Depressing.
On the front porch, she let out a long rush of breath, then opened the door to a hurricane of noise and activity.
It was even worse than she’d expected. The foyer was overrun with Donna’s employees, all of whom were making plans for either the launch party or the concert tour. There seemed to be an extremely heated difference of opinion regarding the canapes that would be served at the party (mini quiches out, salmon mousse puffs in) and someone was arguing on the phone with a concert promoter about what sort of bottled water should be awaiting the boys at their performance venue in Tallahassee, Florida.
Lark zigzagged her way through the crowd to the kitchen, only to find more madness. The entire kitchen table was strewn with official-looking documents for the boys to sign, and Lark counted no fewer than four lawyers dressed in sharp suits sifting through the contracts and agreements, heatedly debating various clauses and conditions. The breakfast bar held two laptops. One was playing the unedited cut of the music video the boys had filmed that morning.
Grabbing a snack from the fridge, Lark stopped to watch the footage. She hated to admit it, but she wasn’t especially impressed. The song was great and the boys, of course, looked amazing. But she suspected Mimi would call the direction “predictable” and the mood “uninspiring.” She wasn’t about to mention this to the video director, though, who was probably charging Lark’s mother a fortune for his mediocre work.
On the second computer’s screen were album-cover graphics, which a guy who didn’t look much older than Lark was proudly showing to her mom.
“The colors are terrific,” said Donna. “But I don’t like the font you’ve used for the words ‘British Invasion.’ Can you try using a funkier typeface for the album title?”
At that moment, a flustered PR rep came barreling into the kitchen, smartphone in hand, eyes practically bugging out of her head in alarm. “Donna, did you give Oliver permission to tweet this?”
“Tweet what?” asked Donna. “I didn’t give him permission to tweet anything.” She whipped her head back to the laptop and pointed to Max’s image on the screen. “You’ve made his eyes much too green!” she scolded the designer. “For God’s sake, he’s a teenage boy, not a feral cat!”
As the graphic designer began punching computer keys, Donna turned back to the PR rep. “Now, Julia, what’s this about a tweet?”
The rep held out the phone so Donna could read the Twitter post for herself. Lark watched as her mother’s gaze darted across the screen, her eyes narrowing as she took in the 140 characters.
“Oliver Wesley!” she exploded, in a tone so blood-curdling that it even made the lawyers jump. “You’re in big trouble, kiddo!”
Lark couldn’t imagine what Ollie had tweeted, but she sure didn’t want to be around when he tried to explain himself to Donna. She quickly ducked out of the kitchen and followed the sound of thumping music into the family room, only to find that all the furniture had been pushed to one end of the expansive space and the carpet had been rolled up. In the middle of the floor stood Ollie, Max, Teddy, and Jas, the boys’ choreographer.
“From the top,” Jas called out over the music—a bouncy dance track from the upcoming album called “Tremble.” “Five, six, seven, eight …”
They zipped through a series of highly complex and incredibly cool moves. Lark watched in awe as Max made the routine his own, lending his jaunty grace to every step. She was equally impressed by Teddy, and realized with a flutter of her heart that this was only the second time she’d ever seen him dance.
She sincerely hoped it wouldn’t be the last.
When the song finished, the boys staggered breathlessly to the sofa and collapsed.
“Nice work, fellas,” said Jas. “I like the way you all put your own spin on it. In fact, I think this might be the best routine for you guys to perform at the launch party.” He offered each boy a high five. “I’ll go grab you some waters.”
“Speaking of the party,” said Ollie, “I’ll ask Donna to invite loads of supermodels.”
Lark rolled her eyes. “You love winding my mom up, don’t you?”
“It’s my specialty,” said Ollie, throwing her a wink.
“Are your parents looking forward to the party?” Lark asked Teddy.
Teddy laughed. “Oh yeah. My mom’s already stressing out about what to wear.”
“Do you think your families will be able to make it from England?” she asked, turning to Ollie and Max.
Ollie shook his head. “Wish they could. But my parents will be on a cruise of the Greek islands.”
Lark felt an ache in her heart when she saw the sadness in Max’s eyes.
“My family would love to come,” he said, dropping his gaze to the floor. “Especially Anna. But the airfares are just too expensive.”
Just then, Donna came dashing into the room with Julia, the PR rep who’d ratted Ollie out for his cheeky tweet, on her heels.
“We just got incredible news,” Donna gushed. “Julia had a call from the producer of Rise and Shine!”
“Is that the morning talk show with the meteorologist who sings his weather reports?” Lark asked warily. “And the tap-dancing traffic girl?”
“That’s Up and At ’Em, LA,” said Teddy.
“Rise and Shine is a national show, so it caters to a much larger market,” said Donna importantly. “And thanks to Julia’s top-notch public relations skills, they’ve just confirmed an interview with Abbey Road for this coming Tuesday with entertainment reporter Bridget Burlington-Carzinski. She wants to do the broadcast live, right here. It will be an expanded segment—an ‘at home with pop music’s latest stars’ sort of thing.”
Lark was immediately reminded of Mimi’s fantasy about shooting a “day in the life” documentary about Ollie. Apparently, Mimi really did think like the professionals. One look at Teddy, however, told her he was thinking like a kid with a class schedule.
“What about school?” she asked.
“It’s a morning show,” said Julia haughtily. “The crew will be here to set up by four thirty—”
“In the morning?” Max said. “Oi.”
Julia ignored him. “You’ll start filming at five thirty. The interview will last approximately thirty minutes, which means you’ll be done by six.”
“You’ll have plenty of time to make it to homeroom before the bell,” said Donna with a triumphant smile.
“Our first appearance on American television,” said Ollie. “Can you believe it, Max?”
Max grinned. “First of many, hopefully.”
“Congratulations,” Lark told the boys, but at the same time she was making a mental note to have something else to do at dawn on Tuesday.
Something as far away from the TV cameras as possible.
Lark spent the rest of the afternoon in her room, trying to concentrate on her homework, but the noise from downstairs made it nearly impossible. Just before dinner, she heard the sound of car doors in the driveway and peeked out the window to see that the interlopers were finally calling it a day.
Not a moment too soon! She was starving.
Grabbing a folder out of her backpack, she hurried downstairs to find Fitzy placing an order for three large pizzas. Lark’s mouth watered thinking about the yummy cheese and crispy pepperoni. She’d just have to be quick enough to snag her slice before the boys devoured them all, or before Fitzy got it in her head to sprinkle the pizza pies with shredded endive or grated ginger root.
“Where are the boys?” she asked her mother, who was hunkered down at the kitchen table, going over the contracts the lawyers had left.
Donna motioned with her head toward the family room. “They’re thoroughly exhausted,” she said. “Honestly, you’d think boys their age would have more stamina.”
“Maybe you should give them some time off.”
Donna looked up from the documents and stared at Lark as if she’d just suggested sending all three boys on a monthlong trip to the moon. “How m
uch time?” she asked, horrified at the mere thought of it.
“The weekend,” said Lark decisively. “The whole weekend. Meaning they can sleep in, lounge in front of the TV, maybe even go out for Chinese food or to a movie. No rehearsals, no dance classes, no photo shoots.”
Donna tugged off her mock-tortoiseshell reading glasses and let out a long rush of breath. “There’s still so much to do,” she muttered, “but I suppose if you think it’s a good idea—”
“I think it’s a great idea,” said Lark. “They need to relax and have some fun.”
Donna thought for a moment, returned her glasses to the bridge of her nose, and waved her hand. “Fine. Go tell them that as of right now, they’re off the clock until Monday morning.”
Smiling, Lark bent down and pressed a big kiss to the top of her mother’s head. Then she bolted from the kitchen before Donna could change her mind.
In the family room she found the furniture restored to its usual arrangement. Ollie and Max were flopped on the sofa. Teddy was slumped in the oversize armchair, his long soccer player’s legs stretched out on the ottoman.
Lark realized Donna hadn’t been exaggerating. Abbey Road looked completely and utterly pooped!
“Great news,” Lark announced.
“Another TV interview?” guessed Oliver.
“Better,” said Lark, crossing the room to hand Teddy the folder. “My mom’s just decided to give you all the whole weekend off!”
Oliver gave her a sideways look. “Please don’t tease,” he warned.
“I’m not teasing,” Lark promised. “She realized that you’ve been working very hard and that you should be rewarded for it.”
“Came to this realization all on her own, did she?” said Max with a grin.
“Well, she may have had a little coaxing from me.”
“Thanks, Lark,” said Ollie. “Really. I’d jump up and smother you with kisses of gratitude if only I had the energy.”
“Bet she’d rather get kissed by Teddy,” Max whispered loudly.
Luckily, Teddy was too engrossed in the contents of the folder Lark had given him to take note of the comment.
“I’m going up,” Ollie decided, rising from the sofa with a wince. “My muscles are aching from all that dancing. I’m gonna soak in a hot tub for the next several hours.”
“Sounds like a good idea,” said Max, grunting as he stood up. “I call dibs on the Jacuzzi in the hall bathroom.”
“You can have it,” said Ollie wearily. “Not that I couldn’t do with some whirlpool action, but the bath off my bedroom is a much shorter walk.”
Together the boys hobbled out of the room.
“Wait,” Lark called after them. “What about dinner? Fitzy just ordered pizza.”
Max’s voice floated back from the hall: “Too tired to chew!”
Lark sighed and turned to Teddy. “Well, I guess that means more pepperoni for us,” she said cheerfully.
Teddy said nothing, just stared at the open folder in his lap.
“You wanna hear what you missed in school today?” Lark asked, hoping to break him out of his gloom. “There was major drama in the caf-a-gym-a-torium. In study hall, Melanie Cooper asked Henry Totten to find out at lunch if Scott McPhee liked her. Of course she made Henry promise not to let Scott know that she wanted to know, but instead of keeping it on the DL, Henry just blurted it out in the hot lunch line in front of everybody. Scott said he thought Mel was cute but he only liked her as a friend, which wouldn’t have been so bad, except that Melanie was standing three people behind them in line! She heard everything and ran out crying.”
Teddy continued to frown silently at the folder.
“You okay?” Lark prompted.
In response, Teddy held up a history paper. At the top, the teacher had scrawled a big red D−. Then he held up a math quiz marked with an F.
“Oh,” said Lark, wincing. “Sorry.”
Teddy shrugged. “That’s what happens when you write a paper on the bus on the way to school the day it’s due. And I didn’t study for the math quiz at all because …”
“… Because you’ve been so busy with Abbey Road,” Lark finished for him. She knew the poor grades were all the more frustrating to Teddy because he was usually an honor student. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand the material, it was simply that he hadn’t had time to give his schoolwork the attention it deserved.
Lark hated seeing him so unhappy. She hated it so much, in fact, that all she could think of was cheering him up, which was why she spoke without thinking.
“What are you doing tomorrow night?” she asked.
Teddy let out a grim chuckle. “Studying, what else? Well, that’s what I was planning anyway. I figured the band would be rehearsing all day on Saturday, so I’d be stuck spending the night trying to catch up on schoolwork.”
“But now that you’ve got the whole weekend off, you can study during the day, right?”
“I guess.” Teddy looked at her curiously. “Why?”
“Because my dad’s playing backup guitar for the Hatfields, right here in LA. I’ve got two tickets and I thought maybe you could come with me.”
She realized with a thud of her heart that she had just asked Teddy Reese on a date!
CHAPTER 5
Lark still couldn’t believe Teddy had said yes!
She’d awoken that morning to a flood of insecurity, fearing he’d only accepted because she’d put him on the spot, or worse, because he was afraid of insulting the daughter of the woman who was going to make him a star.
But when she remembered the smile on his face when he’d responded, “I’d love to go to a concert with you,” her worries vanished into the excitement of planning what she was going to wear.
By six o’clock that evening she’d tried on everything in her closet—twice—and still hadn’t settled on the perfect outfit.
This called for reinforcements!
Lark FaceTimed Mimi, who was also in the process of getting dressed for a big night—her cousin’s birthday party. She’d wrestled her long dark curls into a super-high pony, and was looking fabulous in her flowing boho blouse and black jeans.
Lark explained her predicament.
“Okay,” said Mimi. “Pan the room.”
“What the room?”
“Cinematography term. It means sweep the camera around to give me a panoramic view. Not too fast, though. I don’t want to get motion sickness and puke on my new shirt.”
Obediently, Lark aimed her camera and moved it in a slow arc around the room, which was strewn with clothing, so that Mimi could assess the situation.
“Stop!” cried Mimi. “There. The denim shirt.”
Lark reached for the chambray blouse, which she’d flung over her desk chair earlier. “Got it,” Lark confirmed, and continued to pan the room.
“There, hanging on the bed post. The white jeans with the torn knees.”
Lark grabbed for the pants.
“I’m not seeing any cardigans,” said Mimi. “Where’s that boxy crocheted one?”
“That’s the one thing that’s still in my closet,” Lark said, turning the camera lens back to herself.
“Here’s what you do,” said the extreme close-up of Mimi on the phone screen. “Wear the white jeans with the denim shirt. Button it up and put on a bunch of necklaces, the chunkier the better. Then put the crocheted cardi over it and leave it unbuttoned.”
“Perfect!” said Lark. “But what about shoes?”
“Well, since you’re seeing a country band, your cowboy boots would be totally appropriate, but they might also be a little predictable.”
“That’s what I was afraid of,” said Lark. “What about the Doc Martens the boys got me for Christmas?”
“OMG, those will be amazing,” Mimi cried. “Now, get dressed and send me a selfie, just to be sure it all comes together.”
“Thanks, Meems,” said Lark.
Five minutes later she was taking a head-to-toe photo of her
self in the full-length mirror. She texted it to Mimi and was rewarded with a reply that featured a thumbs-up emoji and the word “gorgeous” in all caps.
Thnx
Text me later want 2 hear all about the big date
Lark felt a quiver shoot up her spine from just reading the d word.
Not a date. Just friends she texted back.
Ha ha whatevs!!! But u will let me know if that changes, right?! I’m ur bff so it’s the law
A plethora of kissy-face emoji followed, then:
Btw posted the video last night 52 likes and counting.
Having no idea what to say to that, Lark responded with the universal symbol for “I literally do not know what I’m feeling right now”:
: /
There was a brief pause, then a link to the YouTube page appeared on the screen.
Lark couldn’t decide whether to watch it or not. On the one hand, she hadn’t seen it with the music dubbed in and she was dying to know how it had turned out. On the other hand, if she hated it, her disappointment would ruin her mood for her night—as friends—with Teddy.
Stepping over the piles of discarded wardrobe items on her bedroom floor, she hurried to the living room. She hoped that Max, who’d vowed to spend his entire day off in front of the TV, would be there.
He was lounging in the overstuffed armchair with a bowl of popcorn in his lap, watching some mindless throwback sitcom.
“Can you keep a secret?” she asked.
“’Course I can.”
Lark thrust the phone into his hand. “Will you watch this video and tell me if it’s terrible? But you have to be honest.”
Max gave her a quizzical look, then tapped the link. When she heard the guitar intro to “Everything’s Working Out,” her belly flipped over.
“Oi!” Max’s eyes went wide. “This is you.”
“I know,” Lark murmured. “That’s the secret.”
Suddenly, her voice came through the phone speaker as the lyrics began:
Everything was dark and tragic
Now the world is full of magic
Max was tapping his foot along with the music and smiling. At a couple of points he even laughed out loud, but not in a bad way.
The High Note Page 4
