SCARLETT: Soul Sisters - Book Two (The Soul Sisters 2) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  EPILOGUE

  SOUL SISTERS

  Scarlett

  By

  Nicole James

  SOUL SISTERS

  Scarlett

  By

  Nicole James

  Copyright 2021 Nicole James

  All rights reserved

  Cover design by Lori Jackson

  Cover Photography by LJ Photography – Lance Jones

  Cover Model: Cassia Brightmore

  Editing by Cookie Lynn Publishing

  CHAPTER ONE

  Scarlett—

  I stand in front of a/the dive restaurant, my arms folded, my hip out, bored out of my mind and wondering why I ever agreed to meet my estranged twin sister for lunch. From half a block down, I spot her limo coming. I don’t let the entrapments of her success intimidate me. I guess in the nine years we’ve been apart, I’ve grown a backbone.

  Charlotte may be my twin, but she’s always looked after me, playing the part of the big sister. She always took that role, and for years I let her, living in her shadow, letting her make the decisions, letting her speak for the both of us. Until the night of our eighteenth birthday when I’d finally had enough, and it all blew up in my face.

  Music was always the plan for both of us. It was the only ticket out of the small town where we grew up. We both were musically inclined, each blessed with similar vocal talents.

  I suppose, as I stand here now, I’m nothing like the girl she’d remember growing up. I suppose I look tough and no one to mess with in my sleeveless motorcycle tee shirt, worn jeans, and biker boots. My long, pale blonde hair is braided over one shoulder and a dusty brown ball cap pulled low. Some people might call it my armor, my defensive wall, and maybe it’s the truth. But this is who I am now.

  The limo glides to the curb, and the window powers down. “Get in.”

  I pull the shades off my eyes, and I look into the same brown ones as mine. Hers are not as heavily lined as mine are now, and I see the surprise on her face. I suppose I shouldn’t wonder; it’s a big change from the soft innocent look I used to favor.

  I notice the years of touring have taken the innocence from her eyes as well.

  My “big” sister—by four minutes—looks tired and much older than her twenty-seven years.

  I climb in, and she tells the man behind the wheel to drive.

  “Thank you for meeting me,” she says, reaching a hand out to touch mine. “I’ve missed you.”

  I arc a brow, my gaze sweeping over her outfit from the flowing hand-painted silk kimono covering her silver sequined tank top and designer jeans, down to the gold Jimmy Choo heeled sandals on her feet. “Missed me? Really? I find that hard to believe with your busy rock star life. I doubt you’ve had the time.”

  “It’s true. I have been busy.”

  “How was your European tour?” I look out the window at the passing scenery. I really haven’t the slightest interest. I’m only being polite.

  “Successful, hectic, exhausting. I thought I’d get to see more of it, but it was just an endless string of hotel rooms.” I turn to catch her stare unseeing out her window.

  “Gee, must be rough.” Sarcasm drips from my every word.

  She studies me. “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful for my success. I’m just tired.”

  “What brings you to Vegas?” I ask.

  “I’m in town at the invitation of a new boutique hotel. I’ll be playing a couple of shows there at the end of the month and until then, I’ll be holed up, working up songs for the US tour, costume fittings, that sort of thing.”

  “When’s the US tour start?”

  “In four weeks. And believe me, I had to fight for that much time off. If I let him, my manager would add another leg and take most of it.”

  “I’m honored you had time to squeeze me in for lunch.” Not.

  “I wasn’t sure you’d come. You’ve blown me off every other time I’ve tried. But I could hardly come to town and not at least try to see you. I’m just glad, for whatever reason, you agreed to meet me this time.”

  If she knew the real reason I agreed, I wonder if she would have come. “So where are we going?”

  About that time, the driver pulls into a parking lot where a food truck is parked and serving a line of people. I lean to peer through the window. Taco Jack’s. I’ve heard of them, and they’re supposed to be the best place in town.

  “Big spender.” I smirk.

  “You know I can’t just walk in anyplace anymore. Not without posing for a dozen pictures with fans.”

  Yes, I know it well. I’ve watched from afar as her career has skyrocketed. But I play dumb, just to piss her off. Can’t let her head get any bigger than I imagine it already is. “Your band’s gotten that big, huh?”

  “Are we going to play that game? Are you going to pretend you haven’t followed my career?”

  I fold my arms and stare out my window, pissed she called me on it.

  “What’ll you have, ladies?” The driver twists in his seat to peer back at us.

  Charlotte passes him some bills. “Carne Asada tacos, please.” She looks to me.

  “Same.”

  “So…” She pastes on a smile. “What have you been doing?”

  “Running a bar.”

  “Really?” She frowns, apparently unaware. “With all the bars in Vegas? How do you survive all the competition?”

  “My place is about an hour outside the city.”

  “What kind of place is it?”

  “It’s nothing fancy, but we get a good crowd, especially on bike night.”

  Her eyes drop to the shirt I’m wearing. “Bike night? You mean like motorcycles?”

  I give her a smirk. “Yeah, Charlotte, bikers.”

  Her brows lift. “You run a biker bar? How the hell did that happen?”

  “What do you care?”

  “Come on, Scarlett, this is fascinating. Tell me.”

  I shrug. “I met a man. We dated a long time. We fell in love. He was diagnosed with prostate cancer. He died a little over a year ago. He left me the bar.” When I say it like that it sounds trivial, like I’m reciting someone else’s life, not the hell I’ve lived through these last years. I drag in a breath at the flash of pain that knives through me, even when I try to give such an abbreviated version of my life with Buck. I miss him so badly, even now, after all this time. Don’t cry. Don’t you dare let her see you cry.

  “Wow. I’m so sorry. That must have devastated you.”

  I look out my window, my eyes glazing despite my vow. Charlotte reaches out to squeeze my hand, and somehow the expression of sympathy only makes the pain worse.

  “Really
, Scarlett, I’m so sorry for you.”

  I nod and swallow but say nothing. I can’t. My throat is suddenly as tight as a vice.

  “What was his name?”

  I drag in a slow breath and find the strength to say his name. “Russell, but everyone called him Buck.”

  “I wish you’d have called me. You know I would have been there for you.”

  With that, I let out a choked laugh at her feigned sincerity. Somehow it’s easier to retreat to anger. “Really? And how would I know that? By the way things ended with us?”

  “You know I never meant to hurt you. This life was just too much for you. Someone had to be honest with you.”

  “We were a duo. It was always us against the world, Charlotte. And then you just shove me out when things started looking up. You just wanted that record deal all to yourself.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Scarlett, someday you’ll understand. I did what I did because I care about you.”

  “Oh, right. Whatever. If that’s what you have to tell yourself so you can sleep at night, go right on lying to yourself.”

  “It’s not a lie. Someday you’ll see. Someday you’ll understand.”

  “I understand just fine. You took it from me.

  She stares out the window. “You didn’t really want it.”

  “Didn’t I?”

  “Someday you’ll find out the truth, and you’ll thank me.”

  The gall of this woman. “You’re so full of shit.”

  She turns to look at me. “I really am sorry for how things ended between us. I just want you to be happy.”

  We sit silently, and I drag in another deep breath, trying to let that all go. Looking back only hurts. Soon her driver returns with our food, and we eat. I change my mind about asking her what I came to ask her. Now I just want to get this over with and go home.

  Charlotte moans around her first bite. “Oh, my God, these are to die for.”

  “At least you picked the best place in town.”

  We gobble our food; it's just too good to eat slowly. When we finish, she slurps the last of her drink from the straw and looks over at me. “Do you still play?”

  “Some.” Suddenly I have no desire for this meaningless chitchat.

  “Are you still writing?”

  “A little.” I ball up my wrapper. “I’m sure you wouldn’t like them.”

  She tilts her head and watches me closely. “If you had a chance to switch places with me, would you do it?”

  I huff. “What are you talking about?”

  “Like I said, my band’s going to be in Vegas for a few weeks to work up some new material. We’re doing a short run of three shows to practice new material more than anything else. You know, get it right before the tour.”

  “Where are you staying?” I don’t even know why I’m asking. I really don’t care.

  “It’s called Hotel Blue. Have you heard of it?

  “I don’t get to the Strip much these days.”

  “Oh.” She bites her lip like she always used to do when we were children and a crazy idea was formulating in her brain. “Remember when we were kids, and we would pretend to be each other?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Let’s switch places. For real.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, you be Charlotte Justice for a bit.”

  I arc a brow at her ridiculous words. “Have you lost your mind?”

  “I need a break from it. Running a bar sounds like a breeze. That would be a vacation for me.”

  Her condescension for what I do gets under my skin, and I’d love to see her try. “You think it’s so simple?”

  “How hard can it be? I bet it’s a real beer and shot joint, right?”

  “Well, yeah. Mostly.”

  “I’ll have a break, and you’ll have a chance to see the life you always wanted isn’t what it’s cracked up to be.”

  “No way.” I shake my head.

  “I want you to have your shot. Don’t you want to know what it’s like? I can give that to you.”

  “What, make me famous?” I ask it flippantly, but deep down I have longed to know what it’s like to be her.

  “No, give you a taste of what it’s like. Switch places with me.”

  “You’re as loony as a bird.”

  “I need a break. You should know a taste of what you walked out on.”

  “You pushed me out.”

  “You do this, maybe you’ll understand why.”

  “Whatever.”

  She starts taking her clothes off.

  I cock a brow. “What are you doing?”

  “Hurry. Switch outfits with me. We’ll be back at the hotel soon.”

  “You’re really serious about this?” The idea of living her life, even for a moment is tantalizing, and I can’t deny the pull of it.

  “Yes. It’ll only be for a few weeks. Then you’ll know if music is what you really should be doing.”

  “For real? You really want to do this?” Could I do this? I can’t deny that the chance to find out what my life would have been like if things had worked out differently is a strong lure.

  “Yes! We’ll have to exchange purses, keys, and phones.”

  “Phones?”

  “Yes, how else will you be me?”

  “This is crazy,” I say as I start pulling off my boots. I can’t believe I’m doing this.

  She giggles, her face full of excitement. “Crazy awesome. It’s not often people get to find out what it would be like if they took a different path in life. Now we’ll both get to find out.”

  “Just an FYI, my bar opens at three p.m. so you better haul your ass out there.”

  “Shit.” Her eyes widen, and she moves even faster.

  We quickly switch outfits and jewelry. She slips my sunglasses on and braids her hair like I have mine, and glances in the drop-down mirror. Then she looks over at me, giving my quick work the once over. “I part my hair on the other side. And wipe off the red lipstick. I only use pink.”

  I pull down the mirror on my side and make the changes. I run my fingers through my hair, fluffing it out, and she grabs my hand.

  “Crap.”

  “What?” I frown at her, looking down at my short nails with my funky lavender polish, noticing as she does, that it’s all chipped.

  “You have to hide these and call and have the hotel send someone up to the suite from the salon to fix these immediately.”

  I roll my eyes. “Fine.”

  She digs in her Gucci purse, pulling out a pen and small notebook. She scribbles something down, and then passes the book to me.

  “Give me the code to your phone and whatever else I’ll need to know.”

  I do as she asks, scribbling out two full sheets of info, then rip them off and give them to her.

  She folds and tucks it in my small cross body bag that I’ve given her.

  “Whatever you do, don’t sign any recording contracts while I’m gone. I’m serious. My manager is going to push you hard. You have to put him off until I get back.”

  “Fine. And don’t you sell my bar while I’m gone, and I’m serious about that.”

  “Sell your bar? Why would I sell your bar?”

  “’Cause I owe some money, and the people I owe that money to want to push me out and take it over.”

  “I would never sell your bar, Scar. How much do you owe?”

  “That’s not your business.”

  “Maybe I can help you.”

  “I don’t need your help. I’m managing just fine,” I lie. I was actually planning on asking her for a loan, but now I can’t bring myself to do it. It’s just too humiliating.

  “We’re almost there, Miss Charlotte,” the driver informs us.

  My sister looks over and squeezes my hand. “Call me if you need anything. Oh, and what’s the name of your bar?”

  “Badlands.”

  Charlotte pulls me in for a hug and w
hispers in my ear, “Have fun, Scarlett. You deserve this chance. I love you.”

  Before I even have a chance to respond, her driver pulls under the busy hotel’s portico, bringing the limo to a stop, and almost immediately a valet opens the door. Then there’s no more time. He leans in, holding his hand out to help me from the vehicle. “They’re waiting for you, Miss Justice.”

  I look back at Charlotte. “Waiting for me?”

  “Costume fittings,” she mouths as two men in suits jog up.

  “Where have you been? And why aren’t you answering your phone?” one of them snaps.

  I’m hustled away, with one on each arm. I glance back over my shoulder to see Charlotte watching through the window until I’m pulled through the entrance into the hotel’s lavish lobby.

  I barely have time to take it all in before I’m rushed onto a waiting elevator. It’s glass and gives a view of the Strip. I see the limo pulling back out and watch my sister drive away. What the hell have I just done?

  “They’ve been waiting for almost an hour,” the short, overweight, balding man on my right snaps, yanking an unlit cigar from his mouth.

  “It hasn’t been that long, Lou,” the muscular man on my left tells him, his hand still firmly ahold of my arm.

  “Who’s been waiting?” I ask.

  “The people from Cali Girl. You have a costume fitting, and they’re your major sponsor. They want some pieces of their new collection included in your wardrobe. You were supposed to give some design input on your line. Don’t act like you didn’t know any of this, Charlotte. It only pisses me off, and you do not want me pissed off.”

  “Lay off, Lou. She had a late flight in last night. She’s barely had time to draw a breath from the tour.”

  “You’re just on the payroll, Quincy. I can snap my fingers and replace you tomorrow. Bodyguards aren’t that hard to come by, especially in this town.”

  The man next to me stiffens, and I feel the need to come to his defense. “Leave Quincy alone, Lou. I don’t want a different bodyguard.”

  “Well, he’s not doing his job, Charlotte. He never should have let you leave the hotel alone.”

  “I wasn’t alone. I had my driver.”

  “Daryl? We should fire him, as well.”

  “You do, you’ll be sorry.” I pin him with an unflinching stare.