The Stage (Phoenix Rising #1) (19 page)

I wait for Kolton on the front porch swing. Earlier, while he was in the shower, I opened the back doors of the helicopter and got my bag out. I’ve packed my clothes and am staring out at the hill with all the cacti and desert bushes. I hear his steps coming toward me, and he sits down next to me, much calmer now.

“You need to bring the phone I gave you everywhere. Promise me.”

“Why?” He glares at me, so I concede. “I promise.” I’m struck by the green in his eyes, the red fleck embedded into them like rust. He picks up my legs and drapes them over his thighs as he moves closer.

My eyes close as he takes charge, wrapping his fingers around the back of my neck and tilting my chin up with his thumbs. “Look at me,” he says. I open my eyes just long enough to see his pained expression before he eases some of the ache with his lips on mine, soft and expressive, like a song.

His tongue coaxes me to respond, and I do. His hand moves from behind my knee up to my hips as he licks and sucks his way to just below my ear before taking my lips again. I pull his tongue into my mouth, sucking on it. The way he moves inside my mouth makes me crazy for him. I want him. I know I can’t resist.

He takes my upper arms and holds me in place as he kisses me one more time, softly. Then he pulls away. I move toward him and he shakes his head ‘no.’ I realize then, that was our goodbye kiss.

“What happens now?” I ask, my voice shaky.

“Now I try and live without you,” he says. I’m spinning around that statement as he takes my hand, walks me toward his rock star ride, opens the back door to the helicopter and puts my bag inside. We fly away, and all the way home, he never offers to let me take the controls again.

Secrets

T
he crowd erupts, just as they’re expected to and I walk out on stage after Jessie does. She looks great, her hair straightened and make-up flawless. We were told yesterday during practice that they’ve canceled the next round. Each coach can only take their best five from this performance to the live rounds at the end of August. The decision to cut the taped-show schedule down came straight from the top –the network.

Now I’ve had to contemplate if I
should
throw the round. If I do, I might get off Kolton’s team, or off the show altogether. I might even get out of Kolton’s life. Other than shooting the voice coach scene, he’s been silent with me since we landed at the heliport on top of the Wilshire Thayer. He grabbed my hand in the elevator. When the door opened to his apartment, he held me for a second and then let me go. When I turned around, he wasn’t looking at me as the elevator doors shut between us.

I’m haunted by his words, “
You’re not ready yet, Mia. If you think that, I haven’t earned your trust.
”

I mean, only a fool would put all their trust into a man who jumps from woman to woman. Why should I believe he’s changed this much, just for me?

I still haven’t listened to the messages from the night I went missing. I haven’t turned on the phone he gave me, either. I know it’s a mistake, but I can’t. I’m not ready to hear his panic.

I have, however, been reading about him online for the past week. He agreed to an interview with GOS~P—probably to take some attention off the photos with me. There was some speculation throughout the celebrity gossip circle that he had a secret lover. Someone with dark hair. Someone special.

This interview was a big deal and highly anticipated. He said that he’s had a change of heart about his life which was why he hasn’t been out as much. There’s no one special, but he’s trying to purify his body to be worthy of the good things he wants in his future. When I’d read that, my jaw dropped. Could he really mean it?

He talked rather candidly about something called “seminal retention.”

“
I’ve been into yoga for years. Just recently I learned that men lose their power, their concentration, their energy, through sex. It’s a long standing tradition in many cultures, and even in today’s culture, to withdraw from sexual experience for a time, to truly find yourself or prepare for life changes.

Boxers do it before a fight. Athletes, too, before a game or meet. But, if you don’t learn how to transmutate that energy, it can drive you crazy. I’ve started meditation and I’ve been working out with a trainer. I’m really learning how to harness all this sexual energy for the betterment of myself.
”

They ended their interview with a question. “How long do you think this will last?”

I really don’t know. The tone and words he used sound a little pretentious and superior, but also genuine and frank. To share that with the world—I don’t think I could do it. But, now people are thinking about the lack of sex in his life instead of the woman he was holding in his car that night.

Kind of weird, but it worked, right? Twitter is all abuzz with the story. I’ve checked for any mentions about me anywhere on social media. There’s not a lot, except for the promo. I haven’t been asked to do any interviews, yet.

Mostly what I think about are those cold showers, those nights alone when he’s not used to it. And, tonight, there’s so much on my shoulders.

The music starts and Kolton looks impassive, bored even. I stare at him, daring him to notice that I’m trying to make the best choices for me, for Riley. As I open my mouth to sing, “Burn,” I feel it all at once—him, me, us. Shamelessly, I point at him and his jaw tightens. He looks anxious in his seat.

It’s all inside me. I need to let it out. Him keeping me in his house, demanding I stay. The running away, him coming to get me in his car, the helicopter ride. His voice when he told me I had the controls of the helicopter—of us. The feel of his kiss, the taste of the skin over his heart. His promises for my twenty-first birthday. The picture of his parents above their bed—all his loss, which I completely understand because I have my own. And finally, when he told me he would have to learn how to live without me.

He chose this song for
me
. He was trying to tell me—all of it. This song, it runs through my veins like a life force. They will try to stop us. We will have to fight it. And it burns.

It burns.

I have no idea how I sound. I’m just letting it all out on the stage. Jessie and me, we play off one another.

Until the music stops. I’m sweating and pain creeping upward, coming from a place deep inside.

The judges are standing, clapping. Kolton’s expression is something like pride. I don’t even know what everyone is saying. The lights are bright and my ears are full of feedback from the speakers or something. It looks like Selma and Danny are arguing about us. I take the earpiece out and I hear Selma say, “But yes, Jessie was spot on. She never missed a single cue. She was perfect. But Mia, she made me cry. God, she broke my heart up there.”

Chuck Faraday interjects, “It looks like a tie, ladies and gentlemen. So we’ll have to go to our celebrity judge, Priscilla Ray. What do you think Priscilla?”

She taps the table a few times with her long, fake nails. Her lips are too big, I’ve just noticed. She’s an older woman trying to look young again, but bee-stung lips just make her look like she’s trying too hard. Mental note:
Less is more
.

Her expressionless face and eyes, caked with layers of smoky eye shadow, look up at me and then Jessie, who takes my hand, making me smile.

“I—I have to go with my gut, here,” she says, her lips making her voice sound funny. “To be honest, honey, you nearly blew it,” she says, directed at me, “with all that emotion on stage. It’s pretty obvious that you weren’t
trying
to win. I don’t know what you were trying to do, but I think you did it.”

That’s really ambiguous. I could be off the show if she keeps talking like that. Kolton readjusts himself in his seat—he looks pissed.

“There’s one of you up there I would sign in a heartbeat. One of you,” she says, and taps the table again with her glittered gel nails.

“The winner of this round is—Mia Phoenix!” I should be jumping up and down or something; that’s what they want from me. So I do it, even though it’s not how I’d normally act. It’s all a façade—the colorful lights, the stage decorations, the heavy make-up on all of us, even the guys. Me, jumping: a mirage for their entertainment.

I turn to Jessie. It’s like slow motion. “I’m sorry,” I say and hug her. This is her dream, too, after all. Up in the corner, over Jessie’s shoulder, I see Joyce McKim. She’s twisting a pen in her hands. This didn’t go as she’d planned.

I turn and look at Kolton. I mouth the words, “I chose.” His face softens and his lips turn up. It’s a real smile, one from somewhere genuine inside him.

“Let me remind the coaches that Jessie Law is available to steal.”

The coaches are looking at each other. It’s all just a game to them; we are the pieces on the game board. Danny, the country guy, reaches forward and presses his button. “I said it before, Jessie. You won this round, and the hearts of a lot of America, tonight.” She runs over and hugs him before the two of us exit stage right.

“You seemed to be in another place during your performance. Why so emotional?” The producer asks during my after-performance interview.

“I just really felt it. The song is a beautiful one—it’s about love, other people’s jealousy, and not letting anyone put out the fire that burns inside.”

“Well, you did an awesome job!” she tells me, before scooting me out of the way. I don’t even know what to do now. Then Riley comes running up to me.

“Mia! Mia! You won!” She jumps into my arms and hugs me harder than she ever has. “You’re famous now, huh!”

“Not yet,” I say, running my fingers through her hair. “Do you want a milkshake?”

“A chocolate one?”

“Yeah, a chocolate one.” We walk together to the cafeteria. It’s an impressive place with Starbucks coffee and Dryers ice cream. I drink a skinny white mocha and Riley scoops big mouthfuls of her shake into her mouth. “I’ve missed you, Riles. It’s not like home being here. Is it?”

“Nope. I miss you, too.” She seems unaffected because she’s so resilient. Like after the fire, she didn’t cry all the time. She’d get mad at me sometimes, but she didn’t really let it out. “I like Deloris,” she says, out of the blue.

“I do, too. Why’d you mention that?”

“’Cause I wish—” and then she stops eating. Puts her hands on the table and stares at them.

“Riley?”

“I wish she was my real grandma.” I stand up and walk around the table to sit beside her. I put my arm around her and let her cry. She doesn’t do this much, but I’m proud of her. It’s good to let it out. She needs someone in her life that can dedicate time to her, help her grow up. I want that to be me, but I’ve been so busy trying to keep us going I haven’t done enough to help her feel loved.

“Riley, I promise, I’ll do the best I can so we can keep Deloris after the show, okay?”

“Promise, Mia?” she says, turning to me. Her front teeth are too big for her mouth and show when she cries. They make me love her more.

“I promise.” I tell her and stick out my pinky. She sticks hers out, too, and we shake them. I see Deloris peek into the cafeteria, raising her eyebrows, like ‘is she okay?’

I nod and hug her tighter, waving Deloris in. “Look who’s back?”

“You okay, Punkin’?” Deloris asks. Oh my God, I love that she calls her that. Riley looks up at me like we have a secret and nods her head. Her little face still has tears on it, but she’s smiling as she picks up her spoon and shovels in a big chocolatey bite.

“Kolton asked me to give this to you,” Deloris says, handing me an envelope with a note and key.

Meet me in my trailer at 5:00. That’s my break time. I need to see you. #13.

Kole

I check my phone—four-thirty. So I drink my coffee and Riley eats her milkshake. Deloris nibbles a cookie, and, for a minute, it feels like we’re family.

*     *     *

As I’m walking over, I realize I’d forgotten Kolton had a trailer. So, I’m hoping as I open the lock on number thirteen that no one else notices what I’m doing. I’d walked around for a while first, to make sure I wasn’t followed. I climb the metal stairs and sit down at the table in the dark. I’m shaking. I hear my hands with the note clutched in them tapping the underside of the table. I feel nauseated and stand up, checking my phone. Five-thirty.