“Yay for yours.” I smile. “Seems like you’ve been working on everyone else’s stuff.”
“Well, I got quite a bit of material done while you were on tour.” There’s something in his voice I don’t understand, but I don’t press.
“Really? That’s great.”
“Yeah, it was a little bit of a musical bender where I forgot to bathe and groom myself, but some good stuff came out of it.”
I wrinkle my nose.
“Sorry I missed that.”
“I’m not.” He laughs. “So anyway, some of the songs I did are good, but need an edge. You know DJ Kaos?”
“German?”
“Yeah. He lives in Berlin. He’s coming to LA in a few days to go in the studio. See if we can sharpen some of the stuff I came up with.”
Berlin’s not too far. We’ll be there soon. Maybe I could stow away in the dee jay’s luggage.
“Pep, are you okay?”
The question comes like a flash of lightning, cracking into the conversation with unexpected force. No one has asked me in days how I’m doing. Everyone just assumes this pace, these demands, take no toll, but they have. They do. I don’t want to acknowledge how much of a toll the last two months have taken on me. On my body, my voice, my mind. Part of me doesn’t want Rhyson to worry. And part of me doesn’t want him to know, in many ways, he was right.
“I’m fine. I just gotta go.”
He’s quiet on the other end, like he’s probing between the lines of what I’m saying. Hunting for what I won’t say.
“Yeah, the blogger. I heard.”
“I love you, Rhys.” Stupid tears flood my throat.
“Baby, you know I love you more than anything. If you need me—”
“I’m good. It’s just a tour, Rhyson. I’m good. Promise.” I clear my throat. “They’re gonna come looking if I don’t—”
“Yeah. Okay. Bye.”
I know that once I say this word, it’s over. This conversation, this connection to him, is over, and I’m back to the grind. As much as I love performing and as much as this really is all a dream come true, it’s chaos. I’m ready to rest. And there’s no greater peace than Rhyson. So I hold off as long as I can until I know I absolutely have to go. And then I say it.
“Goodbye.”
LONDON. CHECK
Manchester. Check.
Today. Rehearsals.
Tomorrow night, our show here in Berlin.
DJ Kaos’ stomping grounds. I guess he’s in LA with Rhyson by now. Just three weeks and I go home. I can do this. I realized it might be more than just fatigue weighing me down. I think I’m coming down with something. Like I can afford that.
“Tea?” Ella walks across the stage, steaming mug in hand.
I finish the last of my stretches before rehearsal starts and accept her lemon-scented gift. The first sip soothes my raw throat, coating the rough spots.
“Honey?” I aim a smile at my makeup artist over the brim.
“Of course.” Ella grins, leaning against the stage wall. “I know by now how you like it.”
She frowns, eyes sharpening on my face.
“And I could tell last night you were a little under the weather.”
An ill-timed cough racks my chest before I can respond.
“I’m fine,” I say once the little coughing bout passes. “Just tired. I could use some vocal rest, but I don’t see that coming with back-to-back shows in front of us. Just glad to have the night off.”
“You gonna explore Berlin some?” Ella looks over at a cluster of back-up dancers. “They’re hitting the clubs tonight. You going?”
“I think I’ll stay in. Try to lose this cold.”
“So you do have a cold?”
I grin at the little trap she set for me.
“Little bit, but nothing rest and more of your tea won’t make better.”
Two strident claps draw everyone’s attention center stage. Dub stands in the middle, loose jogging pants hanging low on his lean hips, fitted t-shirt clinging to his muscled torso. All the girls love Dub. I hope he’ll focus more on the girls who actually want him and less on me.
“Let’s hit it, fam.” Dub points to the back-up dancers. “Places. Where’s Kai?”
“Present and accounted for, sarge.” I raise my hand with a grin, which he returns.
“Good. Let’s run through those new steps. See if we can nail ‘em before the show tomorrow.”
For the next two hours, we work without a break. Malcolm got the right one. Dub understands the high expectations Malcolm sets for the whole team, and is more than happy to meet them. Exceed them. He’s the best choreographer in the business right now, and I’m so fortunate to have him. I remind myself of that when he snaps at me again because I’ve missed another step.
What is wrong with me? I’ve always prided myself on being a quick study. Show me a combination once, twice. I got it. But this new routine eludes me. I just can’t quite execute it. There’s a row of dancers behind me who would kill to be in my place wondering why I can’t get it together.