The Unexpected Life of Carnegie Lane (8 page)

The rest of the week rolled around quickly and before she even gave it a thought, it was nearly over. Friday was always a good day. To Carnegie, it was the success of surviving another week… Another week closer to something new, another week further away from what tore her apart. Drinking her coffee out the back and enjoying the sun rise, she wondered if she should email Nate Bowman, perhaps to pressure him a little and see if he had any answers from his sister yet. Although she realized that the world of publishing was a slow and tedious one, she had also hoped for some word by now.

There were other agents she could contact, although every one of them would be second choice. He also had her curious, as to why he had persisted to the point of calling her. Was her book really that good? Or was a world class musician the only person on the planet who thought that way? There was time left before those kids would be up, so she decided to check her email, just in case something had come through during the night.

In the sanctuary of her room, she booted up her trusty computer. It was almost like an acknowledgement between friends; an electronic “hello” as she was greeted with the familiar beeps and buzzes indicating that her memory was talking to her hard drive. Then she waited as the way
too many
applications and software programs slowly but surely, took over the operation of her computer. Finally, she logged in to her email. It was empty, and that was exactly the way it made her feel.

She bit the bullet and began to write an email to Nate. Hoping, as he had asked, to keep the lines of communication going. She sat there, starting and deleting at least a dozen times. Suddenly she felt unworthy, to communicate with him, not able to find words that even made sense. It was as if finding out who he really was and seeing him in action put him strangely above her. Time slipped away and finally she stopped trying and left the email open, waiting until her children were out of the house and on their way to school before she continued. Somewhere between the peanut butter sandwiches, the carefully peeled oranges that wrapped back around the fruit in one long connecting line, the date slice, and the breakfast toast, she would find the magical words she needed to continue this friendship on the same even path it had been five days before.

She chased Sienna around the lounge room with the hair brush. It had become more than a morning ritual. It was a necessary exercise in this home that allowed the day to continue without change. It was while she was sorting out Connor that the older two made a break for her bedroom. Both of them were amazed that the very thing they were after was staring back at them from the computer screen. To them, it was as if fate had made the call. They scribbled down the private email address of Nate Bowman. Then they not-so-innocently scampered out of the room and quickly into their own, acknowledging between them the priceless information they held in their hand.

As quickly as the morning gauntlet had begun, it ended. Kids were gone, house was trashed and life went on exactly the same. Carnegie cleaned up the toast that had been dropped on the floor, and found small droplets of jam on the wall behind the kitchen table that Connor had placed on the handle of his spoon, using the main end as a platform for his thumb to create a projectile food weapon. Clearly it had been aimed at his sister, although the lack of screaming meant that he missed. She turned on her stereo, flashed back to Billy Idol, and once again, began to dance and sing her way through the day.

The door bell rang at about 10.30am that Friday morning. The music was so loud, she almost missed it. Turning down the stereo, Carnegie Lane made her way to the door, and greeted the postman who had in his hand an international registered letter in an A4 folder. She signed for it. Her heart racing, she decided to savor this moment, regardless of how that moment turned out. Carnegie made herself a cup of coffee, and sat at her kitchen table. Slowly and carefully she opened the package. The letter inside was on think creamy bond paper, with a beautiful embossed letter head. She began reading the letter, that spoke encouragingly of her work. By the time she finished, she was in tears.

Katalie Bowman had signed it by hand, and had agreed to be her agent. Carnegie’s story was now represented and once she signed the enclosed agreement, they would begin the task of feeding her book to the appropriate publishers. As much as the representation made her happy, she also knew she had just found the opening line to her next email for Nate Bowman. Suddenly, Carnegie Lane was a little more creatively credible than she was, an hour ago.

-----Original Message-----

From: Carnegie Lane ([email protected])

To: Nate Bowman ([email protected])

Sent: Fri, 18, June 2010 10:05 am

Subject: I’VE BEEN ACCEPTED !

Hi Nate,

Just wanted to say, thanks for the phone call the other day. It may have created a frenzy here although it was entertaining to watch. It made my day. Not to mention my daughters.

Now for the good news, no… GREAT NEWS!.. My manuscript has been accepted by your sister. She is going to represent me! How fantastic is that! Well, you’re the only one I have to tell, so you’re getting my celebration email! Hope you have a great day/night/afternoon/whatever depending on where you are right now. Talk soon. :D

Carnegie!

PS. YAY!

Nate Bowman was in Germany, staying at The Regent Hotel in Berlin. It was 2.30 in the morning and he was attempting to sleep. His blackberry went off, he chose not to ignore it. Reaching over, he opened the new email message. A smile crept over his face as he read it. He also felt an overwhelming joy, not only that Carnegie knew now what he already knew, but she’d also sent him an email. It was like a little win. He had waited until she made the next move on this interesting little friendship that was developing and was pleased he didn’t have to wait that long. He decided to email back straight away.

-----Original Message-----

From: Nate Bowman ([email protected])

To: Carnegie Lane ([email protected])

Sent: Fri, June 18, 2010 2:27 am

Subject: RE: I’VE BEEN ACCEPTED !

Carnegie that is great news! I’m so happy that you know! Your story is really good, I can’t tell you how much I loved it, and now

I don’t have it in front of me I miss it. I really enjoyed talking to you the other day, I even loved the noise in the background. It reminded me of when I grew up, the sound of family. Kat is really excited to represent you, in fact she is on her way here in the morning. I am in Germany at the moment, it’s cold and I can’t sleep. Your email is a welcome distraction. We are touring Australia in late July. You are in Bundaberg yes? Queensland so that’s Brisbane if my geography serves me right. I will arrange passes and tickets for all of you and we will catch up. I can’t wait to meet my almost famous Author.

Have a great day

Nate x

He sent off that email without hesitation. He also sent another one to his tour organizer and personal assistant, asking them to set aside five back stage passes and concert tickets for Carnegie Lane and family to the three shows in Brisbane. He thought about it for a second, then added more onto the message. He also asked that two rooms be booked at the same hotel on the same floor reserved for her.

Even though his time was limited, in between concerts, TV interviews, publicity and marketing shots and all the radio shows, Nate Bowman was determined to spend a little time with her and those children, one way or the other.

Can you hear them, they talk about us

Telling lies well that’s no surprise

Can you see them see right through them

They have no shield no secrets to reveal

Doesn’t matter what they say

In the jealous games people play

Our lips are sealed

“
Our lips are sealed”

Written by Jane Wiedlin and Terry Hall

The Go-Go’s – Beauty and the Beat Album –1981

6

Katalie
arrived at Tegel Airport in Berlin at 10.20 am local time. She was greeted by a driver who took her bags and walked her to the car, which had been arranged by her brothers’ assistant. They pulled up twenty five minutes later out the front of the Regent Hotel. She unloaded her stuff, noting the small camp of dedicated fans that had moved onto the sidewalk. They were declaring it a permanent camp site, just in case they got a fleeting glimpse of their favorite rock star.

Luckily for her, they had no clue who she was. It was amazing the hate that you can receive, just for knowing Nate Bowman, let alone being a relation, a personal assistant, or god forbid…a new girlfriend. If he was ever photographed with a woman, the fans on various blog sites would debate the poor girl, and then make the executive decision to either write her off completely, or allow the relationship to continue.

In their eyes, the choice wasn’t his to make, it was theirs. If they didn’t like the choice it was on, and in would go the petition to dump her and pick them, as a clear and obvious successor above the other. It was hard enough for the girls who were used to some degree of media attention, let alone those that had never had to suffer in the wake of it.

After the formalities at the front desk, Kat made her way to her brothers’ room with her key and walked in unannounced. Nate was up, although just. He’d had a rather sleepless night. Time Zone jumping brought you to the eventual space of a totally destroyed body clock. He would be up all night, and then feel tired at 3 pm, right when a sound check was ready. By 6 pm he would be insufferably exhausted and his body clock would send some adrenaline to boost him through a concert.

By the time the concert was over, he would be wide awake, regardless of the sleep deprivation and the entire thing would go full circle again. Sleep to Nate Bowman, was sometimes worth more than his own weight in gold. Today he was lucky, there were no interviews to go to, no radio show that needed him, only a sound check at 4 pm and his final concert in Berlin before they made their way to Italy the following day.

“You look shocking.” Katalies’ first words to her brother wasn’t quite what he was expecting.

“Thanks Kat, you look great.” He replied, showing her he cared.

Katalie giggled a little. “That’s because I sleep.”

“What’s sleep?” He replied as he threw himself down on his lounge, closing his eyes for just a moment.

Katalie went and sat down next to her brother, rubbing his feet gently.

“Oh, don’t stop that’s so good…” He muttered from his in between sleep and awake world.

“You should get a massage, it’s just what you need. What do you have to do today?” She asked with concern, recognizing the degree of exhaustion her brother was suffering.

“Nothing… day’s clear.”

“Good. Let’s just stay here and watch movies. I’ll order room service if you like. Have you eaten?” She was becoming her mother and she knew it.

After all these years of Nate looking after her, it was now her turn to look after him a little.

“You order, I’ll just lie here, and pretend I’m sleeping for a while.” Nate rolled over and got himself comfortable. Kat started pouring over the room service menu, hoping that she could include a couple of wheatgrass shots for him. He certainly needed something.

Everything was peaceful. He was resting and room service was on its way. Somewhere in his mind, lost in between a myriad of stuff, was Carnegie Lane. Somewhere in hers, hiding behind a wall of children, housework and genuine happiness for her future career, was Nate Bowman. It was never supposed to be a complicated thing. Sadly, it was about to become just that.

Nate’s blackberry began to beep, it was incoming mail. It was almost relentless. One after the other came piling in. The email address that synced up to his phone, was his private one. Only personal emails from close friends and family. The rest went to his secretary, or assistant. He rolled over, and picked up his phone, wondering who was sending him a million things. To his horror, it was fans. Somehow, someone had his personal email address and was abusing it for all it was worth. He began to read through all the dribble until he found a link, someone to relate them back to. Someone who he would personally abuse when he had the chance. Then he saw it. The message read:

How do you know Olivia Lane?

I’m so jealous.