Written in the Stars

by Rachael Eliker

  “I don’t know. It was kind of nice to have a friend who I didn’t have to wonder if they liked me or were only using me for my fortune,” Vanessa said, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger.

  “I thought maybe her massive shoe collection and using limos everywhere she went would’ve given it away,” Harrison chuckled, stroking his fingers along her shoulder.

  “I guess I figured she was pretty well off, or maybe merely playing the part, but geez! I’m almost regretting not running you over with a car so I could win. I mean, your dad’s so rich he could’ve bought you your very own record label.” Vanessa cringed again at my words, coaxing an apology out of me. “Sorry. That came out all wrong.”

  “I wanted to do something on my own,” she said. “Maybe it was simply seeking validation, that I was good enough to do it without his money.”

  Nodding, I chewed my lower lip. “I understand that. My parents weren’t exactly supportive of me going on the show at all. Told me I was wasting my time rather than progressing in life.”

  “You’re a grown woman,” Vanessa reminded. “You can make your own decisions.”

  “As long as they’re within my grasp. Not everything I decide to do seems to work out right,” I murmured.

  “So, you accept my gift of thanks? You’ll move in here?” Vanessa asked.

  Looking past her at the now-twinkling lights of the city and the fading sunlight that highlighted the skyline, my face stretched into a smile so wide my cheeks hurt.

  “No roommate?”

  “Not unless you want to bring one with you,” Vanessa said, smirking. “I know how much you love Bridget.”

  “No,” I shook my head vigorously. “I think I could use a little time at home without having to take care of someone else, other than my cat.”

  “What about the offer to tour?” Mandy asked, her thumb hovering over her phone screen, ready to press her speed dial button for Mr. Drake to tell him verbatim what I said.

  “What about my job? I can’t afford to take off another hour. When I come back, I’m going to need to be able to pay the bills. Unless, of course, this place is run entirely on solar panels and has access to its own natural spring.”

  “The early summer tour is simply a trial run,” Mandy explained. “If you can prove yourself on the road like you did on the show, Mr. Drake is prepared to offer you a recording contract as well. He’d like you to be the opening act for Tad Fisher when his tour starts later this summer and into early fall.”

  Looking from Mandy to Vanessa and Harrison, I blinked slowly, trying to catch my brain up with what my ears had heard. “Is this for real?”

  “Yeah,” Vanessa said with a laugh. “You’re that good, Eloise. When is it that reality going to sink in?”

  I shook my head, still unconvinced I wasn’t in the middle of a very pleasant if not totally improbable dream. “I don’t know what to say.”

  Mandy offered, “Say yes. It isn’t every day Harper Music makes offers like this, and if it doesn’t work out, you can come be my assistant. You know how to run a copy machine, right?”

  I huffed out a laugh. It was sad that becoming Mandy’s assistant would even be a move up. “Like a pro.”

  All three of them watched me intently while I was frozen by fear at the possibility that I’d suck. Maybe it was fear of success. Whatever it was, I couldn’t find my voice. Almost the instant my head tipped forward in a nod, Vanessa was on her feet, screaming excitedly about the fun we’d have while Mandy walked off to the kitchen, her phone already to her ear.

  “I’d better not regret this,” I said to Vanessa as she grabbed my hands and danced me around the room. “It’s one thing to sing in a mid-sized auditorium and barely be able to see the audience through the darkness. It’s another thing to sing in a football stadium in broad daylight where I can see the enormity of the people I’m going to disappoint. I’m already feeling a panic attack coming on.”

  “Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” Vanessa chided. “You can go back to closing your eyes or pretending the entire audience is your cat if that helps.”

  I cringed, remembering the panic attack I’d had right in front of Vanessa and Harrison before my first photo shoot for America’s Next Pop Star. It had been a moment of vulnerability, and I’d blurted out things I’d never admitted to anyone other than my sister.

  “I can’t believe I ever told you that.”

  “Everyone has their coping mechanisms,” Harrison said, like my fantasizing people were cats wasn’t utterly bizarre. “Whatever works.”

  “And however weird,” Vanessa teased.

  “You’d better watch it or I’m going to tell Harrison all the dirty little secrets I know about you,” I warned. “I was a very astute roommate during the show.”

  Vanessa tipped her head back and cackled deviously at my threat. Grabbing a fake pear from the bowl, I chucked it toward Vanessa. With an impressive display of athleticism, Harrison dove for it, catching it before it even came close to pelting Vanessa. He tucked and rolled across the oak hardwood, landing on his back and holding the pear up triumphantly.

  Vanessa rushed to his side, gushing about how brave he was for saving her. I joked that it wasn’t like I’d thrown a flaming sword at her head, but they were already too busy kissing single-mindedly to even notice that I was still in the room.

  “Awkward,” I said loudly, though they still ignored me.

  Averting my eyes, I decided to get some distance from them and went to join Mandy in the kitchen.

  “Yes, of course. I’ll get right on it.” Hanging up her phone, Mandy asked, “Vanessa and Harrison…?”

  “They’re, uh…”

  Mandy shook her head and scoffed. “I can’t wait for this newly dating phase to wear off. I swear I catch them making out more often than I see them working.”

  My cheeks pinkened, remembering how many times Vanessa had caught Warren and me smooching. She’d definitely hold that bit of information over my head should I ever mention her kissing frequency with Harrison.

  “I’ll have to see it to believe it. If there’s one thing I know about Vanessa, it’s that she’s a very passionate woman.”

  “Yes, well. We’ll make do,” Mandy said, busying herself with packing her laptop into her briefcase. “Mr. Drake is ecstatic you’ll be joining the tour.”

  I laughed. “I don’t think I can believe Mr. Drake has ever been ecstatic in his life.”

  “He might have a good poker face, but even he has tells.” Clicking the latches shut, she stifled a yawn. “I’d better get going. Things aren’t going to calm down while we’re hammering out the final details of this concert tour. Make sure you get some good rest, too. Stardom doesn’t slow down for the weary.”

  As she drug her briefcase off the countertop, I impulsively grabbed her wrist. “Can you do something for me?”

  Mandy arched an eyebrow in question, surely surprised that I had the gumption to already start asking her for favors.

  “When…if Warren agrees to do this tour, will you let me know? I don’t know that I’m ready to come face to face with him without some sort of warning. You know, so I can mentally prepare myself.”

  Mandy patted my arm patronizingly. “No need to worry. I promise there will be no surprises when it comes to you and Warren.”

  Chapter Three

  I was sitting at the keys of a beautiful grand piano, rubbing my hands along my thighs, trying to soak up the sweat with my jeans. It kept seeping from my palms, and no amount of deep breathing or relaxing thoughts was going to make it stop. After telling Bridget with great satisfaction that I’d forgotten the milk, the next morning, I quit my job, and moved my meager belongings along with my kitty, Ripley, to my new apartment. Since then, I’d practically lived in Harper Music’s high rise. From sunup to sundown I was in practices for everything from singing lessons to choreography and the occasional drilling social etiquette class put on by Logan Hathaway. He was a genius at social media relations and had be
en brought on to Harper Music when his now-girlfriend, Monica Best, another rising superstar, had proven herself enough of a social media nightmare for the company to warrant the need for her own personal publicist to spin things into a positive light. It wasn’t that she was out running over dogs or stealing candy from babies—she was one of those nervous interviewers who couldn’t keep her brain and mouth aligned. The worst had to have been when she’d slipped up and said breast instead of best. I consoled myself with the thought that though I might be painfully awkward and shy in the limelight, at least I probably wouldn’t spout off inappropriate body parts. If anything, I’d probably be too mortified to utter a single syllable in the first place.

  The first day at Harper Music, I’d shown up well-rested, dressed to impress, and ready to embrace whatever this new adventure held for me. I had a brief, but intense and very intimidating, meeting with Mr. Drake, Mandy, and several other Harper Music employees who oversaw it all, from hair and makeup to scheduling. I was more the silent observer as decisions were made on my behalf. When my instrumental ability was brought into question, all eyes were on me.

  “Do you play any instruments that we should know about?” Mr. Drake asked, weaving together his fingers and watching me with his arctic blue eyes. I suppressed a shiver of fear. “Guitar, by chance?”

  I swallowed, though my mouth was parched. I mentally kicked myself for not taking Mandy up on her offer for a bottle of water. I wasn’t about to ask in the middle of the meeting, so I made due, swirling my tongue around in my mouth to try and get the sticky feeling out.

  “I’m iffy at best on the guitar,” I answered. “What little I know was self-taught and really, I’m no better than an inept monkey when playing it.”

  “Something else then?” Mr. Drake pressed. “Piano? Violin? We’d even take harmonica at this point. People like well-rounded performers.”

  I didn’t want to disappoint Mr. Drake after he’d so graciously invited me to come on tour. I resisted only a moment before confessing, “I played the piano for about ten years.”

  Everyone’s eyes shifted back to Mr. Drake, waiting to see his reaction. The smallest twitch at the corner of his lips indicated he was happy I had something to offer along with singing.

  “Good. We can use that. We’ll have you work with Tad on performing a piano piece for the concert,” Mr. Drake said decisively.

  I shrunk down into my seat. I’d had enough years in piano lessons that it should have been an asset to my music career, but like singing, it was something I never felt truly confident in sharing in front of others. The sarcastic side of me wanted to agree that sure, it shouldn’t be a problem for me to pick up playing again after a few years since touching any sort of piano while singing flawlessly in concert for thousands of screaming fans with barely a few weeks of practice. My practical side knew it would take a miracle to pull it off. Instead, I only managed to meekly nod and started praying for that miracle right then and there. Nobody seemed interested in the fact that it had been several years since I’d had a chance to play, and I wasn’t about to argue. I had heart palpitations, while I bemoaned what I’d gotten myself into.

  While my mind was busy racing through the possible ways I could fail, Mr. Drake was scheming up another idea. Snapping his fingers and trying to remember something, he turned to Mandy to ask, “What’s the duet she and Warren performed on the show?”

  Mandy searched through her undoubtedly impeccably kept records on her tablet. “Like We Never Loved at All by Faith Hill, featuring Tim McGraw.”

  “That’s it!” Mr. Drake clapped his hands. “I remember it being a crowd pleaser.”

  “It was the highest viewed show of the series,” Mandy agreed, her eyes flicking over to me to see if I’d heard her compliment.

  “I want you to see if you can find piano sheet music for Eloise,” Mr. Drake said.

  “What about Warren?” Mandy asked. The mere mention of his name was enough to make my heart skid to a stop. “I haven’t heard back from him yet to confirm he’s on board with the tour.”

  Mr. Drake dismissed her concern with a wave of his hand. “If he’s a no show, we’ll nix the song and have her sing something else she performed.”

  Ice seeped through my veins while my cheeks felt like they were hot coals. Perform a duet again with Warren, especially one so intimate and completely true of our own, real-life relationship? I wasn’t sure if I could stomach the thought. Pinching my eyes shut, I prayed he would turn down the offer to return for the tour, then flopped and prayed he would and it’d be a way for us to rekindle our relationship. I had no idea how I was going to make it through the concert tour unscathed. If he showed up, looking all dashing in his well-fitted jeans and running his hand through his wavy brown hair, I didn’t know if I’d have the resolve to keep my distance, even if I wanted to. I didn’t want to be hurt again, but it was a very real possibility with Warren. He’d already done it once before—shown me how amazing, breathtaking, and ultimately how cruel love could be.

  “Let’s try it again,” Tad Fisher said, rapping his knuckles on the edge of the gleaming ebony piano and bringing my mind back to the present. “I can tell you’re improving.”

  Tad was Harper Music’s most successful male performer and a man of many talents. I’d be lying if I said he wasn’t incredibly dreamy and often a shameless flirt, but I had come to know him well enough during the show’s taping to discover his heart belonged to a woman who he claimed wouldn’t even give him the time of day. Whoever she was, she remained a mystery, and when I observed him, I could tell it was a source of pain and frustration for him. I took courage that even the most successful of people still had to deal with ordinary heartbreak like the rest of us.

  “I know you’re just being nice,” I grumbled, cracking my knuckles and shaking my hands to loosen them up, like that would magically help me play better.

  “What’s wrong with being nice?” he asked with a shrug. “We all know it’ll be Kiki who rips you to shreds. Crushing hopes and dreams is her specialty.”

  I didn’t even bother trying to hold back a theatrical groan, eliciting an emphatic laugh from Tad. “Do I have to? Maybe I can hide in the women’s restroom until she gives up looking for me.”

  “Kiki doesn’t give up,” Tad said, raising his eyebrows. “I’m pretty sure she has her little fluffy dog Cinnamon trained to sniff out fear. She’d find you.”

  I slumped over onto the piano keys, making a terrible racket. “I know. I mean, I look up to her, but she still scares me to death. How can someone so small be so…terrifying?”

  Feeling Tad’s hand on my shoulder, he gave me a little shake. “You’ll thank her for it.”

  “Someday. Maybe. When I’m old and gray and this is all behind me.”

  He chuckled again. “Alright. From the top.”

  Sucking in a full breath, I pushed myself up to sitting position and rolled my neck, preparing myself to give the song another shot. I mentally asked forgiveness from the music powers that be for how badly I knew I was going to butcher the song. Placing my hands on the keys, I started playing the melodic strains of music. I made it through the first few introductory measures of music before I started missing a few notes here and there. It was when I began singing the words that everything went downhill faster than an avalanche.

  “Keep pushing through,” Tad encouraged.

  I threw a sideways glance at him, begging with my eyes to allow me to stop. Tad didn’t give any indication that he understood what I was asking, so I obliged, continuing to play while ignoring the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. There was no way I was going to be ready to perform this song for the concert if Harper Music insisted I be attached to the piano while singing it.

  I did as Tad said, although I could see even him cringing with each incorrect note from the corner of my eye. I could hold the melody with my voice fine and remembered the words that had been drilled into me while practicing for America’s Next Pop Star, but while my finge
rs stumbled over the keys, my performance sounded entirely amateur. My overactive imagination visualized a very realistic audience who was already heartily booing me for my efforts.

  I was vaguely aware of the door to the recording studio opening and quietly closing, but I kept my eyes focused, not bothering to look over to see who had come to witness my horrific recital. I could be embarrassed when I made it to the end because at least then, I’d be done.

  As my hands continued to fumble awkwardly over the keys, someone scooted onto the piano bench next to me and elbowed me to scoot over. I could tell by the delightful scent of cologne and their size compared to mine that it was a man, but I kept my eyes glued to the sheet music on the piano stand. At that point, I didn’t care if Kiki had come in to ridicule me. The intruder gently nudged my left hand out of the way, and I obliged, putting my left hand in my lap so I could focus on playing the melody in the right.

  “That’s it,” Tad said. “This is awesome guys.”

  With one less hand to keep track of, my playing ability increased exponentially, and my wavering voice became more sure. Through the last round of chorus, I closed my eyes and let myself feel the spirit of the music, reveling in the ache that seemed to appropriately accompany the one and only song I’d performed with Warren before our whole relationship fell into shambles. My right hand played by pure muscle memory, and striking the last chord, I let it die away. When all was silent, I drew in a satisfied breath, reveling in another whiff of cologne. It was familiar, but while my mind was so stuffed with a myriad of thoughts, I couldn’t place it. Eyes still closed, I leaned over and rested my head on the piano, saying a silent prayer of thanks. Maybe there was some hope for me.

  Behind me, I heard Tad clap slow and steady. “See, Eloise? You just needed a little divine intervention.”

  I chuckled to myself, remembering what I’d told Mandy, Vanessa, and Harrison about my floundering love life. “I think it was sent as an angel to be my duet partner.”