Tangled Mess

by Middleton, K. L.

  “Well, it would be my pleasure to cut your hair,” I said.

  “I’ll remember that, Tiffany. Now, I guess we’d better start the interview on camera before I get hollered at by the judges,” he said, turning to his cameraman. “Roll it.”

  “Okay,” replied the guy.

  Taylor moved in closer, and put an arm around my shoulders. “Welcome back to ‘American Icon’, where we have Tiffany Banks waiting to see the judges. Tiffany,” he said turning to me. “Let’s cut to the chase, do you think you have what it takes to be the next ‘American Icon?”

  I forced a smile. “I’m going to give it my best shot.”

  “Can you sing?”

  “I made it this far, so I guess I can hold a tune.”

  He smiled. “Something tells me you can hold more than a tune. Are you ready to ‘wow’ the judges and show them you’re not just a pretty face?”

  “I’ll certainly try.”

  He squeezed my shoulder tightly. “I have faith in you, Tiffany. Good luck.”

  “Thanks.”

  The next thing I knew, I was ushered towards the judges and Ransom, who appeared to be fiddling with his cell phone. My heart beat wildly in my chest as I waited for him to look up and notice me. It was then that I realized I was still more nervous of facing him then about the audition itself.

  Ransom…

  I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. In fact, I barely recognized him. Stardom had changed Ransom, and I wasn’t sure if it was for the better. His dark hair was long, just past his shoulders, and appeared un-kept, he desperately needed a shave, and there were circles under his eyes. He looked… haggard.

  “Hello, what’s your name, honey?” asked Deidra as they handed me a microphone.

  I cleared my throat. “It’s Tiffany.”

  Ransom’s eyes shot up, and locked with mine, sending a wave of heat from my cheeks to the pit of my stomach. One thing that hadn’t changed was the affect he still had on me. Ransom had been my first real crush, and even now he could throw my pulse into overdrive by just looking at me.

  “What are you going to sing for us today, Tiffany?” asked Tyrone.

  I turned to Tyrone. “Hurt, by Christina Aguilera.”

  Tyrone regarded me shrewdly. “Okay, let’s see if you can pull it off.”

  I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and then reopened them, focusing on the cameras behind Deidra.

  Seems like it was yesterday

  When I saw your face,

  You told me how proud you were,

  But I walked away,

  If only I knew what I know today,

  Ooh,

  Ooh,

  I would hold you in my arms,

  I would take the pain away,

  Thank you for all you've done,

  Forgive all your mistakes,

  There's nothing I wouldn't do

  To hear your voice again,

  Sometimes I wanna call you

  But I know you won't be there,

  Oh, I'm sorry for blaming you,

  For everything I just couldn't do,

  And I've hurt myself by hurting you,

  Some days I feel broke inside

  But I won't admit

  Sometimes I just wanna hide

  'Cause it's you I miss,

  And it's so hard to say goodbye

  When it comes to this,

  ooh,

  Would you tell me I was wrong?

  Would you help me understand?

  Are you looking down upon me?

  Are you proud of who I am?

  There's nothing I wouldn't do

  To have just one more chance,

  To look into your eyes

  And see you looking back,

  Oh, I'm sorry for blaming you,

  For everything I just couldn't do,

  And I've hurt myself, oh,

  If I had just one more day,

  I would tell you how much that I've missed you,

  “Okay, Tiffany,” interrupted Tyrone. “That’s good enough.”

  My palms were sweating as I glanced at Ransom out of the corner of my eye. The look on his face made my stomach clench. He looked… pissed off.

  Oh my God, was I really that bad?

  I’d actually thought I’d done pretty well, considering how terrified I was.

  Deidra cleared her throat. “Dear, have you had voice lessons?”

  “No.”

  “Have you ever sung in front of strangers?” she asked.

  “Um, just my church’s congregation,” I said. “I was in the choir.”

  Tyrone smiled and nodded towards the bleachers. “Pardon the pun, but that’s a whole different ballgame. You looked like you were ready to run home, and leave us in your dust.”

  I nodded. “I am definitely nervous.”

  “You’ll have to work on that, dear,” said Deidra. “A performer needs to appear confident, and ready to take on the world. But fortunately for you, that voice of yours along with your beautiful, angelic face can put a spell on the audience. I am definitely giving you a ‘Yes’. We need you in this contest. What do you think Tyrone?”

  Tyrone stared at me hard and then nodded. “Tell you the truth, Tiffany, yours is the best voice I’ve heard so far. I’m voting ‘Yes’. Definitely.”

  I clasped my hands together and squealed. “Thank you so much!”

  “No problem.”

  Deidra smiled, and turned to Ransom, who was tapping his fingers on the table rapidly. “What do you think, Ransom?”

  “No,” he said in that deep, rumbly voice that had made me quiver as a teen.

  Deidra’s eyebrows shot up. “What?”

  I felt like someone had punched me in the stomach. I blinked back tears.

  “No,” he said, not even glancing my way. “Sorry, I vote ‘no’. Now, bring on the next contestant.”

  Chapter Five

  Ransom

  When I’d first heard Tiffany’s speak, I’d felt like someone had thrown a bucket of ice-cold water at my face, sobering me up from what was left-over from my buzz. It had shocked the shit out of me. Little Tiffany Banks, one of my sister’s best friends was actually here, trying to get herself onto American Icon.

  She had no fucking clue.

  It had been years since we’d seen each other. Now she was all grown up, and more beautiful than ever with those wide, blue eyes, cupid lips, and upturned nose. She reminded me of the farmer’s daughter, the curvy one with the long legs, and innocent demeanor. She was definitely too naïve and trusting for Hollywood, even with that voice, which, surprisingly, had blown me away. As amazing as it was, however, there was no way in hell I was voting Tiffany into this circus of bullshit. Not her. I wouldn’t be responsible for that. I’d never forgive myself if she ended up like me, a miserable puppet.

  “Why in the world did you vote ‘no’?” asked Deidra after Tiffany had walked away.

  “Didn’t you see how terrified she was? Hell, she was shitting bricks up there. Face it, that girl will never have good stage presence,” I replied. “She’s too timid and self-conscious.”

  “She’ll certainly get her shot to prove you wrong,” said Tyrone, tapping his pen on the table. “We’ll see how she does during the next round, and how the audience and television viewers receive her.”

  That was the bitch of it. Two out of three votes were all she needed to keep progressing. I’d just need to find a way to get Tyrone or Deidra on my side. Or, to somehow get her ass disqualified.

  Tiffany was not going to win this contest.

  Not on my watch.

  ***

  Tiffany

  “He voted ‘no’? You’re kidding me,” said Sinclair, pausing as we walked out of the building. “That egotistical prick! What in the hell is wrong with him?”

  I stared down at my shoes, trying not to tear up again. “He must not have thought I had enough talent.”

  “Let me tell you something, sweetheart,” said Jesse, looping his arm
through mine as we walked towards his car. “I’ve heard Ransom sing and he’s not bad, but you… you have more talent than anyone on that show, past and present. Hell, I’m still in shock after hearing you sing. I had no idea you were that good.”

  I smiled. “Aw… thanks Jesse.”

  “I’m serious. I know talent,” he said. “Don’t forget… I grew up in Hollywood.”

  “He’s right,” said Sinclair.

  “I’m always right,” he replied with a smirk. “Face it, girls.”

  She rolled her eyes and then turned to me. “So what’s next?”

  “I guess I’m headed to Hollywood in a month, to meet the competition, and to start performing live. They gave me all the info, I just have to read through everything,” I said, holding up a large envelope.

  “So, are you even more nervous now?” ask Sinclair.

  “Actually I’m not too bad, especially now that I’ve made it through the preliminary auditions.”

  And facing Ransom…

  “Good,” said Jesse. “And don’t let that judge, Ransom, bring you down. He’s obviously a total asshole who couldn’t see real talent if it socked him in the face.”

  I still couldn’t believe that he’d actually said ‘no’, either. When I was a teenager, he’d always teased me, and his sister, but had never been downright heartless or cruel. He had to have known how much the audition would mean to me, but apparently didn’t seem to give a rat’s ass. It was bad enough that the guy I’d fantasized about during high school had not only turned me down when I was a kid, but hadn’t thought twice about doing it again.

  “So, what about the salon?” asked Sinclair.

  “I guess I’ll have to take a temporary leave.”

  “A temporary leave? Are you kidding me, this is the first day of the rest of your life. You’re going to be a celebrity, not a service worker any longer,” said Jesse. “I’d call them tomorrow and say ‘hasta la vista’ bitches.”

  Sinclair raised her eyebrows.

  He waved his hand. “Oh, you know what I mean,” he said. “She should be focusing on preparing for the contest.”

  “Maybe, but, I would never abandon Tangled,” I said. “I’m not letting the shop or my clients down. I’m working until the day before I leave. Seriously.”

  “I still can’t believe you’re going to be on television,” grinned Sinclair, as we slid into Jesse’s Jag. “Wait until everyone finds out that you made it to the next round of competition. They are going to be so proud of you.”

  I put my seatbelt on, and lay my head back against the seat. “You know, it’s all so surreal, I’m still trying to absorb everything.”

  “Absorb this,” said Jesse. “You’ve got talent, oodles of it, and when you win this thing, you can stand on the stage with your chin raised up high, and tell Ransom to go fuck himself.”

  I smirked. “I might just do it sooner than that.”

  “Oh, right,” said Sinclair. “You’re way too nice. You should really start learning how to stand up for yourself. Not let anyone push you around.”

  “I don’t let anyone push me around,” I protested.

  “Girl, please,” said Jesse. “You are way too nice. I mean, look at the other day when Felix destroyed your new purse. Most women would have kicked all of the remaining lives out of that mangy cat. But not you. You acted like it was no big deal, but we all obviously knew better. That purse cost you a lot of money and you just brushed it off. Now that was being too nice.”

  “He’s a cat,” I said. “What should I have done, plotted a deadly revenge?”

  “Felix isn’t mangy,” pouted Sinclair. “He’s a handsome little devil.”

  Jesse’s eyes narrowed. “See, even you agree he’s evil.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Gee, and you wonder why he doesn’t like you? I guess he can sense your affection.”

  “Listen, Sin, I like cats but I stopped going near yours right after he bit my hand when I tried petting him the first time, then the second, and finally the third time. He has no love for me, or anyone else.”

  “He was probably abused as a kitten or something,” she said.

  “Right, believe what you want, but let me just say that your cat has some major issues, and probably needs to see my mother’s pet therapist. In fact, I’ll find the number for you, later Sin.”

  Sinclair’s eyebrows shot up. “Pet therapist?”

  “Oh yeah, Ms. Duncan. They call her ‘The Cat Whisperer’. She is amazing, she helped mother’s cat, Flora, get over her eating disorder.”

  “Eating disorder?” I asked. “What kind of eating disorder can a cat have?”

  He shrugged. “All I know is that she refused to eat for a few days, and then right after Ms. Duncan met with Flora, her appetite came back. Mom raves about her.”

  “Maybe the cat was just tired of eating the same food?” I asked. “I’ve heard even animals get bored with their food.”

  “Mimi probably feeds her cat caviar and liver pate,” snorted Sinclair. “And that’s just on Mondays.”

  “Believe what you want, she fixed whatever was wrong with Flora. Anyway,” said Jesse. “Back to the subject at hand, Tiffany you really do need to stop taking shit from people. If you don’t, you’ll definitely never make it in Hollywood. Ask my dad.”

  Jesse’s dad was a casting director who’d recently retired. From what Sinclair had told me, he was a real tool who thought he was some kind of Hollywood Godfather or something. She didn’t care for him one bit.

  “How is dear old dad?” asked Sinclair, with a look of distaste. “Is he still living with that young actress?”

  He frowned. “Yes, that bimbo is going through his money like water, too. He just bought her a new Astin Martin along with tickets to Italy for next week. It makes me sick how she uses him.”

  “I’m sure he uses her, too, so they’re obviously made for each other,” replied Sinclair.

  My cell phone began to ring. I pulled it out of my purse, and looked at the number. I didn’t recognize it. I answered it anyway. “Hello?”

  “Oh my God, Tiff?! It’s Remy!”

  I grinned. “Remy! How are you, it’s been so long!”

  I hadn’t seen Remy since we’d graduated high school and she’d left for T.C.U. while I’d stayed back in Stanton, and went to beauty school. We’d called each other for a while but then eventually lost touch all together.

  “I’m doing okay. I heard you’re a finalist on American Icon! I can’t believe it. Well, actually I can, you always had a beautiful voice.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “So, where are you?”

  “I’m engaged, and working in New York right now.”

  “You’re engaged! Seriously?”

  Like me, she was only twenty-one but it didn’t surprise me that she was engaged. She was beautiful, just like her brother, and people were drawn to her warmth and kindness.

  “Yes, you’ve met him in fact,” she said, with a hint of laughter.

  “Who?”

  “Taylor Blake.”

  “Shut up, seriously?”

  “Yes. We’re getting married next month. In fact, I’m holding your invitation right now. I just didn’t know how to get a hold of you. You’re phone number is obviously unlisted and now that your mother’s gone… ”

  “I know,” I answered softly.

  She sighed. “I’m so sorry about your mother, Tiff. She was such a sweetheart.”

  “She was,” I said, feeling my eyes mist up. I’d never get used to her being gone.

  “I um… I’m sorry I didn’t make the funeral. When I heard I was in the middle of a nervous breakdown, I don’t know if you heard about it. I just didn’t think I could handle seeing her laid to rest. I spent so much time at your house growing up… shit,” she choked. “I feel horrible about not being there for you, Tiff.”

  “It’s okay,” I murmured. “And yes, I heard what happened from your mother.”

  Remy had been dating someone in college who’
d committed suicide. It had happened right before my mother had died.

  “Still, I wish I would have done things differently.”

  “Don’t worry about it Rem. You had your own problems to deal with. So, how are you now?” I asked, feeling sad that I hadn’t been there for her either. We’d always been so close growing up.

  “I’m doing great, actually. And my fiancé, he’s wonderful,” she said. “We’re really in love.”

  I smiled. It was good to hear. “I’m very happy for you.”

  “And I’m so proud of you, Tiff, for auditioning.”

  “So, how did you find out? Ransom?”

  “Yes, he found your phone number and then sent me a message.”

  “That’s what I figured.”

  She sighed. “That’s another reason why I’m calling. He asked me to talk to you, although when he told me why, I almost told him to fuck off.”

  “I don’t understand,” I said.

  She paused. “Ransom wants you to drop out of the contest.”

  Chapter Six

  Tiffany

  “For real?” asked Felicia, staring at me from across the salon, her eyes wide.

  It was the day after my audition and we were the only stylists in the salon, save for our two customers seated before us.

  “Yup, and he had his sister call me. He asked her to try and talk me out of continuing with the contest.”

  She put a hand on her waist. “Did you tell them both to kiss your fucking ass?”

  I glanced towards her customer, expecting a look of disapproval on her elderly face, but instead, she looked at me and with a straight face and said, “fucking-snot-boogers.”

  It was then that I remembered, it was old Mrs. Conway who has Tourette Syndrome.

  Trying not to giggle, I replied, “Not in those exact words,” I said, raising my customer’s chair. “But basically, yes.”

  “Good, because if you would have agreed I would have had to slap you silly.”

  “And I’d deserve it.”

  “So, why does he want you to drop out?”

  “I’m not really sure. Maybe he thinks I’m a horrible singer.”

  “Pfft… I highly doubt that.”