Manhattan Cinderella

by Kate O'Keeffe

  Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Sylvia Tremaine, Drama Queen of the Freaking Year.

  Gabby looks set to burst as she gawps at me. “So that’s it? I’m now a Pop Princess?” she asks Sylvia.

  “Only because we have no other choice, and only until Britney is better. Then you’re back to being assistant. Got it?”

  Gabby nods enthusiastically, her face beaming. “Totally.”

  “You’ll need to get to work straight away. Kylie can take you through the song sequence, and you’ll need to rehearse, and get into wardrobe, and, oh, there are so many things to be done!”

  Gabby’s now pressing her lips together and her face is aglow. “I’m up for the task, Sylvia. Thank you!”

  With a flick of the wrist, Sylvia brushes Gabby’s gratitude away. “Come with me to see Kylie. You’re supposed to be rehearsing now. The concert’s in less than six hours.”

  “Six hours?” Gabby’s voice is breathless with shock. “Oh, my God.”

  I take a step closer to her as my excitement at Gabby realizing her dream warms my belly. “Congrats, Gabby. That is so awesome.”

  I shouldn’t have opened my mouth.

  “You.” Sylvia points at me as she fixes me with her cold stare. “Boyfriend, or whatever you are. Time to go.”

  She’s so like a villain from a Disney movie, I almost laugh out loud.

  “Oh, he’s not my boyfriend. He’s just a friend, that’s all,” Gabby says stiltedly, her body almost as stiff, talking to Sylvia as if I’m not here.

  What the hell?

  “Is that so?” Sylvia’s clearly not convinced. “Whatever he is, he’ll only distract you. Come on, Gabriella. You have a lot to do and you need to do it well. My girls are relying on you not to mess this up.”

  As Sylvia herds her back into the E.R., Gabby throws me an imploring look, mouthing, “Sorry.”

  Sorry for denying our relationship to her stepmother? Sure, it makes sense she would do it to protect herself from Sylvia. But I can’t deny it stings all the same.

  The automatic glass doors swoosh closed behind them, and I’m left alone, standing on the sidewalk. There’s nothing else to do but for me to get back to my plans.

  I’ve got a duet to perform tonight with my dad.

  I pull my phone out of my jeans pocket and scroll through my messages. There are more from my mom—I ignore these—and another from Avery checking in to see how I’m doing. I spot a text from Rex.

  Where are you?

  I glance at the time on my phone before I reply.

  On my way. Where are you?

  Rex’s reply comes straight away.

  Still at The Garden. Meet me here in my dressing room.

  A short cab ride later and I’m back at Madison Square Garden. I show my pass to the security guy and make my way to Rex’s dressing room. He’s on the phone when I walk in, so I pull out a Coke and sit on one of the sofas. I crack open the can and take a few grateful sips.

  A moment later, Rex wraps up his conversation and takes a seat opposite me. “Man, my agent can talk. He’s got me a spot on that new late-night talk show.” He reaches out and picks a bottle of water up off the table. “What’s the latest on the Pop Princess’s leg? Which one was it? They both look the same to me.”

  “It’s Britney, and she broke it.”

  “Shit.”

  “I know.”

  “So it’s confirmed. They definitely can’t be my supporting act tonight.” Rex looks up at Nashville, who, as always, is hovering nearby. “Any success?”

  “We’ve got the Grotesque Lizards if we want them,” Nashville says.

  Rex pulls a face. “That’s scraping the barrel, isn’t it?”

  “I’ll go make some more calls now.”

  “Hold up,” I say, my hand in the air. Two heads turn my way. “The label’s already come up with a solution. Haven’t you heard?”

  Rex shakes his head. “I’ve been on the phone. What’s the solution?”

  “Gabby’s going to take over as the second Pop Princess. She knows all the choreography, and you’ve heard her sing, so you know she’s good.”

  “Your Gabby?”

  I feel a twinge at the way in which she called me a “friend” back outside the E.R. “Yeah, that’s right.”

  Nashville’s laugh is full of condescension. “Sounds like your dick talking to me.”

  “Piss off,” I retort, offended. “It’s not like that.”

  Rex’s response is a whole lot more tactful. “Look, I know you’re into this girl, and yes, I agree, she can sing. But does she have experience? Has she ever performed live? This concert is a big deal to me. I can’t have some wannabe pop star freezing up out there and wrecking it.”

  I think of Gabby’s performance at The Mandolin. Although she held the audience in the palm of her hand, I know it’ll be a totally different ball game to perform in front of a packed house at Madison Square Garden.

  “Look, I’ve got no idea if she’ll freeze up. What I do know is she has the raw talent and the sheer determination to make it happen, and something tells me she’ll totally nail it. I have faith in this girl. She won’t let you down.”

  I’m certain I hear Nashville refer to my privates under his breath once more as Rex’s phone rings. He looks at the screen. “It’s Terry. I gotta take this.”

  I wait while Rex talks to Terry, who represents the label. Nashville and I give one another a half-smile while we wait, but neither of us tries to strike up a conversation.

  A few moments later, Rex hangs up and takes his seat once more. “You’re right; they want to go with Gabby, for this concert at least. She’s already on her way here to do a sound check, and someone from the label’s vetting her. It’s not ideal, but right now the alternative is the Grotesque Lizards, and they’re crap. I know I shouldn’t say that, but it’s true. Gabby had better not screw it up.”

  “I bet you she doesn’t,” I reply, hoping like hell my faith is not misplaced. “And, thanks, Rex. She deserves this chance.”

  “Well, if nothing else, she’s got what she wants.” He shoots me a wry smile.

  “What does that mean?”

  “Nothing much.” He picks up his bottle of water and takes another sip. “Just that she was looking for a way in, and now she’s got it.”

  I lean forward in my seat. “What exactly are you saying?”

  “Look, Cole, I’ll be straight up. The problem with fame is that everyone wants a piece of you. Long-lost relatives, kids you went to school with, even random people you meet along the way. It gets to the point where you don’t know who’s genuine, you don’t know who to trust. That’s why the people around me are those I’ve known for a long time.” He nods at Nashville. “Nashville’s got my back no matter what. Right man?”

  “Right. We’re solid,” he replies with a lift of his chin.

  I cross my arms and narrow my eyes. “Gabby’s not the type to use anyone for fame. I know she’s not.”

  Rex studies my face. “She seems like a nice girl. You’re probably right.”

  Irritated, I reply forcefully, “Yeah, I am right. Gabby’s the real deal. She’s genuine, and she’s not using me or you or anyone else to get what she wants.”

  Rex raises his hands in the air. “I hear you. My bad. I’ve had experience with this, that’s all. I’m trying to look out for you, son, that’s all.”

  “Sure.” I uncross my arms and try to relax. Inside, my mind is whirring like a hamster on a wheel. Maybe it’s because I’ve had my world tipped on its head recently, or maybe I’m being an idiot, looking for something that doesn’t exist. But Rex’s words are running through my head like a greyhound around the racetrack.

  I’m rattled, and I don’t want to be.

  While Rex and Nashville talk, I sit back and run through Gabby’s and my relationship chronology. It’s true she asked me to get her an introduction to Rex within hours of meeting her. And that night, she took me to listen to her sing at The Mandolin so I would
know how good she was.

  I tap my chin. As much as I don’t want it to be true, maybe I was her way in? Maybe what I’ve been feeling for her is totally one-sided, and she’s just along for the ride, waiting to get the fame she’s looking for? Like Rex said.

  I give myself a mental shake. What the hell am I thinking?

  What Gabby and I have is real, and I trust her one hundred percent. I’m being nothing more than a suspicious, cynical jerk.

  So how come I can’t kick this feeling?

  Chapter 19

  Gabriella

  I sit in the stylist’s swivel chair and gaze at my reflection. I barely recognize the person staring back at me. Fully made-up in heavy stage-makeup, my eyes look twice their actual size, my skin is glowing in a way I’ve only ever seen on beautiful women in magazines, and my hair falls in gorgeous soft curls around my shoulders.

  I’m beginning to look like a movie star. And better, I look like my mom.

  The hairdresser has a chunk of my hair in a hot curling iron when there’s a knock on our dressing room door.

  Kylie is trying to see her phone screen as the makeup artist attaches black false eyelashes to one of her eyes. I’m not sure she’s succeeding. “Come in if you’re sexy!” she calls out.

  The door swings open, and I can see Cole stands in the entryway reflected in the mirror. I grin at him as I’m hit with a surge of love for him that almost knocks me sideways. It’s a good thing I’m sitting down.

  “I came to see how you’re doing,” he says.

  “We are spectacular. Don’t you think?” Kylie replies.

  I roll my eyes at her comment. “Sandy, can I take five?” I ask my hairdresser.

  “Sure, honey. I’ll go take a quick break and finish you up after.”

  I hop down from my chair.

  “Don’t be long. We need to do another run through,” Kylie says.

  “Sure.” I sail past her and step out of the room into the hallway with Cole. Once the door is closed, he pulls me into him and kisses me.

  “Hey! My lipstick!” I protest, half joking, and half not. “This took the makeup artist forever, you know.”

  “I don’t give a damn about your lipstick, although I definitely prefer you with less makeup on. And clothes.” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively. “Are you sure you can’t give me some time right now?” He moves so his body presses up against mine, and I get a firsthand indication of what he has in mind.

  I hook my hands around his neck and look up at him. “After the concert tonight, you have my complete permission to ravish me until dawn.”

  “I’m gonna hold you to that, Kermit.”

  “Cole, can you even believe it? I’m about to perform at The Garden tonight. The Garden.” I can barely believe it myself. What had started out as yet another day of drudgery, has turned into something incredible.

  “Need me to pinch you?” he offers.

  I shake my head and laugh. “I’m good.”

  “This is what you’ve been wanting: the chance to get out there and do it, to make it all happen.”

  “I know, right? It’s been a whirlwind. Kylie and I have been practicing and practicing, over and over, and the people from the label said they loved it. Isn’t that amazing? But there is one crucially important thing I’ve learned from today, though. One I really wish I hadn’t had to learn.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You can know all the songs and every step of the choreography from watching it many times over, but it’s a whole other thing to perform them for the first time in front of thousands of fans.”

  His face creases in concern. “Do you think you’re ready?”

  “I was born ready, baby.” I ham it up, more to bolster my own ego than for any other reason. As much as I want this—and God knows, I want this with all my heart—truth be told, I am completely terrified.

  Cole lets out a puff of air that sounds a lot like relief, and I wonder if he has doubts about my ability to perform, too. “I told Rex you’d totally kill it out there. He was looking at other options, so I’m really glad you get to be a part of this.”

  Shock and worry hit me. “They’re not going with another opening act, are they? We’ve worked so hard, and we’re ready, I know we are.”

  Cole lightly wipes the worry from my forehead with his fingers and pulls me back into him. “Let’s just say there are perks to being his son. Not that I can tell him what to do, of course. Just a nudge in the right direction, maybe?”

  “You’re the best, you know that?” I gaze up at him. I feel so light, so happy, so in love, my feet barely touch the ground.

  He shrugs. “All in a day’s work.”

  “As much as I don’t want to leave you, I’ve really got to get finished up. Will you be there when I go out on stage?”

  “I wouldn’t miss your big moment for anything.”

  “Okay. Wish me luck.”

  He kisses me tenderly on the lips. “Kermit, you don’t need luck.”

  A short while later, my lipstick reapplied, my hair in place, and after my fiftieth visit to the bathroom in the last half hour, I peek around the curtain at the assembling crowd out in the arena. With less than an hour until show time, my anxiety and excitement are at about G-force level, threatening to hurtle me into orbit.

  “Gabriella, right?” a voice beside me says.

  I turn to see one of the stagehands holding a walkie talkie in his hands.

  “Hey,” I glance at his name tag, “Jeremiah.” Randomly, my mind darts to the bullfrog, who was a good friend of . . . someone’s. Yup, I’m super nervous.

  “Tell me something,” I begin as I turn back and look at the rows of seats in the arena, smattered with concert-goers. “Do you know how many people this place holds? I mean, I know it’s thousands and thousands, sure, but I’d really like to know the exact number, you know? Like, exact. So, I can . . . get myself ready, I guess? Yeah, that’s it. It’ll help me get ready.” I look at Jeremiah. “So, do you know?”

  “Yeah, I dunno about that. I got some people here to see you,” Jeremiah says, quite obviously making the very sane decision to ignore my anxious babbling. “Said you were expecting them.”

  I let the curtain drop and turn back to him. “Sure. Who is it?”

  “It’s me!” Cece steps out from behind the guy and squeals, “O.M.G. Gabby! I can’t believe this!” Her excitement pushes her voice up so loud and so high, dogs within a mile square radius must be pricking up their ears.

  I feel a massive rush of happiness at the sight of my little sister. I pull her in for a hug. “I know, right? This is what we’ve been hoping for.”

  “Yes!” She holds my hands out as she takes in my look. The costume, my styled hair, down to my skin-tight, sequined mini dress, and the Manolo Blahniks on my feet.

  That’s right, the girl who was told to take her stepsister’s broken shoe to the cobbler to get it fixed is about to perform at Madison Square Garden, wearing those very shoes. And feeling pretty darn freaking fantastic about it, too.

  “Slutty, like, totally suits you, Gabby. You look hot!”

  I let out a self-conscious laugh. “You think? I’m finding it hard to get used to wearing this stuff. And all this crap on my face. I look like a doll. Or a trannie.” I pull a face.

  “You do not look like a trannie, believe me,” Cece says,

  “She’s right. Some of my closest friends are transvestites. You don’t look like them at all,” someone says beside me.

  I glance at a young guy I recognize but cannot place. “Err, thanks?” I say uncertainly.

  “Oh, Gabby, this is Thaddeus,” Cece says.

  I raise my eyebrows at her. Thaddeus, the boy Cece doesn’t have a crush on despite the fact her face mysteriously reddens at the mention of his name. “Thaddeus, huh?”

  My comment is rewarded with an embarrassed glare from my little sister.

  Wearing a pair of skinny black jeans and a hoody—typical teenage garb—his confident smi
le tells me he thinks quite a lot of himself. He raises his chin. “Hey.”

  “Hey,” I reply. “It’s nice to meet a friend of Cece’s.” I’m stirring the pot, but it helps to take my mind off the fact I’m about to perform as a Pop Princess for the first time to thousands of people at The Garden. I can do with whatever help I can get right about now.

  “How did you get the other pass?” I ask Cece.

  “Sylvia said I could bring him.”

  “She did?” I can’t keep the surprise from my voice.

  “I think I caught her at a weak moment.” She grins at me. “Plus, I dropped into conversation Thaddeus’s last name.”

  “My father owns half of Manhattan,” Thaddeus adds by way of extremely helpful explanation.

  I’m not impressed by guys like Thaddeus. Sadly it would seem Cece is. Maybe she’s been around Sylvia too long?

  Who am I kidding? Of course she has.

  “My father is Thaddeus Kensington II,” Thaddeus continues.

  “Right.” I wish I hadn’t heard of his dad, but I have. Thaddeus Kensington runs Dad’s rival property development business. They’ve been adversaries for years, and more recently, thanks to Dad’s disappearance, he’s enjoyed being Top Dog on the island’s new developments. In addition, he’s richer than God and onto his fourth wife. He’s Sylvia’s social ladder-climbing wet dream.

  “Are you a fan of the Pop Princesses?” I ask him.

  He shrugs, looking bored. “I’m more into Asian Underground and E.D.M.”

  “Okaaay,” I reply. I’m sure it’s obvious I’ve got no clue what he’s talking about.

  “E.D.M. stands for Electronic Dance Music,” Cece explains. “Thaddeus’s taste is really eclectic and interesting.” She gazes at him with a goofy expression.

  He’s just a friend, my ass.

  “That’s great. Good for you, Thaddeus,” I say.

  The cocky expression on Thaddeus’s face suggests he agrees with Cece’s assessment of him. “I’m actually really interested in all forms of music, you know? The sort of music the Pop Princesses play is an amalgam of so many different strands, appropriated for mass market appeal for the uneducated, looking for an escape from their mundane lives.”