by Rachel Shane
She was boring. But she was also a draw.
“Wow,” I found myself saying.
“And the best part? She’s going to reveal exclusive news to us only.” Trevor emphasized the word us, meaning him and me. Not the two tagalongs in the backseat.
My heart thumped in excitement. Another exclusive interview with breaking news for our podcast. But then an excited sucked in breath came from backseat and I knew the interview may not be exclusive. Not unless we released it first.
“Funny,” Harrison said. “That you’re getting an exclusive interview when you would never give one yourself. Until it was a last resort, anyway.”
Trevor’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “I earned the right to do whatever the fuck you want.”
Harrison lifted a brow. “And here I thought the whole reason you’re in a fucking car on a snowy night driving around college nobodies is because you didn’t earn it.”
Bianca frantically nudged Harrison in the ribs to get him to be quiet. Trevor’s nostrils flared.
I bit my lip and placed a hand on Trevor’s bicep. It took a lot of effort to ignore how hard and ripped it was beneath my palm. “Don’t let him get to you. He’s just trying to provoke you.”
“He’s trying to make me miss the interview!” Trevor’s lungs pumped hot air, in and out, in and out.
My stomach swirled. What was Harrison’s angle here? This interview benefitted him, whether it was released as a podcast or released as the newspaper article he clearly planned to write. I spun around to squint at him and that was when I saw it. The glowing red light poking out of his pocket. An MP3 recorder.
My throat went dry. Trevor may have been planning to interview Alexis Rae, but to Harrison, this was the interview. I had no doubt Harrison planned to release it as our next podcast episode, likely before we even had a chance to talk to Alexis. Harrison winked at me and I spun back around as snow lodged against the straining windshield wipers.
The back of my neck prickled. There was only one thing to do to diffuse this situation. I played along. Played host. Guided this candid interview to a place that would benefit us all.
“I promise,” I said to Trevor in flirtiest voice. “Next time, it’ll be just me and you at the interview.” I lowered my voice just a little, but not enough that the recorder wouldn’t pick up the sound. “That’s what I was hoping for tonight.”
Trevor locked eyes with mine. “Me too.”
The skin behind my ears tingled. I was playing along but Trevor? He had no idea this was being recorded.
My hand was still connected to his bicep so I slid my fingers down his arm, trailing them past his wrist, until they found his hand. I laced my fingers with his. He responded by squeezing my hand.
This wasn’t audible. It was only for Trevor and me. Every nerve ending in my body danced.
“All I want,” Harrison said, breaking the moment and re-directing the interview. “Is for you to acknowledge the truth: that you and I are one and the same.” Bianca snorted out a laugh at some inside joke I would never understand.
Trevor snapped his hand back from mine, his rage returning in an instant as he slapped his palm against the steering wheel with force. “We’re nothing alike.”
“We both cheated to get what we wanted.” Harrison ticked off one finger. “You with the whole lip singing ruse and me when I snagged an interview with you and you didn’t even know it. We both lie too, no explanation needed.” He ticked another finger. “And we both steal. You steal hearts, money from unsuspecting fans, and your own dignity. And I steal information.” Harrison grinned at Trevor in a check mate sort of way.
Trevor rolled his eyes. “What information have you stolen?”
Harrison sat back in his seat with the cockiest expression ever and my stomach lurched in anticipation of whatever he was about to reveal. “That you’re not single at all.”
I whipped my head toward Trevor, heart pounding.
Harrison leaned between the two front seats. “You’re dating Alexis Rae.”
My heart dropped right through my gut. There it was. Proof that anything I felt between Trevor and me was all a ruse. My cheeks stung as if I’d been slapped in the face.
Step one toward dominating the world: begin a podcast out of nowhere and release an exclusive interview after refusing to speak about the scandal that rocked the world a few months ago. Step two: date America’s Sweetheart, the pop artist that could do no wrong. After all, if she could see the good in Trevor, maybe the world would be able to as well.
And then of course there was Step three: drop that lame-o college chick you leached on to regain your fame.
“That’s the big news she’s going to reveal tonight, isn’t it?” Harrison said.
Trevor just grinned, big and bright. “I guess you beat me to the exclusive.”
INSIDE THE ARENA, A skinny kid with more zits than pores rushed at us where we stood by the ticket area. Matt Landers slapped Trevor five before flicking his eyes toward Bianca like a scared cat. He quite literally meeped at the sight of Harrison’s glare. He ignored me completely even though I was one of the people he fucked over too last semester. Not intentionally though, which somehow made it even worse.
Last semester, in an attempt to impress Bianca and steer her away from Harrison, Matt caught Harrison on film confessing to a shady use of fraternity dues. The film got into the wrong hands and ended up in the laps of the Greek Organization. They took one look at it, ousted Out House, and decided not to stop there. They shut down the Greek system entirely.
All because Matt once had a stupid crush on Bianca. But I mean, who didn’t? She was gorgeous.
Rumor had it Matt had broken up with girlfriend from last semester, and from the way he kept sneaking glances at Bianca, it seemed his old crush had returned in full force. Her tight-fitting black dress could do that. Though she was too busy eyeing Harrison’s ridiculous leather pants he always insisted on wearing.
“I’ve got your passes.” Matt handed two VIP badges to Trevor and two to Bianca, and suddenly it became clear how Bianca found out about this before I did. Matt was her inside source.
The arena was packed with girls of the seventeen and under variety as well as a slew of middle aged women roaming in herds. Alexis Rae’s music was universal that way. You liked it if you were old. You liked it if you were young. You liked it if you had little taste in music thanks to the catchy beats that always lodged in your head. And you liked it if you had excellent taste in music thanks to Alexis writing her own lyrics and working with Juilliard-trained musicians to create the compositions.
A few girls eyed Trevor strangely, their gazes zooming to the VIP badge he slipped over his head, and I was amazed at the way he could so seamlessly blend into a crowd without being recognized. Just by dressing like himself. It was a clever disguise. By always showing up in public in theatrics as Clever Trevor, he kept his real life private. A simple beanie. A sweater. Low slung jeans that hugged his thighs and bam! He was a regular Joe. Someone who only seemed interesting when he wore a VIP badge all the girls in the arena coveted.
He handed me a badge and our fingers brushed as I took it, tingles spreading across my wrists. “Thanks.”
The five of us awkwardly ambled through the crowd toward the backstage area. As we passed through a dark corridor blocked off from the main hallway, Bianca and Harrison exchanged giggles and grins.
I groaned. “Oh God. Please tell me this isn’t the place you first hooked up in.”
Trevor whipped his head toward them. Last semester, they’d attended a Clever Trevor concert and it somehow brought them closer. Perhaps in a biblical way.
Matt led us into the backstage area where people rushed about, chatting into walkie talkies and cell phones as if everything they had to say was extremely important. Black couches commanded attention in the center of the room. A cornucopia of refreshments filled a folding table along the back wall. Bowls of pink M&Ms, a sliced turkey and cheese spread, pretzels, c
hips, soda, vodka. A few guys that must have been Alexis’s band members clutched beers in their hands but she held a can of diet coke in her lap. She sat in a chair in front of a mirror lit with bright circle lights, closing her eyes as a makeup artist swept silver shadows across her lids. Another hairdresser stood behind her, twisting her blond locks into ringlets. She was beautiful in a Goddess sort of way, the kind of girl who you couldn’t help but stop and stare at. Even when she wasn’t lulling you into submission with her siren song.
Cliff Rogers paced the back of the room, finger jammed in one ear, phone pressed to the other as he screamed into his cell at a volume that made several others in the room jump from surprise.
“Holy shit. Is that Gemma?” Bianca jutted her chin toward one of the couches where a girl with a bleached blonde pixie cut sat vaping. She was waif-thin with arms that looked like they might snap in half in a gust of wind. Tattoos covered her shoulders and part of her legs in elaborate colors and patterns.
I gasped. It was Gemma. The girl who needed no last name. Who paraded through crowds with two middle fingers raised high in the air. Whose songs had been banned by more radio stations than those that actually played her music. She’d been kicked out of her Saturday Night Live performance during the middle of her set thanks to bearing her breasts on live TV. Thank God for an eight second tape delay. If Alexis Rae was America’s Sweetheart, Gemma was the thorn in America’s side. Her music was a mixture of punk rock and screams, with lyrics that required too many bleeps to be coherent to air on TV. She had a worse attitude than even Trevor during interviews.
America loved to hate her. Most teenagers idolized her. She didn’t have a social media following; she had an army ready to be mobilized. They trolled any celebrity that dared bad mouth her. Gemma was the complete opposite of wholesome Alexis Rae…so what was she doing here?
I cocked my head at Trevor. “Is she repped by your agent as well?”
He scoffed. “I have no idea what the fuck she’s doing here.” Then he raised his voice. “Yo, Gemma, what the fuck are you doing here?”
So much for a quiet entrance. Every head in the room swiveled toward us. My cheeks burst with color, but I straightened, trying to appear professional. Everyone was looking at Trevor but it felt like all eyes were on me. Beside us, Matt sucked in a gasp and tried to diffuse the situation by dropping a full soda can on the ground to make noise.
Gemma pushed herself off the couch with the slowest movements possible, as if everyone needed to wait for her to answer. She stomped toward us with a gait that was both authoritative and leisurely. She got right up in Trevor’s face, standing only centimeters from him. “Why the fuck do you think I’m here?”
He backed up an inch. “I…” He pleaded with me for help.
My stomach squeezed and I rushed in to save him. “What he means is…it’s really nice to see you here.”
Gemma whipped her head at me, squinting, then puffed out her lip as if she were blowing out cigarette smoke despite sucking on a vape. She eyed me up and down before saying, “What are you implying?” Then she turned and glared at Trevor. “That I don’t like Alexis’s music?”
I held up my hands. “No, of course not. I—”
“Whoa! Whoa!” Cliff came rushing over, waving his hands like a traffic cop. “Don’t insult the guests, please.” He flicked his eyes to both Gemma and Trevor—it wasn’t clear which one he was scolding. Or both. “Now.” He brushed down his suit with a flick of his wrist. “Care to explain WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?” His face turned red, a vein popping along his forehead.
I stumbled backward at the volume of Cliff’s voice but Trevor didn’t budge. He folded his arms over his chest. “I was just asking her that.”
Cliff thrust his cell phone in Trevor’s face. “Why did you release a new podcast without consulting me? We’ve got a plan here and this won’t work if you don’t—”
Trevor’s entire face squished in annoyance. “I didn’t release anything. I didn’t even record another podcast.”
Cliff hit play and the tinny speaker filled the silence in the room with Trevor’s voice from the car. “What information have you stolen?”
“Ah fuck.” Trevor’s hands curled into fists and he spun around. “I thought you were going to release a stupid article in tomorrow’s paper! Not a podcast!”
Harrison stood right behind him, his feet spread in a fighting stance. “You thought wrong. Now the news about you dating Alexis is my breaking story.”
I winced. Cliff looked like he was one step away from punching Harrison. Or maybe just siccing a law suit on him. Gemma squinted in confusion.
“And,” Harrison continued, “In exchange for helping you break the news first, you’re going to agree to let me print more details in tomorrow’s edition of The Daily Snowflake. Full disclosure, I’ve already written the article and it’s at the printer.”
Trevor’s hands balled into fists. “You’re an idiot. No—”
“Now now,” Cliff said, his voice suddenly calm. “I’ve had a change of heart. Continue on as planned but we’re running out of time here. Concert starts in fifteen minutes and Alexis is waiting.” He flourished his hand to her and she waved. “Erin, when I give you the signal, I need you to ask this leading question to get to the big reveal.”
He handed me an index card and my stomach dropped when I read the words. Alexis, who are you dating?
Oh God. I was going to have to be the one to ask. I wasn’t sure what the angle was here, why build up me as a will-they-won’t-they only to bring in Alexis to throw a wrench in it? Never mind, I answered my own question. Love triangles, honestly. Hollywood loved them and so did fans.
Cliff led us to a small room adjacent to the backstage area where tons of equipment was set up. Fancy microphones. Sound equipment. Lights. Camera. Action. I squinted at a state of the art video camera. “Are we going to be on video too?”
“We thought it might be best to release videos of the podcast exclusively online to paid subscribers. Everyone else only gets the free audio version.” Cliff swiveled a computer monitor to us to show the website he’d set up. For fifty dollars a month, subscribers received access to the videos. My eyes bugged when he pulled up the number of subscribers already. Three thousand. “Don’t worry, you’ll get a forty percent cut of the profits,” he said. “Minus my fifteen percent commission of course.”
Bianca and Harrison followed us into the room but Cliff shook his head at them. “Nope. You wait back in the other room.”
“But I’m her publicist,” Bianca said.
“And I’m someone who doesn’t care.”
Bianca let out a harrumph before exiting. Harrison begrudgingly followed in her wake.
She may not have been allowed in the room but when Gemma waltzed in a few moments later, Cliff didn’t even bat an eye, just scooted over to make room for her on the plush leather couch.
I slumped into one of the chairs set up, my pulse pounding. This was turning into everything I dreamed of. A hosting gig with subscribers. Something that could and likely would go viral, even with Harrison nearly ruining it. A scandal in their own words.
No, not a scandal. He was dating Alexis. She was wholesome and perfect, someone who would help reform his bad boy image.
Trevor sat next to me, scooting just a little too close as he readjusted his stool. Beneath the table, his knee tapped against mine. A cameraman and audio operator took their places.
A makeup technician fluttered around, swiping a wide brush over Trevor’s face to remove shine. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back. She pulled off his beanie, spiked up his hair, replaced his boring gray sweater with an expensive button down with a swirled design on the front, and even spritzed him with cologne. As if viewers could smell him too.
Then she moved onto me.
In my rinky dink high school hosting gig, the only makeup I ever received came in the form of sunscreen my mom applied. This was foreign to me, outside of the realm of sorority formal
s, anyway. Still, I tilted my head back and let the lady do her worst—or her best. I had no mirror, so I couldn’t check her handiwork, but Trevor’s eyes seemed to pop wider at the sight of me. I’d take that as a compliment.
A few minutes later Alexis practically hopped in. Her makeup sparkled on her face, making her look gorgeous, and her swishy A-line dress in white lace gave her an angelic appearance. She beamed at us with the biggest beauty pageant smile that ever existed—including Bianca’s.
“Oh gosh, it’s so nice to meet you, Erin. I’ve heard so much about you.”
I tilted my head at her, squinting skeptically. “You have?”
Cliff glared at me and jutted his chin to the video camera. A red light blinked. Shit. We were already recording.
I plastered a smile on my face and tried not to let my hand shake as I held it out to her.
“Of course!” She punctuated her words with a peppy squeal. “Trevor’s told me so much! Like how you set reminders for yourself on your fitness tracker. That’s such a good idea!”
He’d noticed that? I’d only checked my tracker twice in his presence. A red blush spread across his cheeks. “I wish I had more to tell,” he said. Then his eyes focused on mine. “I wish I knew more.”
I couldn’t help it. I let out a girly giggle even though I knew I was playing right into this trap. I was just the vehicle to pimp the Trevor and Alexis show. The host is never the star of her own show.
Alexis squealed after Trevor’s comment and then sat down in her seat with a dainty little flutter of her skirt.
Trevor scooted the mic closer to his lip. “Hi and welcome to episode”—he hesitated for a moment—”three of Clever Cast. I’m your host, Trevor Cardinelli.”
Cardinelli? Wow, I really knew nothing about him. Not even his last name.
Trevor raised his eyebrows at me. I startled for a second, my shoulders rising in surprise, before I played it off like a shrug. “And I’m Erin Behr, representative from the Clever Media network presented by Throckmorton University.”
