All Rights Reserved ©



“Stop!” Kyle’s voice echoed through the mic in the studio. “If you don’t want to be here then don’t waste my freakin’ time! Get out of my studio! Both of you!” he boomed, not looking pleased with us.

To be honest, we sounded terrible and he kept telling us to try again and again until he blew a fuse. This had been going on for the whole week and I couldn’t blame them for flying off the handle. They had been very patient. He had every right to kick us out for wasting his precious time.

As if that was his cue, Corbyn did exactly that with no argument. He ripped the headphones off his head, threw them to the side, grabbed his jacket and stomped out.

Jordan stepped in front of him and blocked his way, pulling his arm just as he was about to yank the door open “If you walk out that door then don’t ever think of coming back. Understood? Do you get what I’m saying to you?”

“I’m sorry JC,” he mumbled, his gaze to the floor. “I’ve got a lot going on-”

“And I don’t?” his mentor challenged. “Do you know that I didn’t sleep at all last night? My son wasn’t well,” he expounded. “And Kyle over there just landed from Siberia. He hasn’t seen his wife or his children. He came straight here from the airport. For you. And this is the gratitude you show him.”
Corbyn ran his fingers through his dark, tousled hair to stop from reaching out for the door again. “I’m sor-”

“I wasn’t done,” Jordan interrupted. “If I can recall, you were the one who wanted this duet. You insisted it on. Do you think we don’t have stuff going on or better things to do than to be here and put up with your tantrums?”

“Can’t do this. I’m going home to my wife and kids,” Kyle said taking his car keys and phone from the table. “I didn’t come here to babysit. My brats are at home and that’s where I should have been in the first place. Thanks for wasting my time.” He threw a disappointed glance at us and took his leave.

“Now look what you’ve done?” Jordan glowered at Corbyn. “Do you know what it took for me and Kyle to take you on as an artist, Coleman? Are you even remotely aware of the opportunity that you have-you know what? I don’t need this. It’s like four in the freakin’ morning and-I’m not going to put up with this. I’m not the one that has an album launch in under a month.” He dropped his protégés arm like he got burnt. “You’re on your own. I’m out.”

I dropped onto the red leather sofa that was pushed against the wall and grimaced as I looked around. Somehow, I knew that this was going to go down south. Corbyn and I hadn’t spoken to each other for over a month. Since the day I’ve dubbed as Rubber Day. No one was aware that we were not on speaking terms and I had intended to keep it that way. But after tonight…

Corbyn cleared his throat to get my attention and when I looked up I was met with a glare. “Let’s forget about this duet,” he enounced in a stiff tone. “You don’t want to do it any more than I do. You’re off the hook.”

“We can still be professional, can’t we?”

“No, we can’t.” His words were short, impersonal and curt before he stormed through the glass door in a huff.

It was spring break and I was spending a few weeks with my son and my mom before I embarked on a Europe tour, which would last until the end of the holiday. Corbyn and I had written a beautiful piece and I was supposed to perform it at his opening show, and he was supposed to be a surprise guest at mine. Guess those plans went up in smoke.

I had dozed off on the couch when I felt someone shaking me by the shoulders.

“What?!” I groaned, swatting the hand away.

“Get up!” My best friend hovered over me anxiously.

“Terrel..?” I sat up and squinted then blinked rapidly. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be in Japan or something?”

“I was...” she sighed deeply and started pacing around the room. As usual, she was dressed to kill, showcasing the latest fashion that graced magazines and blogs. “But something came up.” She paused and ran immaculately manicured fingers through her cropped-off curls as her tongue explored her crimson painted lips. “You see, I’m not really married…I wasn’t I mean to say.”

“What do mean?” The feeling of panic, mixed with distaste, rose as I sat up.

“Oh my gosh, how do I say this without freaking you out?” She pressed her fingers on her brow and took a deep breath before coming to sit next to me. “There was a mess up during the signing of the marriage certificate-because it was all rushed remember? Justin and I were so hammered that we signed as witnesses, whereas you and Corbyn…” she trailed off.

“No!” I shook my head disparagingly. “No, no, no, nooo….”

“The papers have already been filed…I’m so sorry Blue…” She scrunched her face and squeezed my hand, knowing there were no words to comfort me. “But we can fix this,” she said with enthusiasm. “We can just get an annulment for you and Corbyn. Don’t worry about me and Jus. We managed to sort ourselves out.”

“Because it was simple enough,” I replied saucily. “You didn’t get hitched unsuspectingly, to someone that hates the very air that you breathe!”

“Now you’re just being dramatic!” she fluttered her hand dismissively. “Everyone knows Corbyn worships the ground you walk on.”
“You have to fix this,” I pointed a stern finger at her.

“I’m afraid it’s out of my hands,” she gazed at me with the beseeching eyes of a homeless puppy, an irrepressible twinkle in them. “It’s all up to you and your hottie to get an annulment now. If you really want to that is..?”

My smartphone interrupted the tense conversation and my blood pressure shot up when I saw the pic that had popped up on the screen.

It was captioned. ‘Guess who’s back in?’

My day just kept getting better and better… (Note sarcasm)

Continue Reading Next Chapter

About Us

Inkitt is the world’s first reader-powered publisher, providing a platform to discover hidden talents and turn them into globally successful authors. Write captivating stories, read enchanting novels, and we’ll publish the books our readers love most on our sister app, GALATEA and other formats.