The Tour (30 page)

“She looked up,” he continues, trance-like. “It’s when she saw Devon and Manny. That’s when she cut me the first time. It’s like I didn’t understand that she’d cut me. My arm didn’t even hurt. But I heard Manny tell her to freeze and she had this blank look in her eyes. She chose what was going to happen next. I saw when she decided she was going to die and take me with her.

“She sliced me across the heart, and then she pulled her arm back over her shoulder. She was about to stab me—but I moved out of the way, and then I heard the shot. It was loud and I watched the knife drop. I can still hear the sound of the metal hitting the wooden floor. The way her chest puffed up when the bullet hit her chest. He shot again… and then again. I grabbed her before she fell. I held her, Mia. I said things to her while she was dying. I told her she was beautiful. I told her she was going to a better place. I told her I was sorry I wasn’t a better person.”

I run my hand over his forehead and watch as the crease there is eased out and smooth. “You did nothing wrong, Kole. You did everything you could.”

“Are we okay, Mia?” he asks, his voice strong but his eyes unsure.

“Yes,” I affirm. But then I pull my bottom lip between my teeth and he looks at me questioningly. “I just have one question,” I say. He swallows and waits. “Why did they tell me there was a hostage situation?” He closes his eyes for a moment. His Adam’s apple moves up and down his throat.

“After it happened, he didn’t let them in right away to give her medical care.”

“So that’s why Manny was told he couldn’t leave LA?”

“It’s because of her family. And because the autopsy showed that he shot her four times. They said it was excessive.” His eyes have this far off look, as if he’s reliving it. “He’s been cleared since you’ve been gone. There was no indictment,” he says, as matter of fact.

“You don’t blame him, do you?”

“I don’t blame him at all. He saved my life. I saw it in her eyes. She was going to kill me.” I have to take a second. I rub my eyes.

“Are we okay, Mia?” he asks again.

I look into the doubt residing inside his heart and smile. “The only thing I’m upset about is that you felt like you couldn’t tell me. I wish you could have trusted me. That you would have known that I’m here for you.”

“But if you would have left me—after everything else,” he says, shaking his head and closing his eyes.

“I’m not. I wouldn’t have,” I say, and he pulls me close, and we lie back together on the bed. I take his lips this time, to reassure him of the truth between us, that it’s okay, we’re okay.

While we’re side by side, looking one another in the eye as equals, I kiss him and place my hand over his heart, our lips consoling the worry that has permeated our bodies for all these months. Our sounds move through the air around us as I submit to him, and he to me. My heart squeezes and then expands. I know now that he did nothing wrong. I feel our love all around us, inside us. Everywhere.

The love that envelopes us is the love that heals us.

And the Winner Is…

W
aking up in Kolton’s arms—knowing all there is to know—is like a boulder off my chest. And his, too. He’s smiling even before he opens his eyes. He kisses me and then heads to the shower, pulling me along. He washes my hair and I take a washcloth and help him get clean. It’s like the water washes away more than just yesterday. It feels like our relationship is clearer and fresher, too.

I watch him dress as I slip on a summer dress and sweater. He’s wearing dark jeans and another T-shirt. Before we head out to get ready for the EMAs, we walk hand-in-hand into the kitchen and eat a huge breakfast. Pancakes, eggs, and fruit—and bacon for everyone else.

Deloris looks relieved, but Manny even more. Manny is a true hero. I wish there was a way to say that to him now, but I think he’s still dealing with what he’s done. It might not feel like an act of heroism, yet. But I wish that for him very soon.

*     *     *

We pick up Jessie, and then Kolton surprises both of us with a gown fitting with dresses from several designers like Giorgio Armani, Tom Ford, and Zuhair Murad. I end up choosing a silver dress with a fitted bodice from the spring collection of Versace. Jessie picks a black dress with a low V in the front from Tom Ford’s collection. I like my choice because it hugs my curves, and makes my hips look round at the same time as it makes my waist look small. It shows a little skin without showing too much cleavage. I can’t wait for Kolton to see me.

We sip Shirley Temples since Jessie isn’t twenty-one yet, either, while we wait for our massage. After my muscles are loosened, we both get a salt rub, which is great until she gets my feet—my only ticklish spot. And then we get a Vichy shower—which is odd because we just lie here to be rinsed off instead of going to a stand-up shower. There’s a bag over my hair, and then the lady turns on the multiple shower heads that wash the salt rub down the drains on the table.

It feels amazing.

After we dry off, our bodies are tanned with an airbrush. I laugh at her, because she’s usually really pale. We get make-up and hair. I end up with a smokey eye and nude lip, while she gets dark fringed eyeliner and a red matte lip. She gets a knotted bun, and I get my hair straightened and parted down the middle.

We’re eating salads with our robes on when Kolton knocks on the door. “Oh my God,” I say. He’s wearing a black fitted tuxedo with a crisp white shirt, and a black bow tie. His hair is trimmed and parted in the middle. His beard is groomed and his eyes are lit up.

“What dress did you pick?” he asks.

“It’s a surprise,” I say. “You have to wait for the final reveal.”

“Why don’t I help you into your dress?”

“Not unless you want to make us late,” I scold him. I take a sip of lemon water and rush into the dressing room to put my dress on where he can’t see me. I’m taped into it, so my breasts don’t escape over the top of the bodice. I’m zipped up, and the small alterations have already been made to the cut of the dress so it looks as though I was sewn into it.

I’m helped into my shoes, and I walk out to where Kolton is waiting for me. His eyes devour my every curve, and his eyes sparkle into mine. He shakes his head, and gives me the side smirk.

Walking closer, he takes my elbow, pulling me toward him. He smells like sandalwood and sin as he whispers, “You’re lucky we’re not alone, or I’d pull that dress up over your hips, and take you right there on that couch.” His words travel up and down my spine. My eyes dart to the yellow velvet couch—images of me with my dress hiked up and his pants undone rocking his hips into mine have me breathing in quickly. I close my eyes and feel his lips make contact with my neck. “You’re beautiful with sex on your mind.”

Just then, Jessie comes out, looking tall and thin. Her blonde hair shiny and healthy. “I’ve had some jewelry sent over from Tiffany,” he says. “We’re borrowing.”

When we leave, I’m wearing a necklace with three oblong tiers of yellow diamonds surrounded by pristine white diamonds and matching earrings. Jessie is wearing a tight white diamond necklace with small white diamond earrings and a ring.

“Is your uncle going to be there?” I ask and he nods. I can only guess that means Vivien will be there, too.

And here I thought our worries were over.

*     *     *

“Mia!”

“Kolton!”

“Put your arm around her!”

“Kiss!”

These words are shouted as we stop on the red carpet for photos. Gina DeYoung is here, and has ushered us toward several interviews that would be in our best interest. Once on the other side of the maze of photographers and entertainment journalists, I’m ready to take a break. When we walk into the building at the Staples Center, she hands me my script. Jessie and I are presenting for Best Female Pop Vocal Performance.

I read my lines, which allude to a little fake competition before opening the envelope and revealing the winner. When I look up, Kolton is greeting his uncle Tedd, and then Vivien leans in and whispers something up into his ear. I instantly see red. He turns toward me, leaving her behind without a word. He mouths the words, “I’m sorry,” before taking my arm in his like he’s Cary Grant.

“This night is about you, Kolton,” I say. “Don’t let her ruin anything.”

“She’s not worth it,” he says, smiling.

We’re seated without them in the front row. They’re directly behind us and I can feel her glaring at the back of my head until I’m called backstage with Jessie to present. “This is kinda scary,” Jessie confesses. I wrap my arm over her shoulder.

“Let’s shake it off,” I say. So she and I both shake our shoulders back and forth. She cracks me up. I like her better now that we’re not competing with each other.

“Here to present the award for Best Female Pop Vocal Performance is the winner of
The Stage
, Jessie Law, and the runner-up, Mia Phoenix.” There’s applause as we walk toward the mic. Then our lines cross the teleprompter, a clear glass on each side of the stage.

After our little joke about who should get to open the envelope, Jessie shows herself to be the bigger person. She lets me read it with her after she opens the envelope.

“And the winner is…”

“Lacie Bree!” we say in unison.

After her speech, I walk forward. “And now,” I say into the lights and cameras, “Here to perform his favorite single, ‘Born in Fire,’ from the not-yet-released album
More Than Skin Deep,
is Kolton Royce.”

On the stage left of us, the lights turn on and Kolton’s voice comes through. Jessie and I walk off stage. Someone starts to usher us back to our seats, but I decline. “I’m watching. Can I stay?” I ask, and don’t wait for a response.

“Out of the ashes she rose.

Fire tried to take her voice—

Strong like lightening, soft like silk.

Bright like the light from the sun.”

As I experience his emotional performance, I think about all we’ve been through. How much he’s changed, but also how much he’s changed me. I want us to start really living. I don’t want to wait. I want to sign with him. I want to tour with him.

I’ve made up my mind.

As the lights turn off on the stage, and they shoot us to commercial, I run back stage toward the other side, trying to find him. Trying to tell him I’ve made up my mind. An arm grabs me, “Miss Phoenix. We need you in your seat for the next award. Kolton’s up,” says the tall young man with the headset from the production crew.

“Oh, crap. Okay,” I say, out of breath.

“Through here,” he motions, and I find myself out in the audience and walking toward my seat. But Kolton’s not there.

I lean over my seat and ask Uncle Tedd, “Do you know where he is? He’s up next!”

“No, they should bring him back to his seat in time for the presentation. He’s up next,” he says, looking at the schedule he must be privy to since he’s a producer on Kolton’s song.

I sit down, with all this nervous energy jumping around inside me, making me crazy. I feel her presence too near to me, and the she says, “So, Mia. I hear you’re signing with Ceol.”

“Who’s signing with Ceol?” Kolton asks, suddenly standing up next to his seat.