5

Hailey

Sweat dripped down my back and my feet ached.

"I think we should call it a night," said Victor, my dance instructor, huffing just as loudly as me.

"One more time from the top," I panted. "Then we're done."

We'd been working on this routine for hours, but I wanted it ingrained in my mind so I wouldn't have to think about the next move tomorrow and just perform.

"All right," he said, dragging his feet to stand next to me. "From the top. Five, six, seven, eight."

I sang my latest hit song and swayed my hips to the music. Running my hands along my body, I watched my movements in the mirror.

Christian watched me, too.

He stood at the back of the dance room for the entire five hours we'd been practicing. He hadn't moved or complained. He just watched.

I felt his eyes on me as I dropped to the ground and snapped back up. He didn't smile, but something in his eyes told me he liked what he saw. It ignited a fire in my belly. Performing always made me anxious, but at this moment, a thrill ran down my body, knowing I had this man's complete attention.

I maintained eye contact the entire time, lifting my hair off my shoulders and letting it fall onto my back. My chest pushed air in and out of my lungs, lifting my breasts with every breath. One more turn, a little twerk before the final shake, and then it was all over.

Victor clapped his hands, breaking the trance, and I pushed my hair off my sweaty forehead. "That's it, baby. That looked fabulous. You've got this."

Relief washed through me and I laughed, genuinely excited about tomorrow. "I do got this, huh?"

He hugged me, and we both pulled away, cringing. "We need to shower."

He chuckled. "Good luck tomorrow."

"Thanks, Vic."

I walked toward Christian. His arms were relaxed at his sides, but his dark eyes held mine and the fire inside me simmered. "I'll be out in ten minutes," I told him.

He nodded and crossed his arms, standing against the wall like a guard in front of a castle.

Inside the change room, I turned the knob to the hottest setting and stepped underneath the water. My muscles ached, but I felt good. The song was fun, and I still enjoyed singing it. I heard some performers started hating their songs but I couldn't imagine that. I wrote each one during a memorable time in my life, so they're a tiny piece of me. Good or bad, they were mine.

And the dancing worked out a lot better than I'd hoped. I smiled as water trickled down my face and seeped through my lips. It tasted warm but fresh.

After I dressed, I met Christian outside. "Do you know how to drive a stick?" I asked.

"Yes. Why?"

I threw the car keys at him and he caught them mid-air. "I need you to drive. I'm beat."

He looked down at the keys and raised an eyebrow. "My pleasure."

I chuckled. "Don't make me regret this. I never push her, so be gentle."

He grinned, and I wasn't sure if he would heed my warning.

I didn't have to worry, though. He drove her smoothly, easing through the turns and the gear shifts. Not everyone I knew drove standard, so I rarely trusted someone else with my car. It was the first big purchase I made when I signed my record contract.

Christian pulled up into my garage and turned off the engine. "You wait here for a minute. I need to check the alarm system and make sure nothing's been set off."

I nodded and scrolled through the messages on my phone while he went inside. He closed the garage door, presumably to keep me safe from any outside threat.

I had an encouraging text from Victor and my mom. Frankie texted me that he would pick me up at eight o'clock tomorrow morning. I checked my watch; it was past eight now. I would have enough time to eat something and then try and get some rest.

Christian opened the door from inside and stuck his head out. "All good. You can come in now."

Just as I was about to open the car door, I checked my Instagram page and read the comments from my latest post. My social media manager, Ingrid, took care of all my pages, so I rarely went on here. But whenever I checked, the comments were usually positive. This time, they were not.

"Hailey better check herself," one person wrote. Another chimed in, "If she doesn't lay off Kendra, this will be war."

I texted Ingrid: What's going on with my social media page?

Ingrid: What do you mean?

Me: There are a lot of comments about Kendra. We need to chat about my response to these. I don't like where it's headed.

Ingrid: Kk

I then opened another message and texted my publicist, Sam, to meet me after the show tomorrow to discuss this imaginary feud with Kendra. I needed to squash it by putting out a statement that I'd never said anything derogatory about the artist and that I wished her well.

"Are you coming inside?" Christian asked, looking around the garage as though some intruder would pop out from behind the trash cans.

"Yep," I said, hitting send on my text to Sam, and climbed out of the car.

"I'm starving," I said as we walked into the kitchen. "What should we make?"

Christian opened the fridge and leaned inside. "Well, there isn't much here, but I think I can pull together a BLT sandwich."

"Sounds great. I'll cut up the lettuce and tomato if you fry the bacon. I hate when that smell gets into my hair."

He grinned. "Deal."

We worked side by side, passing each other utensils while we prepped and talked about our favorite musicians.

"I can't believe Celine Dion is on your top three list," I said, taking a bite of my sandwich after we finally sat down at the table. I couldn't remember the last time I hadn't eaten at the kitchen island.

"She's the Queen. Why wouldn't she be one of my top three?"

I shook my head and chewed quickly through fits of giggles. "I don't know. I guess I pegged you as a heavy metal dude or something."

"I enjoy a good drum solo as much as the next guy, but a great voice, now that will move me."

His eyes caught mine, and he licked some mayo off his lips. "You have an incredible voice."

"I'm no Celine Dion."

"No. But your voice moves me just the same."

Aw! I nearly choked on the bacon. I swallowed the large bite through a tight throat. "That's the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me."

He shrugged. "It's true." His gaze held mine and that fire in my belly roared.

Then Christian's phone chimed. "There's movement in the backyard. Stay here." He pushed away from the table and marched out of the kitchen.

My breathing quickened, and I wondered what I should do. Should I follow Christian to see what was going on back there? Or should I wait here in the kitchen alone? I didn't like either option, but when I heard shouting and a familiar voice, I ran down the hallway.

Oh, no. No, no, no.

I raced through the living room and stopped short when I saw Christian pointing his gun at someone's head. The man staggered in his ripped jeans and white T-shirt. His dyed blonde hair was perfectly disheveled using an expensive pomade. I knew this because I'd bought it for him.

"I told you to stop moving and tell me who you are."

"Me? Who ‘d fuck ‘r you? The man slurred and then tried to slap the gun away from Christian, but he was too slow. Christian twisted away and put the man in a headlock with the gun pressed against his temple. "I'm going to ask you this just one more time," he snarled. "Who are you?"

There was a funny sound, a tiny yelp, and my eyes dropped to the ground near the man's feet. Water trickled down his pant leg and pooled just below his jeans.

I closed my eyes and said, "He's my boyfriend."

***

I helped Trey out of his dirty clothes and threw him inside my shower. He screamed when the cold water hit his thin shoulders. "Stop complaining. You stink and you're drunk."

"I'm not drunk. I was nearly killed and you don't give a shit."

I rolled my eyes.

"Why didn't you tell me you got a new bodyguard," he whined.

"I didn't think you were going to try to break into my house."

He coughed and gulped some water. "I wasn't trying to break in," he sputtered. "I just wanted to surprise you. I have news."

I squirted body wash into a washcloth and passed it to him. "Don't forget to get into all the spots," I said.

"Maybe you can come in here and help me."

The request should have been sexy, but the smell of stale whiskey and urine still permeated my nostrils. "I'll be in the kitchen when you're done."

I found Christian sitting at the kitchen table. "Do you want a coffee?" I asked, walking up to the coffee machine.

He shook his head and stood up from the table. "Look, Hailey, I'm sorry about that. But when I saw him inside your home, I just reacted. I didn't think."

I nodded. "That's what I pay you for. So don't sweat it. It's not like you shot him or something."

"It was close," he muttered. Then he looked up at me. "Why—"

"Why?"

He shook his head. "Never mind."

"No. Say what you were going to say."

"Is there anyone else I should know about?" he rubbed the back of his neck. "I mean, so that I'm prepared." Clearing his throat, he added. "Anyone else with a key to the place?"

I shrugged. "Nah, most people just ring the doorbell. Besides my parents, and Trey, no one else has a key."

He nodded. "Ok. Thanks."

I pressed the button for an espresso and waited while the machine prepped the water.

"So, how long have you two been dating?"

"Um…" I tapped the counter, trying to think back. "Ten months?"

"Oh. I—"

Trey walked into the kitchen smelling like my favorite shampoo. "All cleaned up for you, babe. Now, come here."

He wore a white robe and had pulled the hood over his head. His boyish grin was endearing. I walked into his embrace, and he squeezed me tightly. He coughed again and his chest wheezed.

"Are you feeling ok?" I asked, listening to the rumble between his breaths.

"What's he still doing here?" Trey sneered. "Shouldn't he be in the guest house outside?"

"He," Christian replied from the other side of the kitchen. When did he move away? "Stays under the same roof as her. Always." Then he cleared his throat. "I'm glad you're all cleaned up. That was an unfortunate accident earlier."

Trey began to push me aside, but I knew he would only hurt himself if he tried to take on Christian. He was no match for him. "Trey," I said, pinching his chin to look at me. "What's the good news you had to share?"

Trey stared at Christian, but answered. "Kendra's manager called me earlier. They want to set up a meeting to discuss me singing on her next track."

"Oh," I said, a little confused. "But your music and hers are so different. I'm surprised—"

"You're surprised she would ask me? What kind of question is that?"

"That's not what I said. I was going to say I'm surprised your manager would be okay with you doing something away from the band. Won't that send the wrong message?"

He shrugged. "I don't care what those guys think. It's my career." He went into a coughing fit and at least had the grace to turn away.

"But they're your bandmates. You should talk to them before you commit to anything."

"You're too soft, Hailey. That's not how you handle business. Can't you just be happy for me?"

He pushed away and sulked toward the bar. Grabbing a bottle of whiskey, he poured himself a glass.

"Whoa, that's a lot," I said, noting the liquid had reached halfway up the large glass.

"What? I'm celebrating."

"Looks like you already started celebrating earlier," I mumbled.

Trey knocked back the whole half a glass of whiskey and then grabbed me by the waist. "Come on, let's go back to your room, where we can really celebrate," he whispered in my ear.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Christian turn away. Whether Trey's display of affection discomforted him or he preferred to give us privacy, I wasn't sure. Trey kissed me, pushing his wet tongue into my mouth. He tasted like whiskey and cigarettes, and I tried my best to ignore it.

"Trey," I said, pulling away from his kiss. "I've got a big day tomorrow. I haven't even had a chance to tell you my news—"

"You can tell me when you're riding me. That would be so hot."

He pulled me toward the bedroom, but I stopped him. "Um, it's getting late. Maybe tomorrow after The Harriet King Show." I grinned widely. "I'm going to be the musical guest. Isn't that great?" I bounced on the spot, pulling his attention back to me when he tried to steer us toward my bedroom.

He stopped to look at me and grinned. "That's fantastic, babe!" He kissed me again, inserting his tongue deeper, and I nearly gagged. "Maybe you can put a good word in for me."

I blinked, still smiling. "Yeah, sure. I'll mention that you'd love to be on the show."

"Well, don't say it like that. I don't want to sound desperate," he said and then sneezed directly on my face. "Shit, babe. Sorry about that." He wiped my face with the sleeve of the robe, but it was too late. I was grossed out.

"Trey, I think you should go to bed. I want to get some rest and you're not feeling well, so let's just hold off celebrating until tomorrow."

"Are you kicking me out?"

I grabbed his arm. "No, no, not at all. Just saying, let's call it an early night. But you can stay here. I'll probably leave before you wake up, but we can pick this up right after the show." I kissed his cheek, and he gave me a sour look, but conceded, anyway. "Fine."

I led Trey toward my bedroom, holding his hand. I felt a pull in my chest to turn around. So, I looked over my shoulder, but Christian wasn't there. A drawer slammed in the kitchen and utensils rattled, but I didn't see his face as I headed to bed with Trey on my arm. It shouldn't matter to me, anyway. Trey was my boyfriend. He was the one I would be sharing my bed with tonight. Strangely, I just wished he smelled like bacon instead of whiskey.