Every Pearl Has Its Oyster (15 page)

For the first time ever, Gemma could see Andro’s energy begin to drain. The sun had been up for a little over two hours and they were still the only car parked in the circular entryway of the Oro Records building. The building valet had arrived and was set up and ready to go. Gemma was sure it’d be any moment now that she’d see Cliff’s car pull in and his white wing-tipped feet swing out of his black Bentley.

Gemma would have made Andro take her to Cliff’s home if she knew where he lived, but since it wasn’t an option, camping out in front of Oro seemed the next best thing. Zoe and Harper had even joined her, though they passed out sometime before sunrise in their crinkled dresses. Anger-fueled adrenaline kept Gemma awake and alert well past everyone else’s breaking point. Andro tried to reason with her, interchanging between a tough and sympathetic approach throughout the night to see which might work. When hours passed and everything failed to coax her home, he sent James to take Zoe and Harper back, conceding to accompanying Gemma on her stakeout, however reluctantly.

To Gemma’s surprise, the first familiar car to pull into the entryway was not Cliff’s. Instead, it seemed James had returned in his black SUV with Perrin sitting in the passenger seat.

“Shit,” Gemma muttered at the ceiling. She should have realized that the bodyguard employed by Oro would tattle on her. She groaned as she heard Perrin’s heels getting closer until she appeared in Gemma’s window.

“Open the door,” Perrin demanded, standing with arms akimbo. “Please.” Gemma looked her over, seeing an unusually makeup-free Perrin. It looked like she had rolled out of bed and straight into a sweater dress before calling James to get her. Gemma opened the door. She shivered, unable to tell if the chill was from the early morning air or Perrin’s icy demeanor.

“Why are you angry?” Gemma seethed, glaring at Perrin with all the emotion that had pent up in her hours waiting. “Isn’t it your job to protect me from bullshit like this?” She shoved the magazine into Perrin’s hands. Surprisingly, she didn’t bother looking down at what had been given to her.

“I meant to tell you earlier,” Perrin said. Gemma’s eyes widened, her throat burning.

“You knew about this? For how long?”

“Bee, you missed an important meeting,” Perrin explained. “You had a chance to give your own statement and get your own opinions in for consideration.”

“Consideration? Perrin, you were supposed to be on my side, working for me,” Gemma scoffed. “But you haven’t even bothered to learn who I really am before deciding it wasn’t enough for your career.”

Perrin sighed, crossing her arms. Right as she began to respond, Cliff’s car came through the entryway. He stepped out, looking surprised at the scene before him as he handed his keys to the valet.

“Thank God you’re here,” Perrin said, walking to him. “She somehow got an advanced copy or something of the cover story and she’s very upset, I didn’t get a chance to talk to her about the whole situation – that’s on me, I’m very sorry about that, Cliff.”

“Don’t be sorry, we did what we had to do,” Cliff said, shrugging nonchalantly as he took his aviators off to study Gemma’s stone cold face. “What exactly are you upset about?”

“I told you from day one that this isn’t me. You may not know who I am but I know who I am and I’m not a girl like Romy. I couldn’t be more embarrassed that you called this whole stupid charade more authentic than she is. How dare you even choose that word to describe this ridiculous getup you’re trying to push on me?”

“Please,” Cliff laughed, sardonically. “You’re going to question the word ‘authentic’ when you’ve made a career out of hiding behind pounds of makeup, wigs and disguises? That worked for us then but now that you’ve gone off and destroyed the mystique, it’s time for all of us to move on and whether you like it or not, girls like Romy are the ‘It Girls’ right now and if you want to compete then that’s what you have to do.”

“Well maybe I don’t want to compete,” Gemma said. Cliff’s sarcastic smile dropped. His brows furrowed. Perrin’s cold demeanor snapped. Even Andro seemed to be paying attention from inside the car.

“What are you talking about?” Perrin cackled, slapping her hand to her forehead. She was reaching a breaking point, a rare sight in her all-business, all-the-time attitude. “You do realize there is no other option, right?”

“But there is,” Gemma replied. “There is another option. And you know what it is.”

“If you are saying what I think you’re saying…” Perrin sucked air in through her teeth, rubbing her temples.

“Bee, you’ll lose everything,” Cliff said. “Your contract has it so that you’d lose the rights to all your music. You’d be responsible for the debt the company has accrued in doing business with you and you’ll be fined heavily enough that you can say goodbye to your tricked out security team and all the little luxuries you’re enjoying now.”

“Okay,” Gemma replied. “I guess that means I should let you go too then, right Perrin?” Perrin stared at her, mouth agape.

“You are making a huge mistake, Bee,” Perrin exclaimed. “You will be losing everything you’ve ever made for yourself. All your music, all your work, everything goes to Oro. You’ll be left with nothing. You’ll be nothing.”

Gemma shrugged, opening the passenger door of Andro’s car. “Honestly, I could use a little bit of nothing in my life right now.”

~

It wasn’t until the sky turned dark that Gemma even thought to look down at her hands. Her fingers weren’t as pruney as she thought they’d be for having been submerged in water since the early evening. It was past 8PM now. She was going on her third straight hour of just sitting in Tyler’s infinity pool, staring out at the sparkling view of downtown L.A.

“Gemma? Are you in here?”

The voice coming from inside the house belonged to her Aunt Mira. She turned her head, staring at the door and waiting to see her aunt’s face, which she hadn’t seen since her wedding to Harper’s dad. Gemma was excited, even thrilled to see her, but the emotions refused to manifest on her face. Perhaps because she knew that Mira wouldn’t have booked the last minute flight from New York were it not for the fact that she’d just gotten herself dropped from her label. She had quit, left one of the biggest music groups in the industry along with the rights to her entire Makeup album. The tour was all but canceled. She wasn’t sure what that meant for the millions of dollars worth of tickets sold, aside from the disappointment it would cause in the nearly hundred cities spanning from Mexico to Japan.

“Gemma.”

Her aunt’s voice came from above her now. Gemma blinked up, managing a smile at how beautiful Mira looked despite the worry in her eyes. Her blonde hair was sun-streaked and her face glowing with a perfectly golden tan from honeymooning in the Amalfi Coast. Gemma was glad that her own career troubles hadn’t completely reversed the rest and relaxation she’d finally gotten with her new husband.

“Aunt Mira. You look so pretty.”

“So do you, sweetheart. Or I’m sure you did before you decided to go swimming in Vera Wang.”

Gemma blinked down at her floating chiffon dress, its abstract print illuminating the water with splashes of indigo and pink. Oh. Whoops. She apparently hadn’t bothered taking it off before going for a dip in the pool. She actually didn’t really remember how she’d even gotten into the pool – all she recalled was getting home and wandering the house aimlessly before reaching the window. There, she looked out at the flat, glimmering water extending into the cloudless sky. In all the time that she’d lived in Tyler’s Hollywood Hills estate, she hadn’t once dipped a toe in the beautiful infinity pool. She’d never once felt relaxed enough to put aside a full hour just for swimming.

Of course, since storming out of the Oro Records offices, she suddenly felt as if she had all the time in the world.

“So. You left your label.” Mira removed her suede cork wedges and folded up the ends of her linen pants. She lowered herself to the edge of the pool and dipped her feet in. “Is it sinking in?”

“Slowly,” Gemma murmured, wading in the water. She looked up at Mira. “Are you mad?”

“No. Do I look it?”

“You look worried.”

“Because I found you wearing all your clothes in a pool. I’m not worried about Oro because there will be plenty of other labels who’ll want to swoop in on you when they hear about this.” Mira paused, shrugging her shoulders nonchalantly. “It’s just a matter of whether or not you want to entertain their offers and continue as Queen Bee.”

Gemma’s eyes fluttered with confusion. “What?” She gripped the edge of the pool, her lips forming a bunch of different sentences before settling on one. “Are you telling me I should give up my singing career?”

Mira answered evenly. “No, I’m asking you if you remember what you love about it. I know that you’ve enjoyed it as an outlet for expression, but now that it’s become the opposite, I’m not sure if you have that same kind of passion.”

“But it’s what I’m supposed to do. It’s my career…”

“That you chose at the age of fourteen. Well, actually – that I chose for you at the age of fourteen.”

“I know, but – ” Gemma felt obligated to argue, but she couldn’t think of anything to say. All that came out of her mouth was a little laugh – one of disbelief over how young she’d truly been when Queen Bee first launched as a popstar. She couldn’t deny that aside from playing dress-up in haute couture and NARS cosmetics, skipping school was actually the other main thrill of her budding career. She wouldn’t miss it and it wouldn’t miss her. She’d been quiet in school, mostly unnoticed and often forgotten in the girls academy that she attended in Manhattan’s Upper East Side. She’d had a different group of friends every year starting from middle school. In sixth grade, it was a clique of quiet, artsy girls whose idea of fun was drawing on sketchpads at The Met or Central Park. The following year, Gemma began hanging out with the theater girls, a boisterous group of comediennes who fondly deemed her the “token quiet one.” Finally, in eighth grade, Gemma spent her time toiling in the background of a group of shallow, bossy girls who had reeled her in to get closer to Gavin, whom by then had become a well-known party boy in the Upper East Side. Gemma, meanwhile, was his polar opposite: quiet, insecure and too shy to let anyone even know that she loved to sing, dance and play dress up.

That was when Queen Bee came in. Upon discovering her musical talents, Mira and her team gave Gemma a masked popstar persona and the opportunity to embrace who she was otherwise too shy to be – someone who sang her heart out, danced for the world and exhibited her lively spirit with jaw-dropping couture that she handpicked by piece. Disguised, she was as fearless and unabashed as Gavin. She was able to tap into the other side of herself – the artistic, outgoing and theatrical side, the one that she had only recently learned to combine with the rest of herself to become a perfect blend of Gemma and Bee. A full, real and confident person whom she’d been thrilled to show her fans after getting past the Elizabeth incident – though of course, Oro had something entirely different planned for her.

And it wasn’t personal. It was business. They weren’t interested in what Gemma had to say – they just wanted her to make them money. Why didn’t I leave them earlier, really? Gemma wondered. As Damian had said to her, she’d come too far in understanding herself to let anyone else try to change her. If Oro or even the rest of the music industry couldn’t come to terms with that, she’d simply have to find a new way to express herself to her adoring fans.

“Gemma.”

Gemma blinked water from her eyes. Mira had splashed her to snap her out of her trance.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” Mira asked. “Are you feeling okay?”

Gemma nodded. The droplets of water fell from her lashes back into the pool. “Actually,” she smiled. “I feel great.”

BREAKING: QUEEN BEE DROPPED FROM LABEL

The Pop Source

October 4th

Shocking news came out of Oro Records yesterday when they announced that megastar Queen Bee has been dropped from the label. Though the label has yet to issue a statement, Bee’s former manager (and aunt) Mira Hunter confirmed that Bee is “no longer signed with Oro Records due to conflicting views on her identity as an artist.” Additionally, Hunter has contested the quotes allegedly made by Bee in this month’s issue of Pitch Magazine, in which the singer bashes rival artist Romy. According to Hunter, the interview is “one hundred percent fabricated” along with its allegedly photoshopped cover.

With her world tour now canceled, fans are confused and outraged. Since 10AM this morning, Queen Bee fans – or as they call themselves, “Honeybees” – have stormed the sidewalks outside of Oro Records to protest their beloved artist’s abrupt release from the label.

There is no word yet on Bee’s next step and whether she will opt to sign with a rival label. The only development since this stunning bombshell is that Perrin Davies has resigned from her duties as Queen Bee’s publicist and manager.

On her own, Gemma couldn’t feel more at peace with her decision. Gone with her contract with Oro Records were Andro and James. Without them, the house suddenly felt different. Mike was with Tyler at work, which meant that during the day, her home actually felt like a home. Gemma couldn’t remember the last time she was truly alone. It was a foreign feeling and despite being slightly uncomfortable with it at first, it soon began to feel like a luxury she had never had.

Unfortunately, no one else seemed to see it that way. Zoe and Harper checked in via text more frequently than they used to and Leah and Kate began sending emails with inspirational passages and quotes.

Tyler was making a specific effort to get home earlier and earlier each night, often arriving with flowers and chocolates or private chefs and candlelit dinners. She wished she could appreciate how pleasant it – how pleasant he was – but she knew it was because he feared she was alone all day on the brink of depression and mourning over the death of her career. No amount of insistence could seem to convince anyone that she hadn’t once felt slightly regretful of her decision – that it was no death at all. If anything, it was the birth of a clean slate.