The Tour Read online

  The Tour

  A Phoenix Rising Novel

  Shelby Rebecca

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, businesses, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, or person, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Any trademarks mentioned herein are not authorized by the trademark owners and do not in any way mean the work is sponsored by or associated with the trademark owners. Any trademarks used are specifically in a descriptive capacity.

  All songs and/or quotes are the property of their copyright owners.

  Copyright © 2015 Shelby Rebecca

  Smashwords Edition

  Edited by Juli Valenti of Juli’s Elite Editing

  Proof Read by Marlene Engel of Book Mama Blog

  Cover Art by Kari Ayasha at Cover to Cover Designs

  Interior formatting by Paul Salvette at BB eBooks

  Dedication

  For Mitchell. What I wouldn’t do for one more hour with you.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  About the Book

  1: Run

  2: Breathe

  3: It’s a Secret

  4: What If?

  5: For a Griffin

  6: After the Escape

  7: Secrets and Noodles

  8: Growing Up

  9: Rules

  10: Stringing the Past

  11: Naked Chiffon

  12: The Key

  13: The Truth

  14: Gifts

  15: Out From Under

  16: A Long Way To Go

  17: Lady Liberty

  18: Missed Notes

  19: The Deal

  20: The Sounds We Make Together

  21: Strings and Keys

  22: What Comes Next

  23: Our Heart

  24: I’ll Wait For You

  25: It Spills

  26: Sign Here

  27: The Bus

  28: BFF

  29: Even Though It’s Not True

  30: The Loneliest

  31: Ignored

  32: Intentions

  33: The Love

  34: And the Winner Is…

  35: A New Day

  Epilogue: Eight Months Later

  About Shelby Rebecca

  Acknowledgments

  Mia, the saint

  Kolton, the sinner

  The Tour is the conclusion to The Stage: a Phoenix Rising Novel

  After the finale of The Stage, Mia comes to terms with where she’s placed in the competition. But that same night, Kolton and Mia will have to deal with bigger issues—their fear of fire and loss. Not everyone will survive, and the challenges that their relationship cause won’t end when the show is over.

  Kolton has a secret about the choices made in a moment of survival. Is he willing to expose his secrets and vulnerabilities to earn Mia’s trust? Even though they can’t stay hidden forever when a celebrity’s life is fodder for the masses, he knows it could tear them apart.

  In the midst of chaos and loss, Mia has to balance her love for Kolton with career. Will she sign with him, letting him be her boss with control over her future? Or will she go out on her own with a subpar record contract that makes her equal to Kolton in her own right?

  With so many questions, going on tour could either make the answers clear or pull the weaknesses of their relationship to the surface. Will the wounds heal or will they tear until nothing can repair them?

  When love burns so bright, is it sustainable?

  CHAPTER ONE

  Run

  “Even though I didn’t win the title tonight, I’ve won so much from this experience,” I say in response to the leggy reporter’s generic how do you feel? I can’t remember how many times I’ve been asked that and said the same exact thing. I’m loopy and weary. Gina brought me coffee about three interviews ago; it’s room-temperature now, but I want a sip anyway. “I’m so grateful for everyone’s votes.”

  “Do you think you lost because of your relationship with Kolton Royce?” she asks, jolting me alert. I look to Gina who puts a finger up.

  “We were clear. No questions about Kolton Royce,” Gina DeYoung, my publicist, gently reminds the young woman from who-knows-what-show about the boundaries.

  “It’s a legitimate question. He told her he loved her on national television. They went home together—openly—the night of the final voting. And then she lost. I mean, if you don’t want to answer,” she trails off, looking directly to me. She’s not the first to ask, but my filter isn’t in place anymore. I’m tired of repeating the same lines over and over, and I feel anger rising in my gut. I know I’m red in the face when I open my mouth to speak.

  “Jessie deserved to win. She’s an awesome singer and, honestly, it’s really disrespectful to imply otherwise because she won, fair and square. With that being said, I wouldn’t change anything about Kolton and me for any show—ever. I love him and he loves me.”

  “Of course he does,” she retorts with a twinkle in her eye that looks less than innocent. Jealousy sparks through me. I immediately think she knows him—intimately. It’s a common thought that I’ll have to fight if I plan to stay Kolton’s … and stay sane.

  “Did you know he’s being sued for sexual harassment and wrongful termination by Samantha Jones, a back-up singer who was working with him on his last two albums?”

  The smirk on her face is enough to warrant a bitch-slap. Instead, I get up and take off the mic. Walking away, Gina follows close behind.

  “It’s fine. You handled it,” Gina says. “And that was your last interview. You can go home now. Kolton’s waiting in the car.” She nods toward the door and I feel like an escaped convict as I push the glass door open and let the air hit my face.

  Surprisingly, I’m not upset that Kolton’s being sued at all. It might be selfish of me, but that means he was telling the truth about the voice I heard on the other end of the phone that night when I was back in Sacramento. She was one of his back-up singers—and he’d admitted they’d slept together in the past. He said he’d fired her for trying to make me jealous by whining to him to “come back and play”—or something of the sort—while he was on the phone with me. And now I know for sure, he was being honest.

  I trot out toward the parking lot as Manny calls my name from back inside the building. “Ms. Phoenix!”

  “I’ve got it, Manny,” I call back to him. “I’m fine!” I see the car; knowing Kolton is inside waiting for me makes me move even faster. He opens the door and steps out.

  “Mia, you have to wait for Manny,” he admonishes as I sink into him, kind of like falling into a warm pool of water. I ignore what he said as we climb into the back seat. Manny jumps in front with Devon. “I got rid of all the other security, but that’s the last time you dart out like that without Manny or I’ll bring them all back.”

  “I’m so tired. I don’t—I don’t have the energy to—” I say rubbing the corners of my eyes, stinging from lack of sleep.

  “Just say it. You won’t go out without Manny again.”

  “I won’t. Okay?” And, for the first time, his bossiness isn’t making me mad. I get it. He’s worried about me. What’s wrong with that? Nothing at all. It’s comforting, actually.

  “Thank you,” he says, and reaches down, pulling my foot by my booted ankle onto his lap. It’s slow, how he unzips the boot, sensual and completely endearing. It makes me forget that I was planning to talk to him about the lawsuit. Not now when I feel a smile pulling up the corners of my mouth as he takes off first one boot and then the other, rolls down my socks, and presses his thumb into the arch of my foot until I’m moaning and tha
nking the heavens for this man. When that foot is loose and floppy, he moves his strong music-playing fingers over to the other foot.

  I must have dozed off because I feel all heavy and I take a breath like I’m coming up from water when I hear Kolton say, “No, that’s cool. Go ahead and take your smoke break. We’re good. We’re going to go up. She’s exhausted.”

  I pull my sleep-heavy head up off the back of the seat and take Kolton’s hand, pressing my boots into the crook of my arm. Barefoot, I stumble onto the elevator, and we are pulled upward to the place I’ve called home for so many months. The tower home, thirteen stories up—so like the one in The Lady of Shalott. It’s the place where I learned to trust someone again, where Kolton and I spun a tale and watched it all through the reflections of the votes and fans—sometimes not knowing what was true and what wasn’t. But, as we go up, I feel peace. I’ve told the truth. So has he. I squeeze his hand and look up at that gorgeous face of his.

  We can work through this together. The career. How involved he’s going to be in said career. The public’s perception of him and me, even if it’s a negative one, doesn’t make me want him any less.

  As we walk into the dark living room, I smell something pungent and sharp. “Do you have a gas leak?” I ask before stepping in something wet with my bare feet.

  “What is that smell?” he asks.

  “I just stepped in something,” I say. “Turn the light on for me.” As if on cue, the light flips on behind us. It takes me a second to realize what I’m seeing: Katharina Inez standing with her back hunched over and looking at us sideways. She’s holding a beer bottle with some cloth spilling out of it. Her other hand is behind her back.

  There’s black eye make-up running down her face and her clothes are dirty, her hair oily. She looks like a character from a bad horror movie.

  My heart is beating in my eardrums. My whole body is shaking, and I’m looking for a way out. Riley and Deloris?

  Are they okay?

  “All I have to do is light it and throw this bottle at that wall right there,” she whispers, monotone, pointing toward the wall between us and the front door. Everything about her gives me chills, the eerie calm hiding the irrational underneath. “You’ll never get out.”

  Riley’s room, the staircase, the elevator—they are on the other side of the wall. She looks at me now, her eyes black and intense. She shakes her head no, as if she’s reading my mind.

  “I’ve already poured enough gasoline along the floor so your little sister’ll have to escape on her own. That’s her room there by the door, right? You hid in there once. When I came to talk to Kolton—after you stole him from me!” Her voice rising to a high-pitched squeal.

  What are we going to do? How did this happen? How did she get in? I grab Kolton’s hand, but let go when her lips twitch as she hones in on the motion.

  “Katharina, come on. Let’s go talk somewhere, just you and me,” Kolton says, standing taller, his body tense.

  “I’ve tried that already,” she whispers. “All I wanted was to talk to you, to my tiger. But she won’t share, and then you got a restraining order against me. You leave me no choice.” She’s monotone again, pacing.

  “Katharina, put that bottle down. You’ll get hurt, sweetie, and then you won’t be able to model anymore. I don’t want you to get hurt, okay?” Kolton tries, putting his hands out, like he means to soothe her.

  “Oh, I don’t want to model anymore,” she says, almost like it’s funny. She’s looking at the glass bottle in her hand. “The only way out’ll be the patio, climbing down the emergency exit. But you’ll have to go alone. You won’t be able to save your sister this time. No more heroes!” And then she smiles, a hollow, vacant smile. Mixed with the black in her eyes, it seems to seal our fate. My heart is pounding. My body preparing for fight or flight.

  I have to run. If I make it past her, I could get to Riley before she has a chance to light and throw the bottle of accelerant.

  “You won’t be a phoenix rising anymore,” she laughs, maniacally, like you’d expect to hear from some villain on TV, not in real life.

  Kolton moves up behind me really close and whispers, “When I move, go get Riley,” he demands.

  She brings the lighter out from behind her back, her thumb pressing on the metal circle.

  Then at the sound of the metal flick of the lighter, he pushes me out of the way as he grabs her arms. I run. I hear the glass crash, but I keep going.

  I open the door to Riley’s room; throw the covers off of her, just like last time. I pick her up out of bed and run. She’s heavier now, but adrenaline gives me strength enough to keep going. I smell fire, hear Kolton yelling from somewhere else—maybe the kitchen. I press the elevator button. Smoke is everywhere and the smell of gasoline burns my nostrils, the roaring sound of fire chasing me.

  Then screaming again, hers and Kolton’s. I stop for a second, after the door opens. Should I put her in the elevator without me? I could try and help him.

  “Run Mia! Run!” I hear him yell and step into the elevator, pressing every button until the door closes on the hell the apartment has become.

  “Mia? What happened?” Riley screams and falls down on the metal floor. The smoke followed us into the closed space. “Was it a fire?”

  We’re both coughing and hacking, and I’m holding her, shaking together in the corner of the little metal room. I feel us being pulled down toward the ground. It smells like gasoline, and the soles of my feet are burning from when I’d stepped in the fire with my bare feet.

  “What about Kolton? Deloris?” She’s screaming, frantic, her little face a mirror image of what she looked like almost two years ago. “We have to help them.” She’s begging me to save them—just like last time.

  I don’t know what to say. “The sprinklers will come on. Okay? Plus, Kolton put in those fire escapes. They can get out that way. I’m going to call the police,” I tell her, taking my phone out of my back pocket. “Take a deep breath. They’ll get out, Riley.” I’m trembling so badly, it’s hard to punch the numbers into the glass screen. The doors open and Riley and I escape into the lobby in a plume of smoke.

  911.

  Ringing.

  Ringing.

  “911, what’s your emergency?”

  “What’s going on?” The doorman asks.

  “Fire. Wilshire Thayer. Kolton Royce. Thirteenth floor. It was arson! Come quick! He’s still up there. There’re still three adults up there, including the arsonist!” The doorman runs over to the phone and then the alarm starts to sound. He picks up a walkie talkie and yells, “Fire! Thirteenth floor. We have to evacuate the building.”

  “What’s your name, ma’am?” the 911 operator asks.

  “Mia. Mia Phoenix,” I say. “It’s Kolton Royce who’s up there. Please. Send help, now!” Tears trail down my face as Riley falls to the ground outside the building. “Kolton Royce? Does he live there?” she questions. Her voice changing.

  “Yes.” I pace. I count—because counting calms me. I put my hands together like a prayer.

  Oh, God! Please don’t let them be dead, I pray. Don’t let them be hurt. Ten bushes outside the building. Bricks, I’m counting—up to forty-eight bricks. I hold Riley outside the lobby, tears running down her cheeks, waiting to find out if our lives are changed forever—just like last time. How could we have lost the family we’ve just created? How could this happen again?

  Finally, in the distance, I hear the sirens. I sit down on the cold concrete, close my eyes, and kiss Riley on the top of her head.

  “They’re on the way. Okay?” She’s nodding and wiping her face with the sleeve of her pajama top. Families start streaming out of the stairwell, the evacuation taking place. Who’s crying so loudly? Is it me? It’s like I’m outside my body watching this new life come to an end.

  But he’s so strong, so beautiful, so kind. And he loves me. He’s a survivor. They have to make it out. They have to.

  The sirens, they’re comin
g. Flashing lights. Red trucks. An ambulance still in the distance.

  But, can they come fast enough?

  CHAPTER TWO

  Breathe

  It dons on me. Manny and Devon are still in the parking garage having a smoke break. Aren’t they? Even though it feels like forever, it’s only been a few minutes since we left them in the parking garage. I pull out my phone and call Devon.

  “Mia?” he asks. He sounds out of breath and I can hear the alarm like an echo through the earpiece.

  “Katharina! She threw a bottle. Lit it on fire! Kolton’s upstairs. Deloris, too. I called 911!” I’m trying to get it all out at once.

  “We heard the alarm—and we’re going up the—stairs right now.” He’s out of breath.

  “The fire trucks just got here,” I say, and hold Riley tighter. “But you gotta help them. Please. Devon, please!” My tears wetting a path down my face.

  “We’ll do—our best, ma’am.” Then the phone’s dead on his end.

  “Devon and Manny are going upstairs to get them, ’kay, Riles,” I say, in the most soothing voice I can. She’s shaking and whimpering as the sleepy, pajama-wearing, rich people congregate near the front door and sidewalk.

  “What floor’s the fire?” a woman asks.

  “Thirteenth,” I say.

  “I don’t see any flames up there,” she says, looking up. When I check and see that for myself—it’s the first sign of hope. Maybe the fire’s out?

  The ambulance pulls up, its sirens calling for mercy just as loudly as our tears. “Who’s hurt?” asks the female EMT as she hops out.

  “My sister,” I say. “She breathed in a lot of smoke. And Kolton and Deloris are upstairs.”

  “How about you?” she asks, as she shines a light in both our eyes.

  “I’m fine,” I say. “But you’re going to need to bring more ambulances. For when Kolton and Deloris come out.” I’m determined to stay optimistic as she coaxes us to stand, and Riley and I walk toward the back of the ambulance. I’m watching firemen heading into the entrance and up the stairs.