MasukTo the world, Kairo Anderson has it all. The fame, the sold out arenas, and a seemingly perfect relationship. But behind all of that is a truth he’s been hiding. His obsession with Zaire Lennox, a backup dancer who joins his tour completely unaware of the secrets Kairo is carrying, or how it could ruin them both. What started as a professional arrangement and a means to “just get close to him” becomes a blurry line that puts friendship, trust, and most of all, his hard earned career at stake. And now, Kairo has to confront the one thing he’s been shying away from, and that is the truth about what he really wants and what he’s willing to let go of. There’s just one problem with Kairo’s plan: Zaire Lennox is straight.
Lihat lebih banyakBy the second week, the rehearsal floor had settled into what it would be for the next six weeks. Fourteen dancers, two assistant choreographers, a rotating cast of vocal coaches and wardrobe people drifting in and out along the edges, and Renata at the center of it all with a headset, a clipboard, and an almost unreasonable amount of patience. It was loud, crowded, and constantly moving. Someone was always stretching against a mirror, running counts under their breath, or marking choreography while music cut in and out as Renata isolated eight bar sections for the fifth time. Zaire had settled into the group quickly, easy and unbothered, already trusted despite being new. The other dancers liked him. He was blunt but generous with his corrections, quick to demonstrate instead of simply explaining, and he’d already started running informal notes with two of the younger dancers after official rehearsal ended, unpaid. He said watching someone struggle through a transition he could fi
The rehearsal space took up the entire fourth floor of a building in the arts district, mirrors running the length of three walls, a sound system that had cost more than most people's cars, and the particular echoing hush of a room built for two hundred people that currently held about fifteen. Kairo had been standing near the water table for minutes now, holding a bottle he had no intention of drinking from, at least not yet. Doing the thing where he pretended to check his phone while actually watching the door.He'd imagined this moment more times than he was willing to admit to a single other person alive. In most versions of it, he'd been composed, easy, warm, the version of himself that interviewers described as "disarmingly normal for someone so famous." In none of the versions he'd built in his head had his stomach actually felt like this, a low, persistent drop that stretched out over an entire morning with no lights coming up to end it.The door opened at about 9:58, two or m
The label's LA office occupied the top three floors of a glass building that had been designed, as far as Kairo could tell, entirely to make the people inside it feel important and the people looking up at it feel small. He'd been coming here for six years and still hadn't gotten used to the elevator ride, the particular hush of it, the way the doors opened onto a floor that smelled faintly of money and eucalyptus, as if someone had decided ambition needed a scent.Priya was already in the conference room when he arrived, three tablets and a laptop arranged in front of her like she was preparing for a small war, which, knowing Priya, she probably was. She'd managed him since he was nineteen, had watched him go from a kid with a guitar and a SoundCloud following to whatever he was now, and she'd earned, in all that time, the right to speak to him with a bluntness almost no one else in his life was allowed."Sit," she said, not looking up. "We have four dancers to talk about and a fligh
Zaire's alarm never actually got the chance to go off. His body woke him at seven sharp anyway, the way it had for years, a habit left over from a decade of early call times that had stuck around long after most of those calls stopped being early. He lay on his back for a minute, staring at the water stain shaped vaguely like Florida on his ceiling, the one he kept meaning to mention to his landlord but somehow never did, and ran through the day before his feet touched the floor.Nine a.m., rehearsal with the girls doing the halftime routine for the basketball team. Oh how much he loved easy money. Forty minutes of choreo he'd thrown together in an afternoon and could probably run in his sleep at this point. Noon, a call with a brand that wanted him to "consult" on a dance challenge for a protein bar, which really just meant they wanted his name stapled to sixteen seconds of footage some twenty two year old intern would shoot on an iPhone propped against a stack of books. Two p.m., th
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