Tone Deaf

Chapter Seven

Which is why this makes even less sense.

I mean, Devon Pine? Were we really arguing over Devon freaking Pine? Of all things that could get between me and Tay...

I shake my head, trying to clear it of all thoughts of Tay and Devon and everything, and instead walk into the photo studio, where I know Powell is waiting for me.

We're doing a photo shoot to promote my new line of sneakers, the Edgers, which are coming out in a couple months. They're fucking rad, too, I'm insanely pumped about them. I worked with this incredible designer, K-Lin, and she let me have all the creative freedom I wanted. She basically took all of my rambling thoughts and ideas and sketches and turned them into these really awesome shoes. I will never fail to be impressed by the talent I come across in this industry.

When I get there, Powell spots me and makes a beeline straight for me.

"Kyle! Welcome, welcome, I assume you know how this is going to work?" he asks, with that obnoxious grin on his face.

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Not like I've been doing this for six years or anything. This photo shoot has been booked since I was back with Rachel and Blue Banana, Powell just managed to swing a way better studio and crew.

"Yeah," I say, instead. "Dressing room?"

He points and I give him a nod before heading over. I know he's a music business mastermind, but I get this overwhelmingly creepy vibe from him. He's just not my kind of person.

"Oh, and Kyle!" he calls after me, "A friend of yours is waiting on you in there!"

I nod, to signify I heard him, and continue to walk in the direction of the dressing room. It's probably Jax.

Jax is this ridiculous story of athlete-turned-rapper, and he's one of those 'he-can-do-anything' people. He graduated from high school at fifteen and college at eighteen, because he's also a genius and skipped a bunch of grades. Then he got recruited by the Lakers when he was like nineteen and did that for two years before he busted up his knee and couldn't play professionally anymore. Everyone thought his career was over, and he went under the radar for about a year. But then, when he was twenty-two, he released an album and everyone freaked out because, shit, that kid can rap.

He's also probably one of the funniest people I've ever met. He's the one who shows me all these crazy LA hangouts and has a different girl on his arm every time we go out. Rachel absolutely hates him; she always thought he "distracted me from my goals". This was, and is, of course, absolute bullshit.

I'm glad he's here; he makes everything a laugh.

But when I walk into my dressing room, it's not a cocky, lanky black kid sitting on the counter. It's Tay.

I sigh and expel a "hey".

"Hey," she replies, her voice much quieter and softer than usual.

It's awkward. Normally, after a fight or an argument, we just pretend it never happened and go back to our usual antics. But this time, it's different. And neither one of us knows what to say. Since I notice neither my stylist nor my clothes are in here yet and I have nothing to occupy myself with, I sigh and casually say, "So what're you doing here?"

She shrugs. "Thought I'd come and say hey."

"Thanks." I reply shortly, not knowing what else to say.

"Clara coming?" she asks. "Or you replace her too?"

I clench my jaw. I know she's not trying to be aggressive, but sometimes it just comes out of her. It's just part of her personality.