Date With A Rockstar (28 page)

“Speaking of that, how do I even know you're my real daughter? They messed up your sex. Maybe they messed up whose sperm they used.”

Wow. I'm almost going to cry. I clench my jaw. He does not deserve that much of a reaction. I turn away. He doesn't need my response. He has his own ideas, nothing I say will make any difference. I search the audience for Jeremy, but he must have left to get ready for the concert.

“No answer for that?”

I look back at him. My poor mother was married to that. “Honestly, I didn't know you existed, and now that I do, I don't even care.”

I walk across the stage to a raised seating area where Jasmine's watching the battle below. I can't believe they still haven't found anything in her past to bombard her with.

“Enjoying the show?” she taunts.

All this rage swirls around in the front of my skull. My asshole father, and now Jasmine. I take one look at her smug ass expression and my fist connects with her jaw.

There's a big thwack and her head tips back.

“You punched me. You fucking punched me?”

Huh. I look down at my burning knuckles and shake out my fingers. “Uh, yeah. I guess I did.” The audience is screaming and pointing at us. Finally someone cheers my name. My happiness lasts all of two minutes. One of the cameras picked us up and there it is on replay right in front of me.

“I want her arrested!” Jasmine screams to the security people. Instead, they smile at me.

How could I have lost it like that? Now I'm immortalized on TV for this. Shit. Then FBI agents swarm in from the back entrance. I freeze.

“She's right here!”

Jasmine points at me, but they run past me to the brawl.

“Brie Logan?”

The gambling clone looks up, takes in the approaching officers and sprints toward the audience. They chase after her. She's almost out of the room, but then more feds emerge from the door right in front of her.

She's down on the ground with her arms twisted behind her in seconds. “Brie Logan, you are under arrest for criminal tax evasion. You have the right to an attorney…”

The rest of the contestants still on the stage stare at the officers as they drag her away. Rod Bing steps out to the center of the stage, shaking his head and clapping his hands. “And that is a wrap.”

I should've known the show would go this far. Eleanor talks with Claire against the back wall and I make my way over.

“Can we just go home now?” Claire asks.

“Hey, did you forget about the concert?” Eleanor asks in an excited voice. Yeah, like that's going to make us feel better.

“And then in the following days those of you who aren't part of the final three will be giving opinions
about who Jeremy should select.” Eleanor smiles like we didn't just go through hell. “That way, if one of the girls has been a real bitch to the other contestants, they'll get a chance to return the favor.” I wonder if Eleanor knows how much we all hate Jasmine. She must have seen me punch her. No one in the room missed that replay.

Shelley joins us. “Final three? Isn't it four with Monet?”

“Nope. Since Brie will be in prison, she's out.”

I stare at Eleanor, waiting for a bit of remorse. “This feels awfully planned.”

She shrugs and points us toward the back exit of the studio. “Either way, the numbers work out.”

I can't believe these people. This time, when we leave the stage, we'd better actually get out of here.

“Jasmine! Come on.” I turn around and see Jasmine talking to a lady from the audience. Her jaw has a big red mark from where I hit her. I cringe. I'm more upset about losing my control than actually hurting her. Jasmine is borrowing the lady's phone and is bitching at someone on the other end. Probably her lawyer. Once again, I don't have any assets, so she should save herself the effort and not sue me.

We file out the back of the studio door. Artificial light from the city illuminates the dark gray clouds. Wind frizzes Jasmine's hair around the edges of her face. She catches me looking and glares.

We drive to Madison Square Garden. Fans line the sidewalk, screaming Jeremy's name. They press against the glass, vying for a glimpse of who's inside. I turn away from the smooshed noses and flip my hands over, flexing each finger. I'm an artist. I made my own money. I'm good enough to win this competition. Jeremy and I get along, we care about the same things, and I want him like crazy. The audience just didn't witness all the time Jeremy and I spent together.

The rain picked up while we were inside getting humiliated. I feel like the hurricane is chasing me down. I let the rain soak my beautiful dress as we step out of the limo in the back parking lot.

“Hurry up!” Claire grabs my wrist and drags me toward the door. Maybe she's worried I'll end up like Praline. The wind whips my hair back and forth, yanking out my misery.

4,310 votes. Hardly anyone believes I'm good enough to date Jeremy.

Red carpet, black tile, white tile. One foot in front of another. “You're all a sorry bunch,” Eleanor says. “I'm taking you to a concert, front row seats, not a funeral.”

I think her comment is particularly shitty after what happened to Praline, but I lift my head and try to take in the distant domed ceiling. Fake gold paint outlines the edges. The real metal would've been scraped off years ago. Once the government managed to pass a law giving them the right to use precious metal for expenses, they started harvesting everything. I bet The Metal Society would love to restore the room. My seat squeaks as I sit. I shiver and my teeth knock together. With my luck I'll be trampled to death when Jeremy arrives. I'll get one last glimpse of him before feet cover my head.

Claire nudges my arm. “Look at that.” She points to a man at the back of the stage talking into his earpiece. “He's holding a weather track pad.”

“So what?”

“Do you think they're going to cancel the concert?”

“That would suck. I mean, we should at least get our consolation prize.” The girl behind me kicks the back of my seat and I turn around to glare at her. She scrunches down and pulls her legs close.

On stage there's a raised platform with computer screens all plugged into a central mixer. All the
different colored wires coil on the ground, making Jeremy's spot look like a nest, or maybe an engine.

The general lighting dims and the central walkway illuminates from underneath with pinpoints of light. Screams fill the room as Jeremy jogs down the path. Red and blue beams of light hit under his jaw, accentuating the angles of his face. He's a god walking on top of a universe of stars. He raises his hands above his head when he reaches the stage. The shouting rings in my ears. A rainbow flickers over him as he removes a button-up shirt to reveal a very tight T-shirt underneath. I bite my lip. He's so perfect.

The arena goes into absolute darkness and the noise dies out in anticipation. In the black, the sound of a wave rushes over us and fills in with clear tings of notes. Individual, different, sad. His voice fills the space. “I found you in the sea/ Beauty cutting through me.” The lyrics are new.

When the lights come on, he's glowing in the center of his instruments, concentrating on the screens, flipping buttons and punching in code. He's so intense. I close my eyes for a minute and let the music transport me to his ocean. I'm the girl in the sea.

Jasmine leans forward in her seat at the end of the row. “Psst, Eleanor. I thought I was getting a special seat on stage for having the most votes.” I focus only on Jeremy's face and his rapidly moving hands. Eleanor doesn't acknowledge Jasmine's request.

After the song ends, an official-looking guy in a suit walks on stage. “Sorry to break the bad news, but the mayor has just posted a state of emergency for the entire city. So we're being forced to cut the concert short. The box office will be offering partial refunds of your tickets.”

“But we only heard one song!” a guy from behind yells.

Jeremy wants to keep playing. His lips move rapidly as he talks into his headset and he pushes buttons like he's getting ready to start the next song.

“Unfortunately, the storm is beyond my control. Have a good night, everyone.”

The electricity cuts off and Jeremy's screens go out. He strides across the stage and takes the mic. “I promise you this concert will be rescheduled for the next available time slot after the storm. All the proceeds will still be donated to the Global Skin Cancer Initiative.” The man motions him off the stage and his fists clench as he walks. I know how much he cares about getting money for the cause.

Claire turns to me as we stand. “At least we heard one song.”

I nod as the crowd behind us rushes to leave. Jeremy is exiting at the back of the stage. Derek notices me and jogs over as Jeremy steps through the curtain. “Monet, here.” He hands me a folded-up piece of paper and heads back toward the door Jeremy disappeared through.

I have to wait for the rest of the fans to file out before I can leave. I discreetly open the paper. A phone number and nothing else. I hope it's Jeremy's.

Eleanor stands under an umbrella, wide-eyed. “Hurry up. We're not supposed to be on the streets.”

The concert venue is only a few blocks from the hotel. They should've just made us walk. I leave a dripping trail into the hotel and up to my room. The door has been replaced. The candy wrappers have been removed. I sit on my bed and wait. I can't stop analyzing the show. My father being there, not caring about me. Jeremy did use his save card on me. That's something, but what does he want me for? The competition is ending and he has his whole rockstar lifestyle.

I'll give him an hour and then I'll call.

THE CLOCK ON the wall slowly counts down the time. I break at fifty-five minutes.

Ringing. Derek materializes on the desk. “Hey, Derek, is Jeremy there?”

“Monet!”

“Is Jeremy back from the concert yet?”

“Yeah, he's just getting in the door now. Hold on a sec.”

Derek fades out of range and Jeremy replaces him. Wet hair sticks to his forehead and he's breathing hard like he just ran in. “Are you okay?” His voice sounds anxious. “You looked so sad on the show. I swear to you, I had no idea they were setting all you girls up for a confrontation at the end.”

I tuck my hair behind my ears. “I'm okay. Just humiliated, you know? Not many people thought I would be very good for you.”

“That's not true.” Now he sounds pissed. “They don't know anything about you.”

I massage my shoulder and do a slow neck roll. “Maybe.”

“I'm coming to pick you up. Can you get away?”

“Yeah, with Praline in the hospital, no one will notice.”

“They told me. I still can't believe it.” He fades in and out. I only hear bits of the conversation he's having with Derek.

“Where are you?” I ask. Every few seconds the background of the image picks up his surroundings, and it doesn't look like the hotel.

“I have an apartment in New York. They finally let me go home.”

“Oh.”

“Do you want to come over for a few hours?”

I feel like shit but… “Yeah.”

“Meet me in front of the hotel in ten minutes. I'll be in a brown car. Just come right over, okay? I don't want anyone else to see me.”

“Okay.”

He clicks off.

I'm sick. Overloaded. Up one minute, down the next. I pull out a change of clothes from my tote bag, but decide to just take the whole thing with me. It's not like I have a lot of possessions, anyway.

I wait on the sidewalk, still in the purple dress, letting the storm coat me. I'll probably have to return it in the morning. A gust of wind knocks me to one knee. When the brown car pulls up, I almost don't believe it.

“Shit, Monet. You could've waited inside.” He reaches across the seat and rubs the goose bumps on my arm. With his hands off the steering wheel, the car slips into a low idle.

“The rain felt nice.”

He shakes his head. “It's a frigging hurricane out there. State of emergency, remember? The eye should be over New York by morning.”

“Yeah.” I should ask about the other girls. Find out if he wants to be in a relationship with one of us, or if this is all for fun. Even if he said he did want me, that wouldn't even be possible if I'm in Boston and he's
traveling all over. Maybe he knows that there can't be anything long-term between us.

“Come here.” He pulls me over the center console and rubs his hands up and down my back, creating friction. I try not to flinch when he rubs over the Fluxem marks. I'm shaking in his arms, but I think it's proximity and shock rather than cold. I need to accept this moment with him and not worry so much.

“Shhh, it's okay.” He runs his fingers along a strand of wet hair, then pulls my head tight against his chest. “You're so cold.” His heart beats into my ear and I don't feel cold anymore. He kisses the top of my head, and when he sighs the noise vibrates in his chest.

“Oh, Monet.” He holds my head in his hands and pulls back enough to look at me. His brow crinkles with worry. He softly kisses my eyelids and then releases me. He punches in coordinates on the steering wheel and the car slides out into traffic. The car drives itself, but you're supposed to monitor the vehicle the entire time. Occasionally, there are glitches in the system. The rain hits the windshield, cutting visibility down to nothing, but the car continues on without being affected.
If this is the end, I'll be so sad. Don't think about it.

“My apartment here in New York isn't much. I have nicer places, but housing is hard to find in the city.” He drums his fingers on the top of the steering wheel nervously, which is silly considering I live in a hundred-square-foot apartment.

“I'm sure it's the height of luxury compared to my house.” He raises his eyebrows like he doesn't quite believe me and then glances back at the road.