*****
"Yes. Even if it makes her mad."
Tim raised his eyebrows and I qualified with, "Okay, not mad. But if it's like with 'Prom Night Promise'. She eventually agreed to our changes. Can't we try that again?"
Jo, unfortunately, hadn't liked the songs I'd written at the end of the concert tour. I'd come back to Canada on Saturday and gone straight to her office, excited to get her approval, but instead she'd said, "They're too Amy and not Misty enough. Sorry. Stick with the new ones Tim wrote for you, okay?"
No, not okay. I did like Tim's songs, especially the sweet ballad we were partway through recording, but I liked my own more. Upset and confused, I dropped an email to Evelyn to see what she thought, and was disappointed to be told, "Do what Jo says. Don't blow this."
Evelyn's blog was now the hottest music site around. Though she'd launched the careers of several musical groups since posting my video, she probably didn't want her first and still most well-known discovery fired by Jo for insubordination.
I didn't want that either, but I also wanted to run with these songs. I wasn't Angel, who claimed she simply cared about the performance and not the songs themselves but was well-known to have this attitude because she couldn't write the songs themselves. I could and I loved doing it and I didn't want to give that up.
Tim drummed his fingers on the lyrics sheets, narrowly avoiding knocking his coffee cup over.
I rescued the cup. "Please. Help me make them more Misty."
He groaned.
"What?"
"I... nothing. Okay, I'll do it, but only one song. I can't put all my time into all three and then have nothing new for you if Jo still says no."
I wanted to know why the groan, but he clearly didn't plan to tell me so I said, "Fine. Thanks. The weight one."
He didn't groan again, but it looked like he was considering it. "Of course. The toughest one."
I gave him a sweet smile. "Because I know you can handle it."
He laughed. "Don't suck up, Amy. I'm not that gullible."
We spent a few hours on it, in the private coffee shop surrounded by other musicians and actors and a novelist muttering and jotting notes all over a printout of his manuscript, and managed to get the song to start out as a typical 'girl wants to lose weight for new boyfriend' thing that then morphed into her seeing her own beauty. Once we had it moving in the right direction we called Jez and she met us at the recording studio so we could throw together a basic version of the song to play for Jo in the hopes that hearing it would impress her more than simply reading the words.
"You do this all wrong, you know," Jez said when we'd finished.
"I do?"
She nodded. "You're supposed to give us no guidance then bitch about what we do."
Steven, who'd been handling the huge bank of sound mixing knobs and sliders, laughed. "Three guesses who I worked with today, and the first two don't count."
Tim flapped his arms like he was making a snow angel, and we all laughed.
"Well, I'll work on my bitching skills then."
Jez patted my shoulder. "No, you won't. Which is why I love you."
We took the song to Jo, who was at first still reluctant but gave in when Steven and Jez insisted it would be a hit.
"All right, but can we launch it right after the Canada Day show?"
Four full days away. Just four. I glanced at Jez. She smiled. "For you, Misty, anything."
Chapter Sixteen
"What you weigh doesn't matter at all. It's what you do that will make you a star!" I belted out the last line of the final number of my Canada Day show and such a wave of exhaustion hit me that I wobbled on my super-high red heels.
The last four days had been unbelievably difficult, with endless rehearsals and choreography crises and squabbles among everyone involved, and there'd been times I truly didn't think we'd make it through.
But we had, and I'd been able to sing not just my original seven songs, not just nine with Tim's lovely ballad and the freshly finished "Don't Weight", but also the tenth that Tim and Jez had put together as a surprise while I was on tour and presented to Jo and me after she approved "Don't Weight". Called "Talk Misty to Me", it sampled metal band Poison's "Talk Dirty to Me" and told guys that if they didn't speak to me with the respect I deserved I'd be gone. Tim had written it almost exactly as I would have, Jez had done a great job integrating the Poison samples into a Misty-appropriate melody, and I'd been delighted with it. This show was its debut performance and the crowd had loved it.
They'd loved all my songs. Since it was Canada Day they'd nearly all worn red, just like me with my red dress and heels and wig, and I felt a bond with them that was different from my other shows.
Maybe because, for the first time, this was my show. There'd been other performers, of course, since the festivities in Toronto's Nathan Phillips Square next to City Hall had started at noon. But I was the headliner, on right before it got dark enough for fireworks, and the number of red-wigged girls in the crowd showed me a sizable part of the audience was there just for me.
I spread my feet a little further apart for stability and waved at the crowd with both hands. "Thank you so much, Toronto! Happy birthday, Canada!"
They shrieked, and as always their energy flooded into me, making up for what I'd given them.
For the last time.
This was my last concert.
Jo had presented me with another payment the day before, nearly five hundred thousand dollars, and since I'd spent next to nothing since I had no time to shop I could now get the center started. It would require even more money in time, of course, but my ongoing royalties should be more than enough.
Though I knew Jo would be disappointed, maybe even angry, and though I would miss the crowds and the cheering and the ecstasy of being on stage, I'd fulfilled my contract and it was time to get to my real work. Time to do what Giselle and I had planned.
Like Jason had said, singing wasn't my career. It wasn't what I was meant to do. I had always planned to use the money for the center so I would.
I would quit tomorrow.
Chapter Seventeen
I woke up feeling nervous and it took me a few moments to realize why. I hadn't seen any real evidence of Jo's temper but it was legendary around the office. How angry would she be at my resignation? Would she yell? Even throw something? I didn't want to see that. But I had to quit. It was time.
I took a shower and got dressed, as Amy instead of Misty, then called my driver to take me to Jo's office. I didn't have an appointment but I knew she'd be there. She was always there.
Before I got to her office, though, I had to pass Cindy's. I wasn't going to stop, afraid I might lose my nerve, but the sight of her on the phone with tears streaming down her white face made me turn in. "Cindy?"
She jerked her head up, her eyes wild, and said into the phone, "No, I didn't say— no, of course it's not true. No, don't— oh, God. He hung up."
She did too, then sat staring at me.
I dropped into her guest chair. "Cindy, what's wrong? Who was it?"
She swallowed hard, then again. Then she bolted from the room and I heard the unmistakable sound of her losing her breakfast in the bathroom across the hall.
Before I could make my squeamish self go after her, she came back. Her face was an awful greenish-grey but she looked calmer. "Amy. I'm so sorry."
"It's okay, it's not your fault. But what's going on?"
Her mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. Finally she shook her head. "We have to talk to Jo. I don't know what else to do."
Confused, I followed her down the hall. Jo stood leaning against the doorframe to her inner office chatting with her main assistant Nancy. She looked peaceful and relaxed, and her eyes lit up when she saw me behind Cindy. "Great show yesterday. Got huge ratings and— Cindy? What's the matter?"
Cindy swallowed hard again, and for an awful moment I thought she was going to puke all over Jo's office. She pulled herself
together, though. "I have something to tell you both. It's important."
Jo's forehead creased but she said, "Come on in then. Nancy, hold my calls, okay?"
When we were settled in the office, Cindy didn't seem to be able to speak. Jo gave her a moment then said, "Look, I have a lot of work to do. Whatever it is, it can't be that bad."
Cindy folded her hands together, squeezed them so tight her knuckles went white, and said, "I think it is. A man called. He's accusing Amy of..." She bit her lip.
"Of what?" Jo said, her eyes flicking to me. "Have you done something stupid?"
"Of course she didn't," Cindy said before I could answer. "I'm so sorry, Amy. He says he paid you for sex. And he's going to tell the world."
Chapter Eighteen
We all sat silent. Cindy sighed and looked down at her relaxing hands in her lap, and I envied her release of stress. Mine was just starting.
Jo's too, from the sound of her voice when she said, "Tell me exactly what he said."
Cindy cleared her throat. "He asked if he'd reached Misty's assistant and I said yes. Then he said... what he was accusing her of, and I—"
"No. Don't summarize. Actually, wait a second." Jo pressed a speed-dial button on her phone. "Ned, I need your help. Urgently. I'm going to put you on speaker-phone, okay?"
Once she had it set up, she said, "Ned, I've got Misty with me. Her assistant received a phone call this morning that we need to handle. Cindy, start again, and leave nothing out."
Cindy gave me a look that said, "I'm so sorry," then started again. "The man said that he had paid Misty to give him oral sex. I said—"
Ned's voice said, "Was that the exact phrase he used?"
Cindy nodded, then rolled her eyes at herself. "Yes, it was. He said, 'I paid Misty to give me oral sex.'"
Couldn't she have just said, "Yes, it was"? Did we need to hear the actual accusation repeated? My stomach was starting to churn.
"Okay. And when does he say this happened?"
"Eight years ago."
"When Misty was seventeen. Makes him look even worse. Go on."
"And I said..." She bit her lip. "I said, 'How dare you say something like that about her?'"
I was touched that she'd react that way, but I heard Ned draw in a sharp breath and Jo dropped her head into her hand.
"Thereby not denying it," Ned said. "Not good."
Cindy winced but nodded. "As soon as I said it, I realized that. So before he could talk again, I said, 'Of course you didn't. Misty would never do something like that.'" She took a quick breath then kept going, obviously wanting to get the whole thing off her chest in one ugly lump. "And he laughed and said he'd forget all about it for half a million dollars, and I said we'd never pay that and—"
"What?"
Jo and Ned spoke simultaneously and I jumped.
"We wouldn't, would we?" Cindy said, her voice nearly a whisper.
"Misty's career is worth easily ten times that now. Maybe more. And it's just getting started. I might have considered it."
"Indeed. But we probably can't now," Ned said. "So how did it end, Cindy?"
She closed her eyes. "I said again that it wasn't true, and he said I should be sure to watch the gossip sites at ten today and hung up."
Everyone in the office, and probably Ned too, checked their watches at once. Five minutes after ten.
I made myself turn my head, which seemed to weigh a thousand pounds, and look at Jo. She pulled her mouth into a straight line, the grimmest smile I'd ever seen, and said, "I think we'd better check those sites."
She grabbed her computer's mouse then yelled, "Nancy!"
Her assistant appeared at the door with a handful of pink message slips and a terrified expression.
"We've had calls, I take it?"
Nancy nodded and shot me a look of confusion and sympathy.
"Tell anyone else who calls that we are outraged at this ridiculous attempt to cash in on Misty's hard work and success. We are analyzing our legal options and will respond later today. You have no other information at this time. Got it?"
She nodded and left, and I folded my arms around myself and waited as Jo fiddled with her computer then sat staring at her screen. I couldn't think, could barely breathe. I'd come in planning to quit, but not like this.
Jo gave a deep sigh and turned the laptop to face us.
The headline filled nearly the whole wide screen. Cindy gasped, and I stared at it, my mind whirling. Only four words, but so ugly.
"It's there, I assume?"
"I'm afraid so, Ned. Here, listen." Jo brought her computer back to face her. "The headline says, 'Misty: A Teenage Hooker?'. The article starts with a bit about Misty's career and how quickly it's developed, then says, 'But there's a secret nobody knew. Back in high school, Misty may have accepted money to put that silver-tongued mouth somewhere she shouldn't have. We only know about one possible client, but where there's one, there could be more. We said last week that Angel Dove was no Misty. Guess we know now that Misty's no angel either.'" She shook her head. "What a load of crap. So, Ned. What do we do?"
I didn't hear his answer, because my body had already decided what to do.
I threw up into the huge plant beside my chair.
*****
Once I'd apologized for my reaction and poor Nancy had dragged the disgusting plant out of the office, Jo dismissed Cindy with a curt, "Stay in your office and for the love of God do not say anything to anyone," then shooed her out when Cindy tried to apologize to me.
When she'd left, Jo shook her head. "This could have been nothing. She's gone. We'll get you a new assistant."
I took another sip of the water Nancy had kindly given me, gathering my strength before saying, "I like her, though."
Jo gave a grunt of grim laughter. "Can't see why. She screwed you as thoroughly as that guy claims you screwed him."
My stomach lurched again but I had to defend Cindy. A call like that, out of the blue? I thought she'd done remarkably well, and I too wouldn't have thought Jo would consider paying the guy for his silence. "She tried. I wouldn't have known what to say either."
"That's why you have assistants and staff. So they can know what to say when you don't. No, she's fired."
"Jo, please. She panicked. She won't do anything like that again. And I want to keep her."
She just shook her head and didn't bother to respond.
I thought frantically. Cindy worked so hard for me she hadn't even had time to visit a laundromat. I had to take care of her. "Wouldn't firing her now make it seem like it was true? And we're getting rid of her to hide the evidence?"
She leaned back in her chair. "Or would it seem like it wasn't true and she was being fired for suggesting it was?"
"No, I think it would make it seem true," I said, not honestly sure which was more likely but knowing that Cindy both enjoyed and needed her job.
To my surprise, Ned agreed with me. He walked in while we were still debating and immediately said, "Firing Cindy? Absolutely the wrong move."
Jo gave way, although I could tell she still disapproved, then said, "But forget her for now. What do we do about all this, Ned?"
"I was thinking on my way over, of course. And I think a video interview."
Jo gave a slow nod. "A message from Misty to the people, so they can see her and know how ridiculous this is. I like it. Who does the interview?"
They discussed possibilities, while I focused on taking air in and letting it out and not letting my mind think of anything beyond that, and eventually decided to contact a reporter who usually shunned popular music but had been dragged to my concert the night before by his daughter and had posted a surprisingly positive review on his blog that morning.
Jo called the reporter herself, saying we wanted to set the record straight. He agreed to meet with me in an hour, so I spent most of that hour being made up and turned into a slightly less flashy Misty by a silent but clearly sympathetic Leah while Jo and Ned drilled me over and o
ver on what to say and not to say in the interview. I didn't have even a second to myself to think, not that I minded. Not thinking seemed like the best option.
The interviewer arrived, and Jo took me to meet him in the conference room where she'd had recording equipment arranged. "Patrick, lovely to see you," she said when we entered. She sounded completely relaxed and unconcerned, and I envied her ability to hide her true feelings.
"You too, Jo. And hello, Misty."
I smiled and held out my hand. "Nice to meet you. I'm so glad your daughter liked my show."
"She's a huge fan." He frowned. "Which is why I hate this whole mess. But don't worry, we'll get it all out in the open."
"Great," I said, keeping eye contact with him as Ned had told me to.
"I'll leave you to it, then," Jo said, and walked out as if she didn't care in the slightest.
We settled into chairs and chatted about my concert and the weather and his daughter while Jo's technicians scurried about making sure the sound and video equipment was all working perfectly. Once they were done, Patrick said, "All right then. Let's clear your name, Misty."
I smiled. "Thank you. I appreciate it."
He nodded to the camera operator and then turned to smile at me. "Well, this is quite an honor. I'm here with Misty Will! I only wish it were under better circumstances. So, tell me what's happening."
I swallowed hard and pretended to collect my thoughts, as Ned had told me to do. "You have to look horrified and embarrassed and confused. We don't want anyone thinking their daughter's idol is a tramp. Got it?" I had, and now I took a deep breath and said, "Well, Patrick, I've been accused of something inappropriate. Something that, if true, would make me a bad role model for my fans. And I of course want to clear my name and I'm so glad you were willing to meet with me."
Jo's idea, making it sound like I'd begged to talk to a reporter. Given how many media types were even now camped outside the building, I couldn't see why anyone would believe that I'd had to beg, but Ned had agreed and I was doing exactly as I was told. I couldn't think enough to do anything else. Defending Cindy had taken all the initiative I had, and now all I could do was follow the rules Jo and Ned had laid down and convince the world I hadn't been a teenage prostitute.
Toronto Collection Volume 2 (Toronto Series #6-9) Page 9