Grown(31)

“Well, we won’t have to worry about buying her some new tits,” he says. “She got them Ds, but we gotta work on that ass.”

“I’ll call Dr. Adams when we get to Miami,” Jessica says. “She’ll need recovery time.”

“Add some teeth whitening, too.”

I bite my lip, wondering what Mom would say. Shouldn’t I ask her first, before going to doctors? Gab told me those surgeries are dangerous—girls walk around with cement in their butts.

“And get her some new panties. Sick of seeing those grandma drawers,” Korey says, lifting the elastic around my waist, giving me an instant wedgie. “I want nothing but thongs!”

Leigh blinks at him, gaping. She studies me and I give her my best fake smile, holding back tears.

Still no studio time. No talk of an album. No singing lessons. My songbook, stuffed deep inside my suitcase, cries for air.

All we practice is how to look like anyone but me.

Gab, don’t know if you’re going to be free or not but we’re performing in Connecticut on Saturday. Maybe you and Jay can drive up? I’ll have tickets at the box office for you. Miss you. Wish you’d just talk to me.

“Drink.”

Korey’s outstretched hand holds a cup of clear liquid. Just like the night he saved me in Jersey. Except the conditions have changed.

“I don’t really want any.”

“Think I care what you want? I said drink,” he slurs. “Standing around here looking stupid. Embarrassing me.”

The greenroom is tight, smoky, and clogged full of unfamiliar faces, mostly groupies who don’t pay me any attention. The more tour stops we make, the more groupies he collects like souvenirs.

“I said drink,” he barks. Korey is drunk again, and I think of making a run for my room, where I can at least hide for the night. Tony stands by the door like a wall. Even if I try to leave, he’ll probably stop me.

He’s stopped me before.

I check my phone several times, hoping Gab will call. Text. Even to say she’s not coming. Mom couldn’t take off work, leaving Daddy at home to watch the Littles. Don’t think he wanted to come anyway.

I sip and sip until the room is a dizzy haze.

Food arrives. Food he requires on his talent rider. Enough food to feed my entire family twice over that he never touches. Just nibbles on a few crackers or peanuts.

“You need a steak.”

“I don’t eat meat.”

“You eat fish,” he counters.

“That’s . . . different.”

“Well, that’s what you need to do. I’m not going to put all this work into an ungrateful ass,” he barks. “Now I’m telling you what to do, so do it or I’m sending your ass back home. Eat the fucking steak!”

He shoves the plate in my direction. The room grows quiet. My neck tightens as I pick a slice of bloody meat with my hand and pop a chunk in my mouth, feeling the cow screaming for its life.

The party continues. I keep drinking, the alcohol taking the edge off my misery. Mr. Hyde, that’s all I’m dealing with. He’ll be Dr. Jekyll soon enough.

“Nah, Enchanted got that Juice Box vibe.”

“What does that even mean?” Someone laughs.

“Yo, let me show you. Ma, come here!”

A girl from across the room struts over and I almost didn’t recognize her. It’s Amber. Her hair is bone straight, dyed black, long and silky . . .

Like Pocahontas.

“See?” Korey says, showing her off like a model car. “Look at Amber, now look at Enchanted. See the difference? One is shaped like a coke bottle . . . the other like a juice box.”

Korey bursts into laughter. The room nervously laughs with him.

“Damn, man, that’s cold,” his friend laughs.

Amber twirls around, smirking at me. Vomit builds in my throat.

I stumble, catching a glimpse of myself in the vanity mirror. Not myself, but someone who used to be me. Tears brimming, I pour myself another glass of vodka.

“That better not be your only cup!” Korey says to me from . . . somewhere. I can’t tell. Everything is a blur.

I check my phone one last time. Still nothing. Anger rises with bile. Some damn best friend I got. We have one fight and she cuts me off like some dead ends she needed to trim. She wouldn’t even try to be happy for me. This is all I’ve ever wanted. Does she even know what she wants besides Jay?

I drift toward the door.

“Tony, has anyone come . . . looking for me?”

“Nah.”

My knees clash together.

“You need to sit on down,” he says.

I do, flopping back on the sofa, letting my eyes close on one last thought—Gab and I are done.





Chapter 40


Friction




My throat is lined with sandpaper. Hangovers and a moving tour bus don’t mix. But the show must go on. Except tonight, my performance was stagnant. Fake. Forced. Voice cracking at the end of my solo.

Korey noticed. And he’s not happy about it.

“What the fuck was that?” he screams. “This isn’t karaoke.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” I cry.

“You made me look like an idiot out there! Damn, can’t you do anything right?”