“All right.” He took a deep breath, and Savannah braced herself. “That video of you at Imperial Palace showed off how awesome your voice is. It was just you on stage, focusing on singing, and the recording was high quality because it was done professionally. The rest of your videos are just you playing guitar while singing, using your laptop camera to record, right?”
“Right…” Savannah nodded. At least he’d taken time to check out her channel.
“I don’t want this to come off the wrong way,” he said. “Because I meant it when I told you you’re talented and have an amazing voice. But have you ever taken a guitar lesson?”
“No.” Her cheeks heated, and she took a sip of her soda. “It wasn’t something that was exactly available to me back in California. And now, with catching up on the Goodman curriculum, volleyball and going out, I haven’t thought about when I would have time to fit it in. My guitar playing isn’t that bad, is it? I can play a few chords and strum songs. Anyway, I’m on YouTube for singing, not to become a famous guitarist.”
“Your guitar playing isn’t bad,” he said. “I don’t play, so anyone who can is impressive to me.”
“Why do I feel like there’s a ‘but’ to this?”
“When I watch your videos, it seems like focusing on playing guitar distracts you for what you’re on YouTube for—singing,” he said. “When you’re not playing, like in that one video at Imperial Palace, your voice is awesome, you hit every note and it sounds perfect. But when you play guitar and sing at the same time, it gets kind of…off sometimes. It doesn’t sound bad, but it might be stopping you from singing at your full potential. And you’re using your laptop camera, so the sound isn’t as good as it could be. I don’t know what it is—maybe the angle you’re facing the computer—but the guitar drowns out your voice.”
“Wow.” Her throat tightened, and she blinked away tears. “Just throw it all at me. My videos are a lot better than a lot of the ones posted on YouTube, you know.”
“I don’t watch a lot of singers on YouTube, so I wouldn’t know, but I trust you on that,” he said. “But don’t you want to be the best?”
“Yeah.” She shrugged. “But according to you, I suck at guitar, so that’s not going to happen.”
“I never said you sucked at guitar,” he said gently. “Just that it might not hurt to take some lessons. But your voice is incredible. And I think I know how you can make your channel awesome.”
“Oh, yeah?” she asked, doubtful. “Because no offense, but what do you know about any of this?”
“Just hear me out,” he said, and she sat back, motioning for him to continue. “Goodman has a great recording studio in our arts building. Last year I took an elective in recording—I thought it would be easy. It was harder than I thought, but now I know my way around the studio. So I’ve got two main ideas. The first is that we find someone to play guitar—the artsy kids hang out around the studio all the time, and I’m sure one of them will want to do it—and practice a few songs with them. We’ll pick the best ones, then record you singing using the professional equipment, with someone filming it. The other is that we first make a studio recording of you singing to a karaoke track, and then get your stepbrother, Brett—he’s into filming, right?—to edit a video of you dancing and singing along in a cool location. Or we can do both, depending on what works best for the song.”
She sat back, amazed. Who knew Damien was creative?
“So…what do you say?” he asked.
“Those are good ideas,” she said. “But can anyone just walk into the recording studio and use it?”
“As long as you sign up for an open time slot,” he said. “And it’s not usually busy. I know you’ve got volleyball after school, so I was thinking we could do it during lunch block.”
“You would give up lunch with your friends to help me with this?”
“You bet I would,” he said. “Whoever posted that video from last night deserves for you to post an awesome video of you singing to prove how wrong they are about you. So, are you in?”
“I don’t know.” She rested her elbows on the table, even though it was something Rebecca repeatedly told her not to do at dinner. “Now that the video from last night is out there…I’m not sure if people will ever be able to forget it. This is probably a waste of time.”
“They will forget it, once they see a newer recording that shows how talented you are,” he said. She was about to say how he was wrong, but he continued before she had a chance. “Come on, Savannah. Whoever posted that video was trying to tear you down. You’re not going to let them win, are you?”
Something about his tone made her realize he wasn’t going to accept no for an answer.
“I guess it can’t hurt to try,” she said, which earned a smile from him. “If you want to help me with recording, then, sure, I’m in.”
Dinner arrived, and throughout the meal they brainstormed ways to use social media to make Savannah’s YouTube channel more popular. The food was amazing, of course, but secondary to the conversation.
“You’re really good at this stuff,” Savannah said once they’d finished their meals. “Are you going to major in marketing or publicity in college?”
“I haven’t thought about it much.” He shrugged, his eyes distant, and then he snapped back into focus. “I’ve heard most people start college planning on doing one thing and end up doing something completely different, so I assume I’ll figure it out eventually. But a lot of my friends think I have no direction.”
“Who told you that?” Savannah asked. After the way he’d gotten so excited brainstorming how to turn around her YouTube channel, she couldn’t imagine him having no direction.
“Madison.”
“Oh.” Savannah played with the remains of her food. “What’s going on between you two?” She tried to sound nonchalant, but she hoped more than anything that he was over her.
“I don’t know,” he said, and Savannah’s heart dropped. “She’s been acting really weird for the past few weeks.”
“How so?” Savannah didn’t particularly want to talk about Madison, especially on a date with Damien, but she was curious about this “weird behavior.” Especially because lately, whenever Savannah walked by Madison in school, Madison watched her like she was trying to figure her out. Then if their eyes met, Madison would glare and walk away.
“She’s stopped going out with her friends,” he said. “We’ve called and texted her to find out what’s wrong, but she rarely responds. I’ve seen her get upset before, but this is different. She still follows the motions of being social at school, but I can tell it’s hard for her, and I’m worried about her.”
“That’s strange.” Savannah couldn’t think of anything else to say. After the awful way Madison had treated her over the summer, Savannah thought she deserved to have something go wrong in her perfect life. But she wasn’t going to say that out loud—after what Damien had told her, it would sound pretty nasty. “I hope she’s okay.”
“Me, too,” he said. “Hopefully whatever’s bothering her is just a phase and she’ll snap out of it soon. But enough about Madison. What do you say we check out the new vodka bar? I hear they make a great cotton-candy martini, and I’m curious about the bacon-flavored vodka.”
“Bacon-flavored vodka?” Savannah wrinkled her nose. “That sounds disgusting!”
“They have peanut-butter-flavored vodka, too.”
“You got me there,” she said. “Peanut butter is my favorite. Well, maybe not my favorite favorite—that would be chocolate. Or pancakes. But I have to wake up early tomorrow. My grandma wants to chat on Skype with me and my sisters before she leaves for church.”
Which was true, but Savannah had withheld the important fact about that Skype call: her mom had just started outpatient treatment and had moved in with Grandma, so they would be ta
lking to her, too.
The thought of the upcoming conversation made Savannah queasy, and she regretted eating so much pasta. She hadn’t spoken to her mom since before the move to Vegas—before she’d realized how much had been kept secret from her and her sisters. She wished she could see her mom in person, but her recovery was a slow process, and they had to take it a step at a time. She and her sisters weren’t supposed to bombard her with too many questions. It would be hard, since Savannah had so much she wanted to ask, but she loved her mom and wanted to see her get better.
“Are you okay?” Damien asked.
“I’m fine,” she said, forcing the thoughts of her mom out of her mind. “Was just thinking about family stuff. And honestly, I don’t think I’m fully recovered from last night.”
“We can call it a night,” he said, placing his napkin on the table. “Want to meet outside the recording studio on Monday during lunch? We’ll see which music kids are around and recruit them to our cause.”
“Our ‘cause’?” Savannah repeated. He was really getting into this.
“Yep,” he said. “Our cause to make you famous.”
Chapter 10: Courtney
Habitat had been so exhausting yesterday that Courtney had fallen asleep at seven-thirty on a Saturday night. But she’d tossed and turned, because all she could think about was the Skype conversation with her mom this morning. It had been easy for her to wake up at six-thirty—she’d always been a morning person—and she finished her Cheerios as she waited for Savannah and Peyton to join her in the dining room, where she’d set up her laptop. Her stomach swirled as she thought about talking to her mom for the first time in months, and she regretted eating when she was nervous.
Savannah pranced into the dining room still wearing her pink pajamas, singing the newest One Connection song. As always, each note sounded perfect. Courtney couldn’t help dancing along. If Savannah was nervous to speak with their mom, she didn’t look it.
“How was your Habitat build yesterday? Did you have fun with Brett?” Savannah emphasized his name and raised her eyebrows. “I was so bummed when I came back from dinner and you’d crashed already. I wanted all the details!”
“You know nothing can happen between me and Brett,” Courtney repeated for what felt like the billionth time. “Adrian and Rebecca were clear that he’s off-limits. Brett and I are friends—nothing more.” Maybe if she kept saying it, she would start believing it. Plus, she wanted to be a good influence on Savannah, which meant not breaking the rules. “And Habitat was great until I got stuck painting next to Oliver in the afternoon. He actually had the nerve to hit on me. I couldn’t believe it, since he knows that we know about that stupid bet he made over the summer. As if I would ever be interested in him. Ugh.” She shuddered.
“Oliver woke up early on a Saturday morning to build houses?” Savannah asked, pouring herself a glass of orange juice.
“He wasn’t happy about it,” Courtney said. “And he was all too proud to tell me why he was there—he’s in trouble with his parents for partying too much. They’re forcing him to join extracurriculars, so he chose Habitat, thinking it would be easy. If he’s caught in any more scandals, they’re threatening to send him to boarding school.”
“That’s interesting,” Savannah said thoughtfully, glancing at her phone.
Courtney didn’t have time to ask what she meant, because Peyton came stomping out of her room, her hair unbrushed and her eyes half-closed. “I need coffee now,” she grumbled, stumbling to the Keurig and brewing a cup. “Whose brilliant idea was it to do this so early on a Sunday again?”
“Grandma’s,” Courtney reminded her. “She’s getting Mom on an early rising, early-to-bed schedule, and they have church at nine.”
“It’ll be so strange to talk to her,” Savannah said, curling into a ball on the chair.
“I know,” Courtney agreed. “But we have to remember what Grandma told us. Even though we’re upset and angry at Mom for keeping so many secrets, she’s in a fragile state and she’s nervous about facing us—more so than we are about talking to her. We don’t want to upset her and trigger a relapse. It’s going to be hard, but we have to act as normal as we can while talking to her, okay? No yelling or attacking her about how she lied to us for all our lives.”
Despite Adrian telling them that her parents’ decision to keep them away from him had been for the best, Courtney couldn’t help sounding bitter. She and her sisters deserved to have known him before now. Their mom shouldn’t have kept them separated for so long.
“Since we’re only supposed to say nice things, I’ll stand in the background and say nothing,” Peyton said while inhaling her huge cup of coffee.
“If that’s what it takes for you to be civil to Mom, then fine,” Courtney said. “Are you both ready?”
Savannah nodded, and Peyton shrugged—which Courtney took as a yes—and she initiated the Skype call. She’d used her credit card to buy and deliver the newest Apple computer to Grandma, and they’d been chatting on Skype for the past few weeks, so they were both familiar with the program. Grandma accepted the call, and a picture of her and Mom popped up on the screen. Courtney took a sharp breath inward, looking closer to verify that the woman next to Grandma was Mom.
Her skin, which used to have red blotches on the cheeks and fine lines on the forehead, was fair and smooth. There were no baggy dark circles under her blue eyes, and she’d lost enough weight so that her face, which used to be round and puffy, was defined and glowing. Even her dark blond hair looked healthier, with the scraggly split ends trimmed into a layered below-the-shoulders cut. She looked…healthy. And young. Like the clock had been rewound ten years.
“Wow, Mom,” Savannah was the first to speak. “You look amazing.”
“Thanks, baby.” Their mom smiled, and her teeth looked whiter, too. “And you look so sophisticated and grown-up. Your hair got so long!”
“They’re extensions, Mom.” Savannah pulled her long blond hair in front of her shoulders and twirled it around her fingers. “I got them over the summer.”
“Of course.” She continued smiling, but it looked forced now. “Have you all been settling into your new place? And liking your new school?”
“It’s nice, but different,” Courtney said. “I miss being home sometimes.” It was silly, since their penthouse in the Diamond was a palace compared to their cramped, run-down apartment in Fairfield, and the Goodman School was a far superior learning environment than Fairfield High, but sometimes Courtney missed the familiarity of the life she’d left behind.
Once the initial awkwardness disappeared, their mom told them about how much better she was doing now, and apologized for not seeking treatment sooner. She swore she wouldn’t relapse. Courtney hoped she was right, but she’d witnessed her mom saying she would never drink again so many times that she had trouble having complete faith that this would stick.
“I know it’ll take time for you to trust me again, and I take full responsibility for that, but hope the three of you can one day forgive me for what I put you through, and that we’ll be able to move forward and create new, better memories,” their mom eventually said. “I don’t expect it to be now, or even soon, but hopefully in the future it will be possible.” It sounded rehearsed, as though her therapists had helped her craft what to say to them, but she was trying. That was more than they’d gotten from her before.
“Thanks, Mom,” Courtney said. “I appreciate it. And Adrian told us about what happened when I was a baby, so we understand why you were scared to keep us in Vegas.”
The smile disappeared from her face. “He told you?” she croaked. “But he promised…”
“What did he tell you?” Grandma asked Courtney, wrapping an arm around their mom’s shoulders.
“He told us that I was kidnapped for ransom, and my nanny was killed,” Courtney sai
d, playing with her key necklace. What had she said wrong? She thought Mom would be happy that she understood how scary the kidnapping must have been for her. “And how once you got me back, you and Adrian agreed Vegas wasn’t safe for us, and it wasn’t safe for us to be around him, either. Which was why we were raised without him in our lives?” She said the last part as a question, because it had always sounded like a stretch. Yes, Adrian was worried about them, but letting that worry keep him from his daughters sounded so extreme.
Their mom let out a breath. “Yes,” she said, relaxing into her chair. “What happened was extremely hard on Adrian and me, and we did what we thought was right at the time.”
At the time. Not what was actually right. But Courtney held her tongue, keeping her promise to not say anything that might upset Mom.
“Anyway, how would you girls feel about visiting for Thanksgiving?” Grandma’s voice was overly perky. “Adrian insisted on buying me a new house large enough to accommodate myself, Aunt Sophie, your mom and the three of you if you choose to visit.”
“I thought you hated taking charity,” Peyton said in distaste.
“I do dislike handouts,” Grandma said. “But he was insistent, and his points on why it was for the best were so sound that if I had refused, it would have only hurt everyone I care about.”
Courtney wanted to ask how Aunt Sophie was doing, but she stopped herself. Whenever Aunt Sophie was having a good day, she made an effort to say hi during their conversations. Which meant this morning must not be a good one.
Ever since Aunt Sophie had been diagnosed with terminal cancer last year and moved in with Grandma, it had been hard on their grandmother. Courtney couldn’t imagine knowing you were losing a sister, let alone a twin. The tough way Grandma carried on with life inspired her.
“Do you think we can visit over Thanksgiving?” Savannah asked Courtney, her eyes wide.
“As long as Adrian’s okay with it, we’ll visit over Thanksgiving,” Courtney said to Grandma. She disliked needing his permission, since she was adult enough to make decisions like this on her own, but he was their legal guardian now.
Diamonds in the Rough Page 12
