Down to My Soul (Soul Series Book 2)(4)
IF I NEVER WEAR ANOTHER PAIR of fake eyelashes again, it’ll be too soon.
I gently bat away the slim hand poised to apply the ridiculously long falsies.
“Not today, Ella.” I meet the makeup artist’s bright blue eyes in the mirror of my hotel bathroom. “I think my normal human-size lashes will be fine. It’s not the tour. It’s just radio.”
“One of the biggest radio shows in the country.” Ella sets the lashes aside and picks up her go-to mascara. “And it’s streaming to millions online so it may as well be your first TV appearance. Why do you think Malcolm insisted on hair and makeup for it?”
“Because ‘insist’ is the only gear Malcolm knows.” I grimace over his demands, which have only continued to increase. “He insists on my wardrobe. He insists on extra rehearsals. He insists that I get on Instagram and Snap Chat.”
“He knows what he’s doing, kid.” Ella rakes a hand through her short, crimson hair before scooping up a chunk of mine. “I have to disagree with his suggestion that you go blonde, though. This hair is gorgeous just as it is.”
“Me? Blonde? I can’t even—”
The chirp of Ella’s phone interrupts.
“That’s him.” Ella rolls her eyes and digs into the pocket of her plain black smock. “I assigned him his own tone so I’ll know when he’s trying to reach me. Look in your jewelry box to see if you’ve still got those big hoop earrings. They’ll be great with this outfit.”
While she responds to Malcolm’s text, I walk over to my jewelry box tucked in the corner of the bathroom counter. A sprig of fresh mistletoe rests right on top of the earrings Ella asked me to find. It’s delivered to my dressing room at every stop.
Rhyson.
Damn that man. Using my grandfather’s habit of keeping mistletoe for my grandmother to win me back. Clever? Evil? Sweet? The typical conundrum of contradictions I face with him. Most days I want to strangle him because of the control freak stunt he pulled with Total Package. A tangle of emotions paralyzes me. Hurt is right in front of me, and I still ache from his betrayal. Fear to my right, I’m afraid that contacting him could trip a wire and set off that bomb of a sex tape. To my left, that persistent desire that gets stronger every day to say screw it all and take him back. And where does that leave me? With my back against the wall. Trapped, and even though I’m in a different city every day, frozen in place. Unsure of what I should do.
So I’ve done nothing.
I twist the mistletoe between my fingers, memories of Rhyson in Glory Falls for the holidays crowding out everything else. Of singing Mama’s favorite carol with him on Christmas Eve and laughing over Christmas sweaters at the dinner table. We shared our first kiss on the front porch, steam rising from our lips into the cold night air. Every day these memories erode my anger. Every time the mistletoe comes, my fury ebbs a little more. I can’t forget what he did to jeopardize the thing I’ve worked for my whole life. He lied and manipulated me. But these memories . . . they make me miss him. If he were here now, I’d smack him one second and kiss him the next.
God, if he were here now . . .
“That from him?” Ella pockets her phone and nods toward the mistletoe trapped between my fingers.
“What?” I drop the mistletoe back into my jewelry box, grab the earrings and slam the lid. “Is what from who?”
“Wow.” Ella raises her over-plucked eyebrows. “You’re real subtle. There’s two people you can’t, or shouldn’t keep secrets from. Your priest and your stylist. So ‘fess up. I’m guessing the mistletoe’s from Rhyson Gray.”
Leaning one hip against the granite counter top, I study Ella in the harsh light of my hotel bathroom and arrange my face into the mask I’ve worn since the sex tape exploded into my life. It’s not a guard I let slip. I have no idea who to trust. San is the only person I’ve told about the tape. I had to tell someone. San’s been my someone since we were kids. He’s always known what to do, and I’m praying that he can help me figure this out. He’s doing what he can on his end to unravel this web while I’m touring. Since that first text message six weeks ago, the blackmailer has been suspiciously quiet, but it hasn’t lulled me. If anything I live on high alert, braced for his next jab. I have no idea who knows about that sex tape, who’s behind it, and until I do, I’m giving nothing away to anyone. Not even sweet Ella.
“How should I know who’s sending the mistletoe?” I re-take my seat in front of the mirror, waiting for Ella to resume the makeup and hair rituals we’ve gone through together on this tour. “There’s never a card.”
“Probably because there doesn’t need to be one.” Ella goes back to scooping up my hair, but doesn’t leave this dangerous subject alone. “Everyone knows you were dating him and everyone saw things go bad on that video. You telling me he’s not trying to win you back?”
I’m telling you nothing.
A knock at the door saves me from having to avoid more questions.
“That’ll be Malcolm.” Ella heads out of the bathroom, calling back to me. “Forgot he said he was coming up.”
“For what?” I ask the girl in the mirror since Ella’s gone. The girl I’ve seen every day of my life, but sometimes barely recognize after only two months on the road. Same dark hair and tilted eyes, traces of her Asian ancestry. Same petite figure, maybe a little slimmer now. But that’s where the similarities end. Something behind those eyes has changed. Beyond the surface I’m a collection of reordered molecules making me a new creature I wouldn’t know in a crowd. I’m guarded in a fundamentally different way than when I first moved to LA. Maybe because I shared myself with Rhyson and he betrayed the trust it took me so long to give. Maybe I’m afraid to open up because I’m in an industry of takers who would usurp my place in a heartbeat if I slack off even a little. On days like today when I’d rather be cuddled in bed than putting on false eyelashes at five a.m., all I want to do is let up, but I can’t. I don’t want to gain everything I’ve dreamed of only to lose everything I am, but I feel that happening in some ways, and it all starts behind the eyes.