks, “Is it a phoenix for Mia Phoenix from The Stage?” He closes his eyes, almost imperceptibly, gets in the back seat of the car, waves to the fans, and Devon drives away.
Kolton put ‘me’ over his heart. In the blank spot there where he said nothing belonged. I want to say something. Make some kind of gesture to let him know that what he’s done moves me, but I’m still on the grass. We’re still forbidden. There’s a lot of fire on his side of the fence.
I send him a text when I get back to my room. I have to. My fingers force me; they have a mind of their own.
K-Royce Private
12:13 PM
It’s beautiful.
12:15 PM
Yes “it” is.
12:17 PM
What are you doing to me?
12:19 PM
Waiting for you to catch up. Do you know what I think about when I look at the stars?
12:21 PM
What?
12:25 PM
Chance and hope
12:26 PM
What are you hoping for a chance at?
12:28 PM
What are the chances we would meet and you would be everything all at once? I hope for more. Every day. More of everything with you. Goodnight.
My chest actually hurts. It’s pinching me and making it hard for my lungs to bring in oxygen. He makes me feel like I’m the center of his world. Which reminds me, bring in more women, she said. What if he doesn’t want me anymore after we’re together? Or worse, what if he controls everything about me? What if he controls my career so much that I’m smothered and resent him? Either way, we wouldn’t be able to stay together.
Trust me. Green eyes, red fleck. Call me Kole. It’s all coming at me at once like I’m in a Kolton-memory batting cage. So I pull out my dad’s Taylor and play until my fingers are raw, and my brain stops running through Kolton and me. Until I’m so tired I sleep and don’t even dream at all.
* * *
As the new week comes to fruition, I check in at the studio to find out my song choices. As I peruse the list, I notice a few of the contestants hanging out in the big waiting area. There are ten of us left. Kimber is one of them. Blaire, from New York, and Jessie who was saved by Selma are still here; and I’ve met a few of the others. They’ve been polite, but guarded with me, like they don’t want to bring me into the group. I’m usually on the set by myself, unless they schedule some behind the scenes action where we pretend to interact. In that case, they have to act they like me or risk being cast as “the bully.” Tarise was the first to go.
I wonder why? She sings awesome. Maybe it was because camera crews caught her giving me the stink eye, several times. But even though she’s gone, I still have Gypsy-Dress to deal with, who was the meanest of all. It’s possible that the worst is over.
“How’s it going, Mia?” Sam, the jazzy kid, asks, sitting down on the couch next to me.
“It’s going.” I stare at him because I’m trying to figure him out. Why’s he talking to me? Am I paranoid to wonder that? Maybe he’s just being nice, for once.
“What song are you thinking about?”
“Have you heard ‘Around You’ by Ingrid Michaelson?” I ask.
“Nope. Lemme listen,” he says, asking for my phone. He pulls my earphones out and replaces them with his own. He closes his eyes while listening to the song play out. At one point, he opens them and sticks his bottom lip out, nodding his head, like, yeah, that’s a good one.
I like it. I check the lyrics and it’s like she wrote them for me about Kolton. His smile, the way he’s come into my life and changed me. How I know my feelings, but I hide them. That he heals my wounds. That I’m blind to him. I don’t let him in.
It’s all here, and it feels like singing this song for Kolton will show him that I care, that I get it. That I’m one step closer to catching up. As I start memorizing the lyrics, I weave my voice around the notes like my mom taught me to. At the same time, I weave my mind around Kolton.
Around him and me, and what might be.
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
Permission
The music stops. I open my eyes and take in the sight of Kolton hearing “Around You” for the first time. His body is tense and he sits up in his chair a little stiffer.
“You don’t like it?” I ask. The cameras are filming us, but I don’t care. I need to know.
“I like it a lot, actually.” But he won’t look me in the eyes. I’m searching his face for some hint but there’s nothing but blank, impassive distance. “Why’d you choose it?” he asks, finally after making me squirm.
“I think my voice’ll be a good accompaniment to the piano—I mean—” He nods, cutting me off. He takes some notes. I cross my ankles and fidget with the mic.
The celebrity coach with him today is Jennifer Star, the thirty-something diva with the highest register in the business. “I agree,” she says. “I’d like you to make this change,” she says, pinching her thumb and forefinger together to mimic the notes as she’s modeling how she wants me to hold out and then go higher before switching to the next verse.
I try it, and she says, “Yes!” and claps. “That’s right, what do you think Kolton?”
“I like it a lot. It’s better,” he says, but he’s not himself. His eyebrows are furrowed. Even with the stuff they put under his eyes, I can see that they’re baggy. He’s scruffy, wearing a shirt that should have seen a Goodwill donation bag a while ago.
I have to stop myself from going to him and putting my arms around him. He looks like he needs it. “Did you quit smoking?” I ask, out of the blue. He looks up, surprised and smiles.
“I did,” he says, and finally looks me in the eyes. “Smokers get a bad rap these days.” His eyebrow comes up, as if to say he’d gotten crap from me. Since I’d told him I hate smokers, I giggle.
I think back to that day outside when I’d said that to him. He said he didn’t mind because he liked my honesty. It would be hard not to have real enough relationships that people would be able to tell you the truth, tell you ‘no’ sometimes. Not allow you to bring three girls home at a time. I mean, come on. Katharina had to be into that, too.
The Stage (Phoenix Rising #1) Page 21