Priceless (29 page)

When Jackson burst through the door of Kat’s house a week or so later, though, she felt her heart leap.

“No, really, come on in,” Kat said lazily, licking the butter from her fingers. They were eating popcorn and watching an old musical. “I’d hate for you to stand on ceremony or even observe the niceties of basic manners.”

“Sorry, Kat, you’re totally right.” Jackson was out of breath. He looked at Charlotte. “Charlotte, I owe you a massive apology.”

Charlotte gazed at him impassively. It was a good start, but she wasn’t going to let him off easily.

He kept talking. “I got angry with you for something that wasn’t your fault, and I’m really sorry.”

She continued to gaze.

“Then I didn’t come and apologize right away because I realized what a dick I had been, and I was embarrassed. And then a day or two went by, and it seemed too late to come and apologize.” He made a gesture of frustration. “I just messed it all up. I’m really sorry.”

Charlotte raised an eyebrow. He could squirm a little more.

He took a deep breath. “I realize this might seem like too much of a coincidence, but a friend of mine from L.A. just e-mailed me that he heard our song on the radio there. I don’t know how it’s possible, but that’s what he said.”

Charlotte frowned and flicked a glance at Kat. “So you came to apologize because things are going better with the song, so
you decided to play nice.”

He shook his head. “I know it looks that way, but it really isn’t. I was on my way to see you when my friend called. I didn’t want to not apologize just because it looked weird. I really miss you, Charlotte. I don’t care about the fucking song.”

Kat got up and went to her computer. Over her shoulder, she said, “Charlotte, why don’t you just admit you miss him, too, and you two can hug while my back is turned. I’m going online to see if he’s right.”

Charlotte laughed. Kat was right. Hugging Jackson felt so good, such a relief. It was OK to need people; she was learning that. You just had to be careful.

“Well, holy shit.” Kat laughed. “Your song appears to be getting some serious play. That’s awesome.” They peered over her shoulder. She’d pulled up a major online music site, and under “New and Noteworthy” was a little plain icon with “Fire and Ice, Jack and Charlie” under it.

“How the hell did that happen?” Charlotte was confused.

“Well, I uploaded it, and I guess it got around.” Jackson was smiling. “God bless the Internet. Look, there’s even a link to the video.”

They followed the link.

“Read that number to me,” Kat said in a hushed voice. “I’m not so good at math.”

Jackson cleared his throat. “Five million, nine hundred thousand, two hundred and twenty-seven views.”

There was a pause, and then Kat slapped Charlotte on the
back. “Congrats, you’ve gone viral!”

“Um … great.” She felt nervous suddenly.

Kat’s phone rang.

“Hello? Yes, this is she.” She looked at her friends as she listened to her caller, and they both saw her go pale. “Well, that’s very exciting news. I’ll have to talk to my clients and get right back to you.” She scribbled a number. “Yes, thanks, I have it. Speak to you soon.” She hung up. “Well, that was an unexpected caller.”

“Who was it?”

“Only the most successful radio DJ in the country. Only the most listened-to voice in America. Only the host of several must-see TV shows and reputedly the highest-paid entertainer on network television.”

She paused, not that she really needed to say his name.

“Only … Peter Lakeshore himself.”

KAT HAD FINISHED
running around the apartment and screaming and had regained her elegant calm.

“Apparently, they’ve been getting requests for your song and went looking for us. They want you to come to L.A., do an interview with Pete, and meet with a record label.”

“Why did they call you?”

“Well, he said they’d e-mailed Jackson through his site but didn’t get a reply.”

Jackson grinned. He was sitting on the sofa with Charlotte on his lap and seemed bemused by the whole thing. “I’ve been distracted, missing my friend here. I haven’t checked the site in a day or so.”

“Whatever. Then they called Albrecht’s radio station, and even though he hates Charlotte’s dad, he’s apparently more scared of my mom, because he told them I was your manager and gave them my number. Pete was very excited, he said, and then he disappeared, and some girl came on and wanted to make arrangements. I said I would call her back.” She grinned at them. “So what do you say? Fame and fortune are calling. Are we taking the call or blocking the number?”

AN HOUR OR
so later, a coordinator from the radio station called to finalize arrangements.

“Hi, I’m Tiffanii-with-two-i’s, and I’m the coordinator from KRRK, OK?”

Kat said yes. There didn’t seem much else to say.

“We e-mailed you your flight confirmations. Did you get those?”

Kat had this one covered, too, and had already printed them out.

“A car will be waiting for you at the airport, and you should just go ahead and get into it, OK?”

Here Kat paused for a moment, because it begged the question of why they might
not
have gotten in to the car, but she decided that maybe Tiffanii-with-two-i’s was also Tiffanii-with-two-brain-cells and let it go.

“Drop your stuff at the hotel, and then the car will bring you to the station. Bring nothing to the station except your most essential items: cell phone, makeup, change of clothes, sunglasses, purse, shoes.”

Shoes? Kat moved the phone away from her ear and looked
at it. “Do people sometimes show up with no shoes?”

Tiffanii seemed confused by the question. “Noooo, but sometimes they’re not the right shoes.”

Kat took a breath. “OK, fine. I’ll make sure the band is shod.”

“Shod?”

“Wearing shoes.”

“OK, good. There will be a photographer there, too, for preliminary shots. Do you need us to provide a stylist?”

“No. I’m their stylist.”

Kat had been worried that this wouldn’t make sense to Tiffanii, but she was wrong. She could hear the other girl making a note.

“Oh, you’re a manager-stylist? OK. I’m a coordinator-assistant-actress.”

“Cool.”

“Right?”

“Sure.”

“After we’ve taken some photos, we’ll do the on-air interview with Peter, and the car will take them back to the hotel to rest and recuperate.”

“In preparation for what?”

“For dinner with Peter. He has two working dinners tomorrow night before his real dinner, and you’ll be the first, so no dessert, OK?”

“Why not?”

“Because there won’t be time. You’ll need to schedule a separate dessert for your band.”

“I’ll be sure to do that.” Whatever.

“The next day is all at the record label, so not my responsibility, OK?”

“OK. So should I call them to coordinate?”

Tiffanii laughed. “Nooo! Jessika will call you. She’s one of the record label coordinator-booker-studio managers.”

“Does she have two i’s?”

“No, she has a k.”

Then she hung up.

TWO DAYS LATER
, the three of them were standing in the airport, surrounded by family and friends. Kat was perched on her vintage Vuitton trunk, dressed for travel in a yellow and pink Pucci muumuu with espadrilles, giant yellow sunglasses perched on her head. Her mother was fussing over her, and Kat was letting her.

“Now, Katherine, don’t forget it’s much drier there than it is here, so remember to hydrate well and moisturize heavily.”

“And don’t forget the sunscreen.”

“And don’t forget the sunscreen, all the time, baby. You’re a Southern girl; we don’t wrinkle well.”

Kat met Charlotte’s eye and looked away, trying not to smile.

Charlotte was standing next to Millie, who was poking Jackson in the chest with a stern forefinger.

“Now, you remember where you came from, and don’t forget your manners, ya hear?”

“Mom …”

“Don’t take any drugs, and don’t sign any documents without your own lawyer.”

“Mom …”

“And be old-fashioned for me and take care of these two young ladies.”

“Mom!” He took her by the shoulders. “It’s just Los Angeles, it’s not deepest Mongolia. I’ll call you as soon as we get there, all right? Calm down.”

Kat stood up. “OK, let’s get this show on the road. Mothers, retreat!”

Charlotte felt a pang of sadness that her own mother wasn’t there, but when both Millie and Leila enveloped her in gigantic hugs, she knew she was far from alone.

“Be good, Charlotte,” Millie whispered. “Take care of yourself.”

Charlotte nodded, smiling, and all three of them headed off to security.

CHARLOTTE HAD BEEN
to Los Angeles many, many times, but it was the first time for both Jackson and Kat.

Unfortunately, LAX is not in the most attractive part of town, but anywhere looks good through the windows of a limousine.

Jackson was excited. “This is cool. I’ve only been in L.A. twenty minutes, and already I’m in a limo.”

“And now you’re stuck in traffic, so it’s a complete L.A. experience.”

Charlotte wasn’t as wowed by L.A. as the other two, but it was still fun to be there under these circumstances. She was a little nervous, though. She knew lots of people in town, and the paparazzi were there in force, of course, and although no one from the radio station had mentioned it so far, she wondered if
they’d put it together that she was who she was. Her dad wasn’t in the news all that much right now, while the wheels of the legal system ground slowly on, but it had been only a few weeks since the story had broken. She wondered also how long it would take Dan Robinson to find her.

She’d spoken to Arthur Bedford briefly the day before.

“Did you say all those things, Charlotte?” The lawyer had been to the point.

“Well, I’m not sure. It was supposed to be off the record.”

“Hmm. Let me call the editor and lodge a complaint. Maybe that will prevent more sloppy journalism on Mr. Robinson’s part, but you should be more careful, Charlotte. Try to stick to ‘no comment,’ all right?”

She’d hung up feeling like a chastened child, and today, in the sunny brightness of Los Angeles, she tried to forget the whole thing.