Down to My Soul (Soul Series Book 2) Read Free Page B

signal she’s done. “It’s my private life. I’ll give it all up on the stage, you know that. But I have to keep something for myself.”
    I reach for my black leather Converse with the rhinestone shell toe.
    “Not those.” Malcolm runs his eyes over the wardrobe choices Ella brought in before pointing to a pair of stacked high heels. “Those work better.”
    “I wasn’t aware you were a fashion designer and a manager.” I slip the stacked heels on instead.
    Malcolm shrugs and slides his hands into his pockets.
    “Image is everything.”
    Another lie. Image is a conscious, deliberate projection. It’s not everything. Without substance to back it up, it’s nothing.
    “Just be ready to deal with their questions.” Malcolm straightens from the wall and smoothes his already-wrinkle-free suit jacket. “I know it’s been a long two months, and you’re tired, but you’re so close to some R&R. Just knock this interview out of the park, get through these last few shows, and you get a break.”
    I get a week off before we start our last month of the tour. I’ve thought about going back to Glory Falls instead of LA. Rhyson and me in the same city. I can’t imagine he’ll stay away. Not to mention Grady’s getting married next week, and I’m pretty sure Rhys is the best man. It won’t be possible to avoid him. I can only hope to resist him, and my track record with that ain’t great.
    “The car’s downstairs waiting.” Malcolm turns and leaves.
    I study myself in the mirror. My own Madonna t-shirt with red rhinestone lips is paired with an expensive black leather jacket that is definitely not my own. I search beneath the makeup and the designer jeans and the high-end leather for the girl who waited tables at The Note just months ago. There’s no sign of her. There’s this person that Malcolm is making a star, and even she looks a little lost.
    “You ready?” Ella runs a brush through the hair hanging around my shoulders one last time.
    A tiny spark of rebellion flares inside of me. I toe off the high heels, reaching for my Converse. As soon as I’m done tying them, I look up at Ella’s smirking face, smirking in return.
    “I am now.”

LUKE AND I ARE THUMB WRESTLING in the greenroom when the door leading to the studio opens. A girl wearing an Intern t-shirt ushers through a heavy-set man I don’t recognize and a woman I do. It’s Qwest, one of the hottest female rappers in the game. I don’t really listen to her music and have only seen her in a few videos, but she’s as compelling and beautiful in real life as she is onscreen. Black braids twist into a knot to crown her head. Her skin, the color of nutmeg, is absolutely flawless. I know the wonders of makeup. I rely on them every day. But there is a naturalness to her that I didn’t expect. She wears the same red matte shade on her lips as I do.
    Our eyes catch and hold. She grabs the elbow of the heavy-set man, whom I presume is her body guard.
    “Hold up, Ace.” She comes to stand in front of us, tilting her head to study me more closely. “Nice lipstick.”
    I grin up at her from my seat, dropping Luke’s hand.
    “Yours, too.”
    “Erika.” She extends her hand to me. “Kai Pearson, right?”
    It’s so odd for someone as famous as she is to know me. I’m not sure if it’s because of my relationship with Rhyson or because of my short stint on tour. Maybe a little of the latter. Probably mostly the former.
    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