by Paige Toon
Margarita tweets the pic and tags us all. I feel a little flurry of excitement.
‘Now we need to get you on Instagram,’ she says, tucking her glossy black hair behind her ears and flashing me a smile.
At least I’m already on Snapchat…
‘I love your dress,’ Sienna says to me later, after we’ve media maxed out. ‘Alexander Wang, right?’ she says.
‘How did you know?’ I look around. Is someone else wearing the same thing as me?
‘I’m a model. I need to know about these things,’ she explains with a shrug, as though reading my mind. ‘Hey, we should go shopping some time.’
‘I’d love that,’ I say with a smile.
‘Next week?’
‘That’d be great. I can’t do Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays… Jeez,’ I say, as it dawns on me. ‘The only free days I have are Fridays. And shit! No, I can’t even do Friday next week!’ We have our Muso interview at four o’clock.
She wants to know why I’m so busy so I tell her about my singing lessons and band practice and driving lessons, which I only started on Wednesday. She laughs as I describe the look on my instructor’s face when I went a little too fast along Mulholland Drive. I persuaded him to let me drive my new Fiat 500, but he told me we’d be using his instructor vehicle next time so he can slam the brakes on with his dual pedals…
‘And Friday?’ she asks.
‘Jack, Miles, Brandon and I are doing an interview with a magazine.’
‘Which one?’ she asks with interest.
‘Muso. Do you know it?’
‘I’ve heard of it, but music magazines are not really my scene. Give me fashion mags any day of the week. I liked you guys, though. Have you got any gigs coming up?’
‘Hopefully we’ll be doing one in San Francisco next month.’
We’ve been invited back by the same venue as last time and I’ve asked if we can make it the weekend of half-term in mid-February when Stu’s visiting. Stu suggested it, actually.
‘Cool, maybe I’ll come,’ she says.
‘That would be great,’ I reply with a grin, spying Jack across the terrace. He raises one eyebrow at me and jerks his chin towards the edge of the garden. I give him a minuscule nod of acknowledgement and, a moment later, make my excuses.
I check over my shoulder as I duck behind a cluster of palm trees, but I can’t see anyone looking this way and, the next thing I know, Jack is tugging me further into the darkness. He presses me up against a palm tree and proceeds to kiss me passionately. The trunk is rough and spiky against my back, but I barely notice. I feel dizzy and I’m pretty sure it has nothing to do with the couple of drinks I’ve had.
‘Jack,’ I gasp, putting my hands on his chest. I can feel his heart pounding against my palms.
He breaks away from me, breathing hard against my mouth. ‘What?’
I don’t know what to say. I don’t want him to stop, but I feel completely out of my depth. I’m not even sure he knows I’m a virgin.
‘You’re scaring me,’ I whisper.
He tenses and immediately steps backwards, looking shocked.
‘Not like that,’ I explain, realising he’s taken me the wrong way. ‘This is scaring me.’ I motion to the two of us. ‘I’m scared how much I like it.’
His shoulders sag with relief.
‘What if it all goes wrong?’ I ask.
He frowns. ‘What do you mean?’
‘With Miles and Brandon. All Hype.’ I love singing and being a part of this band. I want to be more than just Johnny Jefferson’s daughter. ‘I don’t want to be another Eve.’
‘I don’t want that, either,’ he states. ‘But I can’t keep my hands off you.’
‘I don’t want you to keep your hands off me,’ I whisper.
‘Good,’ he says meaningfully, closing the gap between us.
‘I just hope we can be cool if it doesn’t work out,’ I murmur, as he presses his lips to my neck. ‘I really, really don’t want to screw up the band…’
‘We won’t,’ he whispers between kisses. And then I can’t think about anything else apart from kissing him back.
Chapter 8
The next morning, I groggily come to at the sound of Johnny’s voice outside my bedroom door.
‘Can you get up and come to the studio?’ he calls.
I frown. ‘Sure,’ I reply. Am I in trouble?
I remember with a lurching stomach that last night I kept Davey waiting on the road outside Justin and Jenna’s house for half an hour.
I get dressed as quickly as I can with a pounding headache. I didn’t even drink that much last night, did I? Maybe I did. Those cocktails slipped down way too easily.
I emerge bleary-eyed from my bedroom and wander along the landing to Johnny’s music studio. The door is ajar so I go straight in.
Johnny is sitting on a stool behind the glass with his acoustic guitar in his hands. The mixing desk with its control panels is in front of me, flanked by big speakers. Johnny’s voice comes through them now.
‘Afternoon,’ he says drily.
‘What time is it?’ I ask, rubbing at my eyes.
‘Eleven thirty.’
‘Oh, is that all?’
He raises one eyebrow at me. ‘Get in here.’
I push open the glass door and walk into the soundproofed room. There’s a full-size drum kit in here, and a keyboard, too, but Johnny’s various guitars are hanging on the wall in the control room outside. The walls in here are covered with yellow foam, made of miniature pyramid shapes. Apparently the sound bounces off the walls and improves the acoustics.
‘Close it,’ Johnny says, nodding at the door.
He reaches forward and flicks a switch to turn off the microphones and then indicates the stool in front of him. ‘Sit down. We need to talk.’
Shit. This sounds serious.
‘Sorry about keeping Davey waiting last night,’ I say quickly.
‘That’s not what this is about.’ He tucks his chin-length hair behind his ear. I notice he hasn’t shaved for a couple of days, judging by the dark-blond stubble gracing his jaw. ‘But try not to do it again.’
‘I won’t,’ I promise.
‘Did you have fun?’ he asks, regarding me steadily.
‘Yeah.’ I can’t help but grin. ‘It was great, actually.’
His small corresponding smile morphs into a look of apprehension and I tense up again. He digs into his pocket and pulls out his phone, pressing a few buttons before passing it over to me. His display is showing the photo we took of all of the girls last night, and my jaw hits the floor when I realise it’s made it onto one of the biggest online celebrity gossip sites.
‘Pictures from the party are all over the net,’ Johnny says.
My brow furrows as he takes the phone back and searches for something else before handing it over again. This photo is of Sienna and me clutching each other’s arms and laughing our heads off as we ice-skate. We went for round two towards the end of the night. It was such a laugh.
I grin up at Johnny, but he’s not smiling. ‘What’s the problem?’ I ask with confusion.
‘She a friend of yours?’ he checks.
‘I hope so. I really liked her. We’re going to go shopping sometime. Her name’s Sienna Victor.’
‘I know her name,’ he replies heavily. ‘I recognised her from your party, but I didn’t know who she was until today.’
I’m extremely confused now.
‘Jessie, do you know who Dana Reed is?’ he asks seriously.
I swallow and nod. Dana is Johnny’s druggie ex-girlfriend. She was a singer-songwriter and marked for great things, but I haven’t heard anything about her for well over a year. She and Johnny infamously met in rehab and got up to all sorts of crazy, scary shit together. It was like one of those terrible, twisted relationships that usually end in disaster. They both overdosed – Johnny could have died before I even found out he was my dad. It’s a chilling thought.
The press
planted most of the blame for what happened on Dana’s doorstep, re-embracing Johnny when he married Meg, a sweet, ordinary girl whom he claimed was the love of his life. If the press painted Dana as the devil, Meg was their angel.
Seeing how settled Johnny is with her now, I have to concede that the press had Meg pretty well pegged. But what has Dana Reed got to do with my new friend? I’m shocked when Johnny tells me.
‘Sienna is Dana’s half-sister,’ he reveals. ‘She didn’t mention that to you?’
I shake my head, gobsmacked. No, she didn’t, which is a bit surprising, considering her sister’s horrifying history with my dad.
‘Dana used to talk to me a bit about Sienna,’ Johnny reveals. ‘Dana’s dad had an affair with Courtney, and Sienna was the result of that. She and Dana weren’t close when we were together. I don’t know about now.’
‘Sienna is nothing like Dana,’ I say quickly. ‘She’s not into drugs or anything like that—’
Johnny cuts me off. ‘Jessie, Dana is Meg’s worst nightmare,’ he states. ‘If Meg knew that you were hanging out with anyone even remotely connected to her, she’d go mental.’
‘But Sienna is really nice!’ I defend her. ‘I promise you, you have nothing to be worried about.’
He gives me a long, weary look and then sighs heavily. ‘I hope so, chick. I guess I can’t tell you who to be friends with, but I can warn you to be careful. The same goes for Jack Mitchell.’
Damn. I thought the heavy conversation was over, but, from the look on his face, my dad’s just getting warmed up.
‘I didn’t want to get into this with you last weekend, but I’ve gotta tell you, I’m sorry Tom’s no longer on the scene. He was a better option than Jack.’
‘He lives in another country!’ I squawk.
Johnny shrugs and purses his lips. ‘Exactly.’
‘Come on,’ I say with annoyance. ‘Tom and I weren’t working out. And I really like Jack. I really like him,’ I emphasise.
I don’t like the look he’s giving me. It’s almost… pity. ‘Just be careful,’ he reiterates quietly, his green eyes piercing mine for a long, uncomfortable moment.
My face warms and I nod and look away. ‘I will,’ I mumble. Are we done now? Can I go?
‘Sixteen is underage in California,’ he adds.
I shoot him a sharp look, momentarily forgetting to blush. Is he talking about sex now?
‘Google it,’ he adds.
‘OK!’ I say, trying to sound breezy. ‘Do you mind if I go and get a shower? I’ve literally just rolled out of bed.’
‘Not yet,’ he says. ‘There’s something else I need to talk to you about.’
Oh, God. What now?
‘Don’t look so worried. This bit’s good news,’ he says with a grin, before adding, ‘at least, I hope it is. You remember when you did a few harmonies for me before Christmas and we put it on a demo for Nick?’
I nod. Nick is from his record company.
‘Well, he wants us to lay the track down properly. You OK about featuring on my new album?’
I nearly fall off my chair. When I’m done screaming, he laughs softly. ‘I’m going to take that as a yes.’
There’s no time to waste. Johnny’s next album is coming out at the end of February, well in time for the world tour that kicks off in April. I’ll have to postpone tomorrow’s singing lesson so we can go to the studio downtown after school.
I can’t believe it. I’m going to sing on his album! I’m even going to get paid for it. I am beside myself with excitement.
Finally I get up to go, desperate to wash away last night’s cobwebs, but, on my way out of the door, Johnny speaks.
‘And Jessie?’ I look over my shoulder at him to see a crease between his eyebrows. ‘Don’t mention anything about Sienna or Dana to Meg. I don’t want to stress her out if I can avoid it.’
Now I realise why we had our conversation in a soundproofed booth.
Chapter 9
‘I hope you’re not getting carried away with it all,’ Stu says a few days later when we finally manage to catch each other for a chat. It’s so difficult with the time difference. ‘I keep hearing your name being bandied around school.’
I can’t help giggling. I find it surreal but also kind of hilarious that people at my old school are talking about me.
The press attention has gone a bit mental this week. Today I got my ten thousandth follower on Twitter, and yesterday Johnny’s publicist, Hannah, was contacted by two journalists requesting an interview with me – not All Hype: me! After the initial excitement, I felt a bit uneasy. Johnny has asked Hannah to handle my publicity, going forward, but she’s going to wait until I’ve spoken to the guys before getting back to the journalists. I’m on my way to see them now for Thursday afternoon practice. We haven’t got together since Saturday night. Unfortunately I had to cancel band practice on Tuesday because Johnny and I were still in the studio.
Not a sentence I ever thought I’d say.
‘Just try not to get too swept up,’ Stu warns.
‘I won’t.’ I catch Sam’s eye in the rear-view mirror. He collected me from school today.
‘Listen, I want to talk to you about something.’
First Johnny, now Stu. It’s not easy having two dads in your life.
‘GCSEs,’ Stu says. ‘I think you should still do them.’
The American school system is very different to the British one. Over here, there are no GCSEs or A levels – your teachers give you tests and grade you. The big ‘examining board’ style exams happen at the end of Eleventh Grade – but they’re not even compulsory. You have to pay to take them so most people only do them if they want to go to college. They’re called SATs and ACTs. Some colleges prefer SATs results, others ACTs, so people choose which exams to do, depending on where they want to go. Some students choose to do both. The results are what the colleges rely upon when they’re accepting admissions.
As I’m in Tenth Grade here, I’m not due to do my SATs until next year – if I choose to do them at all. I’m not sure I want to go to college. I’m thinking I’d rather pursue my music, like Jack.
But Stu thinks I’d be doing myself a disservice by not taking my GCSE exams along with my British classmates.
‘How can I?’ I ask with confusion. ‘I go to school here.’
‘From what I understand it, school in California breaks up for the summer before exams in the UK start, so I would suggest you fly over in time to do them,’ Stu says. ‘You’d have to take extra lessons in the meantime, to make sure you’re learning the same curriculum.’
‘You’ve got to be joking,’ I say flatly. I am so not liking this idea.
‘I just think you should keep your options open. What if you decide you want to go to a British university?’
‘I won’t!’
‘You don’t know that for sure. Libby, Lou, all your friends here will be going. You might want to do a sandwich year in the UK. You just don’t know. This will make life a whole lot easier. Get all your ducks in a row so whatever happens, whatever’s around the corner, you have possibilities.’
I let out a loud, dramatic sigh.
‘I’m pretty sure your mum would’ve agreed with me,’ he adds quietly.
‘That is not fair!’ I raise my voice. ‘You can’t bring her into this!’
‘Sorry.’ For once, he’s the one apologising. But it’s too late: the damage has been done. He can’t take back his words and the simple fact is I know that he’s right. I groan and slump further down in my seat, reluctantly agreeing.
Agnes has seemed a little down this week and she wasn’t at school today, so when Sam drives through the gates belonging to Jack and Agnes’s Spanish-villa-style home, I’m delighted to see her standing in the tiled courtyard, waiting to welcome me.
I say bye to Sam and climb out, going over to give her a hug. ‘Hey, you,’ I say warmly.
She grins and hugs me back and, when I withdraw, I narrow my eyes at her. ‘
You don’t look ill.’
‘Doesn’t a broken heart count?’ she murmurs, the usual spark gone from her eyes.
I regard her with sympathy. I take it she’s talking about Brett. ‘It’s tomorrow he’s leaving, isn’t it?’
She nods disconsolately, then whispers meaningfully: ‘I’ve got so much to tell you.’
I give her an inquisitive stare, but, from her expression, I think I know what her news is.
‘You’ve done it?’ I whisper, taken aback.
She nods ever so slightly. ‘Come and knock on my bedroom door when you’ve finished practice,’ she urges.
‘OK.’
She squeezes my arm and then leads me round the corner of their home, past fat palm trees and a multitude of tropical-looking plants to the games room.
‘Delivery for you,’ she says to her brother, pushing me inside the room.
We don’t waste time talking.
Later, when Brandon and Miles have joined us, I bring up the subject of my interview requests.
‘Who wants to interview you?’ Miles asks with a frown.
‘One is a British tabloid newspaper. Johnny vetoed that one.’ He really doesn’t trust the tabloids and he feels it would be a slippery slope for me. ‘But the other is for a weekly celebrity magazine called Hebe – also British. They want to fly over and do a photoshoot and stuff. Obviously I’ll talk about the band, but it does feel a bit wrong with it just being me.’
Jack shrugs. ‘It’s no big deal.’
‘Yeah, I mean, all publicity is good publicity, right?’ Brandon chips in.
‘Are you sure? Because I don’t want to do it unless we’re all agreed,’ I state firmly. This time I look at Miles to gauge his reaction.
He seems nonplussed. ‘Fine by me.’
‘OK.’ I feel a flurry of nerves, which strengthen when I remember we have to get tomorrow’s interview out of the way, first.
After band practice, Jack takes me inside to find Agnes. His mum and stepdad Tim have very different tastes to Johnny and Meg. Instead of a minimalist pad, here the rooms are crowded with dark-wood, antique-looking furniture, the floors dotted with intricately designed colourful rugs and the walls covered with old-fashioned paintings in ornate frames.
