Chapter Seven
I approached Harper Music with single-minded determination, listening to the sound of my heels clicking in a steady rhythm along the sidewalk and doing my best to avoid all else. I kept my head high, and I had made sure to wear the most fantastic romper I owned—one that really set off my sun-kissed skin tone (slightly enhanced by Wanda and her beauticians) and an adorable leather jacket to ward off the chill of the early autumn mornings. I’d gone as far as fixing my chin length hair and generously applied my makeup, even though it was another day in the studio.
I’d been doing it for nearly a month, making sure to appear my best in all respects since I’d been wrongfully accused of dog abuse. Most fans had come to my defense, but there were too many people who were convinced I really was that terrible of a person, and that the horrendous picture of me booting Cinnamon through the air was merely a manifestation of my secret inner witch.
“Oh, no,” I groaned to myself. “Another one.”
A middle-aged man with a fringe of greasy hair on his otherwise bald head held a sign up. He bobbed it up and down as he walked circles in front of Harper Music. I tried not to read his sign but I couldn’t help myself:
Kiki Loveless? Try Kiki Heartless!
Press charges now!
At least I could hide my gaze behind my new sunglasses and never give him the satisfaction that I was looking in his direction.
My plan was to walk right in through the revolving doors without stopping. It would’ve gone off without a hitch if a cluster of fans hadn’t been waiting for me to take some pictures as I walked into work. It was then that the protestor realized the object of his rampage was walking right past him.
He rushed toward me, shouting about how unethical animal abuse was, and that I should be behind bars. I felt my blood pressure spiking and was about to rip off my sunglasses to let him know exactly what I thought of him, but Josh intervened.
Grabbing the man by the collar of his Meat is Murder t-shirt just inches before the man laid his hands on me, he skillfully carried him to the curb and deposited him on the edge of the street. I couldn’t hear what was being said, but I loved the fire in Josh’s expression. The protestor threw one last dirty look in my direction before stalking off. I pretended to be too preoccupied with the impromptu autograph signing with the group of teenage girls than to notice him, but I had learned to always be watching my back. When he was gone, I breathed a sigh of relief. Turning back to the girls, for a moment, I forgot about my worries and let myself be happy, knowing I was incredibly blessed to live the life I did, even if it came with the occasional troubles.
“You girls are great,” I told my fans. “Thanks for your support.”
And I meant it.
“We love you, Kiki!” one of them called as Josh excused me and put his hand on my lower back and guiding me into the safety of Harper Music’s building.
“Thanks for taking care of that guy,” I said to Josh quietly as we went through the enormous lobby, through security, and up the escalator. “I was hoping by now all this nonsense would’ve blown over.”
Josh shrugged. “It is my job to protect you, and I am very good at it.”
“If you do say so yourself, huh?” I teased, stepping off the escalator and over to several sets of elevators.
“What good is false modesty in a situation like this? I’d better be good at it and know that I am,” Josh answered.
He looked down at me, and I felt a tiny quiver in my knees. Shooing that observation to the back of my brain, I pointed out, “You know, if you hadn’t made me pick up that dog poop, none of this would have ever happened.”
We stepped onto the elevator, crowding in with other warm bodies on their way to work. I wasn’t about to complain how Josh stood so closely behind me that I could feel his breath on the nape of my neck.
He laughed soulfully at my comment, and the sound bounced off the elevator walls. “You’re knickers still in a twist about that?”
“Huh?”
“Are your knickers still—”
“I heard what you said. I just don’t understand why you use all this backwood slang when you could speak like a normal person.”
Josh looked at me, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “We’re from a speck on the map in the middle of Kansas and not all of us left so quickly as you. What I’m insinuating is that I’m surprised you’re still trying to spin this into being my fault, right?”
“That’s right,” I agreed. “If I wouldn’t have been grossed out by doing what you compelled me to do, I wouldn’t have been angry, and I would have been paying better attention to where Cinnamon was walking.”
“Oh, well, if that’s how you’re going to play it, maybe we should pin it on Ruby. She’s the one who got you riled up in the first place by flicking salad dressing in your eyes. Or better yet, maybe it’s Cinnamon’s fault for doing his business at all. How dare he poop.”
I turned around, crossing my arms, and taking off my sunglasses so he could get the full measure of my glare. “It’s not that—”
“Deep down,” he interrupted, “I think we all know it all originated when you decided on where we should eat.”
I scoffed heatedly. “That’s rich. Please tell me how me choosing a restaurant has somehow led to the paparazzi getting an awful photo of me.”
Giving me a smirk that showcased an adorable dimple in the middle of his left cheek, Josh raised his brow but kept silent. It made my blood boil when he did that, like he knew he was dangling the one thing I wanted but couldn’t have right in front of my face. Finally, he gave in. “You chose salad.”
“Salad?” I said incredulously. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“No salad, no salad dressing. No burning eyes, no slow stroll back home, no need to stop and pick up doggie doodoo. Seriously. Who lives off of salad for a meal? I need carbs and protein if you want to keep up enough muscle to keep the creeps away.”
Josh’s eyes sparkled. Behind them, I could see a mischievous, boyish humor that was dying to come out. He may have matured both physically and mentally, but deep down, there was still a silly boy who liked to tease girls.
Unwittingly, a snort of laughter escaped my lips right as the elevator dinged for us to exit. “Did you just say ‘doggie doodoo?’”
Josh couldn’t contain his laughter, and the whole thing snowballed until tears were streaming down my face and my abs felt like I’d been doing a core workout with my personal trainer. Josh had to blow out a long breath to compose himself, though he couldn’t seem to completely wipe the grin off his face.
Passing the waiting area, we rounded the corner and nearly bowled over Mandy.
“Oh, good. You’re here,” she said.
For a nanosecond, I noticed her eyes linger on Josh’s chest on their way down to looking at the tablet she held in the crook of her arm. I just hoped he wasn’t busy reciprocating. A man would be a fool not to notice how silky her long blond hair was, her perfect poise, and how her lean legs were practically sky-high, making her several inches taller than me.
I shook my head, realizing I’d been letting my thoughts wander while Mandy clicked through the schedule on her tablet, prattling on about everything that was coming up. In the next few days, we were to finish recording Only You, the song I’d co-written with Ruby. Then, the following week, we’d be heading to Europe, shooting a music video, and begin our practices for the European tour, which would start shortly after.
“Oh, and Monica Best is here. Finally,” Mandy said matter-of-factly, like we hadn’t been waiting all week for her to show up so we could record her harmonizing vocals.
“The little diva returns,” I said with a nod. “C’mon, Muscles. Down to the recording studio we go.”
Descending a flight of stairs, Josh mentioned. “You say diva like it’s a bad thing. Isn’t that what you’re always calling yourself?”
I let him reach around me and push open the door out into an echoing corridor lined floor to ceiling
with windows. “Being a diva is something you literally have to earn. Harper Music puts up with my occasional quirks because I’ve lined their pockets. Monica, well, you’ll see.”
We reached the recording studio, and again, I let Josh open the door, gesturing me in. I was fine with him being a gentleman, and secretly, I enjoyed a lungful of his musky cologne every time he was in close proximity. It was an indulgence I could keep all to myself.
“Kiki!” Monica squealed with delight, jumping off the leather couch lined against the far wall. “It’s been too long.”
“Over a year.”
Monica tossed her magazine onto the coffee table and sauntered over to me, where we exchanged air kisses.
“Where did you disappear to?” I asked Monica, not afraid to mince words.
After she’d been selected to tour with me, and she bailed before we even had one performance together, she owed it to me to at least tell me where she’d been. Rumor had it she’d had a mental breakdown, lit her ex-boyfriend’s car on fire, and ran off to Cabo or Bora Bora or something. I wasn’t sure how much of it was true, but I knew for a fact the same Troy who’d tried to woo Ruby had also done the same to Monica. Good riddance to that snake.
“Oh,” she said airily with a one-shouldered shrug. “I needed a bit of time to sort through some things, heal from my wounds, that kind of stuff.”
“You could have let me know,” I said, pursing my lips together and giving her a firm look. “You left me rather high and dry.”
Monica giggled. It was her high-pitched, childish, completely fake laugh that she used when she wanted to appear cute or too dumb to know what was going on.
“Oh, wow!” Monica said, ignoring my statement and looking down at the nude leather pumps I’d worn to work. “Are those the new Louboutins from his fall line?”
“You like them?” I asked, turning my foot and modeling them for her.
“They’re killer! Did you know men were the first people to wear heels?”
I looked up at Monica and a chuckle escaped me. “Excuse me?”
“Yeah, it was way back in the tenth century, I think.” She tapped her chin and looked like her head might explode if she thought much harder. “It had to do with safety when men were riding horses, to keep their feet from slipping through the thingy that dangles down the side of the saddle that you put your foot in. What’s that called?”
“The stirrup,” Josh answered.
Monica’s face brightened. “Yes! The stirrup. Since only wealthy men owned horses and did any riding, heels became a status symbol. It’s true.”
I smiled at Monica. Able to remember the most obscure tidbits, yet I wouldn’t put it past her to misspell her own name. “I believe you. Still collecting random facts, I see.”
“I love a good documentary,” she shrugged. Turning to Josh, Monica asked, “Now who is this hunk of handsome who knows his way around a saddle?”
Throwing a sideways glance at Josh, he briefly met my eyes. I could see him holding back his amusement as he took Monica’s hand and gave it a firm shake. “Josh Coleman. I’m on security detail.”
“Ooo,” Monica cooed. “I’m sure my manager will be so pleased to hear Harper Music has finally invested in some decent bodyguards.”
Heat flooded my face, and my chest constricted as Monica reached over and placed her hand on Josh’s biceps with a coy smile. There was no denying that jealousy had struck a nerve with me, and I didn’t know how to handle it. It wasn’t like Josh was mine by any stretch of the imagination, but he’d become part of my regular routine, and I liked that, to say nothing of how he added a nice dose of eye candy to my days.
“Where is your manager, anyway?” I asked, pushing my way past Monica and Josh to sit in an office chair by the soundboard. “I hear he’s also your boyfriend.”
“Yeah, we’ve been dating since shortly after I had my little…” she stopped. Searching her vocabulary, she wafted her hand in the air. “Break from stardom.”
“So, who is he? Do I know him?”
Monica got that blank look on her face again and she shrugged hesitantly. “I’m not sure.”
“Not sure?”
Monica said slowly, “Well, you might have.”
“Might have?” I repeated. “Monica, you’re confusing me. Have I or have I not met your manager?”
“You can ask him when you meet him,” Monica said evasively.
I threw my hands up in the air. “Fine. I will ask your manager myself when I meet him. When will that be?”
“He’ll be joining us sometime soon.”
“Sometime today?”
“Probably when we get settled in Europe.”
“That’s not exactly what I’d call soon.”
“It’s sooner than the end of the year,” Monica answered hastily.
I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry or strangle Monica where she stood. She wasn’t trying to be difficult, she really was that ditzy. “True…”
“I promise you’ll love him. He’s so good at his job. He’s the one who helped me get back on track and in Harper Music’s good graces.”
Josh and I exchanged a knowing look. If Mr. Drake grudgingly honoring her contract was getting back into the music industry’s good graces, then I must have looked like an absolute saint.
The door opened, and Ruby walked in with a smoothie in one hand and a cheerful smile on her face. “Good morning everyone! Ready to…”
Following her line of sight, her eyes had landed on Monica. I’d always wondered how this day would go. Sooner or later, Monica and Ruby were going to meet, and I couldn’t help but feel a bit sympathetic for Ruby. Once, when she had been feeling particularly down, she had admitted that she felt merely like a fill-in for Monica, since she’d gone missing. I had reassured her that had I needed to choose between her and Monica, I would have chosen Ruby all the way. Both were talented women with incredible stage presence and voices that could blow audiences away, but when it came down to it, Ruby blew Monica out of the water with work ethic.
“This must be my replacement,” Monica said, her sharp green eyes cutting into Ruby.
Monica extended her hand, and Ruby took it, neither of them blinking. “I didn’t realize you were with Harper Music long enough to need replacing. From what I understand, you never actually performed with Kiki.”
“It’s true I never had a chance to perform before an unfortunate hiccup in my career, but if you recall, I proved myself plenty at nineteen state fairs last summer. That’s how Kiki found me in the first place.”
Ruby scrunched her nose. “State fairs?”
Monica stiffened, and her smile tightened. “Yes. Having only been on YouTube, you might not understand how vigorous a solo act for a season of state fairs can be. Not just anyone can do it, and I managed to sell out for over half of those.”
“Perhaps,” Ruby smirked, “but I seem to have gained enough experience in my own right. Best ticket sales you’ve ever had, right Kiki? And all of them were sold out?”
I bobbed my head slightly, not really wanting to be in the middle of this cat fight.
“I’m pretty confident I have people’s approval,” Ruby said.
Monica shot back, “I wonder if it has to do with your haircut. It’s about the edgiest thing you’ve ever done.”
Ruby’s blue eyes narrowed into angry slits. She hated being reminded about her rash decision to cut off over a foot of her gorgeous flaxen hair. She totally rocked the short hair, but to her, it might as well have been complimenting a peacock who’d had his tail lopped off.
The tension in the room was palpable, and already the good mood Josh had blessed me with by making me laugh was slowly being suffocated. Mandy knocked on the door and peeked her head in.
“Here’s the sound crew. Since everyone’s present, Mr. Drake would like you to go ahead and get recording,” Mandy anything but subtly suggested. “We’re on a very tight schedule, if you all remember.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Ruby s
aid, giving her one of her signature dorky salutes. Grabbing her fiery red guitar, she started warming up her voice with a few arpeggios and strumming out a few harmonizing chords.
“Josh?” Mandy asked quietly. “Can I borrow you for a moment? Just want to discuss a few more security details with you.”
“Of course,” Josh said, scooting around the outside of the room to stay out of the now-bustling studio.
Mandy smiled at him, and my mood dipped further until he stuck his head back through the crack in the door and mouthed good luck to me with a subtle wink. And just like that, I was back on top again.
Chapter Eight
“What do you mean Julio Sanchez doesn’t want to be in my music video?” I yelled at George.
Not phased in the least by my outburst—they didn’t have the same effect that they used to when I did need to use strong emotion, because we’d known each other for so long—he dunked his French dip sandwich into his au jus and took an enormous bite. His eyes rolled back into his head, and his smile looked like he’d died and happily gone off to heaven.
“You really should try one of these, Kiki. It’s not every day you get to eat French cuisine in France,” George said through an ungentlemanly mouthful of sandwich.
“George,” I snapped. “Do I look like I’m in the mood for a soggy meat sandwich?”
I was reclined in one of Wanda’s chairs, and she was busy scrubbing my face in preparation for makeup for my music video. It smelled like ginger and aloe, but it felt like it was stripping off the top layer of my skin. Of anyone, I could trust Wanda with my life. If she said I needed to take a soak in a vat of live snails and Vaseline to keep my skin flawless, I would’ve done it.
“Well, I don’t necessarily mean right now,” George said, setting down his sandwich and wiping off his fingers on a napkin.
“Look, George,” I said, sitting up. I didn’t care if my face was red and covered in goop. “I appreciate what you’ve been doing with the publicists to get my image cleaned up after that stupid photo came out, but it’s not enough. I haven’t had a number one song in practically forever, and there are too many people out there still thinking I’m a soulless dog kicker. I need this video to be incredible for them to forget all that, and that means I need Julio.”
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