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I still want to forge my own way in this industry. It’ll just be a ton harder since my name is rarely mentioned when it isn’t attached to megastars of the music world.
Could this day get any worse?
My commentary becomes factual when a familiar voice asks, “Ready?”
Since I’m still giving Knox the silent treatment, Bonnie answers his question on my behalf. “In two seconds.” She coats my lashes for the third time before mopping up the mess I created when I buried my head into my hands as I wish I could have the sand. “Beyond gorgeous.”
“Thank you,” I praise, my mood not as chipper as hers.
I’m grateful for the honesty in her tone, but I'm still feeling wretched. It’s been one argument after another to keep my real name out of any lineups we secured, so to discover Knox was slipping it in with the feelers he sent out was like a direct punch to my stomach.
I feel winded, and I haven’t belted out a single lyric yet.
Knox said the music we produced was creating the buzz for my upcoming release. Now I’m skeptical if anyone has even listened to our sample.
Do you have any idea how panicked that makes me? People can’t tell you your baby is ugly even when it is. It isn’t acceptable, but they have no issues telling you precisely what they think about the babies developed outside your womb. Songwriters, authors, and poets are forever scrutinized, and only the super-determined make it through the carnage unscathed.
I’m not exactly sure where I stand. Some days, I feel like I’m in the middle of the ferocious flames, being charred on all sides, and others, I only experience the slightest burn of imposter syndrome.
Today’s scalds are more personal than professional, though.
Desperate to get dress rehearsal over with so I can hide my still-blurry head under a mountain of pillows, I swivel my chair to face the door before slipping out of it.
My butt scarcely lifts from the leather padding when Bonnie forces me back on it.
When my surprised eyes dart to hers, she asks, “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
Upon spotting my confusion, she nudges her head to the wig that cost more than my first car. If I was going to wear a disguise, I wanted it to look authentic. That hairpiece is as genuine as you can get. It is just several shades lighter than the brunette look I was aiming for.
Knox will swear until he is blue in the face that blonde artists outsell dark-haired artists three to one. I don’t know where he gets his statistics from, but since his claim was at the end of a long day, I nodded like I believed him and bookmarked our argument for another day.
I’ve not yet had the strength to bring it up again, and I’m glad I didn’t waste my breath.
A disguise is pointless when everyone knows your name.
“What’s the point?” I say to Bonnie, my voice as low as my shoulders.
My question is rhetorical, but Bonnie doesn’t know that. “The point is, you’vealwayswanted to do this on your own.” I almostpfftuntil she shocks me into silence. “And let’s not forget that every person here today signed a contract with an ironclad NDA bulking up half the dossier.” I want to squeeze her to death when she clicks her fingers while saying, “So they can hype themselves up all they like, but the instant they leave this studio, their mouths will need to be as glued shut as their legs if they don’t want to be slapped with a lawsuit.” Her legs reference is lost on me until she mumbles under her breath while packing away her supplies. “Although I wouldn't blame them if they wanted to break the contract for him.” Her eyes sling to the left. “He is as delicious as a root beer float with extra whipped cream during a scorching-hot Fourth of July alcohol-free barbecue.”
When I follow the direction of her lusty gaze, my throat dries. Laken is loitering outside my dressing room with his thick arms crossed and his brows pulled together, looking bored.
He isn’t there by choice. Knox stationed him there in case the media mixed up the rehearsal date schedule. Excluding the two dancers from earlier, no one has stalked these halls seeking anyone of interest. Even Bonnie was in my dressing room when I arrived.
I snap my eyes away from Laken before I can work out why I still want to kiss away the crease in his forehead when Bonnie whispers, “I bet his lips taste like sin and a hint of whiskey.”
“They’re more sweet than tangy.”
If Bonnie’s mouth gapes any more, she’ll ruin her perfectly symmetrical lined lips. “Say what now?”
Eyes wide that I spoke my statement out loud, I snatch up my wig like it doesn’t need a hundred bobby pins to keep it in place before joining Knox in the hallway.
Bonnie’s playful tone jingles down the hall faster than Laken’s sigh when Knox’s hand lands in the middle of my back. “You can run, sweetheart, but I know the perfect shade of lipstick for your alabaster skin, so you won’t stay away for long.”
13
LAKEN
“You killed it tonight. They couldn’t get enough,” Knox lies while guiding Nicole into the elevator of an opulent hotel smack bang in the middle of Hollywood, his hand still hovering and driving me insane.
