The Stage (Phoenix Rising #1) (5 page)

“Let go of her hand, Kolton,” Jackson says.

“What the fuck?” Kolton says. “I want her next to me. She’s my star. If you move her, I’m out.”

“Okay, okay,” Jackson says. “We’re not moving her. She looks good front and center, but we can’t have you holding her hand. It doesn’t look right.” His words are authoritative, but an apology at the same time. Did I just wake up on some other planet? I look around at shocked team members as Kolton lets go of my hand. He’s smiling now, like a kid who’s just gotten his way.

I look right at Brianna, the cheerful brunette, and she shrugs her shoulders, kind of like, ‘told-you-so.’ But the other’s, shocked, pissed off faces stare at me from all directions. This is bad. Really bad.

I turn back toward the photographer as he snaps shots and they move a few people around. Not me. Me, he keeps me next to him—protectively.

I force a smile, stick my elbow out and arch my back. I imagine I own the stage, that it’s mine, and all the people inside the camera’s lens love my voice, love me. That’s the only way I’m able to smile whole heartily.

I do my job, but the world is spinning faster than usual. There might have been an earthquake in LA, because my knees are shaking.

“Okay. We’ve got what we need. Thank you all. Contracts and master schedules are on the table on your way out. Be sure to read them carefully. Everyone is dismissed,” Jackson says.

As I turn to walk away, the girl from yesterday in the gypsy dress bumps into me, hard. My nerves can’t take it, but I just keep walking.

“Miss Phoenix,” Jackson calls after me. “We need to speak.”

Kolton is standing next to him as I slowly approach. “Listen, you two,” he starts, “she may be your star, as you said. I know she’s an amazing find, but playing favorites is
not
going to be good for the show. It ruins the suspense,” he says and Kolton nods. “If they know you’re going to choose her during the Challenge Rounds, there’s no point even having them. After those taped rounds, it’s up to the audience. At that point, Kolton, you’re more than welcome to express your favoritism toward her, because it won’t be up to you anymore whether she wins.”

“I understand,” Kolton says. “I apologize, Mia, if I’ve made you uncomfortable,” he tells me.

“I don’t think the rest of the team is going to like me much,” I mutter under my breath, rubbing my arm where I was just bumped. I’d already seen the dirty looks, too. I imagine a competition of this nature could get brutal.

“I don’t want you worrying about that; it won’t happen again,” he says to me, a concentrated look on his face.

His interest in me seems to be my singing, my talent. It doesn’t seem to be emotionally motivated. I don’t feel like he’s hitting on me; it feels different than that, although I don’t have much experience. I’m still as confused as ever.

“It’s fine. Thank you for giving me this opportunity, I won’t let you down.”

“I know you won’t,” he says, in that smooth way he has with the corner of his mouth tilted up. It melts me, like I’m cold one moment and a puddle the next. That’s how he does it, gets so many women. I don’t have time for this kind of game. I’m here for a reason and he’s not going to ruin my reputation or my chance at a music career.

I nod to both of them while twisting my fingers and make my way toward stage right. I feel him behind me, so I walk faster. I just want to get to Riley and go back to the hotel room. I know I can’t go home now, but a very persistent part of me wants to go back to our rented apartment, to my own bed. To regular life.

“Your contract,” says a woman from behind a table I’d nearly bolted by. I stop and pick up the pen. As I sign the first page, he walks past me.

I can finally take a breath. I initial the highlighted spots she points out and the last page, and pick up the master calendar. I look it over: in two more weeks they film the Challenge Round. There’s a few months break between the taped and live rounds. Those start in November. The live rounds go until just before Christmas. This is going to take up the better part of the year.

I need to think one day at a time, so I don’t overwhelm myself. Tomorrow I get to record my song and the scene shoots leading up to the actual taping. It seems they give us a short time to tie up loose ends in our lives before the next round.

When I walk back to Riley on the couch, Kolton is already there talking to Deloris.

God, how am I going to get Riley back to the hotel room?

It would be horrible to wake her up and make her walk. Deloris comes toward me, “Mr. Royce wants to carry her and give you a ride back to the apartment,” she whispers.

She must mean the hotel. It’s kind of weird, but this will give us a chance to talk alone so I can let him know I have no intention of sleeping with him to get ahead. I look past her. He’s waiting for me to say yes and I nod, almost imperceptibly. I wonder, can I get in trouble for him carrying my sister to our room?

He smiles and picks up Riley, her legs are dangling over his arm and her back resting on his other arm. She stirs, but stays asleep. I pick up my bag and check my phone. It’s 10:28 pm, well past her bedtime.

“Thank you, Deloris,” I say.

“No problem at all,” she confirms, as I turn to follow Kolton toward the exit. The hotel is very near the set. We only need to take the shuttle to just outside the gates, but there’s a black car waiting for us when we walk outside.

A man opens the door and Kolton slips inside, still holding Riley. And as I slide in last, I’m wondering what I’ve just gotten myself into.

Call Me Kole

O
nce inside the car, he sets her down and puts her seatbelt on. She snuggles up against him and he puts an arm over her shoulder. If she only knew she was doing this, she’d probably say, “
Ewww, boys are gross!
” in that way she does. It makes me chuckle.

“Something funny, Mia?” he asks, his face half shadowed as the car begins to move forward.

“Riley hates boys,” I say. “She’d be so pissed if she knew she was nestled up to you like that.”

“Well, it can be our secret,” he says, and a chill runs up my spine. I want out of this car, now.

“Are we going to the hotel?” I ask to appease the odd feeling in the pit of my stomach.

“We need to talk about that,” he says. His chin sticks out and he rubs the stubble on his cheek.

“What are you doing?” I feel brave all of the sudden, but my voice gives away how aware I am of my lack of control over this situation.

“I want you to call me Kole.” His voice is deep. He sounds troubled, nothing like the entertainer I’m used to watching on TV.

“Why do you want me to call you Kole?” Adrenaline. Heart pounding. Take a breath.

“Say it again,” he says, shutting his eyes. His voice sounds carnal, filled with need. It scares me.

“I’m not going to call you that. I just need you to take us to our hotel.” I need his help, but I can tell he’s not being honest with me.

“Mia,” he says. And oh, the way my name comes out of his mouth. “I saw you the other day outside the studio then heard your voice up there. You’ve really stood out to me, overall. I want to, no—I
need
to help you.”

“Kolton, I—”

“I’ve read your file,” he says, interrupting me. “I’ve watched the media footage about your parents and the fire.” I have to cover my mouth with my hand.

“I don’t—”

“We have a lot in common.” His voice sounds like tears when they’re stuck in the throat. “I feel very—protective of you,” he admits before clearing his throat.

My hands are shaking. Is he crazy or something? Like one of those celebrities who owns a puma and wants only red M&Ms in his dressing room? Plus, we’ve been driving for too long. Where is he taking us?

“Are we on the freeway?” I ask. It’s hard to see out of these black windows; they’re eerily dark like shadows and secrets. I feel agitated—my eyes too wide to blink.

“Yes,” he says, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Why?” I ask, noting the slight tremor of my hands.

“I’d rather just show you.”

“Listen, just because I’m on your team doesn’t mean—,” I start.

“It’s all or nothing for me,” he interrupts. He’s rubbing his thumb into the palm of his hand, talking to the shadow window.

“You’re really controlling.”

“Don’t say that,” he scolds, clenching his teeth.

“Like that’s going to help,” I say.

“What?”

“Snapping at me.” I fold my arms and lean back into the seat.

“I don’t want you to be afraid of me. When I want something, I get it. Does that make sense?”

“And what you want is?”

“Hmm,” he says, contemplating. “To help you, to help take care of your sister so you have limited distractions, and you can go all the way to the finals. For now, that’s what I want.”

“I’m not a groupie who’s willing to be abducted and taken wherever you want me to go.” But then again, I guess he did exactly that. My anger fumes up like boiling water.

He ignores me. We stare at opposing black windows, sitting in silence, only the hum of tires on asphalt and Riley’s easy slumber breaths between us.

I’m too agitated to ask him where we’re going again. If he refused to tell me once more, I’m going to go off. We take a slight right, getting off the freeway, I assume, and head down a road lined with high-rise buildings. The car stops and I can’t control the shaking in my hands as I wait for him to say something. Explain himself.

“Kolton? Where are we?” I ask, my voice higher than I’d meant it to be. We’re parked in front of a brick high-rise with two huge ferns outside the entrance.

“The Wilshire Thayer,” he says. “I didn’t have the chance to talk to you. It was a split-second decision.” He pinches between his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “I’ve moved you to the penthouse here. It’s an exclusive building. The security is tighter than the hotel. I feel better about you staying here while I’m gone.”

“What? I—you—I’m? You moved our stuff out of the hotel?”

“Not personally, no.”

“Is this something you’ve done for your whole team? Like, we’re
all
staying here?”

“No, Mia, they’re not,” he says, leaning slightly forward, his green eyes highlighted by the street light. They look predatory and possessive. “I only want what’s best for you.” I’m shaking my head ‘no.’ I put my hand out to ward off any more talking from him; this is
not
fucking okay.

“Just take us back to the hotel,” I demand.

“No. That’s not going to be possible.” He leans back into the partial shadows.

“Is this why you were late today?” I ask, feeling honored, but smothered, all in the same moment.

“Partly, yes,” he admits, looking straight through me again and my whole body shudders. I do
not
want to be under
anyone’s
control. “Let’s get her inside,” he says as he taps the window. The door is opened from the outside and he motions for me to get out first.

“We need to talk about this!”

“Not now, Mia,” he admonishes me like a child. “I’ve had a very long day—and nothing you say is going to change anything. Let’s go inside.”

I stomp out of the car and he steps out, holding Riley, and walks past the front desk. The doorman nods to him and we are ushered into one of the elevators. His driver is with us and I notice a gun strapped under his arm. He must also be his bodyguard. I feel dizzy, nauseated. I put my hand over my stomach to ease the rumbling, boiling rage.

The older man has inserted a key into the elevator control. I’m assuming it’s because he’s taking us to a floor that’s off limits to the rest of the building.

There are twelve floors and a “P.” Penthouse, I guess.
What! Thirteen floors? What’s up with me and the number thirteen these days?

I look at Riley. She’s so tired, not moving a muscle. She’s even snoring a little.

“You don’t live here, do you?” I ask, hearing the waver in my own voice.

“Some of the time, yes.” I’m pursing my lips together and biting the inside of the bottom one. “I also have a house in the hills.” My fingers have unknowingly chipped off almost all my dark nail polish.

“Does it have a fire escape?” I ask. If we’re going to the top floor, that really worries me.

“It has the best built-in alarm that includes fire. It’s completely up to code. I had sprinklers installed myself before I moved in. And yes, there’s a fire escape—just installed,” he says. “It reaches down to the floor below you.” He looks like he’s in pain as he says it, like it makes him sad I asked.

“Since I have no way to leave tonight, we’ll stay, but we’re going back to the hotel tomorrow.” I’m mad at him. Furious. Someone had to go through our belongings to pack them up. Shouldn’t he have at least asked me first?

He doesn’t answer me. “I’m not some slutty girl who sleeps her way up the ladder,” I say, defensively. To that, he laughs a little.

“No, I didn’t think you did.”

The elevator door opens and we are inside a marble foyer. It’s all dark wood and deep tones. The artwork, the floors; it’s all man.

It smells as clean as a hotel, like crisp linens, wood polish, money. He walks right through the square foyer, toward a stately entrance looking into a formal dining room and takes the double doors to the left. As I walk in, it looks like an office with a daybed.