Grown(49)

Korey.

I blink, my vision blurring, and pray I’m seeing things. I spin again, glancing at the band behind me, and there he is. Playing drums. Even with the sunglasses and hoodie, I couldn’t mistake that smile.

He’s here. Onstage with me. Again.

I turn back to the crowd, and somehow, I keep up with the song, while my insides scream.

He’s here he’s here he’s here he’s here he’s here.

My eye twitches, the lights too bright and I’m too terrified to blink. I almost forget the modulation at the end of the song and go up an octave.

“Baby, ’cause you’re the one that I love

Baby, you’re the one that I need”

Fear keeps me moving. I spin again to sneak another look. Korey is grinning, having the time of his life. He looks . . . proud.

Don’t look at him. Don’t. Run!

I go up the next octave. And the next one. And the next one. My voice nearly cracks at the end.

How did he get in here? Did Louie invite him? Was this all a trap from the start? What if he takes me? What if he . . . he . . .

“Love on TOP!”

A roaring applause caps off the song and I sprint stage left, into the darkness, toward the back door. A pair of hands grabs me, and I scream.

“Enchanted! Holy shit! That was amazing!” Louie cheers, lifting me off the floor. “Do you hear that crowd! Look at them!”

Teeth chattering, I shake my head. I can’t go back out there. He’s here, he’s here, he’s here . . . run! Need to tell someone, but the words are stuck. My mouth moves but no sound comes out.

“Look, Enchanted! Look! They’re all on their feet.”

I peer over my shoulder, only to look onstage. The band set is empty. Korey’s gone. But the crowd . . . they’re cheering. A bubble of hope inflates. Maybe I really could be something without him.

“Hey? Everything OK?” Louie says, suddenly serious. “Look like you’ve seen a ghost. Want me to get your mom?”

My blood turns to ice, veins throbbing. Should I tell them? No. Mom can’t know. She’ll never let me out of her sight for as long as I live.

And then . . . I’ll never sing again.





Chapter 62


Legalese




“Korey Fields sent a copy of your contract.”

At Sylvia’s restaurant in Harlem, Mom and I meet Louie for our weekly strategy meeting. Mom wants to be more involved in my career moves. But this news took us both by surprise.

“Contract? What contract?” Mom asks.

Louie sighs, digging in his messenger bag.

“That’s what I thought. I let my lawyer take a look. Apparently, you signed to Korey’s label.”

Mom and I share an equally confused look.

“What label? What are you talking about?”

“You don’t remember signing any documents?”

Mom shrugs. “Only the proxy paperwork that girl Jessica gave me.”

“Did it look something like this?”

Louie passes her a stack of papers. The instant I see its thickness I know we’re in trouble. Mom flips through the pages, nodding slow.

“Well, yes. She told me it’s all standard. Like a big long permission slip to go on a class trip.”

Louie rubs his face, eyebrows creased.

“Korey had you sign to his label, Field of Dreams Records.”

“He has his own label?” I ask. “Since when?”

“It’s an imprint under RCA, relatively new. He was going to announce this fall, with a roster of new up-and-coming artists.”

“So RCA sent this to you?” Mom asks. “Then, they gotta know what he’d done to her by now!”

“They do. And this is their first way of silencing you.” He pokes the papers in Mom’s hands hard. “According to this contract, he pretty much owns any music you produce for the next three years.”

It feels like the final gutting. The last chop to my mermaid tail. He knew how to slice into me where it would hurt the worst.

“But my songs . . . I’ve worked on them for years. They’re mine.”

Louie shakes his head.

“I’m sorry, Enchanted. Unless we can get out of this contract, there’s not much we can do.”





Chapter 63


Road Trip




“Look who’s home just in time for Teen Conference,” Malika grumbles, rolling her eyes. “Ain’t that convenient.”

Malika Evens has a mansion, one in a gated community around the corner from our house. It always amazes me how we can be so close and yet so far in every way imaginable.

Our W&W group gathers in the driveway, loading up the van for our weekend trip to the National Teen Conference. Malika’s and Aisha’s moms offered to be our chaperones. They give Shea and me dubious glances with strained smiles.

“Hi, ladies. Right on time,” Mrs. Evens says.

“What’s up, superstar,” Sean says, winking. “Glad you can kick it with us common folk! Guess you got the guap to buy us some bottles this time around, right?”

Veins tighten around my neck and I fake a smile. Malika rolls her eyes. Shea grabs my arm before I can lift our suitcase into the trunk.