“Doesn’t that depend on how much stomach she’ll be showing? How long it is, I mean?”
I nodded. “Which is why...” I pulled over the pictures of Angel I’d snagged from magazines. “I’m using these, so it’ll be built for her.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Impressive. Okay, carry on.”
I did, talking throughout so I wouldn’t screw up, and when I had the black slashed open and the leopard pinned in place I said, “Okay, that’ll do for now. I’ll sew it up tomorrow, and then Thursday I’ll leave for Toronto and hopefully this thing will be enough bait to get her to tell me where I can find Misty Will for a more-private chat.”
He nodded slowly. “Think it’ll work?”
“I do. Angel loves pink leopard stuff and she’s bitched in the past about hating all her swimsuits, so I picked this one based on dresses she’s worn in the past and I’m pretty sure I’ll get her attention.”
“Nice.”
He studied me.
“What?”
“Nothing. Just... you talk a lot. Didn’t stop while you were making the suit.”
I laughed. “You’re just noticing that now? Yeah, I do talk a lot. My brain just seems to work better that way. I can’t think if I’m not talking.”
He smiled and I added, “Not that I think when I am, before you say that.”
“Which I was not going to say. I was going to say that you’re a born talker, and that’s why you’re so good at what you’re doing with the celebrities.”
I gave a bitter laugh. “‘What I’m doing’ has cost me everyone but you, and all my dignity too.”
He tipped his head to one side. “Dignity? What do you mean by that?”
I hadn’t meant to say that. “I... nothing.”
He leaned forward. “Did you have to do something... bad... for your job?”
I couldn’t tell him. I wanted to, but I couldn’t. I didn’t want to see the look on his face. “I don’t know what I meant,” I said, avoiding the question. “But I do know that I hate that I lost Kent and MC and Liv’s friendships when all I was trying to do was protect them. I get it, but I hate it.”
“It all helped your career, though. Right?”
I blinked. “Yeah, but that’s not why I did it.”
Ron’s eyes locked to mine. “Not even a little bit? Can you honestly say there wasn’t even a part of you trying to advance your career by telling about them?”
“Well... no,” I had to say, though I didn’t want to. “I did want to protect them, after I told the first time, but yeah, the first time was probably more about me. I truly didn’t think they’d mind, but... ack.”
“Ack?”
“Ack,” I confirmed. “Yeah. You’re right. I didn’t want to hurt them, I swear I didn’t, but I wanted my career too. Is that so wrong?”
“No.” He didn’t sound convincing.
I sighed. “Do you hate me now?”
He shook his head, then cleared his throat. “Was... everything... that happened around the wedding about your career? Was any of it real?”
“With you... that was real,” I said, my heart hurting at the memory of how great it had felt. “And it wasn’t about my career at all. I... did like you. A lot.”
“Yeah,” he said softly. “I liked you too.”
We sat silent, while the past tense we’d both used rang in the air, then he said, “Well, let’s go swim.”
“Okay,” I said, because I couldn’t say anything else.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Two things surprised me in the first hour after I reached the Toronto MusicStation awards pre-show: how quickly Angel Dove gave up the schedule and top-secret location of her supposed friend Misty Will when I gave her the swimsuit I’d made for her, and how eager the newest star Marian was for me to interview her.
The second thing pleased me more than the first; Simon and Vicki had been annoyed enough that Lucy Lucky wanted me to interview her, but getting Marian too without even trying? Marian had approached me, not the other way around. They’d be so jealous, even though as my boss Simon should be thrilled. He wouldn’t be, though, because I hadn’t given him what he wanted and Vicki had so I shouldn’t get any benefits in my career.
Angel’s selling out of Misty didn’t feel like a benefit, even though I knew it was. It reminded me too much of how Kent and MC and the others thought I’d sold our friendships to get my career going. I hadn’t, or at least I hadn’t meant to, but it still felt awful that they saw me that way.
Keeping my mind on my work helped, a bit. With all the other reporters around, I knew that every celebrity in the place was watching every word so as not to spill something they shouldn’t, so I had to be fully on my game to catch them out. At the same time, some of them wanted to be caught out, so I had to make sure I gave them the opportunities to ‘accidentally’ drop a secret they wanted to have exposed.
Lucy Lucky gave me that feeling from the moment I met her. She had requested that we meet in the hotel bar because it was more private, and though it didn’t turn out to be private at all she didn’t suggest we move.
She had turned nineteen the night before and made a big deal of ordering her “first legal drink”. It might have been her first legal one, although I doubted it, but it definitely wasn’t her first one ever since she put back the rye and coke she ordered without even flinching at the whisky in it.
“So,” I said, taking a much smaller sip of my own drink, “thank you so much for wanting to talk to me. I--”
“What’s Aaron like?”
I blinked. “Sorry?”
She rolled her eyes. “Aaron? Hot guy from the show? You’re not together any more, right? What’s he like? Is he single now?”
“This is--” I cut myself off. Obviously this was why she wanted to see me specifically. Simon would laugh himself stupid. Stupider. “Well, he cheated on me, so I don’t know if he’s single. Might be with my ex-friend, assuming he’s not cheating on her now instead of with her. I think you can do better, honestly.”
She shrugged. “It’d be great for ratings. Give me his number?”
“I deleted it,” I lied. Though I wasn’t exactly fond of Aaron at the moment, I couldn’t hand him over to this girl like I was passing on a sweater I didn’t love any more.
Lucy flagged down the passing waiter. As he approached, she tossed her long brown hair over her shoulder and said to me, “Well, all right then. You can go.”
The queen-dismissing-her-subject sound of her voice froze me in place for a moment, then I got to my feet and said, “Of course. Lots of other people to interview for CelebToday and so few pages on the website. Not a problem.”
Her mouth fell open, and I enjoyed the sight of her shock for a second before turning and beginning to walk away. If she hadn’t stopped me I would have left without looking back, and she obviously knew it because her “Oh, fine then, I’ll give you an interview” had more desperation in it than I thought she’d have wanted to show. I turned back, trying to hide my triumph. It had been a gamble but I’d had the feeling that she wanted me to beg to interview her and it looked like I’d been right.
I settled at the table again and she drank her new drink while we talked for ten minutes or so about her newly released song and her upcoming album and other things I could have found on her website, then as I was trying to figure out how to politely get away from her and go find someone interesting she looked across the room and her body stiffened. “Damn.”
I looked to see what had bothered her but didn’t notice anything but three young men near the door. “What’s--”
“Hide me!”
Without thinking, I grabbed my jacket from the chair beside me and tossed it across the table and over her head. She scrunched down under it, almost ducking under the table, and I heard a muffled, “Thanks.”
I studied the guys, trying to figure out who had her so upset. Steve of Agnes and Steve, Hunter Jones who was working at breaking into acting himself in those typical ‘
schlubby best friend guy’ roles and was also insane enough to think himself a singer, and Bart Miles the movie star who’d made headlines with Misty Will the year before and had then moved on to Marian and then to... oh. Right.
“They’re gone,” I said once the guys had finished checking out the room and wandered off.
She peeked from under my jacket. “You sure?”
I nodded and she shrugged the leather off onto the back of her chair. “Thanks again.” She shivered. “I can’t face him.”
“Yeah, your breakup was rough, wasn’t it?” I said gently, remembering the public fits she’d thrown the week I went on the reunion show.
She blinked. “What?”
“Your... breakup?” I had it wrong, I could tell from her reaction, but what was bothering her then?
She stared for a second then laughed. “Bart? Hardly. No, that was all pu--” She snapped her lips together. “Um. Nothing.”
People had long commented on how Bart seemed to date a new singer or actress just long enough for both of them to get a career boost and then he moved on. It seemed... intentional. Had the drinks made Lucy nearly unguarded enough to admit it was intentional? Something starting with a ‘pu’...
Publicity?
So many angles to pursue at once. Had her relationship with Bart been strictly business? Having that confirmed would be quite the scoop. But if it wasn’t their breakup upsetting her, if he wasn’t the one she’d been afraid to see, then was it Steve? Which would mean Dominic was probably with Agnes and not gay and that was a huge scoop too. Or it could be--
“Hunter,” Lucy said, and gave what looked like an involuntary shudder.
“Him?” He wasn’t anything much to look at, especially not standing between Bart and Steve, and I couldn’t imagine that dating him after Bart would be anywhere near as exciting. “You guys were...”
“Lucy!”
She and I turned to see a woman standing at the doorway pointing in our direction.
Lucy muttered something that sounded like a four-letter word then pushed back her chair. “Thanks for hiding me. Look, investigate Hunter and gambling. But don’t quote me.”
She bolted to the door and the woman, who must have been a handler she escaped, and I scribbled a quick ‘Hunter gambling?’ reminder in my notebook and set off to find Marian wondering if every last celebrity on the planet had some dark secret.
*****
With my notes from my interview with Marian, who hadn’t revealed anything more exciting but that she was thrilled to be at the awards show and wanted to thank all her fans for supporting her, safely recorded in case I somehow managed to find a way to make them article-worthy, I went looking for Misty Will. Angel Dove had told me Misty wasn’t doing much publicity this year and had hinted that there was a significance to that, and with the information Angel had provided about where Misty would be it didn’t take me long to find the small private conference room where she was having her hair and nails done. The security guards at the door were a dead giveaway.
“Move along,” the woman said.
“I’m looking for Misty Will.”
“Aren’t we all,” her big male counterpart said. “Move along.”
I stood in the hall for a second, not wanting to hang around and get beaten up but also not certain I was in the right place, but then I heard Misty laugh and knew Angel hadn’t steered me wrong.
“Can I ask if I can go in?” I said. “She does know me.”
The guards exchanged glances. “Knock,” the woman said. “But if she says no, you’re out of here.”
“Deal.”
Silence fell in the room when I knocked on the door, then I heard a male voice say, “Who is it?”
“My name’s Summer Young,” I said, trying to sound as non-threatening as possible. “I’m a reporter, and I met Misty before New Year’s and I’d love to chat with her again if I could.”
Another silence, then I thought I heard some whispering. I moved closer to the door, trying to pick out words, but I didn’t manage it before the door opened a crack and a guy I recognized as Misty’s husband and songwriter Tim peered out. “You alone?”
I nodded.
“No camera guy?”
I’d given up on that ages ago, finding that my subjects were more open without a huge lens pointed at their faces. I really owed MC the thanks for that, since I’d noticed while watching our TV show that she was far more comfortable when hanging out with Kent without cameras. Simon, of course, wanted me to bring someone along but so far I’d managed to avoid it.
When I nodded in answer to that question too, Tim pulled the door open just enough for me to come through, then closed it firmly behind me.
Inside was controlled chaos. Misty sat in a esthetician’s chair with her hands out, fingers spread, on the arms of the chair and her feet up on a stool in front of her. Each hand, each foot, and her head had a woman working away to get them perfect for the night’s show.
She turned her eyes toward me, since she couldn’t move her head, and said, “Hey, Summer. Come sit in front of me?”
As I moved to do so, Tim said, “But first, tell us how you found us.”
Even Misty’s beauty workers looked toward me, and I took a deep breath to deliver the speech I’d come up with on my way to the room. I couldn’t tell them Angel had sent me, since she had no doubt not been supposed to let me know where each of her recording-label buddies were being fixed up and when Misty would be having her turn, and if I suggested I’d followed one of the workers in I’d probably get her in trouble and I didn’t like that idea. My plan wasn’t brilliant but at least it wouldn’t get anyone fired. “I figured you’d be here somewhere,” I said, “and I just started checking out all the hallways.” I gave Misty a big smile. “I guess I just got lucky.”
She looked to Tim, and they held each other’s gaze for a second. Then she said, “Guess so,” and the workers let out a held breath at the same time and got back to work on her appearance.
I took the chair in front of her and said, “So. What are you wearing tonight?”
She laughed. “Can’t give away the biggest secret! But I will say I’ve got a Zephyr bag.”
I laughed too, since we both knew she wore one to every occasion possible since she’d been the first star to make Zephyr a household name. “That’s a shocker.”
“I know, right?” She grinned at me then flinched. “Too tight, I think.”
The hairdresser said, “Sorry,” and loosened the braid she was making in Misty’s hair. I looked more closely and realized I was seeing her real hair, which nobody ever saw since Misty always wore wigs to perform or in public.
“Fits better under a wig that way,” Misty said, smiling at me.
“What color’s tonight’s wig?”
“Goes with her dress,” Tim said, and we all laughed.
“Well, I look forward to seeing it. What’s new with you, Misty? Got any big announcements to make tonight?”
I expected her to give the usual ‘so glad to see my fans’ kind of speech and maybe hint that she’d be revealing a new song, but she looked horrified and Tim said, “Why’d you ask that?” in a voice suddenly ice cold.
I looked at him, not having to pretend shock and confusion. “Because it’s a big awards show, and lots of people do have--”
I didn’t get to finish the sentence. The door, which Tim had locked behind me, gave a click like it was being unlocked from the outside then flew open to let in easily ten reporter types, with the security guards right behind them.
Misty gasped and Tim snapped at the reporters to get out, but they didn’t budge. Instead they started snapping pictures of Misty in her white silk robe with her nails half done and her real hair exposed.
She jumped out of the chair and hurried toward Tim, but in the frenzy a reporter had knocked down her water bottle and she slipped in the puddle. She went down hard, her stomach banging against the footstool before her elbow smashed onto the floor.
She screamed, but instead of grabbing her elbow she threw her other arm across her middle. Protectively. Like...
My own stomach twisted, and Tim shouted, “Get out before I kill you,” and bent over his wife.
I couldn’t hear her over the noise of the reporters snapping pictures and asking questions, but I was the only one on the right angle to see her mouth as she whispered to him, “The baby... I’m scared...”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
On Saturday, during my belated birthday lunch, Mom shook her head and made a sympathetic sound. “But she’s okay?”
I nodded. “She did break the arm she landed on, so she didn’t perform that night like she was supposed to, but everything’s fine with the baby.” I sighed. “Of course, they weren’t going to announce it for another month, but they had to tell the paramedics she’s pregnant and all those reporters heard so everyone knows now. But at least she’s all right.”
“Did that other one, what’s her name, tell everyone else where to find her too?”
It took me a second to fill in the blanks in Dad’s statement but then I said, “No, Angel only told me. The other reporters...” I grimaced. “They followed me. Saw me leaving when there were still lots of people to interview in the main area and figured I was up to something.”
Dad nodded. “Should have had security around Misty’s room.”
“They did. But no guns, and with all those reporters arriving at once with a master key they’d somehow managed to get for the conference room, they couldn’t do much to stop them. A few got held up but the rest managed to get into the room and... well, you know the rest.”
He nodded again and Mom said, “Wait, so they all followed you? Left the other celebrities and followed you?”
“Yup.” I tried not to sigh, knowing she was probably thinking the same thing I’d been thinking ever since it happened: without me, Misty would never have fallen and she would have been able to keep her baby news to herself.
She surprised me, though. “You must be very proud.”
“Um, hardly.” I remembered the pain and fear in Misty’s face and the way she’d clung to Tim’s arm as he helped her off the floor. “I feel pretty bad, actually.”
Fifteen Minutes of Summer Page 19
