CHARLOTTE: Soul Sisters - Book One (The Soul Sisters 1)

by Nicole James

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  About the Author

  SOUL SISTERS

  Charlotte

  By

  Nicole James

  SOUL SISTERS

  Charlotte

  By

  Nicole James

  Copyright Nicole James

  All rights reserved

  Cover Design by Lori Jackson

  Cover Photography by LJ Photography - Lance Jones

  Cover Model: Cassia Brightmore

  Editing by Cookie Lynn Publishing

  CHAPTER ONE

  Charlotte—

  From half a block down, I spot her standing in front of the dive restaurant, her arms folded, her hip out, looking bored and put out. I smile. I guess in the nine years we’ve been apart she’s grown a backbone.

  Scarlett may be my twin, but I’ve always looked after her, playing the part of the big sister. Perhaps it was because she’s always been the more sensitive and emotional one, while I’ve always been more pragmatic and determined. I have the street smarts, though neither of us ever finished school. Music was always the plan for both of us. It was the only ticket out of the small town where we grew up. But the reality of life on the road and stardom is not all its cracked up to be. I found that out quickly enough.

  “That’s her,” I tell my driver, Daryl.

  Daryl’s been with me for years, traveling to every city and tour stop along the way. I trust him with all my secrets, and I know he’d never betray me. We’re as close as family. Him and Trina, and their girls, as well as Mama Bessie, are my family. They are the people I spend the holidays with when I want to escape from everything.

  “When’s the last time you saw her, Miss Charlotte?” he asks.

  Daryl’s never met Scarlett. I hired him after. After what I call our big blow out.

  “Nine years ago. It was our eighteenth birthday.”

  The woman waiting is nothing like the girl I remember growing up. This girl looks tough and no one to mess with in her sleeveless motorcycle tee shirt, worn jeans, and biker boots. Her long pale blonde hair is braided over one shoulder and a dusty brown ball cap pulled low. She looks like Thelma from Thelma & Louise right after they blasted that redneck’s tanker truck to smithereens. I smile and can’t help wondering what’s happened to my sister in the years we’ve been apart.

  The limo glides to the curb, and I power the window down. “Get in.”

  Scarlett pulls the shades off her eyes, and I look into the same brown ones as mine. Hers are heavily lined, and it’s a big change from the soft innocent look she used to favor.

  There are years of experiences reflected at me in those eyes.

  My “baby” sister—by four minutes—has matured beyond her twenty-seven years, it seems.

  She climbs in, and I tell Daryl to drive. I’ve already instructed him to just drive around the city, steering clear of the Strip. Last thing I want is to be stuck in Vegas’s slow moving tourist traffic.

  “Thank you for meeting me,” I say, reaching a hand out to touch hers. “I’ve missed you.”

  She arcs a brow, her eyes sweeping over my outfit from the flowing hand-painted silk kimono covering my silver sequined tank top and designer jeans, down to my gold Jimmy Choo heeled sandals. “Missed me? Really? I find that hard to believe with your busy rock star life. I doubt you’ve had the time.”

  “It’s true. I have been busy.”

  “How was your European tour?” she asks, and I can see by the way she looks out the window at the passing scenery that she’s only being polite. I doubt she has the slightest interest, but I answer her anyway.

  “Successful, hectic, exhausting. I thought I’d get to see more of it, but it was just an endless string of hotel rooms.” I stare unseeing out my window.

  “Gee, must be rough.” Sarcasm drips from every word.

  I study her. “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful for my success. I’m just tired.”

  “What brings you to Vegas?”

  “I’m in town at the invitation of a new boutique hotel. I’ll be playing a couple of shows there at the end of the month and until then, I’ll be holed up, working up songs for the US tour, costume fittings, that sort of thing.”

  “When’s the US tour start?”

  “In four weeks. And believe me, I had to fight for that much time off. If I let him, my manager would add another leg and take most of it.”

  “I’m honored you had time to squeeze me in for lunch.”

  “I wasn’t sure you’d come. You’ve blown me off every other time I’ve tried. But I could hardly come to town and not at least try to see you. I’m just glad, for whatever reason, you agreed to meet me this time.”

  “So where are we going?”

  About that time, Daryl pulls into a parking lot where a food truck is parked and serving a line of people. Taco Jack’s. Daryl asked around, and they’re supposed to be the best place in town.

  Scarlett leans to peer through my window. “Big spender.”

  “You know I can’t just walk in anyplace anymore. Not without posing for a dozen pictures with fans.”

  “Your band’s gotten that big, huh?”

  “Are we going to play that game? Are you going to pretend you haven’t followed my career?”

  She folds her arms and stares out her window.

  “What’ll you have, ladies?” Daryl twists in his seat to peer back at us. He knows this routine by now. He always gets out to grab the food.

  I pass him some bills. “Carne Asada tacos, please.” I look to Scarlett.

  “Same.”

  “So…” I paste a smile. “What have you been doing?”

  “Running a bar.”

  “Really?” I frown. I had no idea. “With all the bars in Vegas? How do you survive all the competition?”

  “My place is about an hour outside the city.”

  “What kind of place is it?”

  “It’s nothing fancy, but we get a good crowd, especially on bike night.”

  My eyes drop to the shirt she’s wearing. “Bike night? You mean like motorcycles?”

  She gives me a smirk. “Yeah, Charlotte, bikers.”

  My brows lift. “You run a biker bar? How the hell did that happen?”

  “What do you care?”

  “Come on, Scarlett, this is fascinating. Tell me.”

  She shrugs. “I met a man. We dated a long time. We fell in love. He was diagnosed with prostate cancer. He died a little over a year ago. He left me the bar.”

  “Wow. I’m so sorry. That must have devastated you.” She looks out her window, but I see the glaze in her eyes. I reach out and squeeze her hand. “Really, Scarlett, I’m so sorry for you.”

  She nods and swallows, but says nothing.

  “What was his name?”

  “Russell, but everyone called him Buck.”

  “I wish you’d have called me. You know I would have been there for you.”

  With that, she lets out a
choked laugh. “Really? And how would I know that? By the way things ended with us?”

  “You know I never meant to hurt you. This life was just too much for you. Someone had to be honest with you.”

  “We were a duo. It was always us against the world, Charlotte. And then you just shove me out when things started looking up. You just wanted that record deal all to yourself.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Scarlett, someday you’ll understand. I did what I did because I care about you.”

  “Oh, right. Whatever. If that’s what you have to tell yourself so you can sleep at night, go right on lying to yourself.”

  “It’s not a lie. Someday you’ll see. Someday you’ll understand.”

  “I understand just fine. You took it from me.

  I stare out the window. “You didn’t really want it.”

  “Didn’t I?”

  “Someday you’ll find out the truth, and you’ll thank me.”

  “You’re so full of shit.”

  I turn to look at her. “I really am sorry for how things ended between us. I just want you to be happy.”

  We sit silently, and Daryl returns with our food. We eat.

  I moan around the first bite. “Oh, my God, these are to die for.”

  “At least you picked the best place in town.”

  We gobble our food; it's just too good to eat slowly. When we finish, I slurp the last of my drink from the straw and look over at Scarlett. “Do you still play?”

  “Some.”

  “Are you still writing?”

  “A little.” She balls up her wrapper. “I’m sure you wouldn’t like them.”

  I tilt my head and watch the emotions play across her face. “If you had a chance to switch places with me, would you do it?”

  She huffs. “What are you talking about?”

  “Like I said, my band’s going to be in Vegas for a few weeks to work up some new material. We’re doing a short run of three shows to practice new material more than anything else. You know, get it right before the tour.”

  “Where are you staying?”

  “It’s called Hotel Blue. Have you heard of it?

  “I don’t get to the Strip much these days.”

  “Oh.” I bite my lip as a crazy idea flashes through my brain. “Remember when we were kids, and we would pretend to be each other?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Let’s switch places. For real.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, you be Charlotte Justice for a bit.”

  “Have you lost your mind?”

  “I need a break from it. Running a bar sounds like a breeze. That would be a vacation for me.”

  “You think it’s so simple?”

  “How hard can it be? I bet it’s a real beer and shot joint, right?”

  “Well, yeah. Mostly.”

  “I’ll have a break, and you’ll have a chance to see the life you always wanted isn’t what it’s cracked up to be.”

  “No way.” She shakes her head.

  “I want you to have your shot. Don’t you want to know what its like? I can give that to you.”

  “What, make me famous?”

  “No, give you a taste of what it’s like. Switch places with me.”

  “You’re as loony as a bird.”

  “I need a break. You should know a taste of what you walked out on.”

  “You pushed me out.”

  “You do this, maybe you’ll understand why.”

  “Whatever.”

  I start taking my clothes off.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Hurry. Switch outfits with me. We’ll be back at the hotel soon.”

  “You’re really serious about this?”

  “Yes. It’ll only be for a few weeks. Then you’ll know if music is what you really should be doing.”

  “For real? You really want to do this?”

  “Yes! We’ll have to exchange purses, keys, and phones.”

  “Phones?”

  “Yes, how else will you be me?”

  “This is crazy,” she says as she starts pulling off her boots.

  I giggle, suddenly more excited than I’ve been in weeks. “Crazy awesome. It’s not often people get to find out what it would be like if they took a different path in life. Now we’ll both get to find out.”

  “Just an FYI, my bar opens at three p.m. so you better haul your ass out there.”

  “Shit.” My eyes wide, I move even faster.

  We quickly switch outfits and jewelry. I slip her sunglasses on and braid my hair like her. I glance in the drop-down mirror. Not bad. Then I look over at her. “I part my hair on the other side. And wipe off the red lipstick. I only use pink.”

  She pulls down the mirror on her side and makes the changes. I notice her nails when she runs her fingers through her hair, fluffing it out, and I grab her hand.

  “Crap.”

  “What?” She frowns at me.

  Her nails are short and the funky lavender polish is all chipped. “You have to hide these and call and have the hotel send someone up to the suite from the salon to fix these immediately.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Fine.”

  I dig in my Gucci purse, grabbing the pen and small notebook I always keep handy in case song lyrics come to me. I scribble down the code to my phone, my suite number, and any other details I can think of quickly. Then I pass the book to Scarlett. “Give me the code to your phone and whatever else I’ll need to know.”

  She scribbles out two full sheets of info, then rips them off and gives them to me. I fold it and tuck it in her small cross body bag.

  “Whatever you do, don’t sign any recording contracts while I’m gone. I’m serious. My manager is going to push you hard. You have to put him off until I get back.”

  “Fine. And don’t you sell my bar while I’m gone, and I’m serious about that.”

  “Sell your bar? Why would I sell your bar?”

  “’Cause I owe some money, and the people I owe that money to want to push me out and take it over.”

  “I would never sell your bar, Scar. How much do you owe?”

  “That’s not your business.”

  “Maybe I can help you.”

  “I don’t need your help. I’m managing just fine.”

  “We’re almost there, Miss Charlotte,” Daryl informs us.

  I look over at my sister and squeeze her hand. “Call me if you need anything. Oh, and what’s the name of your bar?”

  “Badlands.”

  I pull Scarlett in for a hug and whisper in her ear, “Have fun, Scarlett. You deserve this chance. I love you.”

  Daryl pulls under the busy hotel’s portico, bringing the limo to a stop, and almost immediately a valet opens the door. Then there’s no more time. He leans in, holding his hand out to help Scarlett from the vehicle. “They’re waiting for you, Miss Justice.”

  Scarlett looks back at me questioningly. “Waiting for me?”

  “Costume fittings,” I mouth as I see my manager Lou jog up, my bodyguard in tow.

  “Where have you been? And why aren’t you answering your phone?”

  Scarlett is hustled away. I watch through the window until they disappear through the entrance.

  “Where to now, Miss Charlotte?”

  I meet Daryl’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “Back to where we picked her up, so I can retrieve her car.”

  He drives me to the restaurant and lets me out.

  Daryl powers the window down and looks at me. “You sure this is safe? You won’t have a bodyguard, Miss Charlotte.”

  “I’ll be fine. But please take care of my sister. Oh, and text her and let her know she can call you for anything, okay?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’ll take good care of her.”

  “Goodbye, Daryl.” I smile, because for a short time I’m free of everything. I feel the weight lifted from my shoulders, and it’s an amazing feeling.


  “Goodbye, Miss Charlotte.”

  I watch him drive off, then dig in Scarlett’s bag for her keys. She’s got a Ford key fob, and I beep it. An older blue F150 flashes its lights, and I make my way to it. I climb inside and stare at the dash. I haven’t driven a car in so long, and I’ve never driven a pickup truck before. It's kind of fun sitting up so high. I fire it up, and the engine purrs to life. Country music flows out of the speakers. Waylon and Willie are crooning about a good-hearted woman in love with a good-timing man. I crank it up and spot a worn straw cowboy hat on the passenger seat. I swap the ball cap out and pop the cowboy hat on my head, checking the look in the rearview. I pull up the bar on my phone and get directions. I smile and pull out onto the highway.

  “Yeehaw!” I scream at the top of my lungs.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Charlotte—

  I’ve been driving for almost an hour, and I’m on a two-lane road with desert scrublands all around. I can’t help wondering who would patron a bar way out here. I see some buildings in the distance, and judging by the navigation, it’s got to be Scarlett’s bar. I pull off into the dusty dirt, park in front, and stare up at the building. It has a covered wooden porch, much like an old-time saloon boardwalk. It wouldn’t surprise me if I saw a horse tied up in front. Across the top in big black painted letters it reads, BADLANDS.

  There’s not another car around this one stop-sign town, if you can even call it a town. I see a couple of out buildings in the back, a tiny combination gas station/mini mart on the diagonal corner, and an abandoned car wash next door to it.

  I take out the folded papers and read the note Scarlett wrote.

  The code to my phone is my birthday, so you shouldn’t have trouble remembering that. The blue key is for the bar and the red key is for the little white house behind it where I live.

  The bar is open 3p.m. to midnight or whenever it dies off.

  I’ve got two part-time employees, Shelly and Pete. They alternate weekdays, and both work Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays when we tend to be busy.

  I glance around. Busy? Out here? Is she kidding me? If I saw a tumbleweed blow past, I wouldn’t be surprised. I’ve been sitting here five minutes and haven’t seen a single car.