The Stage (Phoenix Rising #1) (24 page)

“I’m sorry,” she says, sitting down with me. She puts her arms around me and snuggles up to my side. “But, you know how when you were little, your dad was really strict and overprotective?”

“Yeah?” I acknowledge.

“Maybe Kolton is kinda triggering that for you. You know? Like how a soldier comes back from war and everything reminds him of when he lost people he loved.” It’s like something clicks in place inside my heart and mind.

“Like, you’re saying, I’m reacting angry toward Kolton because—oh my God! Because my dad used to be too overprotective of me before his depression, and then he stopped caring about any of us.”

“That’s what you’re scared of, I think,” Kaya says. “He reminds you of your dad—who you lost long before the fire took him.” Her words echo through me. I feel them in that wounded part that’s like an open wound deep inside me.

“Kolton, he lost his parents, too.” I admit. “I think that’s why he feels sorry for me.” I wipe my nose with the back of my hand.

“Or maybe that’s why he feels so close to you.” She gets up and plucks a few tissues out of the box. “You—well, I’m going to be honest.” She hands me the tissues. “You, sometimes, look at the negative instead of the positive.”

“But that’s how I protect myself, Kaya. He wants me; all of me. He’ll consume me, and then when he’s tired of me and ready to move on, I’ll never be the same. Just like—”

“Maybe it’s worth it,” she says. “You can’t know unless you try. Maybe you’ll get the ending you need this time.”

*     *     *

I’ve been busy playing shows at Old Ironsides, The Blue Lamp, Thunder Valley Casino, and I have a few others scheduled for the coming weeks. Manny comes to every show.

The first time I saw him there, I asked him what was going on. He admitted that Kolton demanded he come back and stay in town with me for the rest of the break. He said he’ll get in trouble if he doesn’t. And, to be honest, it’s nice to have him around.

“You’re up,” Clive says, ushering me into the back door of The Blue Lamp. Since I’m not twenty-one, I’m not allowed inside the bar unless I’m singing. Tonight there are cameras here from News 10.

When the music starts, I open up and sing. I feel that oneness with the audience but there’s one man I wish was here. He’s the one I miss the most, his expression, the emotions reverberating through me as I sang right to him.

It’s been rough. Because I miss Kolton Royce.

Since the show began airing, I’ve started to see a difference in the way I’m treated. There’s a lot more people at my shows. And the people are acting like real fans. They’re even starting to get a little pushy.

KCRA Channel 3 News came to the show I had at Marilyn’s at 12th and K. They interviewed me earlier, shadowed me while I set up my gear, and talked to me after. It’s kind of cool, but weird when I was recognized at Trader Joe’s. I signed an autograph and everything.

And when I see myself on TV, I notice things about myself I’d never noticed before. Like how I say the word “really” is weird and sometimes I fidget with my hair. I really should stop doing that.

Last night, Kolton sent me this text:

K-Royce Private

10:22 PM

We were born in fire

This love I’ve never known

Don’t ask me to let go

10:50 PM

What’s this?

10:58 PM

The end of your song.

11:02

It’s beautiful. But “LOVE.” Yeah right.

11:05 PM

What do you need to hear? Believe it.

11:08 PM

It’s beautiful. I love it.

There’s nothing else I can say so I go check on Riley. She’s out. Deloris’ light is on; she’s probably reading. For some reason, she didn’t bring her cat. I think she misses him. I’d brought it up and she said Kolton asked her to leave him behind. It seems he likes having him around. I check my phone again. He hasn’t responded to me saying I love the song, and it makes me nervous. What if he gets sick of me pushing him away all the time? I type:

11:58 PM

Call me. Please.

I start to feel desperate, and I’m pacing. When my screen lights up, I press the accept button.

“Hello?”

“What’s wrong?” His voice is like salve over a burn.

“Nothing. I—I just missed you, is all.” I hear something on his end. A voice, a girl’s voice. “Who’s there with you?”

“I’m recording. There’re people here. We’re working.”

“Okay. Well, I’ll let you go.”

“You missed me?” he asks, his voice low and rumbling with desire.

“I just, I feel bad because I haven’t been very thankful for all the stuff you’ve done for me and Riley. And—”

“And you miss me. Tell me again. Say the words.”

“I miss you, Kole.” Did he just moan?

“I almost can’t breathe without you,” he says in a voice so low I have to press my cheek into the screen. “I’ve never felt like this in my whole life. It’s like I’m suffocating. I can’t eat. I can’t sleep.” He stops and I’m pacing again, back and forth. “Come home.” His voice like a need I’ve never known I had.

“It’s just—I have shows booked. They’re paying me a lot.” Why did I push him away again? He says the sweetest things to me? Why don’t I trust him? Daddy issue.

“Kolton?” a flowery woman’s voice says off in the distance. “Come on.” She doesn’t sound like work. She sounds like play.

“Just a minute,” he says to her kind of muffled. “Mia, please. Come home.” His voice sounds edgy, nervous.

“Just go play with your toys, Kolton,” I say, pressing ‘end’ on the screen and tossing his phone across the room. Of all the slimy, sex-monster, motherfuckers! I pull the rubber band out of my pocket and pull my hair up.

Pull on my shoes. Grab my keys, my phone, ear buds and run out into the dark night. I feel dirty, sick to my stomach. Of course he’s sleeping around. He probably always has been. And, here I am, thinking about actually sleeping with him, without protection, just because he’s taken some interest in me, because he says the right things, because I feel things with him that I’ve never felt. Because he makes me exposed and raw. Because we have everything in common, and I want a life with him. I pound my anger, my hurt, my feelings of betrayal into the concrete below.

What else had I expected? I knew I’d never be enough.

Slither

W
hen I limp my tired, sore ass back home later that night, I’m still driven by resentment and bitterness. I’m only slightly tired, and that eases some of the ache in my heart. Still sweaty, I pull open my laptop and search “Kolton Royce.” I scroll past all “The Stage Host…” articles and go right to the GOS~P article title, “Back in the saddle again.”

There’s a picture of him in a grey sweatshirt walking into a building. He’s got earbuds in and his hair’s a mess. He looks tired; his eyes are bloodshot.

Probably from all the sex with those walking sex-toys he’s been with since I’ve been gone. I take a breath and remind myself to look for evidence to prove me wrong. Please let me be wrong.

“Back in the saddle again”

10/15/13 12:45 AM PDT BY GOS~P STAFF

Bad boy, Kolton Royce is back in the studio during the break between the taped and live shows of
The Stage
, the new hit show we’re all loving over here at GOS~P. Rumor has it, he ran into his ex,
Katharina Inez
, just before this picture was taken. His bodyguard had to fend her off; he still has a restraining order against her. It appears Kolton wasn’t in the mood for any drama. His reps made no concrete comments about the new album, but did say there are more love songs than any previous albums before it.

When asked about the
dark-haired mystery girl in the car
(yeah, we still haven’t forgotten about her!) he said, “She’s just a friend who needed a ride home.” It sure did seem like a whole lot of chemistry going on it that car. And since he’s still been notably absent from the LA scene, and the king practitioner of transmutation for release of pent up energy, we’re putting our money on Kolton getting ready to settle down. Here at GOS~P, we think it’s super cute that Kolton Royce wants some privacy for his new secret lady.

We’ll be here when he’s ready to tell us all about her. We bet she’s awesome!

I read and re-read the cheeky little piece written yesterday about Kolton’s life while I’ve been gone. There’s nothing about him partying, nothing about him sleeping around. He’s still not seeing Katharina Inez. And they’re still talking about “secret me” being the reason he’s not out partying. But I heard what I heard. There was a playful girl with him asking him to hurry back. He was nervous and didn’t want me to hear.

I’m not a fool. I’m not going to start acting like one now.

I check my phone. Twelve missed calls from that mystery number. I’m not calling him back. I know Kolton’s phone is on the floor somewhere on the other side of the couch. I’m not looking at it right now. I shower and snuggle into the couch. My muscles hurt, my knees hurt, too, so I take some Aspirin and soon I’m off to toss and turn on the couch. The sleep of the restless is no sleep at all.

*     *     *

It’s Saturday and I’m playing a show at Bistro 33 in Davis. I love their sweet potato fries and the fact I can eat them outside on the patio while I set up my guitar, pedals, mic, and amp. Since I left Kolton’s phone at home, Manny doesn’t miraculously show up until my show starts. He must’ve had to look it up on my Twitter to find out where I was.

It’s always a mellow crowd, but half-way through my set a leggy blonde saunters out and sits down at the second table from the right hand side.

My heartbeat speeds up so fast it’s competing with my ability to breathe. Why is Katharina Inez all the way at the Bistro 33 in Davis? A quick sweat forms instantly on the back of my neck. My eyes dart over to Manny, who stands taller and crosses his arms, making his huge muscles pop out even more, indicating he knows she’s here.

I feel too exposed in this open air concert. I know she’s here for a reason and that reason is me. But why? Does she know? Am I going to have to get a restraining order against her, too?

An older couple stands up to dance, hand-in-hand. They move together in sweeping motions until a few others come up and start to dance, too. My focus is on Katharina. Although I don’t look at her, I’m acutely aware of her presence, of when the waiter brings her a bottle of wine, chilled with ice in a silver bucket; of how she downs the wine, one glass after the other—every sip grating my nerves.

She’s alone. No one comes to sit with her for the entire show. I was hoping it was a coincidence but as I sing the final line of my last song, she stands up, walks through the dispersing crowd and sticks out her long, slender arm to shake my hand. “Hello, Mia. My name’s Katharina Inez,” she says. I’m sitting on a stool, but, even if I wasn’t, she’d tower over me.

“Uh,” I don’t know what to say back.