Cindy and I sat flipping through the sites and shaking our heads.
"One time I don't drink and this is the result? If I'd rubbed my stomach or something I guess the world would have ground to a halt."
"Looks like it. How does it feel to be that important?"
I rolled my eyes and she laughed.
"Misty?"
I looked up to see Jo at the door. "Hey."
She raised her eyebrows. "Just to check, you're not pregnant, right?"
As I was in the middle of an average period I didn't hesitate to say, "Nope."
"Good stuff."
"Purely out of curiosity, what if I were?"
She shrugged. "We'd deny it until you were too big to hide it, then we'd say we just wanted you to have your privacy and you're thrilled about becoming a mother."
"Ah. It's good to have it all planned out, I guess."
"You should know by now I don't like surprises."
"Can my non-existent baby call you Grandma?"
She laughed. "Don't you have a song to work on or something?"
"Jez and Steven are on their way in. For now I'll just stay here and annoy Cindy."
"Then I'll leave so you can't annoy me." She smiled over her shoulder as she walked out.
Cindy and I returned to the computer, and she pulled up a forum I hadn't seen before. "These guys talk about you a lot. Let's see what they think of this."
The now-typical speculation was everywhere, but one post bothered me.
I hope she is pregnant. She's done everything else I'd love to do (even Bart, lol) so she should have a baby and then I can really dream of being her.
"That's what would make someone dream about being me? Getting knocked up by a guy who doesn't care about me?"
Cindy grimaced. "A few girls here actually said if you really are pregnant they'd try to get pregnant too so you could go through it together."
I stared at her but couldn't think of anything to say.
"I know. I think I made that same face when I read it. But they can't be serious."
I remembered the crush Giselle and I had had on *NSYNC during high school and how we had both agreed that we would strip naked and walk into the cafeteria at lunch time if they wanted us to for some reason. It hadn't seemed remotely ridiculous to us, and we'd both absolutely meant it. "But what if they are?"
"They can't be. Amy, don't worry. Look, Steven and Jez should be here any minute, so why don't you go warm up before they arrive?"
I went down to the studio and ran through the warm-up exercises Steven had given me but I couldn't stop thinking. I'd seen first-hand that my fans paid attention to what I did: the fashion world had been blindsided by teens' sudden interest in vibrantly colored miniskirts and wigs. But this? A wig and miniskirt made for awkward family photos, but a baby would change a fan's life forever.
Before Jez and Steven arrived, I went to Jo's office. "Look, I'd like to say a little more about this pregnancy thing."
Jo shook her head. "There's no need." She tipped her head to the side. "Wait, like what? Is there something you need to tell me?"
I blinked. "Oh, no, I meant to the fans. I don't want them thinking getting pregnant is a great thing to do."
She frowned. "Okay, but how do we do that without pissing off the teenage mothers?"
"Can't I just say it's not right for me?"
She rubbed her temples. "I liked it better when you didn't want to be involved in what we said about you."
I wanted to protest this but I couldn't, since I remembered telling her at the beginning how nice it was that her team took care of my image. "Well, I do now. So what can I do?"
She took me to my publicity coordinator, who I'd met once but wouldn't have recognized without Jo's reintroduction. "Misty wants to handle part of her platform. You guys work it out, okay?"
I smiled at Wayne as she left. "So. What is my platform exactly?"
I'd known I had a Twitter account and a web site, but apparently I also had a blog and a fan page on Facebook. I was pleased to see that they were writing about my activities without actually pretending to be me, but sad to realize how many of my fans had written to me and never received a reply.
"We can't keep up with it," he said when I pointed that out. "I have three people working on you but there's no way to respond to everyone. It's like a fire hose blasting at a drinking straw."
I hated this, but had to admit he was right. In just the few minutes we spent looking at my Twitter account, another hundred or so messages came in for me. "Okay, but..."
"If you really want to be involved, maybe we could start you off with a weekly video message on the blog. Then people would know it was actually you, and you could talk to them."
I loved it.
"Give me an hour and I'll get it all arranged."
I smiled. "You've got three, since I have a recording session."
The session went great, fueled by my excitement about reaching out to my fans directly without being filtered by Jo or her team, and I reported back to Wayne's office after first putting on my makeup and costume for the video.
He handed me a sheet of paper.
"What's this?" I skimmed it. "No, that's not at all what I want to say."
He blinked. "You're going to say what you want to say? Without me telling you?"
I had to laugh. "That was kind of the point."
"But what if it goes off-message?"
My turn to blink. "If I say it and I mean it, how can it be off-message? I am the message."
"Okay, but here's the thing. We've been crafting your image for a while. I don't want to see it change."
Maybe I did. "Can I tell you what I want to say? If it's okay, then we're fine."
He agreed, and I explained exactly what I planned to tell my fans.
"Nothing else?"
"Nope."
"Okay. Let's get this going."
I sat in the chair he'd provided while he and his crew moved around arranging cameras and lights. They did a brief test recording while I recited the lyrics of "Out Loud" so they'd have something to record, then checked all their sound and light levels again.
"We're ready. Are you?"
I nodded.
Silence fell and Wayne pointed to me.
I grinned at the camera lens, imagining all my fans watching. "Hey there. Misty Will here. I wanted to talk to you about the rumor that's going around. I'm not pregnant. I think I want to have kids someday, but I'm only twenty-five and to me that seems way too young. It's true that I've stopped drinking. But there's a different reason for that."
I swallowed. The truth of what I wanted to say next had suddenly hit me hard.
"Guys, I don't like how I am when I drink. I can't work as well when I've had a big party night, and I want to work even better than ever. I want my songs to be amazing for you, and for me, and I need to not be distracted by booze and parties. Plus, it's so easy to get caught up in other things, in fights or rudeness or other bad behavior, and I don't want to do any of that either."
I smiled into the camera. "So I'm giving it up. I'll probably have a glass of champagne now and then but I don't ever want to be drunk again. I know 'you don't have to drink to be cool' is kind of a lame and overdone message, but it also happens to be true. Anyone want to help me prove it? I hope so. But either way, I'll be doing it. Because I want to remember every second of my amazing life."
Wayne, standing beside the camera operator, raised his eyebrows, and I started to say I was finished then realized I wasn't. "We're hoping to do these videos every week or so, depending on my schedule, and I'd love to know what you think. Would you watch? Do you want more contact with me like this? You guys know, I'm sure, that I don't do all the work on my other social media sites. I love that you contact me there and I wish I could respond to every last thing you say, but I can't do that and still make new songs. This way, you'd get to see me and hear exactly what I wish I could tell you."
Wayne gave me a "wrap it up" ge
sture, so I said, "What I want to tell you today, of course, is that I am not pregnant but I don't like me when I'm drunk. So I will not be drunk again. Because I want to like me. I hope you like you too."
I grinned, and Wayne said, "Cut."
*****
To put it mildly, my fans loved the video. My honest admission that alcohol wasn't my friend lit up the Internet, and I was delighted by how many people vowed to join me in avoiding it.
A week later, we recorded another video, a live performance of my new song, "Cleaner," which I introduced with, "This is one of the the best things I've ever written. It'll be available for download tomorrow but I wanted you to get to hear it early. I hope you like it."
They did. They adored it. When the song was released it stole the number three spot on the charts from Angel's latest song, which made me glad we weren't talking unless we had to because I couldn't imagine she'd be thrilled, and kept rising from there. The official video, which featured me in a huge filthy room scrubbing a bit of the floor and eventually looking happily at the tiny clean area I'd created, got so many downloads it briefly shut down my web site until Wayne and his crew could get more bandwidth for me. "Cleaner" was everywhere.
I wondered whether Jason would hear it. I hoped so. He'd always talked about cleaning up his messes and I felt sure he'd recognize what I was trying to say. The song hadn't changed much from its origins in that Ottawa hotel, although I'd added the double idea of cleaning up my messes and feeling cleaner inside after I'd fixed my mistakes.
The fans loved it, but to my sadness a lot of the critics didn't, not so much because of the song itself as because of the timing.
"Misty's been a household name for nearly five months, so I guess she figures it's time to put out her next token 'serious' song," one of them wrote. "The first was 'Don't Weight', which as you know I didn't like for the same reasons. If you're a bubble gum pop princess, then spare us the supposedly heart-felt tracks that we know full well were written by someone else no matter how much you pretend you wrote them. Her next song will almost certainly be back to being about boys and parties. I hope so, anyhow. We like bubble gum because it's sweet and pink and forgettable. Misty, you have to know we like you for the same reasons."
I was outraged at first, but the fans' response more than made up for the criticism. They attacked the critics for me, pointing out again and again how much and why they loved my new music.
"It is deep and that's why we love it," my favorite comment said. "I do believe she wrote it, and I think it's probably about her ex Jason. You can like a fluffy sound and still want deep lyrics, and Misty delivers everything I want. Love you, Misty!"
Love you too.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
"Got some interesting stuff for you today."
"Finally. You usually give me such garbage."
Cindy laughed. "For that, tomorrow you get the most text-speak email I can find."
"OMG, no. Kthxbai."
She grinned. "Read your mail and leave me alone." She seemed unusually happy, nearly giddy, and I was glad. She deserved to be happy.
On the top of my pile of correspondence was a letter.
Dear Ms. Will,
I would like to offer you a free dinner (drinks and dessert included, of course) for you and a friend at Magma or Steel at your convenience. You let my chef/fiancée tell you to leave and didn't cause any trouble, and she thinks you deserve another chance. Since the server Carrie is still raving about how wonderful you are for bringing her that tote bag I suppose I have to agree.
That video you posted online was the clincher for me. I admire people who can admit they've made a mistake and take steps to correct it.
Only one restriction: the "friend" you were with at Magma is not welcome.
Take care,
Kegan Underwood, owner of Magma and Steel
No worries about bringing Angel. Since that night, we'd only spoken when there was no way around it, and her cold stiff demeanor made it clear she was waiting for my apology. She'd be waiting forever.
I looked at Cindy. "It's too bad you're so mean to me. I might have taken you for the free dinner."
"You took me out two weeks ago for my birthday. Isn't there someone else you'd rather take?"
Tim flashed into my mind like he was standing in front of me. I hated that we weren't friends, friends or maybe something more. But we weren't anything. "Nope, nobody. But I'll find someone since you're so mean."
She rolled her eyes, trying to hold back a smile. "It's called tough love, Amy, not being mean. Get back to work."
Next on the pile was a tiny article from a music industry web site. I skimmed it then looked up. "Can I borrow your—"
She was already pushing her laptop toward me. "Thought you might ask."
I smiled at her and typed in the address from the article. "Oh, good for her," I said as I scrolled down. "Gutsy to start all over again."
Evelyn's blog was reborn. A new address, a new look, and a new mandate. Actually, an old mandate: she'd gone back to looking for interesting and unusual musicians to feature.
Her first blog post said it all.
That video I posted, of Misty Will before that was her name, changed my whole life and I'll never regret those days. I loved the ride, I must admit. Being courted by all the labels to focus on their artists, having millions of people reading my site. But I lost sight of what I wanted to do from the start: shine a spotlight on the amazing artists who aren't as commercially viable. I won't have the fame I had before, but I'll be doing what I love, and that's even better.
I fired off a quick email to let her know how happy I was for her that she'd recognized and returned to what she truly wanted to do, resisting the urge to ask her how she'd managed to give up the attention and adulation of her fans. Maybe she didn't feel the same way; her fans weren't in her face, screaming her name at concerts.
I pushed the computer back to Cindy. "Thanks. I'm glad you found that."
"Was watching for it," she admitted. "I know you were bothered by her quitting."
I leaned back in my chair. "Girl, you know everything about me, don't you?"
She laughed. "Yes, girl, I do. Now hurry up. You have that fan meeting in two hours and we still need to get you dressed and there."
"Yes, mommy."
I flipped through a few requests for public appearances and wrote quick responses to the five fan letters Cindy had chosen for me to answer, then found myself looking at a fax.
Dear Amy,
I love your new song "Cleaner". Maybe this is egotistical of me but I feel like maybe I'm supposed to love it? Anyhow, I do.
I'm sorry we ended the way we did. I should have been stronger. My friends and family kept telling me you'd leave me soon, saying that you being Misty would make it impossible for us to stay together, and I guess I let them push me into dumping you before it could happen. Stupid, right? But true.
I saw you were dating Bart Miles, and I have to say I'm glad it seems to be over. He's not good enough for you. I'm seeing someone now, and I hope you are or will be soon. You deserve a good guy, one who can handle where you're at in life.
Take care, Amy. Don't forget who you are, because you're awesome.
Jason
I stared at the sheet for a long moment then looked up at Cindy. "He faxed this?"
She nodded. "To the same number as the other letters." She tipped her head from side to side. "Looks like they were all him, doesn't it?"
"Yeah, it does." So like Jason, to find a sweet way to encourage me even when we were fighting. "He's a good egg."
"So... are you going to try to get him back? I feel like you could."
I shook my head without even considering it. "He's seeing someone."
She pointed out that he could break up with that someone but I knew him well enough to know he'd added that to the letter on purpose so I'd know he wasn't interested. Besides, I had needed him badly and he'd left me to fight through it on my own. I didn't want
a guy like that.
Tim again appeared before me. He had left me, but only after I'd driven him away with my lack of focus and my relationship with Bart. Looking back on it, I knew Tim and I had been heading for being more than friends, and I couldn't have done better.
I sighed.
Cindy stood up. "Okay, quit sighing and let's go. Your makeup and wardrobe minions await."
*****
As we waited behind the scenes for the fan meeting to start, I said to Cindy, "Seriously, why are you so happy today? I'm glad, obviously, but what's up?"
She grinned. "It shows? I talked to the landlord yesterday."
"And?"
The grin widened. "By the time we finished, he'd ordered a new washer and dryer and they'll be installed this weekend!"
I hugged her hard. "Good for you!"
She squeezed me. "Thanks to you. I couldn't have done it without you."
I stepped back. "For sure you could. You're a tough cookie."
Her happiness slipped down a notch. "I better be. Next up is dealing with my ex-husband."
I winced. She'd told me how he was refusing to pay her back for the car she'd bought him right before he walked out and claimed she actually owed him money because he'd paid for her education years before, and I couldn't see him giving in. But I didn't want to say that so I said, "You'll shock him, and it sounds like he needs it."
Before she could answer, I heard the announcer in the auditorium saying, "Welcome! You were all lucky enough to have your names drawn to get to meet Misty Will today. Should we bring her out now?"
The shriek that greeted this might have come from a million-voiced monster.
"How many are out there?" I said into Cindy's ear.
"Supposed to be two hundred. But we'll see."
We did see. We saw easily four hundred people. I smiled and waved and welcomed them then sat on the stage with my hot pink marker in my hand and one by one my fans came up to me and said a few nervous words, and I smiled and signed whatever they'd brought and commented on their clothes or hair or accessories.
Way back at the beginning Jo had told me to do that so they'd feel like I noticed them, but it wasn't remotely a chore because I did notice them. Nearly everyone had something interesting or cute I could compliment, and since at least half wore hot pink wigs if all else failed I could comment on those.
Toronto Collection Volume 2 (Toronto Series #6-9) Page 18
