“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.
“You ready?” John Malcolm asks from the doorway.
Ella takes her place behind me again, swiveling me on the stool so she can apply a creamy foundation.
“I’m ready.”
“Always.” Malcolm leans his back against the wall, a smile creasing his puffy face, making him look like a happy blowfish. “Always the professional.”
“Thanks,” I murmur, barely parting the lips Ella is lining.
“This appearance is a big deal, Kai.” Malcolm watches the makeup motions Ella goes through. “Morning Hype isn’t just one of New York’s biggest shows. It’s one of the biggest shows. And even though Luke was the original draw, your performance on tour is creating enough buzz for them to ask you to come along.”
I just nod since Ella’s filling in my lips with our favorite red matte. This isn’t my first radio appearance with Luke. Yeah, it’s the biggest, but why do I get the feeling there’s more to it? Probably because Malcolm is rubbing his chin in the way that means he’s broaching a touchy subject.
“They have this segment called No Holds Barred.” Malcolm leans forward the tiniest bit, making sure he looks right into my eyes even though Ella is brushing shadow across my eyelids. “They’ll have questions about Gray.”
It takes a nanosecond to sink in. I’ve scrupulously avoided all questions and discussion of my relationship with Rhyson. Maybe it would have been smart for me to talk about it. To blast in every interview that I’m done with Rhyson Gray. That there’s no hope for us. Maybe that would have bought me some breathing room with my blackmailer. I just never could do it. Never could say we’re kaput. Every time I consider his betrayal, it’s like a fresh blow to my heart. He held me when Total Package turned me down. He was the one who kissed away my tears. If I fell for that, what else was a lie?
If something is built on a lie, can it still be real?
I can’t make myself believe that what Rhys and I shared wasn’t real, that it was all somehow a fabrication. He was the realest thing I’ve ever had.
And, even with the lies, I still miss him.
“I’m not talking about Rhyson.” I lower my real lashes, wishing now for the falsies to hide behind.