Playing it Kale (The McCain Saga Book 4) (18 page)

CHAPTER
SIXTEEN

Nothing about life in LA ever slows
down.
 
Studio time.
 
More photo shoots.
 
More interviews with the local TV
stations.
 
More studio
time.
 

And no more time for Kale and me than an
hour here, two hours there on the weekend.

It sucks.

I’d really be freaking out about it, but
Kale is being so relaxed about it.
 
He’s
being so understanding and chill.
 
I
remind myself that he knows what it’s like to have a hectic schedule that keeps
him occupied for the vast majority of his days.

So I treasure our nights together,
wrapped up, just the two of us like there’s nothing else in the world.

And before I know it, I’m done recording
the album.
 
All twelve are original songs
that
I
wrote.
 
The studio works even longer hours than me to
get the instrumentation done and
all the
back end
stuff.

Two days before the private event, they
give me the preliminary album.
 
It’s not
totally finished.
 
But it’s awesome.
 
They’re my songs.
 
With some changes to rhythm or some notes,
but they’re still my songs.

I’ve already written three new songs during
this crazy process.
 
Somehow, when I wake
up in the
mornings,
see Kale sleeping next to me, feel
his warm body tucked next to mine, I feel inspired.
 
It isn’t hard to pull words out of that
magical air around us.

This life of mine, it’s complicated and
hectic, but it’s also amazing.

And then, it’s the night of the
concert.
 
Ming flew down to be here.
 
We spent the afternoon together, and she had
to keep talking me down all day.
 
But
then we’re at the venue.
 
We run through
a sound check.
 
They fiddle with
lights.
 
And then I’m backstage, Ming is
out in the crowd, and people are once again dressing me.
 
They put me in this sparkly silver dress that
looks amazing, but is a bit tighter than I’m comfortable with.
 
I don’t have much choice in the matter.
 
They do my hair, curling it, just like it was
in that viral video.
 
Put on about three
times the amount of makeup I normally wear.
 
My signature bright red lipstick goes on.

I hear people filing into the huge
space.
 
It’s standing room only.

And I start panicking.

This is it.
 
My real launch.
 
What if I screw it up?
 
What if I forget my lyrics?
 
What if I let everyone down and what if I
embarrass myself?

But then my fingers close around Kale’s
locket.
 
I remember how much his eyes
shine in admiration when he hears me sing.
 
I remember the words he whispers in my ear when it’s just the two of us
together.

And then I look to the side and see him
coming up the stairs onto backstage.

I break away from the girl that’s still messing
with my hair and launch myself into his arms.

“You’ll be here the whole show, right?”
I ask as I search his eyes.
 
“Promise you
won’t leave?”

“I promise,” he says with the most
prideful grin I’ve ever seen.
 
“I’m going
to be right here, the entire time.”

“Cause otherwise all the females out
there will maul you to death.”
 
I’m
trying to joke, but it just comes out sounding weird.

He humors me though and laughs.
 
“Cause I like the view from behind.”
 
There he is, cocky, confident Kale McCain.

“Two minutes,” a stagehand tells me.

“Two minutes,” I squeak.
 
“One hundred twenty seconds.”

“It’s okay,” Kale says, pressing a quick
kiss to my lips.
 
I’m enjoying it too
much to worry about him messing up my bright red lipstick.
 
“It’s time to go knock them dead.”

I nod, rubbing my lips together, quick
and hard, a nervous tic, like I’m whacked.
 

“Stop,” Kale says, actually reaching up
and pinching my lips closed.
 
“Just take
a deep breath, and go do your thing.”

The intro music to “Glow”
starts,
and my heart goes from rocket to warp speed.

“I got this,” I say, hoping to fake it
till I make it.

“You got this.”

I let him go.
 
I take a deep breath.
 
And when I hear my cue, I walk out onto the
stage.

CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN

Number twelve.
 

That’s where “Angel
On
Your Shoulder” lands after being for sale for only one week.
 
After being played on the
radio.
 
After
getting endless requests.
 
Number
twelve on the top charts.

The album is sitting at number
twenty-six and creeping up every day.

How?

What?

Just…how is this all falling into place?

The tour is all lined up and tickets are
selling fast and crazy.
 
New York, Florida, Texas, Washington, Utah, Illinois.
 
And then over to London, and then
Sydney.
 
Six weeks I’ll be traveling.

Elysium has already basically told me
that I need to plan on starting the second album as soon as I get back from
tour.
 
The contract hasn’t been drawn up,
but from how they talk, it’s as good as done.

Every other day, I’m doing radio
interviews.
 
Hadley is always on the
phone scheduling one thing or another for me.
 
I may be done in the studio for now, but I still don’t get more than two
seconds to breathe every day.

Except for one Monday in
the middle of October.
 
I’m not supposed to have anything going on, so I very much look forward
to getting to sleeping in, and spending a blissful morning in bed with Kale.
 
Maybe go out for lunch somewhere
private.
 
Go out to the beach, even.

But no.
 
Our lives won’t permit that.

The ring of Kale’s phone cuts through
the quiet morning.
 
I grunt, prodding him
in the side to wake him up.
 
He sleeps
like the dead.

“Kale, that’s yours,” I say groggily.

He still doesn’t rouse, so I climb over
the top of him, and grab his phone from the nightstand.

The ID says Calvin.

“Hello,” I say with a yawn as I answer
it for Kale.

“I need him up and looking fresh in
exactly two and a half minutes,” Calvin starts spouting off in that annoyed
business voice of his.
 
“
Shurrock
has this last minute shoot they want done and I
need him now.”

“Kale,” I say as I rock back and forth
on top of him.
 
“Calvin.
 
Camera.
 
Shower.
 
Now.”

“No,” he groans.
 
“It’s still Monday.
 
Monday is we day.”

“He said no,” I say to Calvin.
 
My eyes keep wanting to slide closed.
 
I actually lie down again, back to back on
top of Kale.
 
He’s a total stomach
sleeper.

“He doesn’t get to say no,” Calvin
scoffs.
 
“Tell him a car will be there to
pick him up in ten minutes.”
 
Calvin
hangs up on me.

I roll off of Kale and shove him toward
the edge of the bed.
 
“Get up.
 
Calvin said so.”

“It’s supposed to be
Simon
said so,” he groans as he grasps
for pillows and sheets so he won’t fall off.

“Not today,” I say with a chuckle as I
give him one more shove and he falls right off the bed.

I hear him start laughing and peek over
the edge of the bed at him.
 
“You really
just pushed me off the bed.
 
I can’t
believe you did that!”

“It worked,” I giggle.
 
“You’re awake.”

And my eyes drift south.
 
Because, oh, is he ever awake.

“Good
mor-ning
,” Kale says
dramatically.
 
I meet his eyes again, and
he waggles his eyebrows at me.

My face goes beet red.
 
“Oh
my gosh
,” I say
as I pull a blanket over my head.
 
“Go
shower before you kill me.”

“It would be an even better morning if
you joined me,” he says as he stands, raising an eyebrow at me.
 
Before I can say anything, he starts walking
toward the bathroom.
 
And when he steps
over the threshold, he hooks his thumbs in the elastic band of his boxer
briefs, and slips them down.

Oh.
 
My.
 
Heavens.

If that isn’t the most beautiful man-ass
there ever was.

Kale closes the door behind him, as if
he’s completely oblivious to what he just did.

And I know that something has changed.
 

I want Kale.
 

It’s time.
 
And I have a plan.

The car pulls into a warehouse district
that looks abandoned.
 
Sheet metal is
peeling off of walls.
 
The car has to
dart between barrels and piles of junk.
 
It looks like the perfect scene for a horror movie.

But it’s the latest location for the
newest
Your Fantasy
shoot.

When we get there, there’s already a
trailer set up.
 

“You’ve been watching me do my thing for
the past month, I can’t wait to see you in action,” I say as we pull to a
stop.
 
“This is exciting.”

“Just promise you won’t get jealous when
they bring Janessa into the shoot, okay?” he says as he meets my eyes.
 
“Cause it’s just modeling.
 
It isn’t real.
 
‘K?”

I push down the deadly viper that rises
in my stomach at the other model’s name.
 
I’ve seen her before.
 
She’s
beautiful and severe looking.
 
She and
Kale have done shoots together before.
 
And they’re magic in front of the camera.

“Promise,” I say as I force a smile on
and follow him out of the car.

I get to sit in a chair and watch in the
trailer while they prep the two models.
 
Kale changes into a pair of black jeans and a blue and white striped
button up shirt.
 
They put the makeup
apron around his shoulders and a woman with the biggest hair I’ve ever seen
starts in on his makeup.

“I’ve been talking to Calvin,” he says
as the woman dabs foundation all over his face.
 
“And November is going to get kind of crazy for me.
 
I’m supposed to be in Dubai for two weeks and
then off to London for a while, but we’ll be in London at the same time for
about thirty-six hours, so I figure we’ll at least get a few hours together
then.”

“Close your mouth for a sec,” the makeup
artist says as she pops her bubble gum.
 
Kale does as she says for a few seconds.

“But I figure I can go with you for the
first week of the tour.
 
I can hit the
Seattle show, and the Salt Lake City one,” he continues as he looks over at me.

And I glow.
 
Cause Kale has my entire schedule memorized,
and I can barely remember where I am when.

“That sound okay?” he asks.

Like that was ever a concern.

“That sounds perfect,” I smile.

“’K,” he says, his voice ecstatic.
 
And then it falls.
 
“There’s still four weeks where we won’t see
each other.
 
I’m going to miss you like
hell.”

“I know,” I say, my expression falling,
too.
 
“I kind of just want to cancel the
whole stupid thing.”

And ta-da!
 
She’s done with him.
 
He stands from his chair and crosses to me,
taking my hands in his.

“No kissing!” the girl yells.

“Yeah, yeah,” he barely acknowledges
her.
 
“And no you don’t.
 
This tour is going to be one of the most
amazing experiences of your life.”

“I know,” I say, lacing my fingers
through is, bringing our hands up and together.
 
“I’m just going to miss you.”

“I’ll be right here when you get back,”
he says quietly.
 
“That’s a promise.”

“Let’s get rolling,” the director says
as he opens the door to the trailer.

Kale bends in to give me a kiss when the
makeup lady shouts, “no kissing!”
 
So
instead, he gives an air kiss,
lets
go of my hands,
and walks out of the trailer.

I watch from a distance.
 
There’s an entire crew here.
 
Working lights.
 
Moving junk.
 
The literal junk, to
different places, posing it.
 
Two camera people.
 
Kale goes to one location, Janessa to another.

I feel awkward and out of place, just
hanging back here by myself.
 
But it
doesn’t last long, cause once Kale gets doing his thing, I am transfixed.

He knows exactly how to look and how not
to look at the camera.
 
His intense eyes.
 
His downturned mouth.
 
His entire body works the camera.
 
It’s there in his shoulders, his hips, the way his toes are
positioned.
 
This is Kale’s element.

And slowly but surely, the buttons of
his shirt come undone.
 
His sleeves get
rolled up.
 
The cameras click away as
more and more of Kale’s skin is exposed.

And finally, the shirt just comes off.

Cue the heavenly choir.

“I’m a little afraid that grin’s going
to split your beautiful face, Whit,” Kale says when he catches my eyes between
clicks of the camera.

“I can’t help it!” I mock defend,
holding my arms around my middle as I laugh at myself.
 
“I mean, hello!
 
This is the man of my fantasies in action.
 
Half naked.
 
And he’s going to be in my bed tonight!”

“You bet your ass I will be,” he says
with a wink as he moves into his next pose.
 
Which is him flexing.

Bless me and all the glory that is my
life.
 

“Okay, I think that’s good for the
single shoot,” the director guy says.
 
“Let’s do the couple set now.
 
Janessa!”

She saunters over, lanky, crazy skinny,
and utterly beautiful.

But her sharply angled face also makes
her look kind of terrifying.

As she walks up to Kale’s side, him
pulling on a different shirt now, he gives me this nervous look.
 
And I just try to smile back.
 
I don’t think I pull it off very well.

At first, they don’t even touch each
other.
 
They’re just in proximity of one
another, looking stern and sexy, showing off their expensive clothes.
 
They work the camera.
 
Looking at it.
 
Not looking at it.

But then they’re together.

Touching each other.

Her hand on the back of
his neck.
 
His hands low on her hips.
 
Looking crazily intense into each other’s eyes.
 
Looking like they want to
rip each other’s clothes off.

And then Kale’s shirt is unbuttoned, and
she’s posing like she’s pulling it off.
 
His lips go to her neck, and he pulls at her shirt, dropping the
neckline, and exposing her bra.

My breathing picks up, and angry
scorpions start a war in my chest.

Then the shirts come all the way
off.
 
His and hers.

I feel only a small comfort that my
boobs are bigger than hers.
 
I’m a
comfortable C and she’s barely a B with all that padding.

But still.
 
Those are
my
boyfriend’s lips hovering over her chest.
 
Those are
my
boyfriend’s hands
on her ass.
 
Those are
my
boyfriend’s jeans she’s unbuttoning.
 
Those are
my
boyfriend’s lips she’s half a breath from kissing.

This.
 
Sucks.

And it can’t get over soon enough.

This isn’t uncommon for Kale.
 
He works for a company that makes clothing
for men and women.
 
And they certainly go
for sex appeal.
 
Many of their shoots get
pretty scandalous, and I’ve seen sets where the woman has been topless with
Kale.
 
The only reason you don’t see the
female model’s breasts is because they were covered with
Kale’s
hands.