Skyville Boys Read online

“Will they even let me into a nightclub?”

  She waves her hand. “You’ll be fine if you’re with me. Thanks so much for doing this, sweetie. You can choose the songs.”

  “It’s fine, you choose. We’ll practice tomorrow morning.”

  She moves closer to kiss my cheek. “We’ll be amazing together. I can’t wait.”

  I smile. I’m excited about it, too.

  As I settle on my bed with Netflix, my phone rings with a number I don’t recognize. “Hello?”

  “Hey, Kara? It’s Carter.”

  “Hey.”

  “I got your number from Jax. I hope that’s okay.”

  How did Jax get my number? The stalker vibes come again, but I tell myself I’m being paranoid. There are many ways he could have gotten my number.

  “It’s okay,” I say.

  “Cool.”

  Quiet.

  “Right, I called you,” he says with a laugh. “I just wanted to tell you I think we should practice ‘A Change in Me’ tomorrow. You sang it so beautifully by your audition, but I messed up a bit.”

  “Are you kidding? You were amazing.”

  “Heh, thanks.”

  Quiet again.

  “Have you seen your costume yet?” he asks.

  “It’s done already?”

  “The blue dress is,” he says. “Jax’s been staying late nights to work on it. I think he wants to finish it up so he can focus on the gown. It’s beautiful.”

  “I can’t wait to see it.”

  Quiet again.

  “Okay, I have a confession,” he says. “‘A Change in Me’ was just an excuse.”

  “And excuse for what?” I ask.

  “To talk to you.”

  “What?”

  He laughs sheepishly. “Sorry, is that weird?”

  “No. I’m just surprised.”

  “It was cool,” he says. “Me and you singing and talking. You know…?”

  “Yeah, it was.”

  Quiet again.

  “Wow, this is awkward. Why are phone calls always so awkward?”

  I laugh. “I know.”

  “Carter!” a kid calls in the background. “Where’s the music?”

  “I’m on the phone,” Carter says.

  “But I want the music!”

  “Mackenzie, can you please wait a second? Or ask Peyton.”

  “She doesn’t know what I’m talking about.” Her voice is louder, like she stepped into his room. “Carter, I want the music!”

  “Okay, okay. Which one?”

  “From Frozen. The Broadway musical, not the movie. I want ‘A Little Bit of You!’ It’s the one where Elsa and Anna make the snowman.”

  “Okay, one second. Kara?” Carter says into the phone. “Can I call you back?”

  “Sure.”

  I hang up and spend the next few minutes thinking about Carter. That afternoon we spent together. Warmness enters my limbs, making me smile.

  My phone rings. “Sorry about that,” Carter says. “My little sister has no patience for anything. She’s obsessed with Frozen. She used to love the movie, but her teacher took her class to see the musical last year, and I volunteered to chaperone. She’s been obsessed with it ever since. She listens to the cast recording every day. It would be annoying if I didn’t love the musical, too.”

  “Carter…”

  “What?” he asks.

  “Do you know who’s on the cast recording?”

  He’s quiet for a second. Then he bursts out laughing. “You’re right. How could I forget you originated Young Elsa? No wonder it’s my sister’s favorite song. Wow, I’m so out of it. I wish I could have seen you live, though. Jax offered to take me, but I guess I was busy. Too bad.”

  “Jax saw me?” I ask.

  “Yep.”

  That uneasy feeling invades my body.

  “Anyway, I’m glad my sister has good taste,” he says, and I feel his smile through the phone.

  “Please,” I say.

  “Come on. You can have an ego. You are the star of Beauty and the Beast.”

  I hear my voice singing in the background. I laugh. “How high is her volume?”

  “Loud enough for people on Mars to hear. Wow, you sound amazing. Even at twelve.”

  My face warms up. “Stop.”

  “Nope.”

  I laugh again.

  “I’m happy you’re laughing,” he says. “I don’t hear it often at school.”

  “Great, now you made me insecure about it.”

  “No! Please don’t feel insecure. I think you look so pretty when you smile. I mean, you always look pretty, but you look even prettier when you smile.” He takes in a sharp breath. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

  My face feels even hotter. I laugh nervously.

  “Sorry for making things awkward again.”

  “Are you kidding? It never stopped being awkward.”

  That makes him laugh. “And she’s funny, too,” he says. “Is there anything Kara Starr can’t do?”

  “Cook,” I say.

  “Me neither.”

  “Good thing you’re a piano genius,” I say.

  “Yeah,” he says, though his mind sounds far away. “Good thing.”

  We’re quiet again.

  “So…I think I’ll go now,” he says. “I need to babysit tomorrow morning. I can’t wait to practice with you on Monday.”

  “Me, too. Bye.”

  I smile as I lie down, replaying my conversation with Carter and dissecting it like every girl does.

  I like him. A lot. He’s sweet, kind, super talented, and a little dorky but in a cool way. I can’t wait to see him again.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Ezra

  I stare at my reflection in the bathroom mirror and practice my lines, studying my face closely. I’ll be wearing a mask for most of the musical, but facial expression is everything.

  “Ezra.” Mom knocks on the door. “Your sister and her fiancé will be here any minute.”

  I fix my tie. Why do I have to dress up? It’s not like I’m the one who needs to impress him.

  I press my palms on the sink, breathing in and out. In and out. There’s no use trying to calm myself. I know today’s lunch won’t end well. They never do.

  The smell attacks my nose the second I open the door to my room. Mom hired a professional chef, and then she’ll brag to Mark how she cooked the meal especially for him. Because she’s so happy he’s part of the family.

  She’s so happy to get the son she’s always wanted.

  “There you are,” Mom hisses when I get downstairs. “I want you in the living room when they come in.”

  To play the part of the perfect son. I lower myself next to Dad. He sits there with a straight back and his hands on his knees.

  Why do I follow along and give in to this bullshit? That’s a good question.

  “They’re here!” Mom says from where she’s peering out the window. She flings open the door and throws her arms around Christina, kissing her cheeks.

  Christina’s the perfect, dutiful daughter. Following the path my parents laid out for her. Top grades at school. Valedictorian. Accepted into Harvard Law, just like Dad. Now she works at a prestigious law firm in New York City and is engaged to a lawyer from another prestigious firm. No doubt they’ll make future lawyer babies, too.

  “Mark!” Mom hugs and kisses him. “Please, come in. I prepared a special meal for you.”

  “Hey, brother.” Christina hugs me. “Good to see you.”

  She and I get along all right. We’re not best friends. Not even sure we’re close. But we tolerate each other. That’s more than my parents do for me.

  “Hey, man.” Mark shakes my hand. He’s a pretty good-looking guy, dark hair and an inch taller than me. His suit is crisp and his tie is perfect.

  We settle down on the couch, where Mom starts to subtlety prod every little detail of their lives. She does it in a manner that’s not rude or nosy. Dad looks a l
ittle bored, but he’s trained to be polite.

  I itch to go up to my room and run lines. To be the best Beast in the history of Beasts.

  My thoughts travel to Kara, to the way her entire face lit up during practice on Thursday when Carter made the key change. Something shifted inside me when I saw that expression on her face.

  Mom and the lovebirds drone on about things that would bore every other single person on the planet. Anything Christina says is gold. It’s been that way since I was a kid. I knew I could never match up to her. So I quit trying.

  Once the bullshit conversation is over, we move into the dining room to have another bullshit discussion over a bullshit meal. Which by the way is delicious. It pisses me off every time Mom takes credit for it.

  “What’s going on with you?” Christina asks me. “Have you thought about college yet?”

  “We’ve been discussing it with him,” Dad says as he helps himself to some fancy dish with a fancy name I probably can’t pronounce. “We’re narrowing them down to the schools with the best law programs.”

  “Harvard’s out?” she asks.

  Mom shifts in her seat. “His grades aren’t that great.”

  “But we’re working on it,” Dad says.

  Good to know I’m just as good as the paintings on the wall.

  “Ez, what schools do you want to apply to?”

  “Not sure I’m going to. If I can get into a school that has a good music program, maybe. If not, I’ll just head to New York City and take my chances there.”

  “Ezra,” Mom hisses.

  The smile vanishes from Christina’s face. “What is he talking about?”

  “He’s talking about not going to law school,” I say. “He’s talking about wanting to be on Broadway.”

  Christina laughs. “Are you still going on about that? Really, Ezra? Broadway?”

  I narrow my eyes at her. “Got a problem with that?”

  “I live in New York City, little bro. You have any idea how hard it is to make it there?”

  “Any harder than making partner?”

  “You just need to work hard,” she says.

  “Same with Broadway.”

  “Enough,” Mom says with a stern voice, though she wears a smile. “Once we work on picking up his grades, we’ll work on his essay and extra-circulars. I’m sure Dad can ask the dean at Harvard to put in a good word…”

  My hands fist as I glare at my untouched plate.

  She continues planning my future, and Dad adds in his two cents here and there. No one asks for my opinion or my agreement.

  Christina’s fiancé eyes trek to mine, a somewhat sympathetic look on his face. Christina, though? She’s one hundred percent with my parents. Because why would anyone not want to be a lawyer?

  My parents understand passion all right. I’ve seen them enough in court. But passion for anything other than law is something they can’t fathom. I used to hope they would understand me one day. Or at least try to. But I’m starting to realize they never will.

  Try as I might, I don’t know why I care so much.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Kara

  I don’t remember the last time I wore a dress. It’s not too fancy, but it’s very beautiful. Black with sequins that will hopefully shine when I’m on stage. If there’s even a stage. Grandma told me the club usually just has a piano player for entertainment, though they hire bands every so often. It’s a good thing they weren’t making a big deal about our performance because the last thing I want is to draw attention to myself.

  My hair is tied up in an elegant updo and my two-inch black heels are waiting for me near the door. Just as I’m putting the finishing touches to my face, Grandma knocks on my door and walks in. “Hey, sweetie. You ready?” She comes over to stand behind me. “You look stunning.”

  “Thanks.” I smile at her through the mirror. “You look stunning, too. Definitely not like a grandma.”

  She’s also wearing a black dress, one that reaches above her knees. And with her hair styled similar to mine, we could almost look like sisters.

  She beams. “That’s what I like to hear. You nervous?”

  “A bit,” I lie. I’m extremely nervous. It’s been a while since I’ve sung on a stage. “You? Never mind. You don’t get nervous.”

  “I’m excited, hun. I can’t wait to perform with you. I can’t remember the last time we did.”

  She’s right. With our busy schedules that last few years, I can’t remember, either. “I’m also a little worried,” I admit. “About our performance getting too much attention.”

  She rests her hands on my shoulders, gently squeezing them. “I told the owner of the club to make sure no one takes any pictures or videos. She’ll make an announcement before we go on stage. If anyone is caught looking at their phone, they’ll be kicked out.”

  I stare at her. “Isn’t that a little extreme?”

  “I want to make sure my granddaughter is safe but still doing something she loves. I won’t let the jerk take that away from you.” She gently presses her cheek against mine, then gives it a quick kiss. “I’ll meet you downstairs. James should be here to drive us any minute.”

  I check my face one more time before slipping into my shoes and wrapping a shawl around my shoulders. Grandma and I chug down a glass of water just as the doorbell rings. It’s Grandma’s driver, James. Grandma never bothered getting her license because she lived most of her adult life in New York City. Even if she did, she’d probably still have James. He’s about her age, maybe a little older.

  “My my, I’m standing before two beautiful women,” he says, pressing a kiss to Grandma’s cheek and hugging me.

  “Thank you,” Grandma says, then smiles at me. “What do you say, James? The spitting image of her mother?”

  “I’d say the spitting image of you.”

  Grandma’s eyes fill with tears as she takes me in. “Kara, I’m so proud of you.” She quickly wipes them away. “Damn, I’m ruining my face. And I’m totally acting like a grandmother right now.”

  “You are one,” I remind her with a laugh.

  James gestures toward the door. “Ladies?”

  Grandma and I warm up on the ride to the club, doing some weird vocal exercises her vocal coach has been teaching her for years. I can’t help but burst out laughing at how ridiculous we sound. But then we pull up to the club and my insides get all twisted.

  Grandma’s hand slides into mine. “You’ve got this,” she whispers. “And remember, I’m right there next to you.”

  I nod, and we get out of the car. I could hear piano music playing as we walk up to the building. James tells the bouncer who we are, and he quickly calls for the owner-manager, who ushers us inside with a huge smile on her face. Grandma told me this is one of the most popular clubs in Skyville, but the customers are starting to get a little bored with the same music, which is why the owner is trying to switch things up. I only hope they’re interested in show tunes.

  There’s a small stage, thankfully. And right next to it is the piano player, who is currently playing a song I don’t recognize.

  Actually, I do recognize it. I heard it only two days ago. My eyes quickly rake over the back of his head, taking in the familiar dark blond. Yeah, that hair definitely belongs to Carter Hill.

  I hurry up to him and smile. “Hey, Carter.”

  His fingers freeze mid-play, and he slowly raises his eyes to mine. I can’t read the expression on his face—something between horror, embarrassment, anger, frustration. There’s also a darkness that makes me step back a little, the smile vanishing from my face.

  “This is my grandmother, Darla Starr,” I continue.

  They shake hands, and I notice his is a little stiff.

  “I didn’t know you work here,” I say. “That’s cool.”

  He continues playing, not looking at me. I remain there for a few seconds, waiting for him to acknowledge me. But he’s acting like I’m not standing right before him. Like I’
m one of the beautiful walls surrounding the club. Like I’m not worthy enough to be spoken to.

  “Kara,” Grandma says, handing Carter the sheet music. “We’re up.”

  I keep my eyes on him for a few more seconds, still waiting for that acknowledgement. But he just continues playing that song he composed.

  Pushing the pain away, I follow Grandma onto the stage, my head immediately glancing behind me to look at Carter. Nothing. He doesn’t even look my way, just studies the sheet music. He’s turned into a completely different person, one I don’t recognize. Just two days ago we were having fun singing, playing, and sharing embarrassing stories. What the heck is going on?

  “Tonight we have a special treat for you,” the owner-manager announces at the mic. “Darla Starr and her granddaughter…”

  “Who is that boy?” Grandma asks.

  She’s trying to put up a nonchalance face, but I see the curiosity and slight concern written all over. I shrug. “Just a guy from school.”

  She’s about to say something, but then the audience claps. Grandma grabs my hands. “You ready for this, kid?”

  I once again look at Carter. He’s playing an intro to the first song we’ll sing tonight, a variation I’ve never heard before. Swallowing hard, I say, “Not really. But let’s do this.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Carter

  Some audience members seem excited about the guest performers, clapping enthusiastically like they’re at a Broadway show. Some look bored or not interested while others look drunk. My insides get twisted in this agonizing way as I watch Kara follow her grandmother onto the stage. She looks so beautiful. But she was even more beautiful two minutes ago, before I acted like a total jerk to her. Face shining, like she couldn’t wait to shower the audience with her amazing talents. To share the stage with her grandmother. But now she’s bothered, uncomfortable. All because of me.

  Her eyes flick in my direction as her grandmother thanks the owner and says hello to the audience. I quickly look away, focusing on the piano keys. It’s killing me inside, the way I treated her. But I had no choice. And I can’t explain it to her. She wouldn’t understand.

  Darla Starr gives me a nod, my cue that they’re ready to start. I ease out of the intro and start playing the score. I know this song by heart, been playing it and my own variations since I was a kid. “I Don’t Need Anything But You,” from Annie.