The Tour Read online

  That’s what I notice. And then I look at the doorway toward the bunks, and Kaya is holding her shirt up against her naked chest. She’s sleeping with him? She’s supposed to be working on this tour. Working for me, not fucking the contestants on the bus while I get in fights and find out crazy ass shit about Kolton and Katharina.

  Angry tears are streaming down my face, stinging the scratches from her nails. The bus stops abruptly, and Mayra comes with her heavy footsteps barreling down the aisle, pushes Kaya aside, shoves someone off my back, and grabs me hard by my arm, taking me down the walk-of-shame off the bus.

  I feel the cold air smack my stinging face. I’m pacing and trying to catch a full breath. “Did she attack you?” Mayra demands. Everyone is staring out of the windows of the bus as I pace on the side of the road crunching snow with my socks. We’re in Baltimore. Or rather, I don’t know where we are. We’d just left Baltimore. It’s freezing out here, but all I feel is the shivers of anger and the winds of confusion.

  “Yeah. She slapped me and wouldn’t let go of my hair, so I beat the shit out of her,” I admit angrily. So much energy is pumping through my bloodstream. I feel like I could take on ten more Gypsy Dresses. God! That felt good. I’ve hated her for so long.

  Kaya, now wearing her shirt without a bra, and holding my shoes, jumps down off the bus and walks toward me. “Mia?” she questions, turning me toward her and fixing my hair. When she does, my scalp starts to throb. “What happened?” she asks, handing me the shoes. I slip them on, but my feet are wet, and this just makes it worse. I stand up straight and look her in the eyes.

  “Did he kiss Katharina?” I ask, my voice high pitched and full of still unshed tears. “Is that the secret?” I’m crying so hard my face is scrunched up. A car pulls up in front of our bus, and I look behind us and there are the two other buses carrying the crew and the trailer with equipment lining up behind us. Someone in the car yells, “Mia!” and then a flash from a camera captures me, saving this moment for all of time.

  “Let’s go,” Mayra says, taking me by the arm again and dragging me toward the bus behind ours. The door pops open, and all three of us get on. “We need a first aid kit,” Mayra says, shining her stupid flashlight in my eyes.

  “Do we need an ambulance?” the driver asks.

  “No,” I say. “I’m fine.” I concentrate on my hand. It’s scraped from punching her in the mouth, and there’s blood all over my leggings from her nose.

  Mayra starts to work on my cuts when the staff nurse comes out from wherever she was sleeping. As Mayra, Kaya, and the nurse discuss what happened, and I hear Mayra say, “You’d better go take care of that other girl. All this blood is from her nose.”

  As Mayra works on the stinging lines on my cheeks from being scratched, my mind wanders to Kolton.

  Did he really kiss her? Is that why he won’t share what happened with me? When I contemplate that he’s kept me from the truth because he feels guilty over what he did that night and not because he just needed more time, the truth stings worse than the antiseptic. If this is true, he’s not just tried to shield me—he’s lied. And lies are far worse at tempting fate than secrets are.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  BFF

  As Mayra is putting some ointment on my face, the nurse comes back into the staff bus and says, “We’re going to have to take her to the Urgent Care. Her nose is broken.” I feel my back hunch over. This is going to get leaked to the press.

  “Give us a minute to figure out where we can park,” the driver says.

  I’m shaking now, and taking purposeful breaths. I don’t feel bad for Gypsy Dress, though. She’s the one who slapped me. She grabbed me when I tried to walk away from her. I never would have touched her first. I was defending myself, pure and simple.

  “What else is hurt?” Mayra asks me.

  “My hand,” I say, balling it back up in a fist to show her the scrapes. Kaya’s phone is buzzing, and she presses green before saying, “Hello?”

  “Who is it?” I ask her, and she’s making a face. She really needs a bra. She might as well be naked. That T-shirt doesn’t hide much as it is.

  “She’s okay…it was a fight on the bus…with Kimber Smith,” she says, and it takes me a minute to remember that Gypsy Dress’ name is Kimber Smith. “Apparently, Kimber told Mia about the video,” she says, and I jump up off the bench.

  “Is that Kolton?” I ask, reaching for her phone.

  “Girl,” Mayra says. “Sit down. These cuts’re from her teeth. Do you want an infection?” she asks, clearly rhetorically, before making me sit back down.

  “Mia has some cuts, but Kimber has a broken nose so we’re taking her to Urgent Care…uh huh…well…” and then she leans into the phone and turns her back toward me and starts whispering. I want to push Mayra out of my way and grab the phone. I want to ask him what he did. If he really kissed her and why. “She’s going to do what she’s going to do. But you should talk to her about it,” she says, just loud enough for me to hear. She turns around, her expression is daunting.

  “What did he say?” I ask, feeling the pressure on my chest and the rumbling of nerves in my stomach.

  She closes her eyes for a second. “He’s really upset, Mia. He says—basically, he wishes he’d talked to you about it before you left.”

  “So, it’s true?” I ask. And she nods.

  “Yeah, but you don’t understand—”

  “And you do?” I ask, realizing that Kaya has already had the conversation with Kolton that he should have had with me. It burns and makes my chin tremble. I see the look on her face. She has the power to read my mind. “Just leave me alone,” I say. “Why don’t you go back to what’s-his-face’s bunk,” her face drops, pain registering in her eyes. “And don’t forget to get your bra this time.”

  “Mia,” she says, her voice achingly sad.

  “You conspired to keep this from me, too,” I cry. “You should have told me the truth. And when I needed you, you were—never mind,” I spit at her, tears falling down my face. “I want you to go home. I need a real assistant,” and then I turn away from her. It stings, but she’s hurt me.

  I can’t even look at her. She’s supposed to be my best friend. Instead she was paid to help Kolton lie.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Even Though It’s Not True

  The caravan pulls up to the Urgent Care somewhere in Cockeyesville, Maryland. It’s next door to a sushi place, a dentist, and a jewelry store. It’s late, but they’re still open. Kaya is sitting on the bench opposite of me texting furiously. I refuse to talk to her right now—but I know what I said was really fucked up. Still, she betrayed me.

  I watch as the nurse holds a towel to Kimber’s nose, keeping her head tilted back, as they walk toward the front door. Soon after, a police car pulls up, and two police officers walk inside.

  “She’s trying to file charges against me—I know it,” I say to Mayra.

  “You ain’t talking to no one without your lawyer.” She squares her shoulders and watches the door.

  Soon after, one of the officers comes out, walks toward the staff bus, and taps on the door with his baton. The bus driver opens the door, and the police officer’s radio static sounds invade the unnerving quiet on our bus. “I need to speak to Mia Phoenix,” he says. Mayra stands and walks toward the door.

  “I’m Ms. Phoenix’s security. She’s not available to speak to you without her lawyer present,” she declares, in the no-nonsense tone of hers. With that, I stand and walk toward the door.

  “I want to talk to him. I didn’t do anything wrong. She attacked me.” She turns toward me, giving me that look that says, ‘you’ve got to be kidding me’ but I don’t waiver. The handprint across my face, ripped out hair on my scalp, and scratches are going to show what I’m saying is true. She moves out of the way, her eyebrows raised and her lips pursed, and extends her hand toward the door, giving me permission to leave.

  I move down the steps, and the officer
fiddles with his radio. “Do you want to tell me what happened between you two?”

  I waste no time with niceties. My jaw is tight with anger, making it hard to start. “I walked back to the lounging area on the bus,” I say, “and…Kimber started asking me personal questions that escalated to us arguing. I stood up to leave and she got in my face—I told her to sit down and she slapped me here,” I say, showing him the mark I can still feel on my face. He shines his flashlight on it and nods.

  “I pushed her—I was trying to get away, but she grabbed me by my hair,” I say, running my hand through the strands, and a clump of hair comes out with my fingers. When I see it, I don’t even know what to do. I just hold onto it. I should take a picture to document that she’d pulled my hair. “We fought some more and I tried to walk away, but she grabbed me again, scratched my face, and then I pulled her face down to my knee. I couldn’t get her to stop any other way.”

  The wind blows and some of my hair sticks to the ointment on the cuts in my cheek. My feet are itching from my wet socks inside my shoes. “We’d like you to come in so we can take some pictures of your injuries. She’s got a broken nose, and her story is different than yours—so…”

  “Just ask Jessie and Blaire,” I offer. They were right there.

  “We will,” he says. “We definitely will.”

  * * *

  Hours later, I’m yawning wide and wishing I’d just stayed in my bunk instead of ruining the tour with this stupid fight, and unearthing Kolton’s lie along the way. “Is there any way I can get my phone?” I ask Mayra. “It’s in my bunk.”

  I stand and pace inside the patient room inside the Urgent Care. I’m still pacing when she brings it to me. I thank her and then I check my texts, finding three unread texts from Kolton.

  Kolton

  10:02 PM

  Sorry I missed your call. Call me back. Miss you.

  10:42 PM

  What happened? Kaya texted something happened on the bus. Call me now!

  11:15 PM

  WTF? You’re fighting people now? The way I’m feeling, it’s a good thing you’re there and I’m here.

  When I read his last text, I realize he thinks I attacked her. I mean, did I stand up and lose my temper? Yeah, but she’s the one who hit me. And why is it that he’s turned this around on me? He’s the one whose lie just came out. Shouldn’t I be the one who’s asking him for an explanation instead of the one who’s in trouble?

  He’s the one who kissed Katharina before she died—and maybe he had a reason for it. But he should be the one answering my questions instead of jumping to conclusions.

  Part of me wants to call and set him straight. The other part feels like curling up somewhere and wishing none of this happened at all.

  What I know right now is the best thing for me is to take a break. I don’t think I can face him and his secrets anymore tonight. Or anymore for a while. I walk outside of the room, past Mayra, who’s standing guard, and find the officer who’d asked me to come in.

  “When can I go back to the bus?”

  “We’re still getting what we need for the report. Both of you are pressing charges against the other. And we still have to interview the witnesses.”

  “But do I have to wait in here? Can I go wait on the bus?” He thinks for a second and nods, and Mayra starts walking with me toward the exit. I pass a room and catch a glimpse of Gypsy Dress holding an icepack up to her nose.

  I stop, standing in the door. I feel like I can’t move. Even with the icepack on her nose, I can see the bruising. She glares at me through bruised eyes. When she drops the icepack, her nose is swollen and so blue it’s black.

  I take a step back. For a second I almost think about saying I’m sorry. But then I remember all the hair that came out in clumps and the scratches on my cheek and think better of it.

  As I walk away, the receptionist at the front desk waves me toward her. “Yes?” I ask.

  “This woman is here to see you,” she clarifies and I shake my head. The woman, wearing a black leather jacket, slacks, and heels is smiling and extending her hand.

  “Michelle Williams,” she says. “Kolton Royce has hired me to represent you today. I’m a local attorney. I just need a few moments of your time. He’s asked me to file a protection order for you against a Kimber Smith.”

  “Oh, yes. A protection order,” I say. As we sit down in the empty waiting area, I tell her what happened, and she makes me feel like I have the right to be safe.

  At the end of our time, she’s listened, questioned, scribbled my words on yellow pages, and taken pictures of my injuries. But most of all, she’s assured me that Kimber won’t be allowed anywhere near me. Not on the bus. Not on the tour.

  And after, as I finally lie back down in own bunk. I plug in my phone and decide to say just one thing.

  Kolton

  2:02 AM

  Thank you for sending the lawyer.

  Tonight, I’ll let him think he helped me, even though he believes I found out his secret and attacked the messenger. Even though it’s not true, and I did nothing wrong, I’m hoping he can say the same thing.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  The Loneliest

  I’ve been scolded over Skype by Joyce McKim, the executive producer of The Stage. Apparently, she’s the mastermind behind the tour, also, and she’s done everything in her power to downplay what happened between me and Kimber. I read an article that said we’d had an accident on the bus. I guess this is how lies are built up over the truth for the people who can afford it.

  As long as there’s no video to prove otherwise, what’s been published is that on the way to our next gig, the bus had to stop to avoid an accident. Kimber broke her nose against the back of a seat, and I was sitting next to her so she scratched my face when she flew forward. I guess it could have happened. Right now I’m just glad that no one outside of this tour will have to bring it up to me again.

  And that bitch, Kimber, left in a car to the airport as soon as we got to Ontario. With my protection order rushed through, thanks to Kolton’s fancy lawyer, she can’t be anywhere near me. Seeing her drive off was the only good change in the monotony of this tour.

  As I walk into the dressing room at the Modell Performing Arts Center, I’m hopeful that Kolton hasn’t forgotten about our ritual. As I cross the threshold into the dressing room, I realize that the other thing that’s changed is there is nothing waiting for me from Kolton in front of my mirror. The stark emptiness on the counter where his present should be causes me to lose my breath for a second. My stomach drops. I chuck my Birkin on the floor under the mirror, and plop myself into the swivel chair so I can rub my aching temples.

  I haven’t talked to him in two days—not a call, not a text. Nothing. But something about this, the lack of his presence in the room with me, hurts. It really, really hurts.

  It’s more confirmation that he’s blaming me. On my end, I’m scared to confirm what I already know happened the night before Katharina died. We’re at an impasse. Neither of us wants to take one more step for fear of falling off the edge into the unknown place where we might not be able to stay together.

  “Mia,” Kaya says. Her voice comes in like a mist in the middle of my thoughts. I shake them off and close my eyes. She and I haven’t talked either.

  I kind of want to keep it that way.

  “Yeah?” I ask, keeping my eyes down. If I look at her, it’s going to hurt. She’s my best friend and I was a bitch to her.

  “I’m going home. Kolton sent me a ticket,” she says. Her mention of Kolton, and the fact that he’s talking to her, not me, stings again, bringing back all of my feelings about her betrayal.

  “Did he? I’m glad he’s talking to one of us, then. But then, I guess you’ve been doing that all along.”

  “That’s all you have to say?” she asks. “I tell you I’m leaving and you don’t give a shit?” Her voice wavers as she speaks. She’s hurt, but her pain is too much for me. I’d have to add it to the
rest of the stuff I drag around in my too heavy heart. She’ll get over this. She is my best friend.

  “I can’t right now, Kaya,” I say. “I don’t know what to say or…I don’t know how to make this right anymore.”

  “For one thing, whatever I do with Don is none of your business.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. But working together was a bad idea.” When I say it, her face drops and she puts her hand on her chest. “I’m sorry, but it was.”

  “I thought it was going to be fun,” she admits.

  “But then it wasn’t in the end,” I say, sarcasm dripping from the words in heavy waves. “Welcome to my world.”

  “Do you hate me that much?”

  “Don’t be stupid,” I scold her. “But you know as well as I do that you can’t just help my boyfriend lie to me and everything’s going to be fine between us.”

  “I did that because you wanted to wait until he was ready to tell you,” she says, her voice tight and her eyes trained down on me in anger.

  “You lied to me, Kaya. And when you did, you changed our friendship,” I cry, and her eyes begin to fill with tears. “There’s no way I can trust you. Not for a long time.”

  “But when he told me why…” she says.

  “Who decided to conspire to keep me in the dark? You guys made me feel like what I was doing was noble.” I say, and have to swallow down the burning humiliation of it all.

  “You’re wrong, Mia.” The look on her face changes from hurt to anger, and then something else passes over her face. I can’t read it. It looks like she feels sorry for me. It’s sympathy.

  “I’ve always been there for you, no matter what,” she says, disappointment written all over her face. “I did what I thought was right. I was trying to help.”

  “You’re right. It’s all my fault,” I say, mocking her. “I’m not a good friend,” I agree, with conviction. “It’s only my first tour and I needed an actual assistant instead of a BFF who’s looking for a hook-up.” She sets her jaw, and braces herself as I attack her so I’ll feel better. I know what I’m doing right now is wrong. But I lash out anyway.