“Where does that leave you?” Fawn asked.
Ember shrugged. “I’m somewhere in the middle. I try to be upbeat, but also to give a little practical advice about how to help the singer’s next performance.”
“Well, I don’t want to be sweet anymore!” Fawn said.
“But sweet is who you are, Fawn,” Ember told her. “Is that why you started using coke again? You’re trying to fortify your courage to be nasty on stage? I don’t think this is the road to pithiness. Why don’t you flush the rest of this crap and keep being America’s sweetie.”
“You don’t understand at all!” Fawn said. “I need this! I need to shake up my career! I’m getting older. I can’t keep on being America’s sweetheart forever.”
“I hope you’ll change your mind about that,” Ember said. “I like you when you’re clean.”
Worry lines suddenly creased Fawn’s face. “Who are you going to tell about this?”
“No one!” Ember promised her. “I do think you need some help, but with Fox’s current anti-scandal obsession, we can’t be certain he wouldn’t give you a pink slip. And believe me I know. Getting fired doesn’t magically make the drugs go away. It just makes it harder to pay for them.”
Fawn breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks Ember.”
“You really should get some help, Fawn. Maybe after this season you can check yourself into a clinic.”
Fawn shook her head. “Everything’s going to be great, Ember. You’ll see.”
Ember suspected that even Fawn knew she was lying.
Someone knocked on Ember’s dressing room door. It was twenty minutes before the start of the show and a bad time for interruptions. Hans had finally finished applying her makeup but couldn’t decide what to do about her hair.
At the sound of the knock, Hans threw up his hands in despair. “What is it now? Do they not know that there is an artist at work in here?”
He stormed across the room to the door and flung it open. “What do you want?”
Rick Rogers stood in the hallway with a single red rose in his hands and the same terrible striped shirt that he had worn in last week’s competition. “I, um, need to speak to Ember for a minute.”
“And I need sixty more minutes to finish creating perfection.” He glanced at the rose in Rick’s hands and grinned. “But you probably think her perfection comes naturally. You may have three minutes and then I shall play God by once again creating angelic beauty with these two hands.”
Hans stepped out of the dressing room and closed the door behind Rick.
Ember stood up. “What’s on your mind?”
Rick crossed the room to join her. “I wanted to bring you this and to thank you again. You really helped me pull out all the stops last week. And I,” he handed her the rose, “thank you.”
“You didn’t have to bring me flowers,” Ember said. In truth she was slightly uncomfortable that he had done so.
“It’s just one rose,” Rick told her.
But it was a red rose, Ember noted, red for love and passion.
“Well, I’m sure you’re going to do even better this week,” she told him.
“I hope so,” Rick said. “I’ve worked hard, but the competition is fierce. It’s good to know you’re pulling for me.”
Where was Hans? He needed to get back here and end this awkward conversation. “Would you like another piece of advice?” Ember asked.
“Of course,” Rick told her. “I’ll do anything you tell me.”
“Lose that shirt,” she said. “It makes you look—”
“This shirt?” Rick interrupted. “I can’t do that. It’s half my luck!”
The bad half, Ember wanted to say, but what came out was something else entirely. “What’s the other half?”
“This,” Rick whispered.
He leaned close and kissed her—his lips pressing gently against hers, warm and tender.
Taken completely off guard, Ember shocked herself. She didn’t pull away. She didn’t slap him. She just stood there for a moment while his tongue flicked feather light against her lips and his strong hands gripped her waist, pulling her up against him. Then to her utter horror, her mouth opened to him and her tongue started out to play.
A knock sounded on the dressing room door, startling Ember into stepping back from Rick and breaking the embrace. She was breathing hard and her heart was racing—but whether with passion or simple fear of discovery she wasn’t completely certain.
The door opened and Hans reentered the room. “I cannot give you another minute. Even God, Himself, must have some time in which to work His miracles.”
Rick pulled himself back together. “I’ll be singing for you tonight,” he whispered, then turned and hurried from the room.
Hans watched him go, admiring his backside until the door closed behind him. “It is such a shame that boy is straight.”
Then he turned back to Ember. “Sit down, dear. We only have fifteen minutes to finish making you radiant.”
Ember sat down in her chair, her mind a jumble of confused thoughts and sensations. Why had she just stood there? And why was her heart still racing?
“You’ve dropped your rose,” Hans noted. He stooped down, picked it up, and handed it to her. “And is that a smudge on your lipstick?”
He picked up the lipstick tube and set about correcting the flaw. “Perhaps it’s not a shame the boy is straight after all, hmm?”
Week Four
“You’re the adult,” Ember reminded herself. “You’re the adult. You’re the one who’s in control. Rick is just a talented amateur.”
“He’s not that talented,” Mitch Daniels said as he stepped out of a side corridor and joined her.
Ember started in surprise, wondering how much the other judge had heard. “I’m sorry, Mitch, I didn’t see you there…and I didn’t realize I’d been talking out loud.”
Mitch grinned. “Talking to yourself, are you? Now that’s something I think we all expect Fawn to be doing.”
Ember tried to force a smile on her face but wasn’t quite certain she pulled it off convincingly.
Mitch’s grin seemed to grow wider, or maybe more sly and knowing. “I heard the puppy gave you a rose last week.”
Ember lost a portion of her poise. Her shoulders sank and probably a portion of the despair she was feeling found its way on to her face. Rock Idol was her second chance—not many people got a first chance at a career in the music industry, much less a second one. And she was on the verge of blowing hers.
“Who told you that?” Ember asked.
“Hillary Tempest saw him in the hallway.”
That damned Tempest! Ember thought. The last thing she needed was that girl talking about her and—
“Now don’t go getting upset at our little Tempest,” Mitch said. “All the contestants know Rick has a crush on you. He wears his emotions on his sleeve and let’s face it, part of his problem on stage is he’s singing all of his songs directly to you.”
Ember felt mortified. Was it really that obvious?
Mitch might as well have telepathy because he answered her as if she’d spoken the question out loud. “And yes, it really is that obvious. The only reason the tabloids haven’t noticed yet is that no one’s talked and the producers are doing a good job of concealing it by constantly switching the camera angles when he sings.”
Ember stopped walking, feeling utterly defeated. The situation was already out of control and she really hadn’t done anything. “What am I going to do, Mitch? It’s all so embarrassing!” She couldn’t believe she’d just asked his advice.
Mitch was clearly enjoying himself. “It is not embarrassing!”
“What?”
“Ember, that kid is hot! He may not sing very well but he gets more emails, Facebook and Twitter postings than any of our other contestants. Ninety-five percent of those are from women ranging from eight and ten year old tots to grandmothers who certainly should be embarrassed by the kinds of things they�
��re suggesting. So you’re not embarrassed. You’re flattered that a young man who’s going to start hitting all the hottest guys lists is completely focused on you.”
It was kind of flattering, Ember realized, when you put it in that sort of context.
Mitch was still reading her mind. “You see, I’m right. You are flattered.”
“All right,” Ember conceded. “I find it flattering. But with Fox having caught the anti-scandal religion, I also find it a little bit threatening.”
“I can see that,” Mitch agreed. “What’s up with that anyway?”
“I don’t know…” Ember paused while a couple of techs passed them in the hall, “…but I think he’s really serious about it. Two of the judges on Dance Mania wagered dinner at the restaurant of their choice that they could pick the winning team and he completely freaked out on them. It was dinner, for God’s sake.”
Mitch shook his head. “Maybe our Fox needs a nice quiet vacation.”
“Like that’s going to happen.” Like most successful producers, Fox was a workaholic. He didn’t truly understand the concept of a vacation.
As if of one mind, they started walking down the corridor again. “What am I going to do, Mitch?”
“Do?” Mitch asked. “Why you’re going to have fun with it, of course. You’ve got one of the hottest kids in stardom right now reminding you you’re still a very attractive woman. Enjoy the attention.”
That was a positive, Ember agreed. Rick did make her feel hot again!
“And you might use some of your enchantress influence to get him out of those stupid stripes. If looks is all this kid’s got going for him, then he ought to be maximizing their affect, not looking like some casting call reject.”
Ember found herself smiling again. She’d never really liked Mitch, but today his sarcasm was helping her to laugh.
“I’ll see what I can do,” she told him.
Mitch suddenly stopped walking again so that Ember advanced two paces past him and had to turn and come back.
“And Ember,” he whispered, “if you do let it go further than some puppy dog eyes and a couple of roses, for God’s sake be discrete because Fox really is off his rocker with this sudden fear of scandal.”
Suddenly, Ember didn’t feel like smiling anymore.
“Hey, Ember, you have a minute?”
Ember looked up from her dressing chair to see Rick peaking his head through the door. Hans paused in applying her blush. “You want a few moments, dear?”
“No, we’re running late,” Ember said. “He can talk to me while you’re working.”
Hans arched an eyebrow at her, clearly questioning her decision. Then acquiesced and resumed applying her blush. “It’s up to you, of course.” He lowered his voice. “But you know I would cover for you, dear, and there really is time to repair any harm he does to my work.”
Ember tried and failed to keep the smile off her face.
Rick still hovered uncertainly in the doorway.
“Come in, Rick,” she called out. “You don’t mind if Hans finishes making me up while we talk, do you?”
Rick clearly did mind, but he didn’t say that. He had two roses in his hands this week and that same terrible striped shirt on. “I was hoping to talk to you…alone,” he said.
“I’m afraid we can’t,” Ember said. “I’m due on stage soon and I need Hans to make certain I look beautiful.”
“You were born beautiful. Hans is only taken credit for what God already gave you,” Rick told her.
Hans couldn’t let that comment pass. “Normally, I would take offense at someone belittling my skills this way, but what can I say? You are right, of course. Ember is perfection.”
He set down the blush and picked up his iPod. “If you will excuse me for a moment, I have to use the little boys’ room.” Hans put the headphones on and turned the sound up loud, then stepped into the adjoining bathroom and closed the door.
Ember watched him go, hoping her jaw hadn’t landed in her lap. How could Hans abandon her like this? She nearly jumped out of her chair when Rick touched her hand.
“You wouldn’t talk to me when you were mixing with the contestants earlier.”
She steeled her nerve. “Rick, I never should have let you kiss me last week. It was unprofessional. It—”
He leaned in, his lips swooping down toward hers. She got her hand between their faces and he pulled back.
“Ember, what’s wrong?”
Her heart fluttered and she felt a touch light-headed. She’d had no idea this would be so difficult. She’d thought the problem would be she didn’t want to hurt him. She hadn’t realized she actually wanted him to touch her. Mitch was right! Rick was hot and part of her loved his interest in her.
She wanted to act cool, but her body continued to betray her. Hadn’t it learned anything from her past scandals? Her skin flushed with heat. Her breasts were swelling. Even her goddamned treacherous pussy was getting moist. What on earth was wrong with her?
Through an exercise of extraordinary will power, Ember reiterated her refusal. “We’re not going to repeat our kiss,” she told him. The words didn’t come out as firmly as Ember intended, but it could have been worse. If she’d left off the exclamation point, at least she hadn’t turned the statement into a question.
Rick wasn’t really listening. “But I need you, Ember. You’re my luck. You’re my inspiration.”
He leaned in to kiss her again and for the second time Ember stopped him.
She found her firm voice. “We’re not doing this! It’s unprofessional! It could cost me my job. I spent a lot of time in the wilderness, Rick—a teen idol who got too old for her fan base. Rock Idol is my second chance. I’m just not going to risk that for a fling with a really cute kid.”
She’d hurt him. She could see that in his face. He took a full step back from her. “I wasn’t interested in a fling,” he said.
Oh God, she thought. It’s even worse than I suspected.
“I thought after we kissed last week that there was something magical between us.”
Clearly Ember’s body agreed, even as she tried to remind herself that it was Rick who’d done the kissing. The heat between her legs intensified and the mirror showed that her nipples were now clearly visible through her dress. In her mind, Ember knew she had to completely blow Rick off, but her heart wouldn’t let those sorts of words out of her mouth.
“That kiss was magical,” Ember agreed. “But Rick, we have to be professional about this. You’re a contestant and I’m a judge. We can’t—”
“You’re not really a judge,” Rick interrupted.
Ember started to bristle in automatic anger. How dare he impugn her competence?
“You guys were judging when you decided who made it on the show,” Rick explained. “But now you’re really just knowledgeable critics. America does the actual judging.”
Her anger dissipated as quickly as it had risen. “Rick, the rules are clear. I can’t kiss you again.”
He stepped back up beside her and her heartbeat sped up noticeably. He tried to caress her face but she caught his wrist and stopped him.
“Please,” he said. “You’re my luck.”
“I thought you said that crummy old shirt was your luck,” Ember said.
Rick ignored her statement. “I just…I… please! I need to kiss you.”
Was that what this was really about? Was it just a ritual? Musicians, like actors, could be so damned superstitious. “Rick, you have real talent. You don’t need luck. You don’t need a ritual. What you need to do is go out there on the stage tonight and sing with your whole heart and soul.”
Crestfallen, Rick backed up again. “You’re really not going to kiss me, are you?”
“No,” Ember told him. She felt like an ice-cold bitch saying it, but it was the answer that had to be true.
He backed up another couple of steps. “Please don’t do this to me, Ember.”
“I can’t kiss you, Rick. And yo
u don’t need me to.”
He started to make one more plea, then broke off and fled the room.
Ember felt awful watching him close the door.
She felt even worse when he bombed his performance and almost got kicked off the show.
Week Five
Ember joined Mitch and Fox Atwood at the studio where they were sitting behind a one-way glass watching Hillary Tempest rehearse for the show tonight. Fox was shaking his head. “No, Mitch, I don’t think she’s going to win.”
Mitch’s indignation seemed genuine. “What are you talking about? She’s got the best set of pipes in the contest.”
“And all the cuddly charm of a barracuda,” Fox noted. “She’ll last a few more weeks, but unless she can thaw the ice princess routine, I don’t see her going all the way.”
“Who cares if she’s charming?” Mitch asked. “This show is about singing and frankly, I don’t think there’s another contestant who’s in Hillary’s league.”
Ember knew Mitch really believed this. Rock Idol was about talent for him and nothing more. But contrary to his personal experience where many people tuned into the show to hear what nasty thing he would say to their rock aspirants, Americans weren’t going to buy tickets to a concert of a star they knew disdained them.
“I’m sorry, Mitch,” she said, “but Rock Idol is a lot more that a singing competition. It’s also about…call it star factor. Our contestants need to get votes to stay in the contest and even though she’s outperforming just about everyone, Tempest is not pulling the most votes. She needs to soften her image or at least stop acting so goddamn superior to everyone else.”
Mitch laughed. “She does have the superior thing down pat. What was it she said to you in the hall last week? ‘Thanks for your concern but I think I know a little more about modern music than a star whose career ended twenty years ago.’ I’ve been laughing about that for a week.”
“And that probably explains why you like her so much and don’t see her flaws,” Fox said. “Now, I’d like to ask you both something before Fawn gets here. What’s up with her? I mean she’s always been famous for the ditzy nonsense she spouts, but this season she’s bringing it to a whole new level.”
Rock Idol (Reality With a Twist Series) Page 3