Down to My Soul (Soul Series Book 2) (4 page)

I stand to shake her hand, realizing how much taller she is.

“Hi, Erika. Yeah, I’m Kai.”

“You Rhyson Gray’s girl?” Her almond-shaped eyes probe mine for a second before inspecting me from head to toe.

Who knows? I wake up every morning alone in a new hotel room wondering if I’m still Rhyson Gray’s girl. Having to answer that publicly, even between just the two of us, disconcerts me.

“Um . . .”

“I mean, ex-girl.” Qwest . . . Erika . . . shrugs. “Whatever.”

“Yeah, whatever.” I offer a shrug of my own.

“I ask because I’m wondering if you know Grip.” She slides her hands into her back pockets, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “He’s dope. I wanna collab, but having trouble getting to him. No manager. No agent. Nothing.”

“Yeah, he’s kind of grass roots.”

“That’s what I love about him.” She cups her neck and tilts her head back a little, covering the rose tattoo at her throat, a purely feminine appreciation in her eyes. “And he’s fine as hell. That don’t hurt.”

I’m not sure what she wants me to say or do here. I look at Luke, but he’s no help, surfing Instagram.

“How should I get to him? He and Rhyson are best friends, right? So I figured you might know a good angle.”

The word angle makes me uncomfortable, but I think she and Grip working together could be fire. And I know just the person to make it happen.

“Bristol Gray.” I give Erika a quick smile. “Have your people contact her. She’s Rhyson’s sister, not Grip’s manager, but she’d love to make something happen, and she probably can.”

“Nice. I’ll do that.”

We both turn when the door opens and the intern comes back through.

“Mr. Foster, Ms. Pearson, they’re ready for you.

“Hey.” Luke stands and smiles at Qwest, offering a hand. “I’m a fan.”

Erika’s eyes flick from his hand to his All-American face.

“Aiight. Thanks.” She gives his hand a quick shake. “Nice to meet you.”

Luke nods and goes on ahead. I’m turning to follow when Erika stops me with her words.

“You know they’re gonna try to eat you alive, right?” she asks, dark brows up. “I mean about Rhyson Gray and all that. That No Holds Barred segment is a trip.”

I glance at the intern holding the door open, who shifts from one booted foot to the other, waiting for me.

“They won’t get anything I don’t want to give,” I assure her, setting my mouth in a hard line.

“I can see that.” Erica grins. “And if they come at you, tell ‘em pucker up and kiss on these.”

She reaches back to grab the two globes of her ample ass. It takes a second for what she’s saying to compute, but once it does, I love it. And I think I love her. She’s based in New York and I’m in LA, but I think I could be friends with someone this genuine in a landscape of phonies.

I grab my round, if not-as-ample ass, and grin up at her.

“Got it.”

“Ms. Pearson, we need to go,” the intern says. “They’re ready for you.”

Erika and I exchange one last look, one last smile before I follow the intern into the studio.

Five minutes later, Luke and I sit around a huge table with Randy May,
Morning Hype’s
host, and his two co-hosts. I adjust the headphones piping in the intro package music as Randy comes back from the last commercial.

“One of today’s hottest performers is in the building,” Randy says into the mic. “We’ve got Luke Foster in studio this morning. Reminder we are streaming, and you’re gonna wanna tune in online because he brought his beautiful tourmate Kai Pearson with him. Let’s give them both a
Morning Hype
welcome.”

The show’s theme music plays over canned applause while Randy glances down at a small sheaf of papers in front of him. The other two hosts, a Black guy and a girl I’m guessing is Puerto Rican, murmur their welcomes, too.

“Luke, you’ve been to the show a few times since you won
Total Package
last season.” Randy gives Luke a brief smile. “Good to have you back.”

“Always love rolling through when I’m in New York,” Luke says with enviable ease. He’s such a people person this all comes naturally to him. I want to perform. I live to entertain, but get me offstage and that switch flips off. I’m afraid the millions listening are in for a snooze fest when Randy turns his attention to me.

“And you brought us a treat.” Curiosity and speculation mingle in Randy’s eyes when he considers me. “Kai Pearson, welcome to the show.”

“Thanks,” I say softly in the vicinity of the mic.

The producer catches my eye on the other side of the glass wall, gesturing for me to lean closer to the mic when I speak.

“Um, I mean.” I press my lips to the mic. “Glad to be here.”’

“You two are selling out arenas all over the country,” Lola, the only girl in their hosting trio pipes in. “Kai, about halfway through, you became Luke’s opening act. Really exceptional for a back-up singer new on the scene to get such a prominent role so quickly.”

All I hear between the lines of what she actually says is “What makes you so special?” Maybe I’m paranoid, but I’m not a fool. It’s no secret that a lot of people think I got this chance because of my relationship with Rhyson. The thing I hate, the thing I
really
hate, is that I can’t know for sure whether or not they’re at least a little right. Before I can respond, Luke jumps in.

“Kai’s an exceptional talent.” Luke flashes me a grin across the table littered with wires and notes. “I’d worked with her on my first video for this album, so we knew she could dance. We found out later what a great singer she was. Bringing her on tour and then expanding her role was a no brainer.”

I give him a tiny smile, hoping he knows how grateful I am. He’s a real class act. Every time a reporter or blogger implies that I’m not here on the merit of my talent, he very subtly and convincingly defends me. It didn’t take long for me to understand why he’s in Rhyson’s small circle of friends.

We answer questions about the tour for a few minutes and take a short station break. All I can think about is the breakfast Malcolm promised me after this interview. I’d love to do some sightseeing, but there’s not time. We’re going straight into rehearsals and then it’ll be show time. And then tomorrow the next city, the next show.

“We’re back.” Randy elevates his voice just a little to be heard over the transition package music. “If you’re just tuning in, we have Luke Foster and Kai Pearson. They’re at Barclays tonight, and we’re the only ones with any tickets left. We’ll give a pair away in just a second. First, we want to get into my favorite part of the show.”

He looks right at me, the anticipation evident in his expression.

“Time for No Holds Barred.” Randy leans back in his chair, dragging his adjustable mic on its stand with him. “We’ve seen Luke’s rise over the last couple of years, but you, Kai, appeared out of nowhere. Where did you come from?”

“Georgia.” It slips out before I can think of anything witty to say.

Something sharp embedded in Randy’s laugh grates on my ears and on my nerves.

“I didn’t mean that literally, sweetheart.” He chuckles again, eyes trained on my face. “In just a few months you went from being someone we’d never heard of to the girl we’re all talking about. It’s something thousands dream about, and you did it. Congratulations.”

His words feel more like an accusation than anything, so I just stare back at him, bending my lips into a hard curve while I wait. I know Malcolm wants me sparkling and fun, but Randy doesn’t look like he’s ready to play. Or if he is, it’s hard ball.

Well, two can play that game.

“We’ve loved hearing all about the tour,” Randy continues. “But, Kai, we gotta talk about the elephant in the room.”

“Elephant?” I sweep the small studio with a quick glance before looking back to Randy. “I don’t see any elephant.”

“Oh, he’s here, all right.” Randy looks to Lola. “Right, Lo? You see the elephant, don’tcha?”

For a moment, Lola’s eyes meet mine, and I see kindness or sympathy. Something softer than what’s in Randy’s eyes, but she looks away quickly and nods.

“I see him.”

“His name is Rhyson Gray.” Randy leans forward.

“I don’t think Rhyson would appreciate the comparison.” I manage a smile I hope looks easier than it feels.

“Maybe he’ll come on the show and take me to task for it.” Randy grins. “We’d love that. We’ve asked him more than once, but he’s never come on. Now you’ve heard of our No Holds Barred segment, yeah?”

Everything leading up to this was just small talk. This is what he wanted, and he’s going straight for the jugular. I’m not giving him anything. He’ll have to come and get it, and even then he won’t get much more from me than the blank look I’m giving him right now.

“Everyone knows you were in a very public relationship with Rhyson Gray,” Randy says.

“Actually I was in a very private relationship with Rhyson.” I twist my fingers in my lap beneath the table where no one can see them. “And we had one very public argument.”

“Yes, very public.” Randy glances down at his little stack of notes and then back up again. “The video’s been viewed a helluva lot, but no one knows what the fight was actually about. The audio was kind of muffled.”

Small mercies. I look at him, brows all the way in the air.

Dude, if you have a question, ask. Doesn’t mean I’ll answer.

“Care to shed any light on that for us?” Randy asks in that way that tells me he doesn’t expect me to.

“Rhyson and I are both entertainers.” I run one finger along the ridges of Gram’s necklace at my throat. “We give everything to the people who come to see us perform, but I think we deserve to keep some things private.”

“Can you tell us if you’ve spoken to him?”

What’ll it hurt? Maybe if I give them this worthless bone, it’ll appease Malcolm. And my blackmailer, if they’re listening.

“No, we haven’t spoken.” I move a little in my seat, hoping it looks more like a shift than the squirm it actually is.

“He was on a tour of his own, right, for the last few weeks?” Don, the other host asks.

I just look back at him and nod.

“There’s a lot of speculation that you two have gone your separate ways for good.” Randy leans back, one elbow draped over the chair. “Petra Andreyev was on tour with Rhys, and Dub Shaughnessy is on tour with you. Rumor has it that maybe you both have new flames.”

I’m so tired of people pairing me with Dub. Couldn’t be further from the truth. We’re just friends. Actually we’ve become really good friends since he’s one of the few people I knew before the tour started, and he’s been my bridge to befriend the other dancers. I’ve missed the camaraderie of a dance crew, and he gave that back to me. I’m not telling Randy that. I’m taking the no comment route, just smiling serenely.

As for Rhyson and Petra . . . just the thought of it is like a spiked ball rolling right over my heart, flattening and tearing at the flesh as it goes. Just because he’s sending mistletoe to my dressing room at every stop and texting and calling doesn’t mean he’s not screwing the more-than-willing Russian. On the one hand, wouldn’t that make things simple for me? But on the other hand . . . well, I don’t have enough hands to hold the hurt that would inflict.

“Nothing to say to that, Kai?” Randy demands in a follow up. “You and Dub a thing?”

Butthole.

“Dub is the most gifted choreographer in the business, and we’re lucky to have him on the tour.” I sit back, crossing one leg over the other. “That’s all there is to it. As for Rhyson and Petra, like I said, we haven’t spoken.”

“All right, then I got another question for ya.” Randy narrows his eyes a little more. “I’m sure you’re aware that a lot of people look at your meteoric rise and wonder if you have the talent to back it up.”

He pauses to see if I will respond. I don’t with any more than a set of raised eyebrows while I wait for his question.

“What would you say to people who think you wouldn’t be where you are now if it wasn’t for Rhyson Gray?”

Luke clears his throat and begins to speak before I can.

“I think Kai—”

“It’s okay, Luke,” I hold up a hand, eyes never leaving Randy’s. “I’d love to answer this question.”

I lick my suddenly dry lips before going in.

“I would tell them that no one finds success without the help of others along the way.” I look down at the hands in my lap for a second before looking back up. “I wouldn’t be here without my mother, who sacrificed all my life to make sure I had dancing and singing lessons. I wouldn’t be here without my best friend, Santos, who dragged me out to LA to pursue my dreams. I wouldn’t be here without my vocal coach, Grady, who took me under his wing in a strange new city.”

I pause, swallowing back unexpected emotion I hope I’m hiding well.

“And, yes, I wouldn’t be here without Rhyson, whose music and work ethic inspired me years before I even met him when I was just a fan. So in that sense, they’re right.”

I lean forward, elbows propped on the table, lips pressed close to the mic like the producer told me to.

“But I would also invite those people out to see me on the road because, though so many have helped me, I’m the one who has to perform night in, night out, and no one does that for me. I’d offer them a ticket, but my shows are all sold out.”

Randy’s mouth hangs open a little. Guess he thought this little country bumpkin was gonna roll on over under his line of questioning. I wait for his follow up question, but it’s Lola who breaks the silence that follows my words.

“Well, um, you’ve said a lot, Kai, and thanks for sharing.” She offers me a smile. “I’m sure you understand the public’s fascination with it all since Rhyson’s never had a girlfriend that we know of. “

“I get that,” I nod, smiling in return. “I do, but he’s a very private man. I think it’s that space he creates just for himself that fuels him to offer so much to us onstage, so we should let him keep it.”

“I can respect that.” Lola’s eyes hold the interest, the fascination Rhyson effortlessly inspires in people. “But isn’t there
one
thing you could tell us that few people know?”

I draw a shallow breath before speaking.