“Of course. You’re not a prisoner. Hey,” she dug through her purse, “I have my makeup with me.” She pulled out a cosmetics bag that had to take up all the room in her purse. “I can do your makeup if you want. Cover up the bruises?”
Relief washed over me. “I’d like that.”
And that’s how I found myself feeling pampered as Autumn took great joy in doing my makeup. She also twisted my hair into a messy, stylish bun. When I looked in the mirror, I barely recognized myself. The makeup softened my angles so my face somehow looked fuller.
It made me want to cry.
O’Dea’s sister saw the shimmer of wet in my eyes and clutched my shoulder. “You did what you had to do, Skylar. But it’s time to start taking care of yourself again.”
Angry at myself, confused, questioning every decision I’d made in the last eighteen months, I stood. “Let’s go.” It came out harsher than I meant.
We were silent as we left the apartment, Autumn seeming unsure of me now. “It feels weird,” I said, trying to break the awkwardness as we got in the elevator. “I can’t remember O’Dea bringing me here, so I’ve felt like I was floating in a box over the Clyde. It’s weird to be in a building I don’t remember walking into.”
“Killian said you were pretty out of it.”
“You two seem close?” The question slipped out before I could stop it.
“Well, that’s what happens when you only have each other. My uncle James isn’t the most affectionate man in the world,” she said dryly. “I don’t know how Killian can work for him. I’d have killed him by now.”
“O’Dea works for your uncle?”
“Yeah. Uncle James owns the label.”
That I did not know. “So, O’Dea is in line to take over?”
Autumn sneered, “Only if Killian lives up to James’s exacting standards.”
And suddenly everything made sense. “And I’m betting there’s nothing O’Dea wants more than to run that label one day.”
“And he deserves to. He’s brought in more money for that label in the last five years than anyone. Does my uncle acknowledge that? No. He makes Killian jump through a never-ending cycle of hoops. Nothing my brother does is ever good enough.”
Clearly, I wasn’t the only one whose family was a sore point.
As if he’d heard us talking, O’Dea called Autumn as we stepped out into the fresh air. It was cold but Autumn had her car so I’d only put on a blazer she’d bought me. It was remarkably similar to the one she wore. I sucked in the fresh air, letting the cold breeze wash over me. My skin prickled to delicious life under its crisp caress.
“Everything went great,” Autumn said into her phone as she led me over to a white Range Rover. If I remembered correctly, O’Dea drove a Sport. Autumn’s was the smaller Evoque. Apparently, they were fans.
The car beeped and I managed to pull myself up into the passenger seat with my good arm as Autumn got into the driver side.
“I’m taking Skylar to the store for food . . . We’re getting everything on the list Brenna gave us . . . because she needs fresh air . . .” She sighed. “She’s fine . . . makeup . . . my makeup . . . Aren’t you busy? . . . We’re fine . . . Fine . . . okay, okay . . . Sainsbury’s . . . Yes, that one . . . Okay, we’ll see you there. Bye.” She hung up and shot me a look. “Killian is meeting us at the store.”
“God, he is a control freak.”
Autumn’s face pinched with annoyance as she started the engine. “My brother is not a control freak. He’s worried about you.”
Oh yeah, sure. “Really? He’s so worried that he told me if I didn’t agree to sign to his label, I’d be back out on the streets.”
“He said that?”
“I asked him if that’s what he meant and he didn’t deny it. He said he was businessman, not a philanthropist.”
Autumn tutted. “That man. Seriously. He didn’t mean that,” she assured me. “He’ll probably kill me for telling you this, but there’s a big softie underneath that intimidating façade.”
“Oh yeah, he’s a giant teddy bear.”
She laughed at my sarcasm. “You’ll see.”
No, I wouldn’t. All I’d ever see in Killian O’Dea was the man who forced me back into a life I loathed.
* * *
“DO YOU KNOW HOW PROUD I am of you?”
I grinned at my mom. “It’s all you. You never stopped believing.”
“She sure didn’t.” Bryan wrapped his arm around Mom and pulled her into his side for a kiss, making her giggle like a little girl.
He made her happy, so I decided not to ruin the moment by reminding him that he never believed in me. Still, while my mom wasn’t looking, I shot him a dirty look and he gave me a warning one in return.
When he and Mom got serious a couple of years ago, Micah and I were getting serious about making our band a success. We knew we had something great and my mom had been our biggest supporter. My dad died when I was a baby, so it had always been just me and Mom. And there was no one who believed in me more than my mother. She’d been my best friend for so long. I think if I hadn’t been so consumed with the idea of making Tellurian a success, I probably would have had a much harder time adjusting to the idea of Bryan.
As it was, he began to complain all the time to my mom about the money and energy she put in to helping a bunch of kids chase an “unrealistic dream.” He only backed off when it became a real sticking point in their relationship. And by that, I mean they almost broke up. However, the resentment simmered between the two of us. I could never really, truly like him. But I was civil for my mom’s sake.
Lately, however, my dislike for him was worsening. Ever since Tellurian’s debut single hit number one on the US Billboard, Bryan had become our biggest fan.
Asshole.
“I can’t believe I watched my baby on The Tonight Show last night.” Mom untangled herself from Bryan to come and hug me for the hundredth time. I laughed, breathing in the familiar floral scent of Miss Dior, her favorite perfume. I wrapped my arms around her slender waist and held on tight.
I’d been traveling the US for a while and was only back in Billings because we were playing The Pub Station for the first time that night. I planned to spend every second I could with my mom. The band’s success was more than I could have dreamt of, but I had no idea how much I’d miss my mother.
Mom pulled back to grin at me. “I got cake.”
“Cake is always good.”
“Not just any cake. It’s an eighteenth birthday cake. ’Cause I missed it.” She pouted. “I can’t believe I missed my baby turning eighteen.”
“I know.” I stared at her, drinking in her oh-so-familiar pretty face. “I miss you.”
Tears shimmered in her blue eyes. “Oh, baby girl, you have no idea how much I miss you. But I am so happy you got everything you ever wanted.”
Not everything, I thought. Micah and I had decided not to be together for the sake of the band, but he liked to torture me daily. Flirting with me, touching me, shadowing me. And then he’d go and blow off his pent-up frustration with a groupie.
Oh yeah, he was loving the groupies.
That’s why I lost my virginity to a teen drama series heartthrob at a stranger’s house party in LA instead of losing it to the boy I was in love with.
It hurt so bad, I had to throw the thought away before I burst into tears.
I stood in the small living room of the house I’d grown up in and decided not to be so selfish as to dwell on Micah right now. I was home. Mom deserved my attention because Micah got more than his fair share of it.
“What do you want to do today?” I asked. “I’m all yours.”
Mom grinned. “I was thinking we could go ice skating.”
Joy filled me. “Really?”
Ice skating had been our thing. Every birthday, no matter what other plans I had, my mom and I went ice skating. We couldn’t afford a lot growing up since it was only Mom for so long, which meant things other people
took for granted were a treat for me. Stupid stuff like going to the movies, to the swimming pool, and ice skating.
So ice skating became our thing.
“I’d love that.”
“And it’s . . .” She smiled over her shoulder at Bryan. “It’s just you and me.”
Shocked, I looked at Bryan for confirmation. One of the other things that annoyed me was that even before Tellurian took off, I didn’t get to spend alone time with Mom once Bryan was in the picture. He insinuated himself into everything. Including my birthdays with Mom.
“You two go, catch up, have fun.” He promptly sat down on the couch and reached for the remote. “I’m going to be here watching the sports channel uninterrupted.”
Mom reached down to kiss his temple but my attention was drawn to the television, to the sight of me and the band on the entertainment news. Bryan turned the volume up.
The gorgeous female presenter stood in front of a digital screen where a clip of me and the band on The Tonight Show was playing.
“And the band Tellurian are trending on social media after their appearance on The Tonight Show. Or more specifically, the lead singer Skylar Finch and lead guitarist Micah Murphy are trending. Fans of the band have been sent into a social media spin when the chemistry between the two bandmates spilled into their interview on the show.”
I frowned as it cut to a clip from last night.
“I was going to ask you about that,” Mom murmured as she slid an arm across my shoulder.
I slumped into her, unable to tear my eyes away.
“You look beautiful, Sky,” Bryan murmured. “Doesn’t she look beautiful, Angie?”
“She does indeed.” Mom gave me a squeeze but I was focused on the interview.
“So, I can’t help but notice that you two look cozier than the rest of the band,” the host said with his usual dry mischief, gesturing toward Micah and me.
Micah had his arm along the back of the sofa where I sat, his long fingers resting on my shoulder. He was also pressed as close to me as he could get. Austin and Brandon sat casually at the end of the couch.
Prepared for questions about our relationship statuses, I’d opened my mouth to say, “We’ve all known each other a long time, we’re so comfortable with each other,” when Micah said, “Wouldn’t you cozy up to Skylar if you could?”
Shit.
I shot a look at my mom who watched the TV with a small smile playing on her lips.
The host had jumped right on it. “So, you two are a couple?”
“No,” I’d laughed, wishing I could shove my bandmate off me. And that’s when I gave him my rehearsed line.
Of which Micah followed up with, “Some of us are more comfortable with each other than others.” The audience oohed as the host raised an eyebrow.
Thankfully, Brandon broke in with a joke to deflect and we got off the subject.
But that was all it took.
Because now we were trending and on entertainment news.
“Jesus,” I huffed, pulling my phone out of my ass pocket.
My heart raced when I saw how many notifications my personal profiles now had on Twitter and Instagram. We were trending. #Miclar
Witty.
I was used to the band profile having tons of notifications, but this was worse. There were photos of us from different gigs everywhere that fans had taken, all of them of Micah cozying up to me on the stage. Basically, fans were saying they knew all along we were together, and how amazing it was.
It all seemed so infantile and stupid but they were going crazy for it.
My chest felt tight.
For the past year, we’d been in the public eye but it had only been about our music.
This felt . . . I didn’t like it. I wasn’t prepared for how invasive it felt. Like I was standing naked on stage.
“Honey, you okay?” Mom asked.
She couldn’t know. She’d sacrificed so much for me financially, and emotionally in her relationship with Bryan, to help make my dream come true. As far as she was concerned, everything was always better than okay.
I grinned, gesturing with my phone. “It’ll sell more records.”
She laughed, relieved. “True. Now grab your stuff—we’re going skating. And girl talk.”
“Sure.” I chuckled, shooting a look at Bryan before I left.
He was staring at me in a way I’d never seen before. Like I was suddenly a curiosity instead of a drain on his relationship with Mom. That’s what fame seemed to do. It made everyone see me differently—
A loud clatter shook me out of the memory and I looked around, dazed, feeling my heart beating too hard in my chest.
I was in a salon, surrounded by strangers, as a woman called Charmaine blow-dried my hair.
Charmaine had chatted away to me from the moment I’d sat down but as soon as she began blow-drying my hair, she’d stopped talking and my mind had been allowed to wander. For some reason, it wandered to that memory from so long ago.
I frowned, remembering the day after. There had been paparazzi waiting at the band entrance to The Pub Station, trying to get past our security as they shouted at Micah and me, asking if we were a couple.
Why was this so fascinating?
It had freaked me out and Micah had tried to comfort me, but I was mad at him for making what was between us public.
He’d come to regret it too because from that moment on, the fans’ obsession with us as a couple, like we were a freaking epic love story playing out for their entertainment, compelled the tabloids to come after us. Suddenly, I found myself front page of a tabloid magazine in cut-off jeans, an old shirt, and sunglasses as I made a trip to the grocery store. But there was an unidentified guy with me so it was big news because who was he? Where was Micah? How did Micah feel about this unidentified guy?
From there, it escalated. If someone took an unflattering photo, I found myself on the front page with a red circle around my belly. Was I pregnant? Was it Micah’s? What did this mean for the band?
Or I’d be in an article for a teen magazine with a picture of me in the airport blown up with arrows pointing at my skin with the headline, “Even pop-rock sensation Skylar Finch has her bad skin days!”
Everyone had an opinion about everything. My music, my voice, my looks, my clothes, and the people I chose to spend time with. Every post on social media, every article in a magazine, and every tiring interview we had to give.
I started to feel like I didn’t own my life. After a while, ironically, I felt like I was disappearing.
“Can I get you more water?” A junior stylist appeared at my side as soon as Charmaine switched off the hair dryer.
I shook my head, thankful for the interruption from my gloomy thoughts. “I’m fine, thanks.”
The trip to the salon had been a little overwhelming. Like everything lately. But after Killian met Autumn and me at the grocery store, I’d said that I wanted more than a hair trim. He’d repeated that he didn’t think dying my hair rainbow colors and going back to my old look was a good direction for my solo launch; I said that I had no intention of doing that but I knew what I wanted, and it would take more than a quick house call from a hairstylist.
So he’d called Charmaine and she booked me into her salon. It was clear she’d put a lot of money into the business. The shiny, white-tiled floor sparkled with embedded silver crystals and the main walls were a soft gray, while partition walls were a deep, dark pinkish-red color. The chairs were modern, square white leather, and the mirrors were all floor to ceiling with chunky white frames. It was cool contemporary with a splash of drama. It also said “you’ll pay a small fortune to get your hair cut here but it’ll be worth it.”
Autumn drove, begging me to wonder what she used to do for a job.
“This was a great idea,” Charmaine said as she took her scissors to my hair. I watched as my new layered look came together, and I had to agree. “It really suits your face shape.”
When she was done, I ma
rveled at the difference a haircut could make.
I’d boldly asked Charmaine to cut most of it off. Now my hair was cut short at the nape and fell in an A-line cut to just below my chin. It felt healthy and full, sharp and modern. She’d also added ash-blonde highlights to give it more dimension.
The sharpness of the cut served to soften the angles of my face.
“All done.” Charmaine held up a mirror so I could see how she’d cut it shorter at the back than at the front. I loved it.
“It’s great, thank you.” I gave her a genuine smile.
“Let’s show Autumn.”
She helped me out of the cape, brushing excess hair off my nape, and then I followed her out into the front where Autumn was drinking herbal tea and reading a magazine. She glanced up and immediately froze.
“Is that a good or bad deer-in-the-headlights look?” I asked.
Autumn promptly set her tea and magazine on the coffee table and got up to stride over to me for a better look. Her eyes brightened before she broke out into a huge smile. “It’s perfect! Absolutely perfect.”
I smiled, feeling a little shy about it. “I just . . . I wanted a big change.”
“It was the right move. God,” she assessed my face, “you’ve got great bone structure.”
“Doesn’t she? I love when someone is willing to take a risk like this. It usually pays off.”
“You did a great job,” Autumn acknowledged. “Thank you. Killian will be pleased.”
Charmaine gave her a wolfish grin. “Anything to please Killian.”
“Ugh.” Autumn made a face. “Charmaine, please.”
“Your brother is sexy. Deal with it.”
She rolled her eyes and looped her arm through mine to lead me out of the salon. “I’ll tell him you said so.”
“Please do!” she called after us.
I waved at her over my shoulder in thanks, wondering about payment. I wondered it out loud to Autumn as we got in her car.
“Oh, Killian will pay for it. Charmaine will send him an invoice.”
I nodded and sat listening to Autumn gush over my new hair and the outfits she could now see me in because of it. When she finally took a breath, I asked, “What did you do for a living before . . . this?”
As Dust Dances ~ Samantha Young Page 10