by India Lee
Hidden Gem
India Lee
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or people, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright (c) 2011 India Lee
All rights reserved.
ISBN-10: 1463636261
ISBN-13: 978-1463636265
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system without written permission from the publisher.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
About the Author
Dedicated to all who were told it couldn’t happen.
May you prove them wrong!
Chapter 1
It was hard for Gemma to imagine that she wouldn’t be wearing this outfit again in a long time, if ever. She was powerful in it. Not a set of eyes could resist staring at her in it. She loved it.
Over the course of the summer, the frantic rush to change into it for the final song had gradually gone from stressful to soothing. Gemma knew that bringing out the soon-to-be legendary white feather and pearl ensemble meant the near finish of yet another triumphant show. She stood still in the buzzing rush of makeup and wardrobe. They swarmed her and painted her lips with Lavender Whip lipstick to match her famously lavender eyes. The Bvlgari diamond cuffs were clasped around her delicate wrists. Once the dress was on, they swarmed again to drape the delicate headpiece on her. They were careful not to let it snag on the big, dramatic twist of hair at the crown of her head.
“I hear a rumor,” Armand whispered scandalously as he fastened the clasps of her bracelet. For a twenty-six-year-old, he could be easily mistaken for a giddy high school kid when it came to gossip. “That someone special is in the audience tonight. Someone gorgeous.” He emphasized the word “gorgeous,” his French accent making the news sound all the more alluring.
Gemma eyed him through the thin layer of pearls that hung over her eyes, unable to ask who with a makeup brush sweeping her lips. She let it go. As one of her best friends on the road, Armand was physically incapable of keeping secrets from her. He would spill immediately after the show.
As they fussed over her, she ran her fingers along the soft feathers that covered her bust and reached up over one shoulder and around her neck. Like a baby blanket, Gemma found the dress comforting – despite the corset and fifteen pounds of beading. It meant that she had conquered yet another city, brought another fifteen thousand fans to their feet, chanting her name. Or, technically, Queen Bee’s name. The tour had started at Wembley Stadium in London and now, at Palau Sant Jordi in Barcelona, she was conquering her final city for the summer. After this, there would be no more arenas and legions of fans waiting for her. It would be time for home – if she could even call it that.
As Penelope put finishing touches of gloss on her lips, Gemma suddenly felt a pang of anxiety. “Oh,” she put a hand to her stomach, the cold Mikimoto pearls on the bodice tickling her fingers.
Penelope’s eyebrows knit with confusion. “Nervous? For once?”
“Yes.”
“Please. Queen Bee doesn’t get nervous.”
“No, but Gemma does.”
“Over what? Final show jitters?”
“No,” Gemma shook her head. “First day of school jitters.”
Penelope covered her mouth with surprise. “Oh! God. Forgot about that,” she smiled, though it was more of a tense pursing of the lips. Gemma cocked her head curiously, but Penelope quickly diverted her attention to her powder kit.
“Don’t try to pretend that you didn’t make a face!” Gemma laughed incredulously. “What were you thinking? Tell me.”
“Mm-mm.” Penelope shook her head of glossy copper hair, her excuse for silence being the makeup brush that she held between her lips. Her hands busied themselves by prying the powder kit open.
“Pen, tell me.”
“It’s nothing,” Penelope said, her eyes fluttering nervously as if trying to blink her thoughts away. “I just flashed back to high school. That’s all. I was a new kid once too and it was, um, kind of…”
“Say it.”
“Horrible. But I was a gawky kid and I hadn’t grown into my schnoz yet. It’s different for you love, because you are impossibly freakin’ beautiful. All the boys are gonna want you and all the girls are gonna want to be you. I mean, you’re Queen Bee.”
Gemma sighed. “They won’t know that.”
Before Penelope could respond, the swarm enveloped Gemma once again and ushered her frantically towards stage. Upon feeling the hum of the crowd pulsing through her body and the heat of the lights on her skin, the butterflies in her stomach fluttered away. She caught her own reflection in a pane of glass on her way out and eyed her silhouette. The dazzling headpiece accentuated her elegant neck, which her mother did always say was one that could make supermodels envious. Her long, toned legs looked incredible in the custom designed five-inch Manolo Blahniks that she wore with ease. And the dress, of course, was phenomenal. To say the least.
At her cue, she sauntered onto stage with a cocky smile to the roar of worshipping fans. She was, without a doubt from anyone, Queen Bee.
SUPERSTAR’S SUMMER OF DISGUISE
Queen Bee closes summer tour in Barcelona
The Pop Source
August 20th
The music industry’s international It girl is closing her monumental summer tour of Europe this Saturday at Barcelona’s famed Palau Sant Jordi. Since June, the stunning and mysterious Queen Bee – whose real name and identity have not yet been disclosed – has intoxicated fans in each sold out arena with her voice as well as her signature jaw-dropping outfits. Her standout performance is no doubt the blockbuster single “Tell The World,” during which she sports a fine veil of beads and a stunning feather and pearl dress designed by Balenciaga.
Queen Bee, always traveling with members of her entourage and makeup team, has been spotted at all of Europe’s hottest shopping destinations in the past three months, including Milan’s Via della Spiga and Paris’s Avenue Montaigne. Recently, however, the megastar’s team has been forced to up her security due to the legions of fans who mob her upon sight, many of them desperate to uncover her true identity. Despite the drama, Bee is undeterred. “I love my fans and have nothing but gratitude for them. They give me my strength and without them, Queen Bee could never exist.”
“Sweetheart, you were so perfect last night,” Emily pulled her daughter close to plant a big kiss on the top of her head. Gemma instinctively rolled her eyes the way she always had as a child. It was a reflex despite the fact that she enjoyed the affection. She didn’t get to see her parents often. “Tell her Malcolm! We were just saying throughout the entire show how perfect it was, weren’t we?”
“Yes, you were fantastic, Gemma,” her father said.
Gemma took a break from her chocolate dipped churro to rub her sore ankle. “Well, aside from me tripping on my heels backstage and falling on my face, I guess it was.”
“If nobody saw, it doesn’t count,” Malcolm said.
Gemma laughed as they got up from their chairs to head to their next destination. It had been ages since she had spent quality time with her parents, and months since they had even seen her out of costume. They
had decided to catch her final show in Barcelona and take her shopping and sightseeing in a city they knew well from visits to friends in Spain. They were reunited for the first time since flying into London together – Gemma so she could begin work on her tour and her parents so that they could move in with Gemma’s ailing grandmother in her Kensington and Chelsea flat. Their hope was to bring her home to live with them in their Upper East Side townhouse by the time of Gavin’s high school graduation. Grandma Audrey however, was very much attached to the home that she had lived in with Gemma’s grandfather before he passed.
“So,” Malcolm changed the subject to something that he was much more interested in. “Are you excited to go to school with Gavin?”
After only half a year at The Browning School, a private all boys academy, Gavin had gotten himself expelled for pulling an elaborate prank on a teacher who had humiliated his friend. Gavin never revealed the details of the prank to his parents, but they knew that following his expulsion, the school posted a large bulletin reminding students that exotic animals brought onto school grounds was not just a breach of their conduct code but a violation of New York State Law. Since other schools refused to take Gavin after what became known in the Upper East Side as “Capybara-gate,” he chose to live with their Aunt Mira in Beauford, New Jersey and attend Beauford High School. Mira had plenty of room and had recently remodeled her house, which previously belonged to Gemma’s grandparents on her father’s side. The small, affluent town was known for its exceptional education system and athletics – something that was important to Gavin as an outstanding shooting guard. The change proved to be what he needed to refrain from disruptive mischief, although everyone knew that that side of him would never be completely gone.
“Of course I’m excited,” Gemma replied. “We haven’t hung out in forever.”
The concept of hanging out had become foreign to her – not just in the past few months, but the past few years. Around the time of Gavin’s second year at Beauford, Gemma’s career took off. After organizing an intricate performance complete with original song, dance and costume for her parents’ charity event, a friend of Mira’s took notice and shortly after, cultivated Gemma’s talent into the creation of Queen Bee. Queen Bee quickly found a devoted following in Europe, Asia and Australia while the United States had shown very little interest until her most recent tour. Emily was continually impressed and pleased with her daughter’s burgeoning career while Malcolm, who had not been born into his fortune, wished for his daughter to live a more conventional teenaged life.
And now that the tour was over, she could. Gemma finally had a chance to breathe and remember life outside of her disguise. She rarely got to actually see the cities that she toured in because most of her time was put towards rehearsal. When she did get to make the occasional public appearance, her publicity team pushed for her to appear as Queen Bee. They reasoned that with fashion houses like Jean Paul Gaultier and Issey Miyake frequently sending her free clothing, she had to wear them somewhere to show her gratitude. Gemma couldn’t say those outings weren’t enjoyable, but with her five-inch heels and protective security team, she could never go very far.
Now in her leggings, silk-blend T-shirt and linen Prada sneakers, she felt prepared to comfortably explore the city. All she had to do was fight the occasional feeling that she was naked or exposed somehow. Without the weight of headpieces and beaded fabrics, she constantly felt as if she were missing something, the way people feel when they leave behind a wallet or cell phone.
Enjoy Barcelona, she told herself. You’re not in school yet.
At the Mercat de la Boqueria, freshly squeezed juices of every combination were laid out in a patchwork of multi-colored cups stuck with multi-colored straws. The open market boasted bright splashes of reds, pinks, oranges, greens, purples – every color was represented in some form, whether in flowers or exotic fruits or candies. Gemma marveled as she sipped on a fresh cup of kiwi, strawberry and coconut juice.
Later that night, they wandered through the city’s narrow roads and alleys before settling on a cozy bar where they stood elbow to elbow with strangers. They paired glasses and flutes of xampenet and cava with cheeses, olives, tomato-garlic toast, smoked fishes, jamon, and chorizo.
Music floated in from the streets. The golden hue of the antique space coupled with the buzz she felt from downing too much carbonated alcohol made her wish she weren’t with her parents, but perhaps a boyfriend. As the private Queen Bee, there was never a chance to even entertain the thought of a relationship. But as Gemma, it could happen for her soon. It would be her first, and sixteen was the perfect age for that, wasn’t it?
Suddenly, she couldn’t wait for Beauford.
~
Gemma was thankful that Mira’s friends arranged for a private jet to take her back to New Jersey. For some reason, she felt less alone when completely alone.
Sitting cross-legged on the floor with all her luggage open, she sifted through the souvenirs that she had bought for Gavin and Mira. For Gavin, she bought a miniature replica of the mosaic lizard in Parc Güell – and about fifteen sticks of chorizo. Despite being so tall already, he constantly claimed that he was “a growing boy” and needed as much food as possible. “Don’t worry, Mom,” he always said. “My metabolism is a beast.” And it was true. He never lost his lean muscles no matter how much junk he inhaled.
For Mira, Gemma bought a print of their favorite painting from the Dali museum, Museo Picasso and the Fundació Joan Miró – even though Mira probably had friends who could buy her the real things.
The final minutes of the flight felt the longest. Her feet tapped in her jelly flip-flops, anticipating the feeling of the jet touching ground. To pass the time, she scrolled through her digital camera and smiled at her pictures of Penelope and Armand. They were her best friends while touring, the only ones her family trusted to keep a secret. All the other friends Gemma made didn’t truly belong to her. They belonged to Queen Bee.
Before she could wallow in the sorrow of missing Penelope and Armand, she felt the slightly bumpy landing of the jet onto the strip. The moment that she had imagined for so long had finally arrived. Before then, it had always felt like a faraway dream. Or nightmare. But now there was no turning back. It was time to abandon Queen Bee for now and become Gemma Hunter once again.
Chapter 2
Gemma woke up when she heard the car door slam. Gavin was already walking towards the house with the bags and Mira was waiting beside her town car.
“Gemma, I hope you remember that here,” Mira tapped her braided Miu Miu sandals against the dirt. “You open your own doors.”
“Ha-ha, Aunt Mira.” Gemma grunted as she pushed the door open and swung her bare legs out of the car. The sun was shining hard but before Gemma could even raise a hand to shield her eyes, Mira handed her a pair of oversized Chanel sunglasses.
“You have a week to get over your jet lag, honey. Public school doesn’t exactly start whenever you feel like it,” she said as she adjusted the dip-dyed silk scarf on her wide-brimmed straw hat. Along with it, she wore a crisp linen halter top tucked into a pair of navy sailor shorts. Standing just a little under six feet, tanned from outdoor tennis and toned from Pilates, she easily looked a decade-and-a-half younger than her forty-five years. Gemma stared at her, suddenly very aware of how pale and without makeup she was.
“I think I could use a tan, Aunt Mira,” Gemma said as she walked with her towards the house. “I don’t know how I didn’t get one at all this summer.”
“Well it’s not easy when you’re under all that makeup and costuming, is it?” Mira laughed. “Don’t worry, honey – you’ll catch up this weekend. I’ll make sure of it.”
Gemma smiled. She was grateful to have this time to settle into her new life before school started. Mira’s lake house was just two hours away from her actual house in the quiet, upper-middle class town of Beauford, New Jersey. The Beauford house was the childhood home of her father, Mira’s older brother
. Since movers were still unpacking and setting up Gemma and Gavin’s rooms, Mira decided it would be more relaxing to wait it out in one of her four vacation homes. Her Ibiza holiday villa was out of the question because they had just exhausted Europe – not to mention that Mira had been renting it out to an unnamed celebrity couple every fall for the past three years anyway. If it were up to Gemma, she would’ve picked the Sonoma cottage, but Mira reasoned that the Wine Country was swarmed with unsavory tourists during this time of year.
“They don’t know they’re not supposed to actually swallow all the wine during tastings,” Mira rolled her eyes. “Plus, it’s not like you two are even legal to drink,” she added with a wink.
“Well, why couldn’t we have hung out in your loft? I miss Manhattan,” Gemma said as she trudged up the steps of the front porch into the cozy wood cabin. Mira sighed dramatically, tossing her ostrich Birkin onto a varnished rocking chair.
“Do you not remember what Manhattan summers feel like? There’s a reason why everyone’s in the Hamptons,” she shook her wavy blond hair loose from the hat. Gavin emerged from the kitchen, a bottle of Gatorade in hand.
“Why aren’t we in the Hamptons?” he asked.
“You two! Why can’t you be happy spending some time here? I am proud of this place – I built it with my own two hands!” she exclaimed, holding up two perfectly French-manicured hands. Her glistening bangles slid down her skinny wrists.
“No you didn’t,” Gavin laughed.
“Yes I did, young man,” she retorted as she struggled to wrap her arms around his neck and ruffle his hair.
Only then did Gemma realize how much Gavin had grown since she was last home; he looked nearly six-foot-four. Only a year apart, she had always loved being mistaken for twins when they were growing up. As they got older though, their once identical shade of straight, blonde hair darkened – Gavin to a dirty blonde and Gemma to a light brown. Her hair also grew out into waves worthy of Malibu while Gavin’s hair remained straight as a stick. And at five-foot-six, Gemma’s height was fairly average so there was little left shared between the two.
“Before you two go knocking my pride and joy, why don’t you follow me out back and take a look at the view,” Mira said, waving them over to the French doors leading to the backyard. “When I was house-hunting with that ex-husband of mine, we did choose this land for a very specific reason…” She threw the doors open theatrically.
