Silhouette (17 page)

‘I …’ I search for the words. ‘I’m not just some kind of groupie, you know.’

There’s a smooth laugh at the other end. ‘No. I know that. I walked into the party with you, in front of everyone. You must have seen the photos. You looked
real
good.’

Suddenly I’m tired of the games, tired of pretending to be something I’m not. ‘Look, I’m seventeen, Moss. I want a
boyfriend
. Someone who can meet my friends, someone who can come and watch me dance.’

There’s a moment of silence. ‘All right, fine, I’ll come. When is it?’

That does it. I let myself laugh. ‘Look, you’re not coming to our grad performance. You’ll be playing at the Dixie Bar for a start.’

‘Nope. The residency finished last week,’ says Moss. ‘Get a ticket for Bruno too. We’ll be there.’

It takes a while to sink in. I imagine him coming to see me dance, on my own terms. He’d meet my friends, my mum …

‘You could come on Saturday night. If you really want?’ I ask.

‘Sure, why not?’

‘You’d do that for me?’

‘Sure, babe.’

I like the way this feels. ‘But why? I mean, you could have any girl you want.’ I’m flirting but at the same time, I want to hear the answer. ‘Why do you want me?’

‘Babe, have you ever looked at yourself in the mirror?’

I’m not sure if that’s the right answer. I want him to like the way I look, but I also want him to care about
me
.

‘And you keep me on my toes, all right? I never know what to expect.’

That makes me stand up, checking my reflection in the mirror. ‘Well, you can
expect
me at your place soon.’

‘Hallelujah!’ His voice is smooth, musical.

After we hang up, I pull on jeans and a tight top, heels and make-up. Then I fluff up my hair all wild, just the way he likes it.

Downstairs I find Mum at her computer. ‘You look … nice,’ she says, making an effort.

‘I’m going over to see Moss,’ I say.

A slight frown appears before she raises her eyebrows. ‘Okay!’ Forced brightness.

I want to reach out and touch her, but I don’t. ‘It’s all right, Mum. I’ll be back by ten.’

Still her eyebrows stay up. After so many nights alone, she doesn’t realise there’s no reason to worry this time.

‘You know, he’s coming to the show on Saturday,’ I say. ‘You’ll get to meet him.’

Mum’s forehead relaxes. ‘Well, that would be nice.’

It makes me stand taller. ‘Do you want to hear some of his music? He’s not bad on the keyboard.’

‘Scarlett, I’ve heard him already,’ smiles Mum. ‘That “Everywhere” song.’ As I keep watching her, she nods. ‘It’s good. I like the way it builds.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes, really.’

I breathe out. ‘Well, I hope you’ll like him too.’

The door opens and the housekeeper smiles over my shoulder. ‘Come in.’ She stands back.

‘Thanks.’ I wish it were Moss. We’d have a minute or two alone.

Talking and laughter grow in volume as I make my way to the back of the house. It’s the inner crowd, just as I was expecting. Bruno, Bryn and a few others are sitting around the coffee table, a guitar resting against the arm of the couch.

Moss looks up from the bar and saunters my way, a cigarette in one hand. He grabs me around the waist, pulling me close. ‘We’re celebrating!’ he cries, kissing me on the cheek. ‘Three more songs in the vault.’

‘That’s awesome. Congratulations.’

‘This is it, babe. Album set for release before Christmas. We’ll be touring next year. It’s going to be big.’ He hasn’t stopped moving, guiding me by the waist back to the bar with him.

Rachel nods a hello on her way past, balancing a tray of drinks. I lean against the bar. ‘So, I guess you’ll be needing dancers when you tour?’

Moss laughs, eyes scanning the bottles and glasses in front of him. ‘Yeah, they’re talking about that stuff now. Where are the ice tongs?’

‘With Natasha as choreographer again?’

He pulls a drawer open. ‘No way. I want someone good. She didn’t get the music.’

Her choreography was amazing if you ask me, but I keep that to myself. Moss holds up the tongs and grins. ‘What can I get you?’

‘Ah …’ I shake my head. ‘Do you have any mineral water? I’m not drinking tonight.’ Not going to drink any other night either, but I don’t say that.

‘Really? But we’re going out later to celebrate. Do you want something else?’

‘Nah, thanks.’ I shake my head then shrug to show it’s no big deal. ‘I have to be careful.’

‘Really?’ Moss says again, his features stiffen.

‘Look, this is a really big week for me. My body is my life.’

Moss breaks into a sly grin. Whatever he was thinking has disappeared. ‘Yeah, and what a body it is.’ I get another kiss on the lips for that.

Bruno grunts when I sit across from him on the arm of a lounge chair.

I shift my weight. ‘Sounds like you’ll be coming to see more dancing.’

A frown. ‘What?’

I glance over at Moss, who’s laughing with a couple of guys. ‘Moss hasn’t said anything?’

‘No.’

I turn back to Bruno and shrug. Maybe he just hasn’t had the chance. ‘Well, I
think
you’re coming to our end-of-year performance. All the senior dance students are in it. I might even introduce you to some of them. If you’re good.’

Bruno shrugs, clearly not too fussed. ‘More like Grant?’

Cheeky. ‘No. Different to Grant.’

He lets out a laugh, picking up his beer and taking a swig. ‘Now that’s more like it.’

A mobile rings a couple of times; Moss is up and down between the coffee table, the bar and the phone. I chat to Rachel for a while about her trip to New York. At one point, Bryn announces that they’ve run out of beer.

When people start talking about heading out to a club, I check the clock. Twenty to ten. I find Moss and say goodbye. ‘Sorry, I have a big week.’

I’m expecting him to try to talk me into staying, but he just says, ‘Sure? We’re set for a big one.’

‘Yeah.’ I nod.

Moss walks me to the front door.

‘I’ll make sure the tickets are at the box office on Saturday night, okay?’

‘Cool,’ says Moss, placing his hands on the side of my ribcage, and pulling me towards him. His breath brushes my chin as he eases his chest against mine. Slowly our lips meet, tasting together. Lingering. Somehow it feels closer, more intimate than ever before. Maybe because it’s the first time we’ve kissed when I haven’t been drinking. As I pull away and slip out the door I can’t help wondering if it was a moment we shared, a moment when Moss felt the same way I do.

‘A strong latte, please,’ I say to the guy at the Academy caf. ‘Fullcream milk.’

I can’t help laughing at his double-take. Full-cream sure isn’t a request you hear often around here. He’ll probably have to check the use-by date on the carton.

‘Sugar’s over there, if you want,’ he says.

Carefully, I lift the lid and scoop in two teaspoons as the coffee aroma tempts me. For a moment, I just inhale. I haven’t had a coffee in days.

Frothy, creamy, warm …

No. The spoon goes straight in the bin. I don’t want to start drinking coffee again. Not unless I have to. I’ve been sleeping better than ever.

Carefully I replace the lid and head along the hall to the front of the Academy. It’s still early, so there aren’t many people around.

Down the main staircase, then to reception. I lean over the bench and hold up the cup. ‘Hey, Sal,’ I say to the receptionist. ‘Thought you might need a Wednesday morning treat.’

Sally shakes her head, smiling warily. ‘Don’t even ask, Scarlett.’

‘Ask what?’

Sally rolls her eyes. ‘Hold on.’ She presses a switchboard button. ‘National Academy of Performing Arts. Can I help you?’

I shift my weight, easing off the leg with the bruise. Miss Penelope comes through the main door, phone to ear. She jerks her head my way, talking into the mouthpiece as she passes.

‘One moment, please.’ Sally presses another button then looks up at me. ‘Sorry, Scarlett.’

‘It’s okay. Anyway, you can have that if you want. They made mine wrong at the caf.’ Sally watches as I manoeuvre the lid off and place it in front of her. The sweet, rich aroma envelops the desk. ‘It’s just the way you like it.’

She looks from the cup, to me, then back again. ‘All right, thanks. Can’t let it go to waste.’ Sally sips and licks froth from the top of her lip.

‘So I was wondering,’ I ask. ‘Can I get another two tickets for closing night?’

Sally freezes mid-sip and her eyes narrow. ‘I already got you two extras, remember?’

‘Yeah.’ I scrunch my lips apologetically. ‘Now I need another two.’

Sally sighs as she puts the coffee down. ‘Well, I can do two on Friday. Closing night is pretty much booked out.’

‘I really need these for Saturday night.’ Head tilted, eyes pleading.
Pretty please …

Sally shakes her head. ‘Sorry, Scarlett. Booked out means booked out.’

Shit. I check out the poster for the graduation performance on the wall behind her. Moss and Bruno could probably come on Friday, but Mum will be in the audience on closing night. Lots of people will, Paige’s parents, Izzy’s mum. If he comes on Saturday night, everyone will see him. They’ll see he came for
me
.

I lean over the bench again, and whisper, ‘What if I told you the tickets were for Moss Young?’

‘Moss Young?’ Her eyes widen. ‘Really?’

I nod, eyebrows raised. Sally bites a lip and then checks over her shoulder into Mr Winchester’s office. Empty. ‘Well, we keep some tickets spare in case of last-minute VIPs …’

I shrug a shoulder. ‘You can’t get much more VIP than this.’

‘Okay.’ She makes a note. ‘Moss Young and friend.’

‘No.’ Don’t like the sound of that. ‘Moss Young and Bruno O’Connell.’

She keeps writing. ‘All right. They’ll be at the door.’

‘Awesome! Thanks Sal, you’re a star!’

I leap up the stairs and keep running once I’m at the top. The future feels so close that I can taste it in the air. Fame. Freedom. So many possibilities. A dancing career …

Soon they’ll see who I really am. They’ll see that he cares about me.

It’s still early, but I check the caf, hoping to find someone from our group. Izzy often comes in around now. A few year nines and tens are talking in the corner. Grant’s alone at a table with his textbooks. Damn. I hesitate long enough for him to look up and see me. I can’t turn away. Besides, I’ve got news.

‘Guess who’s coming to closing night?’ I ask straight out, grinning.

He leans back in his chair. ‘Mickey Mouse?’

‘No, Moss Young.’ I’m smug and happy, and not bothering to hide it. ‘He’s coming to see
me
.’

‘Then I was right.’ Grant pushes a hand through his hair.

‘I wonder if there’ll be any media on the night,’ I say, ignoring his jokes. ‘Might be good for the Academy.’

Grant swallows. ‘Any publicity is good publicity, is that what you think?’

All right. I let out a sigh. ‘Yeah, I know Moss isn’t perfect. But there’s a lot of pressure on him. Everyone’s watching, expecting him to come up with the next big hit …’ Grant’s about to say something when Paige and Tadpole turn up, so I don’t give him the chance. ‘Guess who’s coming to closing night?’

‘No! Really? Moss Young’s coming?’ Tadpole drops his bag and pulls himself onto the table.

I grin up at him. ‘Yep. You’ll get to meet him. And his drummer.’ As I speak my eyes move to Paige. I can’t help checking her reaction.

She purses her lips but says, ‘That’s … good news, Scarlett.’

Tadpole leans towards me. ‘So Mum’s just finishing the beading on your costume. She said she’ll work all night if she has to. It’ll be ready for dress rehearsal tomorrow.’

‘Awesome. Tell her thanks.’ Everyone falls quiet. I scan the faces. ‘Only two more days,’ I say dramatically.

Grant scrunches his shoulder and lets out an ‘
eek
’.

‘We’re ready, though,’ says Paige. ‘Bring it on, I say.’

‘Yeah.’ I’m nodding when Izzy finally arrives.

‘Where’ve you been?’ asks Grant.

Izzy hitches her bag on her shoulder, standing beside the table. ‘I’ve been here for ages, actually, working in the library.’ She’s looking at me as she speaks.

I take the opportunity. ‘Guess who’s coming to closing night?’

‘Who?’

‘Moss Young,’ say Paige and Tadpole at the same time.

Creases appear on Izzy’s forehead. There’s a pained look in her eyes. ‘Have you seen the news this morning, Scarlett?’

‘No. Why?’

‘He was charged with possession of an illicit substance, a court appearance pending. Released early this morning.’ She speaks the words slowly.

‘What, last night?’ asks Grant and turns to me. ‘You said you were with him.’

I nod, then move into a shake, which turns into a confused kind of circular motion. ‘I left early.’

‘Were they doing drugs?’ asks Izzy.

‘I … I don’t know. I
said
I left early.’ For a moment, my eyes flicker to Grant.

‘But you see him all the time,’ says Tadpole. ‘You must have seen
some
signs …’

What can I say? ‘Yeah. It’s true. But it’s not like he’s a drug dealer or anything. He just has some stuff now and then. Everyone in the industry does.’

Izzy and Tadpole stare at me. It’s as if I’m the one who’s been charged. I check the clock. It’s nearly time for the bell, but I don’t care.

‘I’m going to the library,’ I say and stand up.

I’m not sticking around for any more questions.

Other than what Izzy already told me, there isn’t much online. It’s mostly speculation about how the charges might affect Moss’s new solo album, and how fans will respond. A blurry photo on the side of the screen shows Moss walking beside a police officer. A link on the edge of the page catches my eye:
Supermodel Kitty Hudson stands by her man.

My stomach flips. Before I’ve even had a chance to breathe I click through:

Speaking from a photo shoot on location in Saint Tropez, France, Kitty Hudson revealed that she would come home as soon as possible to support her new beau. Ms Hudson has previously remained tight-lipped about the relationship, but her publicist today confirmed that the couple have been dating for some time.