by Nathan Roden
Great. Just great.
I guess even the best mechanic can’t look into his crystal ball and see how much life a wiper motor has left.
I had two choices. Pull over and wait for it to stop raining, or try to drive through it. That option was dangerous, but the rain was the kind that seemed like it would last forever.
So, I hugged the shoulder of the right lane, rolled down my window, and drove about forty miles an hour—most of it with my head outside the window.
The rain finally stopped just before I got to the St. Louis city limit sign. I had never been so tired and miserable in my life. My neck was screaming in agony.
The guard at the entrance to the KwyK compound was not happy to see me. To him, I probably looked like a spoiled brat slinking home after a night of spoiled-brat behavior. I drove past crews who were stringing cables and positioning satellite dishes that were mounted on top of big panel vans.
What a circus.
The security guard must have called ahead to the house because Skyler ran toward the car as I pulled up.
“You’re back!” she squealed. And then she saw the condition I was in.
“My God, Wylie! Are you wearing the same clothes?” she said with her nose scrunched up. “The press conference starts in an hour! Come with me. Hurry up! Let’s go!”
Skyler was on her phone before I could even get out of the car.
“Celeste! Grab Simone and meet me in my room as soon as you can!” Skyler said. She sized me up the way an insurance adjuster looks at a wrecked car.
“Bring your full makeup kit. God, he looks like a drowned panda bear,” she muttered. “Nothing! Never mind. I’ll see you in a few.”
Skyler ended that call and then made another, even as she pulled me along with her other hand.
“Hello. It’s Skyler. Good morning. Could you send a pot of strong coffee to my room, please? Make that two pots. Thanks. You’re the best.”
She dragged me through a door and stopped to look behind her.
“Through there,” she pointed. “Get in the shower. And make it quick—hair and makeup will be here any second.”
I guessed that I didn’t have time to eat a handful of aspirin and throw up.
“I need to get my bag out of the car,” I said. “I have some clothes—”
“Get in the shower,” Skyler said. “We have a closet full of your new wardrobe. I’ll pick you out something.”
I thought I should say something to that, but my brain wasn’t communicating with my mouth at that moment.
“Go, Wylie!” she stomped her foot. She leaned toward me. “You’re not drunk are you?”
“No,” I said, sort of self-righteously. I probably would have been in better shape if I was drunk.
I turned and marched to the shower—
Like a good dancing monkey.
They were waiting for me when I came out. Celeste and Simone shoved me into a chair and worked me over, under the watchful eye of Skyler KwyK. Skyler paced back and forth with a finger to her chin.
Eighteen minutes later, the frantic activity ceased, and they backed away. Skyler sighed.
“That’s not bad,” she said. “He still looks like the walking dead, but it will have to do.”
Skyler handed them each an envelope.
“Take the rest of the day off,” she said.
Celeste and Simone scurried away. Skyler patted my hair as she looked me over. I looked around for a mirror and finally found one on a distant wall. I stood and walked toward it.
My God, I thought. That was wayyyyy too much eye makeup. My skin was…pale. Sickly. I looked like a freaking Scandinavian vampire.
“Seriously, Skyler?” I asked. “I’m supposed to—? This isn’t me. Not even close.”
“What choice have you left me?” Skyler pouted. “Am I supposed to introduce you to the world—to my fans—looking like some hung-over, homeless junkie? What do you want from me, Wylie? Are you trying to destroy me? Because it seems to me that I’m surrounded by people who want exactly that!”
Skyler fell into a chair and covered her face.
My name is Wylie Westerhouse, and I am poison, I thought.
I have never willingly tried to do emotional harm to anyone, but I was doing just that—over, and over, and over again. If I am left to feel sorry for myself, I do it…alone.
“You’re right, Skyler,“ I said. I held my hand out to her. “You have been an angel. And I have been nothing but a complete pain in the butt. I’m sorry.”
Skyler shuddered. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and smiled. She took my hand.
As I helped Skyler to her feet, I saw the man again. The same man—the same ghost of a man that I had seen before. I watched recognition spread across Skyler’s face. I let go of her hand—much more quickly than I had intended. She may have seen something—or not. But she was definitely hurt by the way I pulled away from her.
I watched the man turn and walk away. He watched me. I was not afraid of him, and I don’t think that he was afraid of me. All that he appeared to be was…
Sad.
I wanted to catch the guy and find out who he was and what he was doing, but that wasn’t going to happen with Skyler in the room.
Chris Chadwick, Grayson Kilmister, and Veronica KwyK walked past. Veronica gave me a disapproving look on her way by.
Skyler grabbed my elbow and walked me into the media room, where several dozen people jockeyed for the best seats and camera angles. The low-level buzz increased, and flashbulbs went crazy.
Skip Walters entered and stood behind the podium at the front of the room. Skyler planted me next to her at one of the tables that flanked the podium.
Skip tapped a spoon on the side of a water glass.
“Let’s get settled in people,” he said. “Pretend that you’ve done this kind of thing before, please.”
There was a roll of laughter across the room, but that did little to stop the media personnel from jockeying for position. Skip looked at his watch and then looked up and down at those of us seated at the table. When the last person sat down, which was Veronica, Skip tapped a finger on the microphone and spoke.
“Welcome, members of the press,” Skip said. “There is no secret why we have brought you here today. Today marks a new beginning in the career of America’s Sweetheart—Miss Skyler KwyK.”
A roar of applause filled the room. Skyler stood and waved, and finally bowed and curtsied to her adoring media fans. I was sure that they had conducted this ceremony countless times before.
“Miss KwyK is a rare commodity in our world, ladies, and gentlemen,” Skip continued. “As many of you know, Skyler is not just an extremely gifted and talented star; she is a true music fan—just like the rest of us.”
Another round of applause.
“That is why, on this ground-breaking day, we would like to announce the launch of a new star. Today, a new star joins the musical universe of Skyler KwyK. In the coming weeks, Skyler will be recording and performing alongside one of her very own vocal idols. Ladies and gentlemen, you know him as the rising talent of last season’s ‘America’s Brand New Voice’—please welcome—
“Wylie Westerhouse!”
The applause was loud and long. I wasn’t sure if it was for me or for Skyler, but on that day, it didn’t really matter. I waved to the crowd from my seat. The applause got louder. Skyler pulled on my sleeve, so I stood up and waved.
I saw Veronica smiling and clapping while she studied the media’s reaction.
As the applause died down, Skyler stood and moved to the podium.
“You look fantastic, Skyler!” someone yelled from the back. This brought more polite applause, and Skyler’s smile lit up her face.
“When is the new album coming out?” another member of the press asked.
“We’re looking at Valentine’s Day.”
“Oooooooohh,” the crowd was quick to pick up on that innuendo. They started whispering and pointing at Skyler—and at
me. Veronica was not happy at that point.
“The album will coincide with the new tour,” Skyler said, with a little bit of a blush to her cheeks.
“Skyler!” a man said with his hand in the air. She pointed at him and listened intently.
“The new album,” the man said. “Can we expect more in the way of material, or will you be appealing to an older demographic?” The crowd murmured in anticipation of Skyler’s answer.
“Well…” Skyler put a finger to her lips and smiled seductively. “No one stays a child forever—my fans certainly haven’t. I won’t be looking to shock anyone’s parents, but Skyler KwyK is not a little girl anymore.”
Skyler’s response triggered a huge roar and a long round of applause. It also made Veronica KwyK and Skip Walters visibly uncomfortable. Chris Chadwick seemed delighted by her statement. That wasn’t surprising to me, because Chris was obviously Skyler’s biggest cheerleader—and her main ally. Before the din died down, the voice of a hard-faced woman in the front row sounded loud and clear.
“How are you so certain that you have not forged an allegiance with a criminal?”
The murmuring died quickly into an awkward silence that featured only the hum of the microphones. One man covered a nervous cough.
“I beg your pardon?” Skyler asked, forcing a smile.
“The incident that caused Mr. Westerhouse to be disqualified from the talent competition is still under investigation,” the lady said. “Why are you willing to gamble your reputation, and possibly alienate your fan-base, by not waiting until this issue is resolved?”
“This is a press conference, Monica, not a hearing,” Skip said.
“And I am a member of the press, Skip,” the woman said. “It is our job to ask the questions that people want answers to.”
I leaned back in my seat so that I could get a glimpse of Skyler’s reaction. She appeared to be in shock.
I had done some research, and by all reports, Skyler KwyK has been the media’s darling since the early days of her career. She is cooperative and polite: she memorized names, she sent out birthday and Christmas cards to many of those who covered her every move.
I turned my head slightly and caught Victoria looking at me. She narrowed her eyes and ever so slightly shook her head—as if I was going to jump up to defend myself and launch an attack on the press corps with my eyes ablaze, and with spit flying from the corners of my mouth.
Skip did everything he could to remain the lone spokesperson for the KwyK team. It was obvious that many in the audience wanted to hear Skyler respond to the question.
“The majority of Skyler’s fans are adolescents,” one man in the crowd said. “Some of their parents will express concern with—”
Skip butted in.
“Perhaps these same parents value the right of ‘innocent until proven guilty’,” Skip said.
“Look, Skip,” a different man said, “We are all aware that Skyler is a legal adult now, and under no obligation to continue catering to young children—young girls, in particular. But we have all watched so many young and talented people lose their way—”
Skyler jumped to her feet.
“This isn’t about Wylie,” Skyler said, in a tone that these people had probably never heard from her. “This is about how I am expected to behave!”
“Skyler,” Victoria whispered. She grabbed Skyler by the arm and tried to pull her back to her seat. Skyler jerked her arm away. Everyone at the front table looked horrified.
I don’t know if I looked horrified or not. My makeup was dry and brittle. I probably looked like a cartoonish Dracula. Christopher Lee would be ashamed of me.
“I have never given anyone a single reason to believe that I am on the verge of covering myself in tattoos, shaving my head, and partying every night until dawn,” Skyler said. “Why am I being judged by what other people have done?”
The woman who asked the first such question spoke up again.
“I don’t believe that any of us thought that you would lose your way—until you chose to include this young man in your future plans,” she said. “This young man was disqualified from a respected talent competition under the suspicion that he—”
“Come on, Monica!” Skyler said.
Veronica massaged her forehead with one hand as she stared down at the table.
“Wylie’s side of the story has been consistent since the beginning,” Skyler said. “He knew nothing about his manager’s illegal activities. This ‘manager’ was not working alone—at least two employees of the show were involved. The producers of ‘Voice’ go to great lengths to protect the integrity of the voting, and their people are under strict contracts. They are more concerned with their own reputations than they are with clearing Wylie’s name.”
“Then why not just wait until the whole legal process plays out?” asked another reporter.
“Because waiting for that process only punishes one person—Wylie Westerhouse,” Skyler said. “Why should he be punished until that foul excuse for a manager gets what he deserves? The man who is currently hiding in Canada? That’s not fair. Wylie was twenty-two years old when this happened to him—he’s not even that smart.”
“That’s true,” I chimed in. “I’m not.”
Skyler gave me a look like I had just crowed like a rooster. I shrugged.
“Why is no one looking at the real facts?” Skyler asked the group. ”Wylie’s manager is hiding in another country, doing everything possible to avoid extradition and prosecution, while Wylie stays right here. He moved to Branson so that he could pay off the money that his demon of a manager cost him! Wylie worked a full-time job while he made music several nights a week! Is that the behavior of a criminal?”
The woman reporter spoke again.
“We want to agree with you, Skyler, but there are thousands of concerned parents out there—”
“I keep hearing about these ‘concerned parents’,” Skyler said. “What is it that they’re so concerned about? Are they afraid that their impressionable kids are going to start sleeping around; drinking and doing drugs and robbing liquor stores because Skyler KwyK turned eighteen? Are they going to lose their minds because I want this talented young man to get the break that he deserves?”
Her arms shot out to her side, and she pointed at me.
“Have any of you heard this boy sing?” she said. “Have you?”
There were only quiet murmurs from the crowd.
“Do you know what I think?” Skyler asked. Veronica stood and leaned toward her daughter’s ear. She shielded her lips from view.
“Skyler. Don’t,” she said. Skyler ignored her.
“I think that you’re all bored to tears with my good behavior,” she said. “I think that you can’t wait for me to screw up! My ‘Goody-Two-Shoes’ life isn’t going to sell magazines, or make people watch your TV shows or visit your websites. You want me to be controversial and shock people, and…and…you’re nothing but a bunch of VULT—”
Veronica clamped her hand over Skyler’s mouth. Skip, Chris Chadwick, and three others huddled around Skyler as they hustled her out of the room.
Camera flashes went crazy and video cameras whirred. Press members pushed and elbowed one other to get a clear shot of the unbelievable scene that was happening before their eyes. A low murmur grew into a roar.
A few seconds later, the front table was empty—except for me. I looked out into the crowd of reporters, who were now looking at me like I was the last piece of pie. I stood up and snapped off a salute, and said,
“Goodbye.”
I packed my things and loaded them into my car before I went to get Toby. I looked forward to seeing him because I was having one of those ‘I need a friend who doesn’t judge me’ days. I had my head buried in his fur when I heard a knock at the open door.
Veronica KwyK stood with her arms folded in a vulnerable-looking self-hug.
“You’re leaving,” she said. It was a statement, not a question. Her mascara had
run, but that did nothing to make her less beautiful.
“Yes, Ma’am,” I said.
She nodded and bit her upper lip.
“Damage control,” I said.
Veronica choked a laugh.
“Yeah,” she said. “We’re not exactly used to scenes like that one.”
“How bad is it?” I asked.
She waved one hand aside.
“We’re making calls now,” she said. “Calling in favors. We have long histories with these people.”
She looked away and took a deep breath.
“I’m not kidding myself, though,” she said. The story will get out—the pictures and the videos, too. They always do. We’ll be assured that everything has been buried, but someone will make a secret deal—for cash. The source will never be revealed, but it will get out.”
“That sounds familiar to me,” I said.
Veronica nodded.
“It can be an ugly business, for sure,” she said. “I wish you would…reconsider. Leaving.”
It was my turn to choke on a laugh.
“Really? Why?” I said.
“I’m worried about Skyler,” she said. “She’s been so excited about this…this venture, and the fact that it was her idea—her first grown-up idea.”
She turned and looked me in the eye.
“Skyler never had a normal childhood, as I’m sure you know,” she said. “If she’s made to feel that she doesn’t have the right to make her own adult decisions—I don’t want to see her spirit crushed. Does that make sense?”
It was me that couldn’t maintain the eye contact. I was in no way expecting to hear this from Veronica.
“I’m pretty used to being the bad guy,” I said. “That part doesn’t scare me. It just seems like the timing is rotten. I have another crisis going on—”
