by Wendy Wax
Shots of their stunned faces were followed by shots of Mermaid Point framed by turquoise water. As they drew closer there were glimpses of the island’s dense tropical foliage and mangrove-shrouded edges, a tidal pool, a half-moon of beach, and a pavilion overlooking a swimming pool. The soundtrack was one of water slapping the camera boat hull, the buzz of insects, the rustle of palm fronds. There was a loud cock-a-doodle-doo. Avery could practically smell the salt breeze with the faint undertones of fowl and fish.
“Are those chickens?” Steve asked in surprise.
“In the flesh,” Nikki said. “And that’s Romeo the time-challenged rooster out front. He had a very enthusiastic harem.”
Kyra’s lips clenched at each close-up of Dustin, of which there were many.
No amount of bracing prevented Avery’s eyes from tearing up at the shots of Deirdre, who had been so clearly intent on winning her back. Chase’s arm went around her shoulders as she watched her screen self tell her now-dead mother just what she could do with her pile of designer luggage.
Chase pulled her closer.
Nikki poured her another shot as the camera lingered on their faces, revealing their doubts and fears, exposing their least attractive selves for all to see.
Then Thomas Hightower came to greet them and lead them in a scraggly line past the sagging and peeling house to the pavilion where they came face-to-face with Mermaid Point’s famous owner.
William Hightower’s black eyes were not welcoming as he bowed mockingly, but it was Steve Singer’s eyes that narrowed as the introductions were made. He went very still when the camera settled on Maddie’s face, which had gone all crimson. Just as it did now as they all watched her screen image whimper and stammer a greeting when she recognized the rock star.
Avery poured a shot for Maddie, put it in her hand, watched her down it.
Steve snorted briefly. A derisive sound that died in his throat when the angle changed and they could all see William Hightower checking Maddie out.
“I told you you got his attention from the beginning,” Nikki said, clearly glad that Steve was finally being forced to see just how other men saw the woman he’d taken for granted. His shock at all that followed made it obvious that he’d never really bothered to watch season one.
Kyra reached for the tequila as they watched their initial tour of Mermaid Point, led by the surly William Hightower. They saw the interplay between him and his son and watched him stomp off after informing them that they would not be renovating his studio and that it would, in fact, be off-limits.
Once again the camera lens lingered on their faces as their screen selves watched Wild Will storm away. As much as Avery hated seeing herself as one of the bugs pinned under the microscope, there was no denying that Troy’s camerawork and editing were skillful. No one in the room could look away as the horror at their situation mounted. The room fell completely silent as their on-screen selves discovered they’d be living on the houseboat tied at the dock below.
At the commercial break Avery reached for the bottle of tequila and poured shots all around. “I am not looking forward to watching us schlep our things onto that ridiculously small and ill-equipped houseboat.” She was especially not looking forward to hearing the nasty tone with which she’d informed Deirdre that she had to carry her own luggage up to the cramped upper cabin Deirdre had insisted on calling the “penthouse.”
Nikki, who’d been uncharacteristically silent, burrowed further into her seat but made no move toward the shot glasses.
Chase shook his head. “How in the hell did you put up with those accommodations?”
“Those network people should be tarred and feathered,” Jeff agreed.
Steve Singer kept his thoughts to himself, for which they were all grateful.
Troy attempted to make himself small and unobtrusive, not an easy task for someone over six feet. Despite the tequila, Avery’s fury at the hijacking of their show and the way they’d been made to look burned bright inside her. But it was far too late to rail about what had already happened. Better to use that anger to make sure no one could make them look so foolish ever again.
Nikki watched the remainder of the episode with an odd sort of detachment. She could see just how ridiculous they looked, how frightened, how vulnerable. She just couldn’t bring herself to care. She’d felt as if someone had wrapped her in a layer of cotton wool ever since she’d decided to go see Malcolm.
A text dinged in on her phone and she started. Afraid that her thoughts of her brother had somehow summoned him. But this time when she forced herself to look down, the text was not from Malcolm but from Joe.
I hate what they’ve done to you on this show.
A tiny surge of hope pierced the cotton wool slightly. Joe was somewhere watching Do Over and thinking about her.
Definitely not pretty, she texted back. Should have turned and fled while we still could. Not that any of them had had a viable alternative. Or any clear understanding of all of the dirty tricks up the network’s sleeve. She held her breath, waiting for his response, and wishing she could turn back their relationship to what it had been then. When Joe didn’t respond, she texted, Wish we were headed to the Cheeca Lodge right now, then held the phone waiting for a response. She was just about to give up, when his answer appeared.
Yeah. It was only one word but for that moment she could almost feel his solid presence.
Her thumbs hovered over her phone. She wanted to text him back, wanted to share all her hurts and fears. Tell him she was going to see Malcolm after all and why. Ask him for his guidance. His approval. His . . . love. But there was no sign of typing from his iPhone on the other end. No indication that he had anything else he wanted to say to her. Still she held on to her phone as the rest of the episode played out before their eyes, a train wreck she couldn’t look away from.
If her taste buds hadn’t been completely repelled by the idea, she would have been reaching for the tequila bottle and pounding down the shots along with Avery, Kyra, and Maddie. But the only thing she could imagine being worse than the numbness was being numb and hungover.
She slid her phone into her pocket and tugged the cotton wool firmly back into place.
Chapter Twenty-five
It was impossible to be blasé about boarding a private plane. Especially one sent by a record company specifically for you. Maddie had no idea what model the plane was, how much it cost, or which Aquarian Records megastars might have sat in its oversized leather seats or stretched out on its sofas as she stepped into the main cabin with Nikki behind her that mid-June afternoon. They found Bitsy Baynard, for whom this was not a first and possibly only experience, already sipping champagne and shimmering with excitement.
The steward was male and looked as if he’d stepped off the cover of a romance novel. The pilot and copilot were a comforting blend of military precision and casual courtesy. Their eyes were sharp and their crew cuts were shot through with silver, which Maddie assumed represented many decades of experience.
“May I pour you ladies a glass of champagne?” The steward held an open bottle and two champagne flutes.
“Thank you.” Maddie accepted the glass while Nikki opted for sparkling water.
“I’ll have hers.” Bitsy held her glass up for a refill.
The three of them clinked glasses.
“Are you all right, Nikki?” Maddie asked after she’d taken her first heady sip. “You look a little . . . green.”
“I’m fine. My stomach’s just a bit . . . off.”
“Well, mine feels like there are a million butterflies doing aerobics in it.” Maddie took another bubbly sip. “In fact I feel like a little girl going to Disney World for the first time.”
“This is the big-girl version of Disney,” Bitsy said. “We are going to have a complete and utter blast.”
The plane gathered speed, barreled down the r
unway, then lifted gently into the air. They rose above the sparkling turquoise bay and flew over the northern tip of St. Petersburg, climbing high into the bright blue sky.
Soft music played in the background as hors d’oeuvres were served and glasses refilled.
“I’d almost forgotten how lovely this can be,” Nikki said as they banked to the left and watched puffy white clouds fall away beneath them. There’d been a time when she’d jetted around the world on clients’ planes, sailed on their yachts, stayed in their villas.
“It is heavenly, isn’t it?” Bitsy agreed.
“I don’t know, it all feels so surreal. I told you before, I have to pinch myself every time I even think about Will. And this . . .” Maddie looked around the cabin filled with gleaming wood and luxurious leather. The Aquarian Records logo woven into the carpet. “Well, I’m black and blue so I guess it must be real.”
“It’s real, darlin’,” Bitsy said. “And tonight is your night.”
“Yes, what did you bring to wear?” Nikki asked, nibbling on a mini quiche.
“Oh, you know. A nice pair of black pants and a top.”
Bitsy and Nikki stopped drinking and nibbling.
“And some, um, nice earrings.”
“Oh, hell no,” Bitsy said. “You are dating a rock star. You’re not wearing any ‘nice’ black pants and top. Nice just isn’t going to cut it.”
“I totally agree,” Nikki said, gesturing with the mini quiche.
“Well, it’s a little late to do anything about it now,” Maddie said, not liking the determined look in either of their eyes. “We’re not going to have more than an hour and a half tops to get ready.” Lord knew she’d been quivering with an odd combination of fear and excitement since the whole concert thing had come up. She didn’t own “rock ’n’ roll” clothes and would feel ridiculous in them if she did. She hadn’t come here to make a splash or get attention; she’d come to support Will. “Besides, Will knows what I look like. It’s not as if dressing up is going to change how old I am or the way I’m built.”
“I know you did not just say that,” Nikki said.
“Me, neither,” Bitsy added.
“I am what I am. And I’m okay with it.” Maddie said it with as much conviction as she could muster.
“‘Okay’ isn’t going to cut it tonight, either,” Nikki said. “Not on my watch.”
“Or mine,” Bitsy said. “You’re not going to embarrass Will or us by looking as if this doesn’t matter to you.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Maddie said. “And . . .”
“I have to agree with Bitsy on this,” Nikki said. “You don’t have to be age inappropriate. But you do have to look great.”
“Exactly.” Bitsy whipped out her phone.” It’s a good thing we have cell service. I’m going to make some calls and have a few things sent over to the hotel.”
“I really don’t see any reason to go through all this,” Maddie said. They’d been whisked from the small airport on the outskirts of Raleigh-Durham and delivered to their hotel in a shiny black town car. A rack of clothing had been waiting in the master bedroom of the presidential suite. The door had barely closed behind the bellman before Nikki and Bitsy were demanding she undress so that the personal styling could commence.
“It’s a very good thing I had them send over lingerie,” Bitsy said as Maddie reluctantly disrobed. “You are not going to be wearing BMWs when you undress for William Hightower.”
“BMWs,” she said tentatively.
“That’s Big Mama Whites,” Nikki explained, opening a glossy black shopping bag with bright pink lettering that formed a pair of lips and pulling out handfuls of lingerie.
“Will has seen my . . .”
“It doesn’t matter what he has and hasn’t seen,” Bitsy interrupted. “You’ll move better and feel sexier if you’re wearing something ‘spicier.’” She plucked a nude-colored pair of panties from Nikki and handed them to Maddie.
Maddie held up the V-shaped satin, flashing back to the lace thong some woman had stuffed in Will’s pocket. “I’m more likely to be hobbling with this . . . whatever it is . . . cutting into me.” She dangled the undergarment from one finger.
“It’s more comfortable than it looks. And it’s really flattering. Trust me.” Bitsy’s horsey face flushed as she winked. “And while you’re at it, try this on.” Bitsy handed her a low-cut bra in the same silky nude color.
“This is not going to . . .” Maddie’s voice trailed off as she slid her arms through the openings. Ignoring Maddie’s reticence, Nikki hooked the back and then tightened the straps. “Oh.” She looked down at her breasts, which now swelled above the satin cups. A glance in the mirror revealed that rather than binding, the high-cut underwear made her legs look longer and hit her just below the waist. She turned to consider herself from the back. “Not bad.”
“Not bad? It’s a shame you have to put anything on over it,” Bitsy said. She retrieved the bottle of champagne that had been awaiting them along with a massive basket of fruit and chocolates. “Try on the black jumpsuit with the polka-dot pumps first.”
“I thought you had a thing against black pants,” Maddie said, but she was already stepping into the jumpsuit and pulling it up over her body.
“I only object to ‘nice’ black pants,” Bitsy said, motioning Maddie to turn so she could zip her up.
Maddie contemplated her reflection in the mirror. The jumpsuit was smooth and slinky with a low V neckline and a blouson waist. The pant legs tapered at the ankle. The black and cream heels shouted “look at me.”
“Ooh, that’s perfect,” Nikki said with an approving smile. “And it would look great with this triple strand of gold and silver.” She held up a sparkly necklace and fastened it around Maddie’s neck.
“Where on earth did all this come from?” Maddie protested. “How did you . . . ?”
“The concierge had them sent over for our consideration,” Bitsy said with a shrug.
“I didn’t know things like this actually happened,” Maddie said as Bitsy poured her a glass of champagne and Nikki perused the other outfits. “This would look great on you, too.” She held up a fuchsia pencil skirt and a gauzy white blouse.
“Here, let’s take a look.” They turned Maddie as if she were a mannequin, helping her out of the black and into the fuchsia. Which was startlingly spectacular.
Maddie tilted her head, moved her body. Even without makeup and her hair all awry, the color lit her face and the fabric skimmed perfectly over her body, clinging lightly to her curves. Unable to speak she looked to Nikki and Bitsy, who were beaming.
“Definitely the pink,” Nikki said. “You look outrageously gorgeous.”
“Absolutely gorgeous.” Bitsy nodded happily. “Now, hand them to me and pop into the shower. The hair and makeup people will be here at six thirty.”
“Hair and makeup?” Maddie asked, not even wanting to think how much all of this must cost. “Now I really am dreaming.”
Bitsy laughed as she hung up the garments, clearly enjoying Maddie’s delight. “If it helps you can think of me as your fairy godmother. My way of thanking you for inviting me to the concert.” She refilled Maddie’s glass and sent her off to the bathroom.
“Right,” Maddie said, beaming back at Bitsy and Nikki. “Clearly I need to give up and enjoy this. I just want you to promise that I won’t be wearing glass slippers and the car isn’t going to turn back into a pumpkin at midnight.”
“You do look beautiful,” Bitsy said later as they were handed out of the car, all of them buffed, polished, made up, and dressed within an inch of their lives.
“Thank you.” Maddie did in fact feel like Cinderella trotting off to the ball to try to catch the eye of her rock ’n’ roll prince. The last time she’d looked half this glamorous was the day she had to cook on camera with William during the renovati
on of Mermaid Point. “Will won’t even recognize me.”
“He will definitely recognize you,” Nikki said. “And he’ll love what he’s seeing.”
Maddie smoothed the sides of the skirt and commanded herself not to wobble in the heels. She peeked down to make sure nothing was peeking out from the V of the white blouse and was shocked at the cleavage that looked back at her.
“Don’t slouch,” Nikki directed, barely moving her lips, which were locked into a smile.
“I’m not slouching. I’m just . . .” Maddie straightened her shoulders as directed. And caught a glimpse of the nude satin bra that was nothing short of miraculous.
She smiled at Aaron Mann, who greeted them on behalf of Aquarian and then ushered them through the stage entrance of the Durham Performing Arts Center to the greenroom where Will and his bandmates were milling about. There were women in the room. All of them were very young and beautiful with miles of exposed skin that was both smoother and firmer than Maddie’s had ever been. A few of them looked up briefly before sniffing dismissively and turning their attention back to Will and the others, clearly seeing no threat to their plans for male domination.
Will’s shiny dark hair with its threads of gray stood a head above the rest. His white button-down shirt showed off his golden skin and had been tucked into a pair of black jeans that hung low on his slim hips.
Maddie halted in the doorway, dragged back to reality by the women’s dismissal, the way they hung on Will. She was nothing but a middle-aged housewife imposter.
“Oh no, you don’t,” Nikki whispered in her ear as she stepped up next to Maddie and linked an arm through hers.
“No way in hell.” Bitsy took her other arm. With a decisive nod she propelled their threesome in William’s direction.
Fear and uncertainty clogged Maddie’s throat. If she could have halted their progress without causing a scene she would have. What if she reached Will’s side and he realized once and for all just how ordinary she was. What if . . .
