The Stage (Phoenix Rising #1) (8 page)

Over in the huge carpeted room, we meet our choreographer whose name is Sean. He starts by going over stage directions with us in a taped off area that is meant to replicate the stage.

“I want you to loosen up, Mia,” says Sean. “You have to move around the stage. Pretend you and Kenny are full of conflicted feelings. You circle each other, look angsty,” he says, overly exaggerating his body language.

I feel ridiculous, but I humor him and strut across the taped off stage past Kenny, stop just beyond him, stick my hip out, and sing over my shoulder like he’s not worthy of my time—like I’m giving him the cold shoulder.

“Yes! Like that,” Sean says.

“This is fun!” I say, out of breath.

“Wooo!” Sean claps. “Mia, yes. Again, from the top,” Sean directs.

We take our places and turn to face each other. I sing first, then Kenny. He looks sick to his stomach and his mom is tapping her foot in the distance. We cross paths, circle each other, and I turn my back to him, singing over my shoulder again. I feel sassy, alive, like someone is watching. As my eyes dart over to the entrance, I want him to.

I know he’s here. I felt him well before I saw him. I let his eyes burn into my skin. Tell him with every note I sing, with every movement, that he can’t have me. He’s used to getting what he wants, but I’m not like that. I never look at him again. I pretend Kenny is the most important person in the room. Even Kenny looks like he believes me.

We have to sing facing each other. The last line is sung right up in each other’s faces—like a stand-off. As we let out that last note, I step back, and reach my hand out to him.

“See you tomorrow,” I say. “And thanks, Sean.”

“Okay, see you tomorrow,” Kenny says, blushing.

When I check the entrance, Kolton is gone. Why am I so let down that he’s not waiting for me?

*     *     *

The following day we are getting made up to tape the Coaching Scene. I get to wear the outfit from yesterday so it’d seem like Kolton paired us up and then coached us the same day.

I’ve got my wireless mic taped to my back and my earpiece in. This is the scene when Kolton meets with Kenny and me to help us perform on stage. I’m looking forward to it. He didn’t text me last night, and, to be honest, I’m glad. Maybe he’s figured it out—I’m not like the girls he’s used to. All I really want from Kolton is advice about my singing. I really do need his help in that area.

“Hi, I’m Amy. I’ll be directing the scene today,” she says. “Kolton is already in the coaching studio room for the scene.”

“Okay,” I say, nibbling on my bottom lip.

“Just be yourselves. Don’t start acting like fans. I mean, be real, but don’t freak out. We’ve brought in one of the best in the business to shoot the coaching scene with. Her name is Rania Steele.”

“Oh crap! I love her,” I squeal to Kenny and grab his arm. She’s in her mid-forties, but smoking hot. Her body is rock solid. I’ve been listening to her for years—since I was a kid. I’m so excited.

“Calm down,” Amy says, and when I let go of Kenny, he’s all flustered, his face red.

“Do you like her?” I ask him and he shakes his head ‘no.’ He must have been a pretty sheltered kid. That’s something I miss: being under my parents’ wing a little bit. If she were alive, I wonder if my mom would’ve been here with me every step of the way. If she would have taken a leave of absence from work. More likely, she would have only been able to take a few weeks off—it takes a lot of time to plan for a substitute teacher, and, after Dad lost his job, money was tight.

“Mia!” Amy says.

“Huh?” I ask, realizing they are both looking at me. I’d zoned out thinking about my mom. “Sorry.”

“Okay, so you both are going to walk in, shake hands with the coach and guest coach. There’s no freaking out. Remember.”

Both of us nod our heads in agreement. Damn it! I’ve already chipped my freaking nail polish. Stupid nerves. I freaking
hate
this habit!

“Go, go,” Amy says. Two other contestants come out as she feeds us through the door for the rolling cameras. I smile and shake hands with Rania, holding back my inner fan girl. When Kolton reaches for my hand, I have to pretend not to notice the little shiver that runs up my arm. This time he doesn’t make me look him in the eye.

Kenny and I stand on our marks on the other side of the white piano with Rania and Kolton sitting in directors’ chairs. I have to remind myself to breathe. She’s beautiful but from this close her hair looks fake, and she’s got on a lot of make-up. Too much. But then again, so do I. We need it for the cameras.

“Alright, let’s get started,” Kolton says, clapping his hands together. “We’re taking on a Justin Bieber song and turning it into a duet.”

“Let’s hear what you’ve got so far,” Rania says, leaning back into her chair.

After giving each of us a chance to sing our parts, Kolton models a change he wants Kenny to make. “If you want to win, you’re going to have to be consistent with the key you start in. Move down to the lower key so you can move up into the falsetto a lot easier for the chorus.”

It’s really the same problem he’s had all along.

“Mia,” Rania says. “There’s a give and take when we have to share a stage with another artist. When he does that part, you come in and do yours a little too fast. Take a breath in between or you’re going to start too soon,” she says, glancing at Kolton who’s nodding his head. “Like this,” she sings, “you love, you love, you loooove,” she emphasizes the last word.

“That’s not what I was going to say, but you’re right,” he says, smiling and looking at her like she’s the smartest woman in the world. She leans toward him, looking him in the eye, her tongue touching her top teeth.

It’s then I know they’ve slept together and it’s like we’re sitting in on some private moment between the two of them. It makes me feel like a volcano is bubbling under my skin, so I take the beanie and the scarf off and throw them on the table behind us.

Kolton looks at me a little puzzled. She’s beautiful, rich, perfect. He’s been with so many women; I bet he doesn’t even remember all of them. All of this—everything he’s done is because he feels sorry for me, and I feel foolish, like a child with a crush on a real man.

“You try it,” Rania says, but Kolton’s eyes hone in on me. Something like anger boils behind them. I can’t read him at all.

“You love, you love, you looooove,” I belt out, feeling everything at once. Kolton’s mouth drops open and Kenny claps.

“Wow! I don’t stand a chance,” Kenny says.

“Can somebody—Where’s Melody? Somebody needs to fix her hair,” Kolton says, about me. I run my fingers through it, and the ends start to separate out of ringlets.

“There’s no time for that,” Amy says, walking over and fixing my part. “Your hair got a little messy when you took the beanie off,” she says to me.

“Sorry,” I say, trying to fix it the best I can with my fingers.

“Well, she needs to put the scarf back on. Who let her put on that low cut shirt? It shows everything,” he barks out.

“There’s nothing wrong with her top. She looks sexy,” Rania Steele says. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing,” he says, switching on the smirk and the dimple for her. She smiles at him and he says, “It’s going to be a long day. But I’m cool.”

“Yes, you are,” she says, leaning over and touching his knee. I squint my eyes at him and bite the inside of my bottom lip.

“Let’s get started. Thank God for editing,” he says, clapping his hands together. Knowing it’ll get a reaction, I straighten my top so it shows even more cleavage. His eyes dart down to my breasts and then up to my eyes like daggers. But then he smiles again, “One more time through,” he says, still looking tense.

I’m really not into the rest of the session. I do what he says. I make the changes she suggests, like emphasizing that third ‘love.’ I watch her giggle at all his jokes and his chest puff up every time she touches him.

My stomach hurts by the time our hour of shooting is over and we say our goodbyes. “Thank you for all your advice,” I say.

“I like your make-up today,” Kenny says to me as we walk toward the entrance.

“Thanks,” I shrug.

“She’s a serious one,” I hear Rania remark as I’m walking out the door. “But her voice-”

“I know,” Kolton says. “She’s like dreaming with your eyes open.”

The rest of the day, all through the after-coaching interview, and through dinner with Deloris and Riley, I can’t get that out of my head. Them flirting. My temper tantrum. Him looking at me like he didn’t understand why I was ripping accessories off, then getting mad about my hair and cleavage. Him giving me that compliment. Here I am, in his house. But he doesn’t own me. No one does.

Midnight Song

I
’ve been sleeping in my own bed upstairs. Riley made herself at home and doesn’t need me so much anymore. Having Deloris around is like having a grandma or a parent. We both really like her.

I put my earphones in to listen to music. Soon, my breathing slows, and I’m falling into a dream. What makes me stir are my ear buds coming out. I rub my eyes with both fists. It’s completely dark. I’ve been in a deep sleep because it takes me a second or two to stabilize my vision. When I do, I see a dark figure sitting in the corner chair. Am I dreaming? I blink. No, it’s still there.

“Who’s there?” I rasp.

“I want you to call me
Kole
,” he says, his voice deep, controlled. I bolt upright, but he doesn’t move.

“What are you doing here?” I ask. “You can’t just—we can get in trouble.”

“Did you like the song I wrote you?” he asks.

“What?” I ask, swallowing hard.

“Why didn’t you say anything to me?” His voice sounds halfway between hurt and angry.

“I don’t owe you any explanation.”

“Don’t you?” he questions, standing up.

“Just because you write a song and send it to me doesn’t make up for you thinking you have the right to bring us here without asking.” I pull my legs up to my chest.

“I did all of this for you,” he says. “Don’t you see?”

“No. No, I don’t. I have no idea what you want.” I smell him now. That scent. Sandalwood? I’m quivering, here in the bed he owns.

He can have any woman—and he does, often. He probably just slept with Rania Steele, and now he’s here—for what? To try and take advantage of me? He’s probably insatiable.

“You’re shaking,” he says. I try to make it stop, but it only gets worse. He stands up, moves closer to me, and I feel my eyes widen.

“If I’m scaring you—if you want me to leave, tell me now,” he says. I can’t say anything. His proximity. All my witty comebacks are gone. “Mia,” he says, like a plea. “Breathe. You need to breathe,” he says, sitting down on the bed, taking my hand during a moment of weakness.

As I purposely inhale, I feel more alive than I ever have before. I can sense his warmth, taste the mint from my mouthwash still in effect, take in his distinct scent—cigarettes, cologne, and something uniquely Kolton. He smells like sin. I feel his steady hand as he touches mine—pulling me into his voodoo spell. “I’m sorry,” he says.

I shake it off and then remember why I’m mad. The nerve he has, showing up here in my room without permission. But why does the simple way he touches my hand and caringly reminds me to breathe make my want to cry? He’s acting so gentle, so considerate, even though he was so arrogant to think he could come and I wouldn’t mind. It’s like he’s oblivious to how to treat people.

“What are you doing here,
Kolton
?” I say, not masking my shaky voice enough. He pulls his hand away from me. “You can’t come into my room. If you’re loaning it to me, it has to stay a private area.” It’s obvious he doesn’t understand this simple truth.

“I came all the way here,” he says. “I wanted to talk to you, and I will.”

“Wow!” He’s so haughty. “There’s nothing here for you. Shouldn’t you be with Miss Steele,” I say, hinting at the title to her last album.

“With who?” he asks.

“Rania Steele,” I say, moving away from him even more.

He chuckles a little. “You’re jealous,” he decides, leaning back on his arms.