Home > Grown(4)

Grown(4)
Author: Tiffany D. Jackson

Chin up.

Hold the mic firm.

Eye contact with the audience.

But the only person I seem to see is Korey, who hasn’t taken his eyes off me.

“You’re a part of me

Korey leans forward in his chair. And somehow, seeing him, the one person I can make out in a room full of nameless faces, soothes my nerves. So I sing to him, just him. The way I used to sing to Grandma during my living room concerts when I was a kid.

And you don’t even know it

I’m what you need

But I’m too afraid to show it . . .

When I’m done, the room bursts into applause. Korey’s mouth hangs open, staring up in awe.

Judge #1-Melissa: “You have a great voice. But a little shaky. Need a few more rounds of singing lessons.”

Judge #2-Don: “Eh, I don’t like the song. Too old-school. Not something of today.”

Judge #3-Richie: “You two are crazy. You hear all that untamed talent? But I’m outnumbered here. Better luck next year, sweetheart. I’m sure we’ll see you again. Soon.”

 

 

Chapter 5


Bright Eyes

 


Backstage is dark enough to mask the oncoming tears. The perfect place to hide when you need a moment or two. Or ten. Or fifteen.

I need a few before rejoining Mom, before spending the forty-five-minute drive home in awkward silence. I tricked her into taking me to this audition, all for nothing. I don’t understand. I know I nailed that song. Did way better than others. But maybe it wasn’t the song choice. Maybe it was the whole package that turned them away. My skin, my clothes, my crooked smile, my nonexistent hair . . .

“Nice song.”

His breath touches the back of my neck, and I whip around.

Korey Fields.

My tongue plays dead in my mouth, lips parting. When did he come back here? And how . . . wait, I’m talking to Korey Fields. Well, no, I’m not talking. He’s talking to me. Say something, dummy!

“Um . . . thanks.”

His smile lights up the dark space. Up close, he smells rich, like honey and musky tanning oil. His outfit is crisp, not a speck of dirt on him. Not even on his kicks.

“Interesting pick,” he says, nodding as if impressed.

“Interesting?” I repeat.

“I’m just surprised someone your age would choose such a . . . classic.”

I don’t know how to take that, so I shrug and offer honesty.

“It was one of my grandma’s favorites.”

He pauses, a stunned look in his eyes before chuckling. “Yeah, mine too.”

We stand in silence, staring at each other. The next contestant is already onstage, singing Beyoncé. Guess I missed the memo that I should’ve gone with any song from her catalog.

Korey seems much taller in his music videos, towering over every girl he dances on. But in person, he’s regular. Not that he’s short or nothing, just not the LeBron James I thought he’d be. More Steph Curry.

“You have a voice,” he says. “You take lessons?”

“Kinda.” I don’t think YouTube counts. “But I practice all the time! And write my own songs.”

“Hm. Well, you should take some. Professional ones.”

I blink. “Ouch. Was I that bad?”

“Oh, nah. Not like that!” He chuckles. “But even naturals need some coaching. Like sports. You get better the more you train. You feel me?”

I think of Coach Wilson and smile. “Yeah, I think I know exactly what you mean.”

Korey searches my face.

“Here, let me show you something real quick.”

I gasp as he steps toward me, laying one hand flat on my stomach, then the other on the middle of my back. I tense up, frantically searching the room.

Does ANYONE see this? Korey Fields . . . is touching ME!

But there’s only bodyguards. And they all seem to be standing away from us, backs turned, pretending they’re invisible.

“Relax, ma, it’s OK. You’re safe with me,” he says with a wink, voice raspy. “See, you gotta breathe from your diaphragm. Do it with me, ready?”

I breathe in deep, my belly expanding as he caresses my back.

“Now release a note as you exhale.”

I do as he says, and the note comes out smooth and effortless.

“See? Better?”

“Yeah.” I giggle. “Better.”

I look up into his eyes and . . . I can’t look away . . . so I don’t because he doesn’t either. His lips, pressed into a hard line, part.

“Damn. You got some beautiful eyes.”

My heart beats hard against my ribs, hands rested on his like they’ve always belonged there, rubbing the rough patches on his knuckles. Then it hits me . . . I’m touching Korey Fields. THE Korey Fields . . . and Mom could come back here any moment. It’d be sixth grade all over again, when I got caught in the closet kissing Jose Torres.

Except Korey isn’t a regular boy like Jose. He’s . . . so much more.

“I, um, I gotta go. My . . . mom is probably wondering where I’m at.”

A flash of confusion sweeps across his face. He hesitates before unattaching himself.

“How old are you?”

I gulp. “Seventeen.”

For a long moment, his face is expressionless. Then he offers a smile.

“You’re gonna come to my show next Saturday,” he says. “I’ll hook you and your parents up with some VIP tickets.”

The last contestant jogs backstage with a face-splitting smile. She was picked. Of course.

“Um, OK,” I say.

“Your name will be at the box office,” he says whipping out his phone before winking at me. “See you later, Bright Eyes.”

He taps one of his bodyguards, who gives me a once-over before exiting.

Butterflies tickle the inside of my chest. Maybe I’m hallucinating. Because there’s absolutely no way Korey Fields would ever be into me.

 

 

Chapter 6


A Star is Born

 


According to Wikipedia, Korey Fields is twenty-eight years old.

Korey was a protégé. A child superstar at thirteen, he was discovered on YouTube, singing Stevie Wonder songs.

Raised by his grandmother, he could play several instruments, including drums, piano, guitar, and even trumpet. All self-taught while spending hours at his local Baptist church.

They called him the second coming of Michael Jackson, with such hit singles as “Invincible,” “I Remember You,” “Work It,” and “Love Is a Verb.”

My parents loved dancing to his song “A Lifetime of Love.”

Fifteen top Billboard hits. Triple-platinum albums. Back-to-back sold-out concerts and tours.

He won his first Grammy at age fifteen.

He’s an E shy of being an EGOT (Emmy Grammy Oscar Tony).

The shirtless photo on the cover of his latest album is like an oil painting of a Greek god. He’s the color of earth. Dark eyes, sharp chin, perfect nose, a chest chiseled out of amber stone, muscles forming a V right above his jeans waistband . . .

Korey Fields is twenty-eight years old.

He’s young. But not that young.

 

 

Chapter 7


Friends to the End

Hot Books
» House of Earth and Blood (Crescent City #1)
» A Kingdom of Flesh and Fire
» From Blood and Ash (Blood And Ash #1)
» A Million Kisses in Your Lifetime
» Deviant King (Royal Elite #1)
» Den of Vipers
» House of Sky and Breath (Crescent City #2)
» Sweet Temptation
» The Sweetest Oblivion (Made #1)
» Chasing Cassandra (The Ravenels #6)
» Wreck & Ruin
» Steel Princess (Royal Elite #2)
» Twisted Hate (Twisted #3)
» The Play (Briar U Book 3)
» The War of Two Queens (Blood and Ash #4)