I did my best to keep my voice steady. “You’ll just have to say she got sick. Laryngitis, maybe. Or a sinus infection. You ever have one of those? They really knock you out.”
“They’ll know.”
“No, they won’t.”
“Haley never leaves the house. How could she get sick?”
“She does leave the house! She comes to Fullerton.”
He moaned. “If she doesn’t show tonight, her career is over. Not only will she piss off Phil Leventhal—a no-show will confirm what everyone suspects: that she’s unreliable. Nobody will ever sign her again.”
“Well, Haley’s not going to show,” I said.
“Yes, she is.”
“Jay, you’ve got to be realistic.”
“Haley’s going to show because you’re going to be Haley.”
I froze. “I don’t think this is a good—”
“It’s our only shot.”
“Jay, I can’t sing. And when Haley’s friends see me up close, they’ll know I’m not her. There’s just no way that—”
“You’ll lip-sync. Nobody there knows her well enough to see the difference. And only the kids will really be paying attention, anyway—the adults will be too busy drinking and schmoozing.”
Ben opened the door. “There’s nothing good to eat.”
I covered the phone with my hand. “Give me a minute, Benji. Just let me finish my phone conversation and—”
“I’m hungry.” A whine was quickly working its way into his voice.
“One minute.”
He kicked the door.
“Benji!”
“I haven’t even had breakfast, and I want something to eat!”
“You have had breakfast! I made you pancakes! Jay? I need to call you back.”
In the yard, Shaun Mott retrieved the Nerf arrow, reloaded his plastic crossbow, and aimed for my front door.
“I’m sorry, Jay, but I can’t do it.”
Fifteen minutes had gone by. I had told Ben he needed to show better self-control, I had made him a cheese sandwich, and I had told him that he had lost all DVD privileges for the weekend and possibly for the rest of his life.
Clearly, he hated me, though he was smart enough not to tell me so. He took his cheese sandwich and went outside to brave Shaun Mott.
“Come on, Veronica. You owe me this,” Jay pleaded.
“I have my son this weekend.”
Outside my window, Ben sat on the front stoop. Shaun sauntered over to retrieve his arrow from the bushes.
“So get a sitter.”
“I don’t have a sitter.”
“So call an agency.”
“I don’t live in your world, Jay. I don’t call agencies. And I’m not going to leave my son with a complete stranger.” Of course, at this point, he’d probably prefer a stranger to me.
“So bring him to Haley’s house. The party’s not far, and you’ll only be gone for a couple hours, maybe not even that long. He can hang out with you while you get dressed and he’ll see you as soon as you come back.”
“And who’s going to stay with him? You?”
“I can’t. I’ve got to take you to the party. Esperanza can probably do it.”
“I can’t stand that woman! There is no way I’m leaving my—”
“I’ll call one of the security guys, then. Elliott likes kids. At least, I think he does.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
He sighed. “Fine. I’ll stay with him. We’ll watch movies.”
I pictured Jay and Ben in Haley’s theater room, eating popcorn, and watching an animated film—something brand-new that he hadn’t seen before. And then I imagined telling Ben that I was leaving him. Again.
I sighed. “I can’t.”
“I’ll pay you ten thousand dollars.”
It took me a moment to speak. “Are you serious?”
“I’m desperate. So, yes—I’m serious.”
Shaun Mott stood over Ben, burying him in his shadow as he threatened to shoot the arrow.
“Fifty thousand,” I blurted.
Immediately, I regretted my greed, afraid Jay would refuse to pay me anything at all.
“Be here in an hour,” he said.
Chapter Twenty-five
T
arget carried
Kitty and the Katz: Season One Soundtrack
;
Kitty and the Katz: Season Two Soundtrack
; and
Kitty and the Katz: Greatest Hits
. I went with the greatest hits.
“So you know how people say I look like Haley Rush?” I said to Ben as we pulled onto the freeway. In the interest of time, Jay decided it was best if I simply drove to Haley’s house, even it meant risking curious stares. Right now, that was the least of our worries.
“Who?”
“Kitty from
Kitty and the Katz
.”
“Oh. Yeah.”
“Well, the funny thing is, her manager thinks I look like her, too.”
“Who?”
“Her . . . this guy. Anyway, since Haley’s so famous, people are always asking her to go places. Only, she’s so busy that she can’t always go. So her manager has asked me to dress up and pretend to be Haley.”
“You mean, like Halloween?”
“Kind of. Except I’m the only one dressed up. And, I have to memorize some songs,” I told him. “Maybe you can help me.”
We sang all the way to Beverly Hills. The benefit of Haley/ Kitty’s simplistic songs was that they were easy to learn. They were catchy, too, I had to admit. My favorite went like this:
I LIKE ME (JUST THE WAY I AM)
You tell me to change my clothes—
My hair, my eyebrows, laugh, and nose.
You say I’m not good enough right now.
But I like me just the way I am—
My crooked grin and my too-big hands.
I like facing another day as meeeeee . . .
Because I’m not you, you see.
When Jay answered the door, in his red high-tops, faded jeans, and white T-shirt, he didn’t even look at me. Instead, he fell to one knee and spoke to Ben.
“You must be Veronica’s manager.”
Ben shook his head.
“Agent?”
He shook his head again.
“Not even a
secret
agent?”
Ben started to giggle.
“I know! You’re her bodyguard!”
Ben thought that was hysterical. If Jay could keep this routine up while I was gone, everything might be okay.
Finally, he stood up and sort of smiled.
“No paparazzi?” I asked. I hadn’t realized how uncomfortable I’d feel, knowing that Jay had seen my ass on YouTube.
He ran a hand through his hair. “I called security an hour ago, and they shooed them away. They’ve been swarming ever since . . . that thing.”
Blood ran to my face. I looked at the ground.
Jay cleared this throat. “So, anyway—this is how it’s going to go. Elliott will be here in three hours to drive you. Phil Leventhal’s assistant, Caitlin, will meet you at the side entrance and take you to your dressing room—a guest bedroom, probably. I’m going to give you an iPod. Keep it in your ears the whole time—that way, Caitlin won’t try to chat.
“The sound guys are over there now, so everything will be ready to go. I’ll text them the final playlist as soon as we figure it out.”
“Won’t they think it’s weird that I’m lip-syncing?”
He snorted. “Haley always lip-syncs her performances. The sound guys would think it was weird if she actually sang.”
I spent the next three hours in the Frontier Land living room, watching Haley’s music videos on the giant television and doing my best to imitate her. She was big on stepping from side to side, punching her fist in the air, and tossing her blond mane.
Jay assigned Ben to play backup air band, though he didn’t quite get the message that “air” equals “silent.”
“Freeze and smile at the end of each song,” Jay instructed as I finished a number.
I froze. I smiled.
“No,” he said. “Watch the video.”
“Boo-ya!” Ben shouted.
I collapsed on the soft leather couch and watched. As with every song, when Haley hit her final note, she held her position as long as she could while breathing hard from the exertion, and she beamed. Eyes wide, she blinked at the lights, as if she couldn’t quite believe that she, a little country girl from Montana, had wound up on stage. Her smile was toothy, enormous, and genuinely joyful. She wasn’t a good enough actress to fake it.
I got up and did it again. Ben switched from air guitar to air drum.
Finally, it was time to get dressed. I put on the midnight blue minidress that Simone had brought over weeks earlier. I wore my hair down to provide maximum facial coverage.
“No Simone today?” I asked when I came out to model.
“She quit. Because of the recent photos.”
Simone saw my butt. Crap.
When Jay saw my expression, he said, “Not those. The ones from the film premiere. The cowboy stuff. Which she’s trying to blame on Haley even though she put the outfit together herself.”
“Hey, Mom? Can I take drum lessons?” Ben asked.
“We don’t have room for a drum set,” I said. “But ask Daddy. I bet Darcy would love to listen to you practice.”
Jay checked his expensive watch. “We’ve got about fifteen minutes before Elliott gets here. You want to run through a couple of the numbers one last time?”
“Sure.” I didn’t need to write the lyrics on my arm, after all. My head buzzed with Haley’s songs. I tossed my mane, pumped the air, and dove into the music, finishing the set with a master-piece of irony.
JUST LIKE ME, ONLY BETTER
When I was a little girl
I dreamed of who I’d be.
Now I look in the mirror,
And she’s looking back at me.
She’s just like me, only better!
She’s cool, she’s smart—a true go-getter!
I can’t believe I’m seeing what I see—
That better girl is me.
I froze. I smiled.
Ben said, “Bud-da boom bah!” and hit an imaginary drum.
Jay applauded.
I brushed a blond clump out of my eyes and bowed.
Jay’s phone rang: just a normal tone today. He checked the display and rolled his eyes. “Hey, Brady.”
Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod!
“I haven’t heard anything,” Jay said. “I’ll call Monday.”
He wandered across the room, but I still caught everything he said. “I
did
call yesterday, but nobody called me back. Last I heard, the project hasn’t even been green-lighted yet, so it’s a little early to—” He stopped walking. “I don’t know. Fifty-fifty? Sixty-forty? . . . Monday. Right.”
He turned off his phone and slipped it back in his pocket. He held my gaze and waited for me to say something. When I didn’t, he said, “That was your friend.”
“Yeah. I got that.” If Brady was able to borrow someone else’s phone, why wasn’t he calling me? My phone was in my purse, in the other room. Maybe he was leaving me a message right now.
“Do you know when he’s coming back from Australia?” I asked.
Jay squinted. “Huh?”
“I haven’t talked to him in a couple of weeks, but he said the shoot was going longer than expected so he wasn’t sure—”
“Brady told you he was in Australia?”
Dread pricked my skin. “Isn’t he?”
Jay didn’t say anything.
“Where is he?” I asked, my voice suddenly hoarse.
“At the moment? Culver City.”
Chapter Twenty-six
W
hen I woke up on the January day that Hank left me, I only had one concern. How was I going to get Ben’s dinosaur diorama to kindergarten?
We had spent two weeks building the scene in a Stride Rite box. Ben and I (but mostly I) had built papier mâché hills and painted them green. We had fashioned little trees from sticks and dinosaurs from clay. A winged pterodactyl dangled from a bit of thread. Ben was terribly worried the thread would break.
And now it was raining.
“Maybe you could drop Ben and me off at school today?” I suggested to Hank. A plastic garbage bag would keep the diorama dry, but the less distance it traveled from car to classroom, the better shape it would be in.
Hank looked up from his paper. “What?”
“His diorama is due today. And it’s just a long way to walk if I have to park on the street.”
Hank glanced up at the wall clock. “Sure. If we leave soon.”
“I’m working in the classroom today.” I had volunteered to cut out circles and stars for a solar-system mural. “So I’d need you to pick us up at twelve-thirty.”
That changed everything.
“I can’t do that,” Hank said quickly. “I’ve got a big job today—new construction. The windows are all custom, and they want fabric shades, so I’ve got to measure.”
“Is that from that real estate lady?” Over the past few months, Hank had been getting all kinds of referrals from a local Realtor.
“Yeah.”
“Well, you’ll need to take a lunch break, so—”
He cut me off. “There just isn’t time.”
“Fine,” I said. “I’ll deal with it.”
The thread broke. The pterodactyl’s head shattered. In the classroom, I blinked away tears, Ben rubbed my back and said, “It’s okay, Mommy. We can glue it.”
It wasn’t the damage that upset me so much as Hank’s reaction. He’d barely even looked at the diorama. He didn’t understand what it meant to Ben and me. But that was typical. Lately, he smiled politely whenever I talked—about Ben’s interest in Cub Scouts, or about a new recipe I’d tried, or about our gopher problem in the backyard—but he’d never respond, which made me wonder if he was even paying attention.
He was still sweet to me. He kissed me hello and good-bye and complimented my dinners. He’d given me a ridiculous number of presents for Christmas: jewelry and perfume, kitchen gadgets and gardening tools.
But still. I sensed we were drifting apart. Maybe I’d ask around, see if anyone had a babysitter. Maybe all we needed was some time alone, without Ben.