The Daughters Take the Stage

by Joanna Philbin

  “Is he the reason you changed your look?” Hudson asked gently.

  Hillary looked down at the sidewalk and nodded. “Why? Do you think that’s lame?” she asked.

  “Not at all,” Hudson said. “I just think that I liked the old Hillary Crumple better.”

  Hillary looked up. “You did?” she asked.

  “Yeah. Maybe she wasn’t the trendiest girl on the face of the earth, but she was a true original. And this Hillary…” Hudson gestured toward Hillary’s clothes. “Well, she looks nice and everything, but she’s definitely not original.”

  A tentative smile spread across Hillary’s face. “Yeah, I guess it’s not really me,” she said. “And God knows, it’s expensive.”

  “Is Ben’s family going away for spring break?” Hudson asked suddenly, changing the subject.

  “Just for a couple of days,” Hillary answered. “They go down to see his grandparents in Florida.”

  “When are they leaving?” Hudson asked.

  “I think their flight is tonight.”

  Hudson checked her watch. It was almost two. “Hold on one second,” she said, taking out her phone. She dialed Ben’s number. It rang and rang and rang.

  “Are you calling him?” Hillary asked.

  “Yeah,” Hudson said.

  “Oh, he’s not gonna answer,” she said. “It’s the Westchester chess championships today.”

  “Where are they?” Hudson pleaded.

  “At the high school in White Plains,” said Hillary.

  “How long will they last?” Hudson asked.

  “What are you gonna do? Just barge in there while he’s playing chess?” Hillary asked in reply.

  “Yep,” Hudson said. She glanced back at the N and R subway station on the corner.

  “So, no shopping?” Hillary asked with a wry smile. Then she laughed and said, “Just kidding.”

  Hudson leaned down and hugged Hillary. “Have a great spring break. And thank you. For everything.”

  Hillary hugged her back. “Good luck up there. Say hi to the nerds for me.”

  Hillary pulled out of the hug, picked up her shopping bags, and almost knocked down a small child as she headed off down Broadway.

  chapter 32

  Hudson stared out the smudged train window at the parade of school buildings and churches and budding trees on the way to White Plains. Stupid, stupid, stupid, she thought. Of course Ben wasn’t the one who betrayed her. Of course it had been Logan, who’d had it in for her from the beginning. And she’d hung up on Ben, on top of it. She flinched just thinking about it.

  She owed Ben Geyer everything. He was the reason she was going to go back to her old album. He was the reason she’d finally discovered music on her own terms. And in return, she’d accused him of something terrible and hung up on him. Oh, and kept him from realizing his one dream in life: playing at Joe’s Pub. Great, she thought. Way to really screw up.

  By the time the train lurched to a stop at the White Plains station, Hudson was on her feet. She stepped onto the platform and headed toward the line of idling black cabs.

  “The high school, please,” she said as she opened the back door and threw herself into the seat.

  White Plains was more of a city than Larchmont was. The car took her through downtown and then veered off into a more residential neighborhood. It finally pulled up in front of a large, squat brick building that looked shuttered and empty. “Can you wait here for a sec?” she asked, pressing a ten-dollar bill into the driver’s hand. Then she took off at a run.

  She threw open the main door of the school and ran down the empty hall. It smelled strongly of lemon soap, and her sneakers squeaked on the shiny linoleum. Being in school on a weekend always felt strange. She passed classroom after classroom until she came to the end of the hall and a pair of double doors. With all her might, she pulled one open.

  She was in the school cafeteria. At least ten pairs of faces looked up from their chessboards. First Hudson saw Ellie, her hand poised over a pawn. And there, at the next lunch table, his brow knit in concentration, was Ben.

  He looked up at her. “Hudson?” he said slowly. “What are you doing here?”

  “Excuse me!” yelled the proctor. A tall, extremely thin older man with a bow tie and round, delicate glasses stood up from another table. “We’re in the middle of a tournament here. Please wait outside—”

  “I need to talk to Ben Geyer,” Hudson managed to say, panting. “Please. Just for a second.”

  “You may absolutely not,” said Mr. Bow Tie.

  Hudson ignored him and ran down the aisle of tables to get to Ben.

  Now Ben and Ellie were both staring at her openmouthed.

  “Hillary just told me the truth,” she blurted out. “She told me that Logan was the one who called Joe’s Pub and promised them my mom. I’m so sorry, Ben. I never meant to hang up on you. And I never meant to screw up the Joe’s Pub thing. I’m so sorry.”

  Ben shook his head. “O—okay,” he stammered.

  “So I’m here to ask you to take me back,” she said. “Or, actually, not that. I want you to be in my band now. I’m going to put out my first album. And I want you to play shows with me. Would you be my bassist? Please?”

  “Excuse me, young lady, but you’re going to have to leave!” the proctor yelled, walking up to her.

  Ben looked at her and then at the proctor. He seemed utterly at a loss for something to say.

  “But if you don’t want to be in my band, I totally understand,” she rambled. “If you don’t want to be my friend anymore, I get that, too.”

  “Just so you know, Hudson, I don’t do stuff like that,” he finally said. “You’re my friend. I don’t betray my friends. Ever.”

  “Okay.” She exhaled.

  “And as far as being your bassist,” he said, breaking into a smile, “I’d love to.”

  “Really?” she asked, her heart pounding. “And wait a second. I can’t believe I never asked you this before, but what’s your sign?”

  His eyebrows shot up. “Virgo,” he said. “Why?”

  “I’m a Pisces, which means we’re, like, a perfect match!” She looked over to see the proctor’s face turning purple with rage. “Sorry. I guess I should go.”

  “Yeah, good idea,” Ben said, glancing at the proctor. “We have a few more minutes, and I’m totally about to win this.”

  Awkwardly, she leaned down to hug him, and then stuck out her hand. He shook it. “I can’t say we’re still going to be called the Rising Signs,” she said.

  “The Hudson Jones Trio is fine with me,” he said.

  “Hudson Jones Trio,” she said, mulling it over. “I like that.”

  She walked out of the cafeteria and back into the hallway, ignoring the glare from Mr. Bow Tie. So Ben didn’t hate her, after all. And even if the Rising Signs were over, she had something even better in place now. As she pushed the school doors open, she realized that she even had a possible name for her album.

  Hudson Jones: The Return.

  chapter 33

  “Do you want to do the talking or should I?” Holla asked as Fernald navigated the late-afternoon traffic on Fifty-seventh Street. April rain pattered against the windshield.

  “I’ll do it,” Hudson said.

  “You start, and I’ll come in at the end,” Holla suggested.

  “Mom, let me be in charge of this, okay?” Hudson replied.

  Holla put her hand on Hudson’s back. “Fine, but sit up straight.”

  Fernald double-parked in front of the smoke-colored skyscraper that held the offices of Swerve Records and leaped out of the driver’s seat with an umbrella.

  Upstairs, the receptionist picked up the phone. “Richard, they’re here,” she said quietly and hung up. “You can go right in,” she said. “Last office on the right.”

  Hudson and Holla walked down the hall as Little Jimmy walked behind them. At each open door they passed Hudson could see people at their desks, craning their necks t
o get a good look at them. Or rather at Holla, who once again had the top single on the Billboard charts.

  At the end of the hall they made a sharp right, into the corner office. Several executives sat on the long gray couch. Richard Wu stood up from his chair and walked over to greet them. He took Hudson’s hand first. “Hi, Hudson,” he said.

  “Hi, Richard,” she answered.

  “Hello, Richard,” Holla said, bringing him in closer for a kiss on the cheek.

  “Congratulations on the single. To both of you,” he made sure to add.

  “Thank you,” Holla said. “She’s not bad, huh?” she asked, circling an arm around Hudson’s shoulders.

  Richard introduced them to the other Swerve executives, including the man whose office they were in. Hudson shook everyone’s hand, and then she and her mom made themselves comfortable on the couch.

  “So, I have to admit, Hudson,” Richard said, “I was surprised to hear from you. We all thought after Saturday Night Live that you’d decided not to do this anymore.”

  “I know,” she said, looking each of the four men in the eye. “I’m sorry about that. But I’ve changed my mind. I want to put out my album. My first album.”

  “But I thought you and your mother agreed that you wanted to go in a different direction,” Richard said smoothly.

  Hudson looked at Holla, who gave her a quick nod of encouragement. “I’ve changed my mind,” she said. “And so has my mom. We think the first album is the better one.”

  The record executives traded surprised glances. “I don’t know,” said one of them, a man with a shaved head and a fat gold ring. “We spent a lot of money redoing it to your exact specifications.”

  “To my specifications,” Holla said in a throaty voice. “It was my idea to change it. But,” she said, gazing at her manicured hands, “I’ve since realized I was wrong.”

  The phrase I was wrong echoed through the office. Two of the executives looked at each other, as if to say, Did I just hear that?

  “Whatever it costs to finish the first album,” Holla said, “I’ll pay for it myself.”

  Hudson watched as there were even more surprised glances around the room.

  “So you’re sure you want to do this, Hudson?” Richard prompted. “You want to put out a smaller, more intimate album that’s going to be marketed in a very different way? Not on the scale of anything we would do with your mother—not even close.”

  Hudson nodded. “That’s what I want,” she said. “And that’s the one you guys signed me to do in the first place.”

  “I know,” Richard said, “but we believe there’s potential for you to be a much bigger star.”

  Holla held up her hand. “This is what my daughter wants. And may I remind everyone that she wrote the number one song in the country?”

  The executives traded more glances.

  “I want it to be real music, real musicians, all of us recorded together,” Hudson said. “And no stadiums, no big venues. I want to do small, intimate shows and work my way up. No TV appearances—only live gigs. I want to sing my songs the way I want to sing them.”

  Richard cleared his throat. “How soon can you go back in the studio?”

  “June,” Hudson said. “So I can finish school first.”

  Richard nodded. “I think that sounds good to us. We would plan on a Christmas release if that’s the case.”

  “Great,” Hudson said. “I’ve already written a few more songs, too. But I just have to ask you guys for one thing. One thing I’d like you to promise me.”

  “Sure,” Richard said, steepling his hands under his chin.

  Hudson took a deep breath and looked at Holla. “Mom? Can I speak to them privately for a sec?”

  Holla eased out of her chair. “Sure, honey,” she said, smiling encouragingly. “I’ll be just outside.”

  Hudson waited until her mom was gone. As soon as the door shut, there was a palpable relief in the room. One of the guys even loosened his tie. The executives looked at Hudson expectantly.

  “What is it, Hudson?” asked Richard.

  “From now on, I want you to think of me as Hudson Jones, not Holla. Not even her daughter. Just me. Just another one of your artists. And if I do well, great. If I don’t, you can drop me.”

  The men looked at one another across the room yet again. Richard fiddled with his watch band and swallowed hard, as if he were suddenly embarrassed by something. “Sure, Hudson,” Richard said. “I think we can do that.”

  “And there’s just one more thing.”

  Richard sat back down in his chair. “We’re listening,” he said.

  “Is there any way we can set up a gig at Joe’s Pub? Something this summer, maybe?”

  Richard looked at the other executives. “I’ll see what we can do.”

  When Hudson walked out of the office, Holla was sitting in the lobby while Little Jimmy stood guard, reading a magazine while people walking in and out of the elevator openly gawked at her. It was the first time Hudson could remember her mom waiting for her in a public place. “How’d it go?” she asked, putting down the magazine. “Did you say everything you needed to?”

  “Yup,” Hudson said.

  “Did they listen?”

  “Yes.”

  Holla smiled. “I’m proud of you, honey.” She brushed some hair off Hudson’s forehead. “Honey, do you ever wear any eyeliner? A little purple liner would really bring out your green eyes—”

  “Mom?” Hudson said, taking her hand.

  Holla pressed her lips together and smiled. “Sorry. So how do you feel about ditching the car and just taking a walk in the rain?”

  “Are you serious?” Hudson asked in disbelief. “We can’t do that.”

  “I’ve got dark glasses, an umbrella, and him,” Holla said, pointing her thumb at Little Jimmy. “I think I can walk down the street.”

  Hudson pushed the elevator button. “That sounds great, Mom.”

  chapter 34

  Hudson leaned close to the mirror and applied one last coat of mascara to her lashes.

  She stood back and fluttered her eyes open and closed. She wasn’t wearing purple liner, but her sea green eyes shone, anyway. Her mom would have been proud.

  She ran her hands through her wavy, barely styled hair. The black silk halter dress still fit perfectly. Wearing it again could have been a bad idea, but she was glad she’d chosen it. No matter what happened, tonight was going to be a better experience than the Silver Snowflake Ball. She knew that now.

  She zipped up her makeup bag and headed to the bathroom door. A sign beside the door read JOE’S PUB—CALENDAR OF EVENTS. There, under today’s date, June tenth, was THE HUDSON JONES TRIO, 8:00 P.M. She had to read it a few times to really absorb it: The Hudson Jones Trio. It had a nice ring to it. And she couldn’t have asked for a better way to celebrate the last day of ninth grade.

  She stepped out of the bathroom and back into the dressing room. Ben and Ricardo, the drummer, sat together over a miniature chessboard. “Checkmate,” Ben said as he knocked Ricardo’s queen off its square. “Sorry about that.”

  “Are you crushing my drummer?” Hudson asked him.

  “Hey, I’m not being crushed,” Ricardo said. “And those just came for you.” He pointed to the extravagant arrangement of red roses in a glass vase on a dresser.

  Hudson walked over to the flowers. The card was in a tiny envelope on the dresser. Hudson opened it and read:

  To Hudson,

  Good luck tonight. We miss you on tour. London isn’t the same without you.

  Love, Mom

  Hudson folded up the card and slipped it into her purse. She never would have expected it, but she actually missed her mom. Her first gig at Joe’s Pub wasn’t going to be the same without Holla there.

  There was a knock on the dressing room door, and then a voice asked, “Is it weird if I’m back here?”

  Hudson turned around and saw Hillary standing on the threshold. She wore her dark-rinse jeans
, but her pink shell and sweater set had embroidered hearts all over the front of it, and her hair was back to its usual messy ponytail, slightly tamed by plastic barrettes.

  “I just wanted to wish you luck,” she said in her small, rapid-fire voice. “Or tell you to break a leg and fall down some stairs. Whatever.”

  “Thanks, Hil,” Hudson said. “And I have to say, you look great.”

  “Really?” Hillary said, looking down at her outfit. “It definitely took a lot less time to get ready. You were right about those clothes, by the way. They weren’t me. And they weren’t gonna make some guy like me, either.”

  “A guy not worth your time,” Hudson added. “I hope you remember that part.”

  Hillary rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well, everyone’s entitled to a bad crush, right?”

  “Hey, nerd,” Ben called out. He got up and checked his chunky black watch. “Nice of you to drop by, but I think we need to start.”

  “Don’t embarrass the family,” Hillary said to him, punching him in the arm. “See you out there.” Then she left and walked back out to the restaurant.

  Hudson turned to look in the mirror one last time. “So how do I look?”

  “Really pretty,” Ben said shyly.

  “Thanks,” Hudson said, turning to look at Ben. “I’m ready if you guys are.”

  “Let’s go,” said Ricardo.

  As she and Ben and Ricardo walked down the hall toward the stage, she could feel the old butterflies start to flit around her stomach. But she let them do their thing. She knew that they couldn’t hurt her.

  “Can you believe we’re here?” Ben whispered in her ear.

  Hudson shook her head. “No. Not one bit.”

  “So, ladies and gentlemen, without any further ado,” said the announcer, “we introduce the Hudson Jones Trio!”

  The three of them walked into the room and up onto the stage. There, at the tables nearest them, so close she could practically touch them, were all of her friends: Lizzie and Katia and Bernard; Carina, the Jurg, and Alex; Ellie Kim and her mom; Mrs. Geyer and Hillary. Everyone clapped and someone hollered, “Hudson!”