Diamond Star (16 page)

"Here he is!" Randall strode over and clapped Del on the shoulder. "Now
that
was a show. You just needed a new pair of pants, heh?"

They all gathered around him, Anne, Jud, Bonnie, Randall. Del tried to answer, but he couldn't speak. It didn't matter. They were doing all the talking.

"Man, you're flying," Randall said. "What'd you take?"

Del focused on him. "Take?"

"You gotta watch that," Anne told him. "Your pupils are wide as the moon. If Soo-Ling catches you, Prime-Nova will get pissed."

"He didn't take anything," Mac said, maneuvering Del past them. "We'll be right back." He pulled Del toward another door.

Then they were alone, in the room where Mac had brought him before the show. Del collapsed on the couch, his booted feet on the coffee table, his head thrown back, his eyes closed. He couldn't get off the roller coaster, he was going into
overload--

Mac's worried face swam into view above Del.

"Thank God," Mac said. He moved out of view.

Del lifted his head. He was still slouched on the couch with his legs across the table, but now Mac was sitting next to him, his face pale. Although Del felt a little strange, his mind had settled, and he was more in control.

He rubbed his eyes. "What happened?"

Mac spoke quietly. "Do you have epilepsy?"

Del looked up with a start. How had Mac known to ask that? "No. But my father did, so we've all been tested. I never showed any signs of it."

"Your father?" Mac looked surprised. "We had no idea."

Apparently the Allieds didn't have spies as good as they thought. "It's hardly something we talk about to your military."

"I think you need to talk to me," Mac said quietly. "You just had a convulsion."

What? No, that couldn't be. "I didn't feel anything."

"You stiffened and your eyes rolled back in your head." Mac's face was pale. "Then you jerked for about ten seconds."

Del didn't want to hear this. "That's never happened before."

"Tell me about your father," Mac said. When Del stiffened, Mac frowned at him. "It's your health at stake."

"My health is fine."

"Damn it, Del, if live performances give you seizures, I need to know what's going on."

Del didn't want to talk about so private a matter, but he knew Mac wouldn't let it go. "I never saw my father have one. They happened before he met my mother because his people didn't have good medical care. But she brought in doctors, and they helped him."

"Do you know why he had seizures?"

"It's an overload in the brain. Too many neurons fire." Del spoke with difficulty. "Psions, what you call empaths and telepaths, have extra neural structures. My father had even more than most. When he was a baby, his family died in an avalanche. He was in a mental link with them, and it damaged his brain. After that, if his empathic centers were overstimulated, he had a convulsion." Del didn't need a medical degree to know he was describing a more severe version of what had just happened to him. His seizure couldn't be serious, though. His brain was just adjusting, like untrained muscles cramping because they weren't used to a workout. With practice, he would be fine.

"I don't know what you did out there," Mac said. "But the price is too high. I want you to stop."

"Stop?" Del smiled. "Mac, it
worked.
"

Mac frowned at him. "You looked like you were drilled out of your mind. If Soo-Ling had seen you come offstage, she would have fined you twenty thousand on the spot."

"I didn't take anything! I can't help how I looked."

Jud suddenly opened the door and leaned inside. "You aren't going to believe this. Mind Mix isn't done playing, and one of the media biggies has already put out an Arden exclusive."

Del's pulse lurched as he jumped to his feet. "Good or bad?"

Jud smirked at him. "You'll have to decide for yourself."

Del regarded him warily. "If this is a joke--"

"No, really," Jud told him. "Come listen."

Mac stood up between them. "Del, we aren't done."

"Don't worry," Del said. "I know what I'm doing." He didn't, but he felt fine.

Del went with Jud into the green room, past Cameron, who was leaning against the wall by the door. Although the Marine seemed as impassive as usual, Del had the odd impression his bodyguard was amused. Huh. Cameron never laughed, he just hulked around and looked intimidating. Anne, Randall, and Bonnie were sitting on the floor around Jud's mesh, which lay on an equipment box.

"Why don't
I
get that treatment?" Randall was saying as he laughed. "I'm mortally wounded!"

"Just think what a boost it would be to your career." Anne raised her voice into a higher pitch. "Oooh, Randy," she squealed.

"Oh, stop," Bonnie said, reddening.

"What's going on?" Del asked as he walked up to them.

"Hah! He's here." Anne yanked him down so he landed next to her, then flicked a holicon above the screen. "Your first review for tonight's performance, Mister Heartthrob Arden. We've cycled through it three times."

"Heartthrob?" Del asked. He didn't recognize the word.

A woman's voice leapt out of the comm. "--who cares about Mind Mix? Let me tell you, girlzo, the ultra swivel tonight was in the hips of one Del Sweet-cheeks Arden."

"What the blazes?" Del's face heated up. "Who is that?"

"Careful what you tell your parents, Ell-bees," the woman went on, "or they'll call in the conking boredom police and zip the latest zap on your sweet dreams. Unless you zap your mom a holo of this boy first; then she'll want a copy for herself."

Anne let out a hoot of laughter. "Del Arden, the wicked wet-dream king, out to corrupt the teeny-bee bops of America!"

"I can't even understand what she's saying," Del muttered.

Jud knelt down and clapped him on the shoulder. "It's a rough review, I know. You'll just have to soldier through."

The woman continued. "You've heard the establisho crockers complaining about this one, haven't you? Now you know why. Gander a look-see at our mesh-mall, girlzo. We've got holos galore for your viewing entertainment." She was literally purring. "And let me tell you, with a face like that and his--other attributes--oh yes, this boy Del is definitely entertainment."

"I don't believe this." Del didn't know whether to die of embarrassment or crawl under a bed and hide. "Why is she talking about me that way?"

Randall smirked at him. "Congratulations. You've just become the latest bees-bopper idol."

"You know," Del said, "I would really appreciate if you all would quit laughing at me and explain what that woman is saying."

"It's the Ell-bee set," Bonnie said in a softer voice than the others. "It comes from Little Bees. L-B. That came from bopper bees." She smiled shyly. "I used to subscribe to Elba's mesh-mags. We always listened to what she said."

"They called them teenyboppers a long time ago," Anne said. "I don't know what it used to mean, but now it refers to one of the biggest interactive clubs on the mesh. Mostly adolescent girls. They shop at the Ell-bee mesh-malls, set up virtual concerts, talk their own lingo, and start fan clubs for whoever Elba the Queen Bee talks up as the latest hot boy."

"And what you just heard," Randall told him with a flourish, "is the Queen Bee herself. Talking
you
up."

"Oh." Del had no idea what to make of it. "That's good, isn't it?" He squinted at them. "I hope."

"Sure it's good," Anne said. "Elba's a hoot, weird as all git-go, but the Ell-bees are great. They don't do virts much because of the expense, but they'll zap up your latest holo-vid, no problem."

"I would have," Bonnie said, smiling.

"He doesn't
have
a holo-vid," Randall said. "Not yet. Prime-Nova put him on tour to stir up hum about Del Arden."

Jud thumped Del's back. "You have to get into the studio."

"Not just me," Del said. "
We,
right?" He couldn't do it without them. "You're all going to work with me, aren't you?"

They all went quiet. Then Jud spoke in a more serious voice. "Are you asking us to?"

Mac was suddenly kneeling next to Del. "We can't make any contractual agreements at this time."

"Why not?" Del asked. "They should be on it." He could tell Mac wanted him to be quiet, the same as when Prime-Nova had offered him the contract.

Mac said, "These things have to be--"

"Negotiated. Yeah, I know." Del glanced at the others. "I want you five to work with me on the holo-vid." He tilted his head at Mac. "My manager, who is sweating right now because I won't shut up, will work out the details. So I guess I'm not supposed to say anything else."

Anne's smile gentled. "I'd be pleased to work with you."

"Count me in," Randall said.

Jud nodded his agreement. "Thanks, Del."

Mac rubbed his chin. "We need to check how Elba licensed those holos her people made of the concert. Even if they're mostly of Del, the rest of you are probably in them. The license will be with Prime-Nova, and they'll cross-collateralize it with tour expenses, but the royalties should be counted toward all your accounts."

License? Del had no idea what "cross-collateralize" meant, and "royalties" sounded like something to do with his title, which made no sense. "What did you just say?"

Anne patted his knee. "You are such an innocent."

Randall sat up straighter. "You mean, we'll get part of the Ell-bee sales?"

"Hell, yeah," Mac said. "Elba Malls can't make money off your images without paying." He glanced at Del. "And Jud is right. You need to get in the studio. This is a good break, but you can't capitalize on it until you have at least a vid and preferably a virt, too. That takes time."

"What time?" Del asked. "I've got more than enough songs." He motioned to the others. "They know the music."

Mac regarded him with exasperation. "Del, you need to do more than just
sing.
"

"Why?" Del couldn't figure out why Mac wanted pyrotechnics. "I
can
sing. I don't have anything to hide."

Mac scowled at him. "Don't get cocky because you had one fairly good concert. I don't care if you're Luciano Pavarotti reincarnated. You don't want a sloppy vid, and neither does Prime-Nova."

Del went silent, feeling uncertain. He hadn't meant to sound cocky. He didn't think that was really the problem, though. Mac was upset.

Del wished he knew why.

VII: Virtual Mind Mix

Mac sank into his chair, relieved to relax in the quiet hotel room. These strange hours tired him out. Although he was fifty-nine, age-delaying treatments made him look younger, which was practically a requirement in this youth-oriented industry. But he felt his age.

At least Del's concert had gone better tonight. The reviews were brief but reasonably good. He still wasn't doing as well as Prime-Nova had hoped, given the opportunity they had handed him, opening for Mind Mix. But they wouldn't yank him from the tour after Del had grabbed one of the hottest markets with the younger female demographic. It wasn't really a surprise; Ricki and Zachary must have realized the potential the moment they saw Del sing. Still, they wouldn't have looked for it this soon, before he had a vid ready.

Except.

Del's convulsion scared the hell out of Mac. He had tried to take the obstinate prince to the hospital, but Del steadfastly refused. Even so, Mac intended to take no chances. He had contacted Philip Chandler, the doctor who certified Del's age. Chandler wasn't a yes-man. He had verified Del was over twenty-five, but only after extensive tests. He would be straight with them if Del had medical problems after he saw Del tomorrow, in D.C.

If they made it to D.C. Although Mind Mix flew to each concert, Mac hadn't convinced Prime-Nova to provide air travel for Del. He could probably arrange a flyer now, though, so they could work on the vid between concerts. It would be grueling to commute between Washington and the cities where Del was performing, but the tour would be over in a month. They could manage that long.

Despite what he had told Del, Mac doubted it would take much to do the vid once they worked out the holos and extras. Del had more than enough material, and the band knew his music. Ricki would object to Jud Taborian because he was undercity, but she'd come around. She would have to be blind not to see how well Jud worked with Del.

So Mac sat in his darkened hotel room and brooded. He felt like a hypocrite. He was Del's manager. He was supposed to wish Del success. But every time Del went on stage; every time someone wrote about him, good or bad; every time Del made
eye contact
with the audience, Mac cringed. Sure, no one had any reason to attack a minor rock singer. But the human psyche had never been logical. Who knew if some nut would take a dislike to Del and decide to kill him? Most singers had a flare of success for a few years, if they were lucky, and then dropped into obscurity. The same would probably happen to Del. But Mac sweated anyway. One slipup and Del could be dead. Del chose to accept the risk, but Mac couldn't help wanting him off the tour.

The room's AI said, "Del Arden is at the door."

Mac looked up with a start. "Open. And bring up the lumos."

As the room brightened, Del ambled in, wearing a T-shirt and jeans with ragged mesh patches. He smiled at Mac. "I got a comm from Zachary Marksman. He congratulated me on the show."

"Good." Mac wasn't surprised. Zachary was the one who had decided to yank Del off the tour. He probably wanted to minimize any hard feelings if Del found out.

"You should be sleeping," Mac said. "We're flying to D.C. in the morning."

Del went into the kitchenette and thumbed an order into the icer. "I thought the next job was in Boston."

"It is. But you have three days until then. You can work on the vid and virt."

Del looked up. "Isn't that too short notice to get a studio?"

"Yeah. But they'll let us work afterhours." Mac smiled slightly. "Prime-Nova has a
lot
of studios."

Del regarded him uncertainly. "I've never seen a virt. I don't know what to do."

"The techs put it together. You just sing." Mac took a cube from a pile on the table and lobbed it to Del. As the youth grabbed it, Mac said, "That's Mind Mix's latest."