Fifteen Minutes: A Novel

by Karen Kingsbury

  She checked the time. It was nearly nine o’clock at night in London. Reasonable enough. She dialed Ms. Coltrain’s number and waited as the phone began to ring.

  “Hello?” The connection was clearer than before. “Reese?” The woman sounded enthusiastic. It was a good sign.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Reese realized she was smiling. For the first time in a long time she was smiling from the inside out. “I’ve made up my mind about your offer. I’d love to move to London and work with your instructors.”

  On the other end of the line, Ms. Coltrain shrieked. “Really? You don’t know what this means to us!”

  Reese’s heart swelled. She was good at what she did. She would go to London and make a difference, and along the way she’d be too busy to think about Zack and his run on Fifteen Minutes and the hundreds of thousands of girls who followed his every move. Too busy to worry about what Zoey was saying on Twitter. The break would be good for her.

  Ms. Coltrain was talking about how the dates had been changed some. “The best time to come would actually be September. Say the first or second week.”

  That would give her more time to wrap things up with her current students. “That’ll be perfect.”

  They discussed a few more details, and in very little time the plan was set. Reese hung up and slid down the stack of hay bales. Tears blurred her vision, and she blinked them back. This wasn’t how she had imagined the year. The plans she and Zack used to have were so different from the ones playing out.

  She stared at her phone. Nothing. No response. She clicked her phone off. No crying, she told herself. Not for herself or for how much she missed Zack or for how uncertain things were between them. She had no time for tears. A year in London lay just ahead. She could hardly wait to tell her parents the news. Never mind what Zack was doing right now or why he was too busy for her. Her future was suddenly filled with adventure and excitement.

  She was moving to London!

  chapter 19

  Something inside Kelly Morgan was changing. She could feel it deep inside.

  Somewhere at the center of her heart a softening was happening, whether she liked it or not. She noticed it in quiet times as she watched the top twenty practice their choreography for group numbers or when she and the other judges sorted through music for the live shows.

  Usually it started with a memory.

  She would see herself at seven years, playing catch with her dad in the backyard. Other girls played with dolls; Kelly played catch. Back then she thought she would pitch for the Yankees one day. Her dad humored her, telling her she could do whatever she set her mind to. Then the image would change. She would be twelve, pigtails and braces and sitting in the front row at church while her dad practiced his sermon. He’s the greatest man in the world, she would tell herself. And when he finished he would take her by the hand and they’d go to Della’s Diner for chocolate shakes. “Extra sprinkles,” he’d tell the guy behind the counter. “Give my girl extra sprinkles.”

  Sometimes she’d be older when the memory started up out of nowhere. Seventeen and behind the wheel for the first time, her dad there beside her. “You can do it, baby girl. You’re gonna be the best driver in Greenville.”

  When she took out the family’s mailbox that year, her dad only blinked a few times and smiled at her. “We needed a new one, anyway.” The memory would put down roots and she’d close her eyes for a few seconds, feigning weariness so the other judges wouldn’t ask what she was thinking about. In the darkness another image sometimes took shape. She and Cal, holding hands and singing songs to God by Steven Curtis Chapman and Amy Grant and Michael W. Smith. Songs that still played in her mind if she let them.

  Kelly tried to stay busy so she could find shelter from her memories.

  She talked more to the contestants. They were a mess by now. A few of them had marriages in trouble and others were starting to crack under the pressure. They cried more often. Forgot to eat. Kelly found herself wanting to be there for them. But the contestant she talked to most often was Zack Dylan. The guy always seemed to be around, and every time their eyes met Kelly was struck by him. Yes, he was good-looking—though her early infatuation over him was more of a joke. Her way of making an impact as a judge. Now, though, she knew Zack. She had talked to him about his family and the horse farm, his sick sister and his longing for Kentucky. His love for God and his girlfriend. At this point in the show, Kelly could no longer lie to herself about what drew her to Zack Dylan.

  It was his clear-eyed, full-hearted faith. A faith he talked about less than before, but one she recognized all the same. Because she’d seen it all her life growing up.

  The faith of her father.

  The cast and crew of Fifteen Minutes was in the midst of the quiet period, a time for learning group numbers and preparing for the debut of the live shows. The feeling was a little like summer camp. She and Cal used to go every summer with their church group. Like camp, the break allowed camaraderie to run deep and spirits to run high. Everyone was on equal footing and anything was possible. On the days when the top twenty weren’t busy perfecting the live show, they made appearances around New York City. The Today show had them perform two group numbers and they appeared on Letterman and Leno. The publicity was at an all-time high, and Kelly loved the distraction.

  But when they were back at the leased studio across the street from Carnegie Hall, when she had time to sit and actually think about her life and her father and the little time they had left, the memories came. Kelly couldn’t stop them. And gradually, one day at a time, they were changing her.

  It was late Monday night, eight days into the most intense rehearsals. The contestants were on the makeshift warehouse stage—all twenty of them. Carnegie Hall had only been reserved for the group auditions and live shows. Rehearsals were here. The choreographer was one of the best in the world, responsible for Beyoncé’s last Super Bowl and Katy Perry’s world tour. Kelly sat watching with Chandra and Cullen.

  The choreographer, Demetrius Davidson, clapped, clearly in a hurry. “Okay, come on. Everyone in your lines. That’s two lines, people.” Demetrius put his hands on his hips. “And . . .” He pointed at three guys sitting at a soundboard. “Music!” Over the blare of the song, the choreographer shouted again. “Five, six, seven, eight.” He clapped to the beat as all twenty contestants launched into the moves.

  Cullen leaned near Kelly and Chandra. He spoke loud enough so they could hear him. “We need two more weeks.”

  “They’ll be fine.” Chandra nodded at the stage. “I see enough dancers out there to carry the left feet.”

  “Maybe.” Cullen stroked his chin as he settled back into the long leather sofa. The producers had rented comfortable furniture for the judges and enough sofas for the contestants to use during breaks. It felt like a glorified clubhouse.

  Even the lighting was conducive to what would eventually be the polished live show.

  “Cut . . . cut it!” The instructor waved off the music and moved onto the stage to two girls. They looked terrified. “Have you never seen a pivot turn?”

  One of the girls bravely spoke first. “Not before tonight.”

  “Really?” Demetrius looked at her, then back at the three judges. He raised his voice. “Really?”

  Cullen laughed out loud. “You’re the magician. Make it happen.”

  The music stayed off while those who understood the dance helped those who didn’t have a clue. Kelly let her eyes settle on Zack. He was helping one of the guys in the back row, a big farm boy from Iowa with a voice as deep as a storm cellar. Good luck. Kelly covered her mouth, careful to keep her laughter hidden. The farm boy wasn’t going to be a dancer. But the kids were trying, she had to give them that.

  Especially Zack. Kelly still watched him. How different would he be at the end of the season? And what if he won? Maybe Chandra was right that the fame and celebrity would change him. As Kelly pondered that from the comfort of her corner on the couch, a lead production
assistant stormed up to Zack. Whatever the guy said, he pointed at Zack and then motioned him over to Zoey.

  A hush fell over the room and the cameramen took a break. The judges weren’t sitting close enough to hear every word, but whatever had been exchanged, Zack looked surprised. He said something in response and nodded to the farmer. This time the assistant took a step closer, clearly upset. “Look, Zack, you’ll do it our way or you can sit this one out.”

  Chandra and Cullen were also drawn to the drama onstage. The assistant stormed back to his place at the side of the stage and cued the cameras. When the music resumed, Zack danced next to Zoey. Someone else had been assigned to the farmer.

  Kelly blinked a few times. “Did that just happen?”

  “I believe it did.” Cullen crossed one leg over his knee. He chuckled. “Better bloke than me, letting some bludge assistant tell him what to do.”

  “Wow. I guess I didn’t know they were that serious about the Romeo and Juliet thing.” Kelly stood and walked slowly to the edge of the stage. She stayed in the shadows so the contestants wouldn’t notice her, as close as possible to the spot where Zack and Zoey danced together.

  The music stopped and Zoey looked up at Zack. She mouthed the words “I’m sorry.” Her expression showed her helplessness. In response, he put his arm around her and gave her a brief hug.

  Kelly couldn’t hear what he said but she didn’t have to. She was suddenly angry. She marched over to the side stage where the production assistants were clustered. The lead guy turned to her as she approached. “Kelly, what’s up?”

  “Them.” She pointed at Zack and Zoey. “Are we that desperate for ratings?”

  “It’s not coming from me.” The guy looked tight-lipped. “Boss says they’re a couple. America will love ’em. Nothing this adorable since Justin and Kelly on Idol.”

  “That’s crazy. They’re not a couple.”

  “The kiss says otherwise.” He shrugged. “Anything these contestants say or do will be on the show.”

  “That’s lousy.” She turned her attention to the stage. The group was running through the number again. Zack and Zoey were still together. She glared at the PA. “Things happen on a show like this. It’s all fantasy, you know that.”

  “Exactly.” He chuckled, clearly unconcerned. “And the fantasy this time around is Zack and Zoey.”

  Kelly stared at him, not sure what to say. How could Samuel Meier feel good about manipulating people? Was this what celebrity had come to? Fifteen Minutes creating situations and relationships for ratings? The producers would present whatever picture they wanted, and the public would eat it up. The show turned people into stars for the sake of ratings and profit. Something about that was plain old ugly.

  “I’ll talk to Samuel.” She crossed her arms and looked from the PA to the dance floor and back. She searched his face. Then she took a step closer. “It isn’t real.”

  “Well, Ms. Morgan”—he took a step closer, obviously not threatened by her—“the cameras say it is. For a show like Fifteen Minutes that’s all that matters.”

  chapter 20

  They had ten minutes before dance rehearsal started up again, and Zack had just one way he wanted to use the time. If he didn’t call Reese soon she was bound to worry. Especially with all the talk on the Internet about him and Zoey. Tweets from the other contestants, hints on the show’s website that a romance was budding. He needed to talk to Reese tonight. Right now. He slipped out the main entrance into the dark of the night, intent on heading to the coffee shop across the street.

  But blocking his way were eight bodyguards.

  “Hey, guys.” He hesitated.

  “Zack. How’s it going?” The group nodded and greeted him.

  He pointed to the Starbucks across the street. “Anyone want coffee?”

  “Hold up.” The biggest in the group took a step closer, concerned. “You’re not going anywhere. The public’s figured it out. They know y’all are rehearsing here.”

  “Oh.” Zack hadn’t considered that. “Okay, then. I’ll be right back.” He raised his brow, looking for approval. “Is that all right?”

  “Definitely not.” The first bodyguard lowered his eyebrows. “One fan spots you and it’s a madhouse. Bedlam. We don’t wanna mess with that.”

  The other bodyguards muttered their agreement.

  “If you absolutely must go, one of us goes with you.” It was the biggest guy again. “Either that or you stay here. One of us can get the coffee.”

  “I’ll do it.” The shortest of the group slipped his hands in his pockets and moved a step toward the street. “What do you want?”

  “Uh . . .” Zack’s head was spinning. Time alone. Time away from Zoey Davis. The chance to think. Reese Weatherly. He didn’t voice his thoughts. The bodyguard was waiting. Zack cleared his throat. “Uh . . . how about a grande black tea with an inch of cream? Is that okay?”

  “Definitely. Got it.” The man jogged to the intersection and crossed at the green light.

  Like being hit by a gust of hurricane-force wind, the truth took his breath. He could no longer cross the street for a cup of hot tea in New York City. People might see him, recognize him. They could even mob him. Even as he processed this, a crowd of people headed in their direction. The big guard pointed to the door well. “Stay there. We’ve got you covered.”

  Zack did as he was told. He hunkered in against the inset brick door while the guys formed a wall around the entrance. They were an intimidating presence, for sure. They looked like the starting offensive line for the New York Jets. Four of them were assigned to Chandra; the other four split time between protecting Kelly and Cullen and the contestants. Together they provided a force no one dared think about crossing. True professionals, they kept their posture casual, talking among themselves so they wouldn’t draw attention to Zack.

  The crowd walked closer—some sort of tour group wearing the same blue stickers on their shirts. As they neared, many of them peered at the building, trying to see what was behind the line of bodyguards. But the door was set far enough back from the sidewalk that Zack remained shrouded in shadows. He watched, eyes wide. This was crazy. Did he actually need protection from strangers? Did that mean he’d somehow made it?

  He wasn’t sure whether to be scared or excited.

  “Hey! I think Fifteen Minutes rehearses there! I saw it on Twitter!” A teenage girl’s shrill voice rose above the others and the group slowed. She jumped around, pointing at the bodyguards. “We should ask if they’ll let us in.”

  An older woman—the girl’s mother maybe—pushed her way through the throng. She tapped one of the bodyguards on the shoulder. Until then they had seemed unaware, but now they faced the crowd, shoulders touching.

  “Hi.” The woman smiled. “Is this where Fifteen Minutes rehearses? My daughter saw something about it.”

  “This is a private business, ma’am.” He didn’t smile. “I’m afraid I can’t answer questions.”

  The girl squealed and covered her mouth. “It is! It has to be!” She put both hands in the air and gave a short scream. “I wanna meet Zack Dylan, please! Can we go in just for half a minute? I’m in love with him. Please?”

  “We won’t be long.” The mother took a step closer, trying to see between two of the bodyguards. “We’ll stay in the back and watch for a minute. No longer.”

  “Ma’am.” The bodyguard’s tone was stern. He crossed his arms, his chest puffed out. “No one may enter the building without clearance.”

  “There has to be another way in.” The girl wasn’t taking no for an answer. She pulled her phone from her purse and began snapping photos of the bodyguards.

  Watching from the doorwell, Zack pressed himself into the far corner. His heart pounded as the moment played out. He stayed quiet while the bodyguards dashed the girl’s hopes of getting into the building. Finally—reluctantly—the group moved on. “They’ll be back.” The tallest bodyguard shook his head. “People are crazy.”

&n
bsp; “Girls are craziest.” Another of the guards laughed. “Always amazes me.”

  One of the guys turned around and pointed at Zack. “See that? You stay close to the building. No getting coffee on your own, understand?”

  “Yes, sir.” Zack felt adrenaline work through his veins. He exhaled and slumped against the warm brick. His break was half over. If he called Reese now, he wouldn’t have time to talk. Not the sort of conversation the two of them needed. He took a deep breath and made a decision. In a hurry he dialed his parents’ number.

  “Hello?” Grandpa Dan answered.

  “Hi! This is Zack.” He felt his throat tighten. What was he doing standing in a dirty door well in New York City behind a bunch of bodyguards? Why wasn’t he back in Kentucky with the people he loved? He swallowed hard, searching for his voice. “How . . . are you, Grandpa?”

  “Worried.” A pause followed. “Son, what’s this about some other girl?”

  “It’s nothing.” Zack wondered if he’d responded too quickly. “She’s on the show with me. We’re friends. That’s all.”

  More hesitation. “Son . . . have you thought about how Reese might feel?”

  “Yes.” He stopped there, defeated. He couldn’t defend himself. The show had taken all his time, and the insanity had thrown him and Zoey together constantly. She needed him. He tried to find the right words. “They’re keeping us very busy. Please . . . tell Reese I’m sorry. I’ll . . . I’ll make things right when this is all over.”

  “Be careful.” Grandpa Dan sounded sad. Like he could cry. “This show, don’t let it change who you are.” His voice was scratchy. “What you believe.”

  Zack squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. “I won’t. I’m trying, Grandpa. Please pray for me, okay?” He needed to know his grandpa was praying. His own time spent praying was a fraction of what it had been. He hadn’t found time to talk about his faith after the last group performance, and lately he could go all day and not think about praying until his head hit the pillow.