Chapter 3

Chynna couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt truly relaxed and in control of her own destiny than she did over the last week and a half. No schedules, no meetings, no tapings, no concerts. She’d woken up when she wanted, no matter the time of day. She was sure Kenya thought she was crazy sleeping half her morning away over the last week, but she didn’t care—she needed to catch up on her sleep.

Between the concerts and the late nights afterward, she was usually up all night and only able to sleep a few hours during the day. Since she’d been at the resort, she went to bed at midnight and got up at nine or ten o’clock, which was quite early for her.

Her twin, on the other hand, was usually already up, had gone for an hour-long run, showered and was sitting at the breakfast table eating an egg-white omelet the chef had prepared. They’d both been blessed with baby-making hips and each had to run or, in Chynna’s case, work with a trainer to keep their bodies tight. And tight hers had to remain. Eli was always telling her the camera put on fifteen pounds and that she had to stay within her target weight. Not so easy to do when she was on the road, eating fast food and not getting enough sleep.

She felt better mentally and physically this week than she ever had. She and Kenya had done yoga, Pilates and Zumba. She’d had a massage and facial just about every day, and her pores and skin never seemed so clear. Despite Deacon’s protestations, coming to the ranch was a gift.

“Hey, sis,” Chynna said, walking into the dining room where Kenya was seated and finishing her omelet.

“Can I have another one of those?” Chynna asked the patient chef, who always waited for her to wake up before starting her breakfast. “But make mine with smoked Gouda, spinach, sautéed mushrooms, onions and some bacon crumbles.”

Kenya laughed as she placed another forkful of omelet into her mouth. “You had me until the bacon crumbles.”

“Hey, bacon makes everything taste better,” Chynna said, plopping in the cushioned chair beside Kenya and folding one leg underneath the other.

“Sure thing,” the chef said and busied himself with making her order.

“So what are we going to do today?” Kenya asked.

“I thought we could venture out into the city,” Chynna said. “I love the ranch, but I’m dying to see what shopping Tucson has to offer.”

“Do you think that’s wise? The press has no idea where you are. Why give them any hints?”

“True.” The decoys they’d used had worked marvelously and the best the press could come up with was Chynna James had gone into hiding because she was ashamed at having been caught having an affair with a married man. “But as much as I love all this clean living, I need a little retail therapy. Don’t deny me one of the few things that make me happy in life.”

“It’s your funeral,” Kenya responded, getting up with her plate and taking it to the kitchen island. She started to rinse it off, but Chef Antoine stopped her.

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it, mon chèri.”

“Thank you.” She turned to rejoin Chynna.

Chynna was wearing a pouty frown, but then she saw Kenya’s stiff shoulders soften. “You’ll see, it’ll be a lot of fun, and I’ll have the concierge call ahead and arrange a few places and we’ll go through the back entrance.”

Several hours later, Chynna pranced in front of the three-way mirror in a sequin, feather mini-dress. High-gloss sequins were sprinkled over a sweetheart neckline, with the feathers dangling and barely reaching her thighs.

“What do you think?” Chynna asked, turning to Kenya, who was seated on the couch outside the dressing room.

“That it barely covers your crotch,” Kenya stated honestly.

Chynna rolled her eyes and turned back to the mirror to check out her side view. “This look is in, Kenya. It’s hot!”

“If you say so.”

Chynna turned back around with a malevolent look in her eye. “It’s about high time we got you out of your shell. You have a body as good, no, better than mine, and you can flaunt it.”

She looked over at the store attendant who’d been graciously helping them. As soon as they’d entered the exclusive boutique, she’d made it clear she was used to celebrities frequenting the store and that Chynna needn’t worry about any disturbances because she’d closed down the store. Chynna had hoped that would be the case and had informed the attendant she would be spending an outrageous sum of money, which had brought a smile from the store owner.

“Can you please get my twin here the sexiest dress you can find, and she’ll try it on and I’ll buy it.”

“Absolutely, Ms. James.” The store owner departed the fitting area.

“I don’t need to try on that stuff,” Kenya protested. “It’s not me.”

“How would you know? You live in your bubble in New York.”

“Ouch.” Kenya frowned.

“I’m sorry,” Chynna apologized, but it wasn’t quite sincere. Kenya needed to live a little. “When was your last date?”

Kenya shrugged. “I don’t know ... a few months ago, maybe six. What does that have to do with anything?”

“It means you’ve fallen off the horse and you have to get back on.”

“I just haven’t found the right man who excites me. I want a strong, take-charge man. A real man’s man. One who isn’t afraid to get dirty and maybe change a flat tire and ruin his manicure.”

“A man not into all the Hollywood bullshit?”

“You feel me.” Kenya pointed back to Chynna.

“That describes Lucas Kingston,” Chynna said, “in a nutshell.”

“Huph,” Kenya huffed.

“Hey, hey.” Chynna shook her finger at Kenya. “Don’t talk about my man like that.”

Kenya chuckled. “Does he know he’s your man?”

“Soon,” Chynna promised. “Real soon.”

“You’re telling me Chynna still isn’t back yet from this week-long sabbatical?” Lucas asked Deacon later that evening.

Deacon hated when the man turned the midnight eyes on him. Wasn’t it enough that he was six foot five, built like a running back, and outweighed him by a hundred pounds? Did he have to have piercing eyes too? “No, she’s not back yet.”

Lucas slammed his fists on his desk. “We’ve already canceled two tour dates because of all this foolishness with Blake Cooper. She needs to get her butt back here.”

“She’s not ready yet.”

“Not ready?” Lucas said. “It’s been over a week and the salaciousness of this story isn’t dying down. She needs to face the press. If she doesn’t, she’ll always be in fear of them. Sometimes you have to look a bully in the face. You know what I’m saying?”

“I don’t disagree, Lucas,” Deacon responded. “And I tried to tell her as much, but after she talked to her twin, she was convinced it was in her best interest.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Lucas said. “She has a twin—an identical one, right?”

Deacon nodded.

“Have you ever met her?”

“Couple of times, but not for long. Kenya hates the L.A. scene and Chynna usually goes out there to her or meets her somewhere else. In her own words, ‘I want to keep my family life private,’ which makes this thing with Blake so crazy. Sure, she’s an incorrigible flirt, but she’d never do anything reckless.”

Lucas shook his head in agreement. Incorrigible flirt was correct. Chynna James had set her sights on him and was always trying to get his attention, but he, like this twin of hers, wasn’t interested in the L.A. scene either. Surprising given that he’d gone into business with his best friend, Eli Ross, to start R&K Records, but then again, he was supposed to be a silent partner. Eli was supposed to be the face because the man could spot talent in a heartbeat. But when Eli’s mismanagement became apparent, Lucas had to step in and forgo being hidden in the shadows or risk losing his investment. So, Lucas had gotten sucked into the game, much to his own dismay. Eli continued to handle talent, but Lucas kept his eyes on everything now, and Chynna sashaying her butt out of town was costing him money and he didn’t like it one bit.

“Where is she?” Lucas rose from his seat and walked over to stand in front of Deacon. He knew his basketball player height scared the manager, but he wasn’t above using intimidation to get his way. He needed Chynna back now.

“No can do, Lucas,” Deacon said. “Chynna’s been my client for years, and I can’t go against her wishes.”

“But you don’t mind getting those bonuses from the record label either.”

Deacon began slowly backing away from Lucas and heading toward the door. “I don’t mind them a bit, but Chynna would have my head and I can’t betray her.”

“Well, you tell your client she’d better have her butt back here and ready to fight before her third concert on Friday. If I have to cancel another, it’ll be coming out of her pocket. Capish?”

Deacon reached the door in record time and turned the handle. “I’ll be sure to relay your message to Chynna.”

Seconds later, the short, bald man was out of Lucas’s office, and he sighed heavily.

Why does Chynna have to be so contrary? If he didn’t need her so much, he’d throttle her. Somehow, someway, he’d get Chynna James back on course, and he would use any method necessary.

She reminded him of his little sister living in South Central. She’d gone the wrong way and had ended up pregnant with three kids. And as much as he loved his niece and nephews, his sister didn’t need to have babies at sixteen. If only she hadn’t been in such a hurry to grow up and experience life so fast.

That’s who Chynna reminded him of. She’d gotten in this business too young, and in order to be seen and heard, she always had to be the center of attention, and what better way than by being contrary? Doesn’t she realize there are consequences to her actions? The world didn’t just stop because Chynna decided she needed a break from reality.

Life hadn’t been easy for Lucas either. He’d had to work for everything he’d ever obtained. He’d started out in the rough and tough streets of South Central. It would’ve been easy for him to fall the way of a lot of young black men to drugs and violence. But Lucas had other plans: to get the hell out of South Central as fast as his body and mind could get him. Excelling at school and getting a scholarship to UCLA had been high on his list of priorities, and he’d done just that. And now, he wasn’t about to let some spoiled pop star ruin what it had taken him so long to gain.

When Chynna came back to L.A., he was going to have a come-to-Jesus moment with the starlet and tell her in no uncertain terms that he wouldn’t put up with her bullshit, no matter how much she was adored my millions of fans.