Fifteen Minutes: A Novel (27 page)

The faith of her father.

The cast and crew of
Fifteen Minutes
was in the midst of the quiet period, a time for learning group numbers and preparing for the debut of the live shows. The feeling was a little like summer camp. She and Cal used to go every summer with their church group. Like camp, the break allowed camaraderie to run deep and spirits to run high. Everyone was on equal footing and anything was possible. On the days when the top twenty weren’t busy perfecting the live show, they made appearances around New York City. The
Today
show had them perform two group numbers and they appeared on Letterman and Leno. The publicity was at an all-time high, and Kelly loved the distraction.

But when they were back at the leased studio across the street from Carnegie Hall, when she had time to sit and actually think about her life and her father and the little time they had left, the memories came. Kelly couldn’t stop them. And gradually, one day at a time, they were changing her.

It was late Monday night, eight days into the most intense rehearsals. The contestants were on the makeshift warehouse stage—all twenty of them. Carnegie Hall had only been reserved for the group auditions and live shows. Rehearsals were here. The choreographer was one of the best in the world, responsible for Beyoncé’s last Super Bowl and Katy Perry’s world tour. Kelly sat watching with Chandra and Cullen.

The choreographer, Demetrius Davidson, clapped, clearly in a hurry. “Okay, come on. Everyone in your lines. That’s two lines, people.” Demetrius put his hands on his hips. “And . . .” He pointed at three guys sitting at a soundboard. “Music!” Over the
blare of the song, the choreographer shouted again. “Five, six, seven, eight.” He clapped to the beat as all twenty contestants launched into the moves.

Cullen leaned near Kelly and Chandra. He spoke loud enough so they could hear him. “We need two more weeks.”

“They’ll be fine.” Chandra nodded at the stage. “I see enough dancers out there to carry the left feet.”

“Maybe.” Cullen stroked his chin as he settled back into the long leather sofa. The producers had rented comfortable furniture for the judges and enough sofas for the contestants to use during breaks. It felt like a glorified clubhouse.

Even the lighting was conducive to what would eventually be the polished live show.

“Cut . . . cut it!” The instructor waved off the music and moved onto the stage to two girls. They looked terrified. “Have you
never
seen a pivot turn?”

One of the girls bravely spoke first. “Not before tonight.”

“Really?” Demetrius looked at her, then back at the three judges. He raised his voice. “Really?”

Cullen laughed out loud. “You’re the magician. Make it happen.”

The music stayed off while those who understood the dance helped those who didn’t have a clue. Kelly let her eyes settle on Zack. He was helping one of the guys in the back row, a big farm boy from Iowa with a voice as deep as a storm cellar.
Good luck
. Kelly covered her mouth, careful to keep her laughter hidden. The farm boy wasn’t going to be a dancer. But the kids were trying, she had to give them that.

Especially Zack. Kelly still watched him. How different would he be at the end of the season? And what if he won? Maybe Chandra was right that the fame and celebrity would
change him. As Kelly pondered that from the comfort of her corner on the couch, a lead production assistant stormed up to Zack. Whatever the guy said, he pointed at Zack and then motioned him over to Zoey.

A hush fell over the room and the cameramen took a break. The judges weren’t sitting close enough to hear every word, but whatever had been exchanged, Zack looked surprised. He said something in response and nodded to the farmer. This time the assistant took a step closer, clearly upset. “Look, Zack, you’ll do it our way or you can sit this one out.”

Chandra and Cullen were also drawn to the drama onstage. The assistant stormed back to his place at the side of the stage and cued the cameras. When the music resumed, Zack danced next to Zoey. Someone else had been assigned to the farmer.

Kelly blinked a few times. “Did that just happen?”

“I believe it did.” Cullen crossed one leg over his knee. He chuckled. “Better bloke than me, letting some bludge assistant tell him what to do.”

“Wow. I guess I didn’t know they were that serious about the Romeo and Juliet thing.” Kelly stood and walked slowly to the edge of the stage. She stayed in the shadows so the contestants wouldn’t notice her, as close as possible to the spot where Zack and Zoey danced together.

The music stopped and Zoey looked up at Zack. She mouthed the words “I’m sorry.” Her expression showed her helplessness. In response, he put his arm around her and gave her a brief hug.

Kelly couldn’t hear what he said but she didn’t have to. She was suddenly angry. She marched over to the side stage where the production assistants were clustered. The lead guy turned to her as she approached. “Kelly, what’s up?”

“Them.” She pointed at Zack and Zoey. “Are we that desperate for ratings?”

“It’s not coming from me.” The guy looked tight-lipped. “Boss says they’re a couple. America will love ’em. Nothing this adorable since Justin and Kelly on
Idol
.”

“That’s crazy. They’re not a couple.”

“The kiss says otherwise.” He shrugged. “Anything these contestants say or do will be on the show.”

“That’s lousy.” She turned her attention to the stage. The group was running through the number again. Zack and Zoey were still together. She glared at the PA. “Things happen on a show like this. It’s all fantasy, you know that.”

“Exactly.” He chuckled, clearly unconcerned. “And the fantasy this time around is Zack and Zoey.”

Kelly stared at him, not sure what to say. How could Samuel Meier feel good about manipulating people? Was this what celebrity had come to?
Fifteen Minutes
creating situations and relationships for ratings? The producers would present whatever picture they wanted, and the public would eat it up. The show turned people into stars for the sake of ratings and profit. Something about that was plain old ugly.

“I’ll talk to Samuel.” She crossed her arms and looked from the PA to the dance floor and back. She searched his face. Then she took a step closer. “It isn’t
real
.”

“Well, Ms. Morgan”—he took a step closer, obviously not threatened by her—“the cameras say it
is
. For a show like
Fifteen Minutes
that’s all that matters.”

T
hey had ten minutes before dance rehearsal started up again, and Zack had just one way he wanted to use the time. If he didn’t call Reese soon she was bound to worry. Especially with all the talk on the Internet about him and Zoey. Tweets from the other contestants, hints on the show’s website that a romance was budding. He needed to talk to Reese tonight. Right now. He slipped out the main entrance into the dark of the night, intent on heading to the coffee shop across the street.

But blocking his way were eight bodyguards.

“Hey, guys.” He hesitated.

“Zack. How’s it going?” The group nodded and greeted him.

He pointed to the Starbucks across the street. “Anyone want coffee?”

“Hold up.” The biggest in the group took a step closer, concerned. “You’re not going anywhere. The public’s figured it out. They know y’all are rehearsing here.”

“Oh.” Zack hadn’t considered that. “Okay, then. I’ll be right back.” He raised his brow, looking for approval. “Is that all right?”

“Definitely not.” The first bodyguard lowered his eyebrows. “One fan spots you and it’s a madhouse. Bedlam. We don’t wanna mess with that.”

The other bodyguards muttered their agreement.

“If you absolutely must go, one of us goes with you.” It was the biggest guy again. “Either that or you stay here. One of us can get the coffee.”

“I’ll do it.” The shortest of the group slipped his hands in his pockets and moved a step toward the street. “What do you want?”

“Uh . . .” Zack’s head was spinning.
Time alone. Time away from Zoey Davis. The chance to think. Reese Weatherly.
He didn’t voice his thoughts. The bodyguard was waiting. Zack cleared his throat. “Uh . . . how about a grande black tea with an inch of cream? Is that okay?”

“Definitely. Got it.” The man jogged to the intersection and crossed at the green light.

Like being hit by a gust of hurricane-force wind, the truth took his breath. He could no longer cross the street for a cup of hot tea in New York City. People might see him, recognize him. They could even mob him. Even as he processed this, a crowd of people headed in their direction. The big guard pointed to the door well. “Stay there. We’ve got you covered.”

Zack did as he was told. He hunkered in against the inset brick door while the guys formed a wall around the entrance. They were an intimidating presence, for sure. They looked like the starting offensive line for the New York Jets. Four of them were assigned to Chandra; the other four split time between protecting Kelly and Cullen and the contestants. Together they
provided a force no one dared think about crossing. True professionals, they kept their posture casual, talking among themselves so they wouldn’t draw attention to Zack.

The crowd walked closer—some sort of tour group wearing the same blue stickers on their shirts. As they neared, many of them peered at the building, trying to see what was behind the line of bodyguards. But the door was set far enough back from the sidewalk that Zack remained shrouded in shadows. He watched, eyes wide. This was crazy. Did he actually need protection from strangers? Did that mean he’d somehow made it?

He wasn’t sure whether to be scared or excited.

“Hey! I think
Fifteen Minutes
rehearses there! I saw it on Twitter!” A teenage girl’s shrill voice rose above the others and the group slowed. She jumped around, pointing at the bodyguards. “We should ask if they’ll let us in.”

An older woman—the girl’s mother maybe—pushed her way through the throng. She tapped one of the bodyguards on the shoulder. Until then they had seemed unaware, but now they faced the crowd, shoulders touching.

“Hi.” The woman smiled. “Is this where
Fifteen Minutes
rehearses? My daughter saw something about it.”

“This is a private business, ma’am.” He didn’t smile. “I’m afraid I can’t answer questions.”

The girl squealed and covered her mouth. “It is! It has to be!” She put both hands in the air and gave a short scream. “I wanna meet Zack Dylan, please! Can we go in just for half a minute? I’m in love with him. Please?”

“We won’t be long.” The mother took a step closer, trying to see between two of the bodyguards. “We’ll stay in the back and watch for a minute. No longer.”

“Ma’am.” The bodyguard’s tone was stern. He crossed his arms, his chest puffed out. “No one may enter the building without clearance.”

“There has to be another way in.” The girl wasn’t taking no for an answer. She pulled her phone from her purse and began snapping photos of the bodyguards.

Watching from the doorwell, Zack pressed himself into the far corner. His heart pounded as the moment played out. He stayed quiet while the bodyguards dashed the girl’s hopes of getting into the building. Finally—reluctantly—the group moved on. “They’ll be back.” The tallest bodyguard shook his head. “People are crazy.”

“Girls are craziest.” Another of the guards laughed. “Always amazes me.”

One of the guys turned around and pointed at Zack. “See that? You stay close to the building. No getting coffee on your own, understand?”

“Yes, sir.” Zack felt adrenaline work through his veins. He exhaled and slumped against the warm brick. His break was half over. If he called Reese now, he wouldn’t have time to talk. Not the sort of conversation the two of them needed. He took a deep breath and made a decision. In a hurry he dialed his parents’ number.

“Hello?” Grandpa Dan answered.

“Hi! This is Zack.” He felt his throat tighten. What was he doing standing in a dirty door well in New York City behind a bunch of bodyguards? Why wasn’t he back in Kentucky with the people he loved? He swallowed hard, searching for his voice. “How . . . are you, Grandpa?”

“Worried.” A pause followed. “Son, what’s this about some other girl?”

“It’s nothing.” Zack wondered if he’d responded too quickly. “She’s on the show with me. We’re friends. That’s all.”

More hesitation. “Son . . . have you thought about how Reese might feel?”

“Yes.” He stopped there, defeated. He couldn’t defend himself. The show had taken all his time, and the insanity had thrown him and Zoey together constantly. She needed him. He tried to find the right words. “They’re keeping us very busy. Please . . . tell Reese I’m sorry. I’ll . . . I’ll make things right when this is all over.”

“Be careful.” Grandpa Dan sounded sad. Like he could cry. “This show, don’t let it change who you are.” His voice was scratchy. “What you believe.”

Zack squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. “I won’t. I’m trying, Grandpa. Please pray for me, okay?” He needed to know his grandpa was praying. His own time spent praying was a fraction of what it had been. He hadn’t found time to talk about his faith after the last group performance, and lately he could go all day and not think about praying until his head hit the pillow.