“I don’t know what I’m going to say. And that’s the truth. My manager, Stan, set the press conference up to announce my Vegas deal before any of this even happened. But now, well, I guess I’ll have to talk about it. Or say no comment.” She sighed. “What do you want me to say?” Georgia asked.
“I don’t know,” I admitted, but I didn’t want to be a no comment. No comment meant we weren’t worth talking about. I folded the card in my hand, the heavy paper creasing like a fault line. Lou reached out and took it from me, his eyes curious.
“I’m open to suggestions.”
“I don’t have any,” I stammered.
“The press still outside?” she asked.
“Yeah.” We could see them from the living room, leaning against each other’s hoods, sitting on the curb. Watching them, it was hard to remember they were people. Dad kept calling them rats.
“They’re hanging around here, too. Not sure what they’re hoping to see.”
“Doesn’t it bother you? Dealing with that all the time?” I asked.
“It’s the life I chose. Comes with the territory. Although, lately it’s been getting to me more than it used to.” She paused. “Maybe that’s the answer. Telling the press my family isn’t their concern. I chose this life, but you didn’t.”
“Do you regret it? What you did? Leaving us?” As I said the words, I knew the real reason I’d called was to hear her answer. She wanted to go forward, but unless I knew that a piece of her regretted her choice fourteen years ago, what was the point?
“Every day.” Her voice cracked.
“Then why didn’t you call? Or visit? We were waiting. I was waiting for you!”
“I was ashamed of what I’d done. How could I go back to you after all this time? I was scared, afraid of being turned away.”
“So what made today so special? After all this time?” My words rang, shrill and angry. Lou and his room had faded away. It was just me and Georgia locked together.
“You. You did. When I saw that video, you were all grown up.” Her voice got thick, choked with emotion. “You looked like me. And your hair — I got this feeling, deep down, and I realized I’d screwed up. So big.” She was crying now, her words flowing together, clogged with tears. “I tried to fool myself into thinking I’d done the right thing, leaving you all. But then, I saw you and heard you and I knew. It was all a big lie. I’d missed everything.”
I shut my eyes and let tears roll down my cheeks.
Finally.
It was the day of Georgia’s press conference, and I stood at Dad’s bedroom window keeping a lookout for Jeremy. Lou had been using the fire escape to get in and out of the building, and he’d told Jeremy to do the same and avoid the zoo in front of the store. Dad kept lamenting for our neighbours. He’d called all of them to apologize for the inconvenience and said they should call the police to get rid of the reporters. If they had, it hadn’t made a difference. There were still at least twenty people sitting across the street, waiting for us. Mr. Lambert, who owned the hardware store, had chased some of them away with a broom, yelling at them that we were good people and to go bother someone else.
I opened the window for Jeremy. It took all my strength to heave it up. The metal frames scraped against each other. Once there was room for him, Jeremy put his hands on the window and helped lift it. “How are you doing?” he asked, stepping through the opening. He had to contort his body to fit. The fire escape window was in Dad’s room. Jeremy took in the rumpled bed and framed posters, all of them autographed, covering the walls.
“Okay.” I sighed. “I hate waiting. I wish I knew what she was going to say.” I wanted to collapse against Jeremy’s shoulder and cry. Or turn back time to before all of this had happened.
“I was thinking, we should spin later. Take your mind off things. I have some new songs that we could play around with —”
I shook my head before he could finish. “I can’t.”
“You don’t know what she’s going to say.”
“No, it’s not about the press conference. I just can’t spin anymore.”
“Dizz.” Jeremy exhaled, shaking his head. “I’ve never met anyone who gets it like you do. And your Mixcloud account! Since all this happened, your numbers exploded. People are listening, Dizz! You’re getting attention DJs dream about.”
I gritted my teeth. Everything he said made it harder to walk away. “I wanted to tell a story, like Erika said. It’s why I used Georgia’s songs. They meant something to me. But now, it’s just too ugly. How can I spin things together that hurt me so much?”
“Give it some time. Things might work out. You don’t know this is the end.”
I nodded, wishing he was right. Not spinning made me feel disconnected, like a part of me was loose. “Dizzy!” Lou called from the living room. “Come on, it’s almost starting.”
“Let’s go,” I said to Jeremy.
“We’re not done,” he said warningly. “There’s no way I’m letting you give up on DJing.”
I nodded glumly, not sure there was anything he could say that would convince me to get behind the turntables again. On top of everything else, Georgia had taken that from me, too.
Dad, Lou, and Maya had already arrived and were sitting around the living room. Maya had managed to climb up the fire escape in her wedge boots, which was terrifying to watch. The press conference was being streamed live on an online entertainment news channel, so Lou had plugged his laptop into the TV so we could watch it. My stomach was in knots. Dad tried to give me a reassuring smile, but he was nervous, too. I’d told him about my phone call with her and cried again, my emotions too close to the surface. His face had softened when I told him about her regrets, how she wished she’d done things differently. It must have been hard for him to hear; after all, he’d been the one left to pick up the pieces, to worry and fix what she’d broken.
Everyone quieted down when a reporter started talking. She stood at the back of a room crowded with other reporters and news crews. Huge lenses were trained on the white leather chair sitting in the middle of a stage at the front of a crowded theatre. The reporter spoke into the microphone. “That chair is empty now, but in a few minutes, Georgia Waters will take the stage to talk to reporters for the first time since the video of fifteen-year-old Delilah Doucette was released.” A clip of my video, the volume muted, split the screen with the reporter. I winced as my face filled the screen. Maya slid her hand in mine and squeezed. “Doucette alleges that she is Georgia Waters’s daughter. Her father, a musician and record store owner, Ray Doucette, did tour with Georgia in the early stages of her career. Georgia’s PR team has been mum on what the press conference will reveal and, as you can imagine, there is a level of excitement in the room as we wait for her to arrive.”
There was a flurry of activity as everyone who was milling around grabbed a seat. A man, her manager maybe, came on stage and waited until it was quiet. He was short and thin, tanned to an unnatural shade of orange, with carefully styled hair. “Stan.” Dad shook his head and snorted.
“If you could all take your seats, Georgia will be out in a minute. She won’t be taking any questions.” There was an audible groan from the audience.
And then, she came on stage. She was dressed in a red, high-waisted dress that swished around her legs. She took a seat in the chair and crossed her ankles. Georgia held her head high, gazing out at the audience. She waved at someone, an anxious smile on her face. “She looks nervous,” Maya whispered to me.
She cleared her throat and began speaking, her voice deep and husky and so familiar. “Thank you all for coming. I’m sure there’s been a lot of speculation about the truth behind Delilah’s video.” She paused, swallowed and continued. “But I’m not here to talk about that. You can speculate all you want. What Delilah says may or may not be true. It’s really none of your business. I am the famous person. I am the one who benefits from all the luxuries that my talent and fame have afforded me. Privacy is not one of those luxuries, but
that’s what I signed on for. I’ve come to expect it. A fifteen-year-old girl should not be hampered by the scrutiny of this industry.” She raised an eyebrow and gazed at the reporters, a fiery look on her face, daring them to contradict her.
“Anyway, this press conference wasn’t set up to dispel any scandalous rumours. It was to announce that I have agreed to do a two-year residency at the Regency Hotel in Las Vegas. I’m looking forward to settling into a more normal life, one that doesn’t include all of you.” A twitter of laughter rose up. “I know I haven’t put to rest your questions. I don’t intend to. It’s none of your business.” Her brusque demeanour came as close to shaming them as possible. She folded up her paper and gazed across the audience. “Thank you again for coming and for your continued support of my career.” The reporters immediately shouted her name, yelling questions and begging for her to hear them.
But she ignored them, stood up, and walked across the stage, disappearing behind the curtain. I hadn’t realized I was holding my breath until I let it out. “Oh my god. She did do the right thing.” A surprised laugh burst from my mouth.
“Do you think it’ll work?” Jeremy asked.
Dad gave a doubtful shrug. “If we don’t give them anything new to write about.” He looked at me pointedly, but squeezed my hand. I squeezed it back.
“She did a good job,” I said.
He nodded. “She did.”
The phone rang. Dad looked at the caller ID, expecting it to be a reporter or a blocked call, which we’d ignore. He stared at the number, frozen, and it rang again. “It’s Georgia,” he said and looked at me.
I reached for the phone. My breath caught in my throat. “Hello?” It came out as a croak.
“Dizzy?” Her voice filled my head. “Did you watch?”
“Yeah. You were good.”
There was a throaty laugh. “Thanks. I hope it helps. I know what it’s like, the reporters and everything. How are you doing? I’ve been thinking a lot about our talk last night.”
I looked at Dad. He sat on the couch, watching me. He still looked wiped out. A surge of guilt pulsed through me. “Dizzy? Are you there?”
Dad had loved her once. Maybe he still did, mixed in with all the other stuff. “Yeah.” My voice felt heavy, leaden. “Me, too. I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said.”
And I’d been thinking about what Dad said, too. We can’t undo the past, we can just go forward. That’s what Georgia was asking me for, a chance to go forward.
“It’d be nice to talk to you, and maybe once I get settled … well, we’ll see if you want to come out here. Maybe visit?”
It was too much to hope for. Scary, but it was a way forward. “Yeah, that’d be good.”
Georgia gave a sigh of contentment. “I wish it hadn’t taken this long for me to realize —” She broke off as someone came in the room and said something in the background. “I have to go,” she said apologetically. “I’ll call again. Soon. Goodbye, Dizzy.”
“Bye,” I whispered.
“What did she say?” Maya asked when I hung up. Part of me wanted to keep it a secret, enjoy it for a while like something sweet melting on my tongue.
“She wants to call once in a while, get to know us.” I looked at Lou. He arched an eyebrow and gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. The door he’d shut would have to be pried open.
Dad nodded and got a wistful look on his face, like he was lost in a memory. The road for me and Georgia would be rocky, I knew that. But I had Dad and Lou, Maya and Jeremy, to pull me through. My family.
“Delilah, over here!”
“Delilah, where’s Georgia?”
“Where’s your mom?”
“When are you seeing her again?”
“Are you moving to Vegas?”
“One smile, sweetheart!”
I woke up with a start, my heart pounding. A thin layer of sweat covered my face. For six weeks, I’d been shouted at, followed, and pawed. Getting up in front of a crowd to DJ wasn’t as scary as knowing a pack of hungry photographers were waiting outside, baying for me. I had nightmares most nights now, their voices battering against my brain.
“You okay?” Lou poked his head in my room. “Bad dream?”
“Yeah,” I said, breathless. I flicked on my bedside light. “Same one.”
Lou looked at me. He’d escaped some of the harassment from the media. I knew it was my own fault for making the video. The press conference hadn’t done anything to dissuade the reporters; if anything, it made them hungrier. At the height of things, I hadn’t gone to school. Maya had brought me my work, climbing up the fire escape to sit with me until I finished it, so she could bring it to the teacher the next day. Georgia released another statement, shaming them for making it impossible for a fifteen-year-old to go to school. It must have driven them crazy that she wouldn’t admit if the things I said in the video were true or not. Dad called it a standoff. They hounded us to get Georgia to fess up, but our refusal to speak about it was the only way to kill the story. In the end, everyone was losing.
Finally, this week, Dad had been able to open the store at its regular hours. The crush of photographers on the sidewalk had thinned; only a few stragglers remained, and they were half-hearted. They didn’t bother shouting questions at us anymore and had stopped following me to school. If we kept ignoring them, they’d leave altogether, just like Georgia had promised.
People at school were weirded out by my new-found fame. I got lots of stares in the hallway and knew people were whispering about me as I walked past. I was still the same person I had been before the news broke about who my mom was, but to them, I wasn’t. All of a sudden, people who barely spoke to me claimed to be my good friend. At first, the reporters got stories from other students. Some claimed they knew I was Georgia’s daughter, that I’d told them. But just as many told reporters I wasn’t. That I was a publicity hound trying to fuel my DJing with the lies.
My self-imposed boycott on spinning lasted a couple of weeks and then I found myself back behind the turntables. I needed to work through things and find a release for all the emotions that swirled in me. Mixing records was the only way I knew how to do that. Only this time, it was all for me. Nothing would be uploaded to Mixcloud or shared. I wasn’t mixing to gain fame or attention; I was spinning for me. Everything had felt stiff that first time spinning after such a long break. My transitions were off; the samples I used were a beat too slow. Erika had told me to take my listeners on a journey. Well, the journey had turned into a roller coaster.
There were lots of times when I wished I’d kept things a secret. But then I’d talk to Georgia on the phone, I’d hear her voice, and it made me glad I’d done what I did, hopeful. Lou was worried about me; he steered clear of Georgia. My eyes were open, I assured him. Sometimes our conversations lasted half an hour, and other times, only a few minutes. She wanted to know about our lives, what she’d missed. We talked about the future, too, about her new home in Las Vegas (the penthouse suite of a hotel!) and her show. We tiptoed around the idea of a visit. Dad thought it was too soon, but he was glad that Georgia and I were talking. I heard the regret in his voice. Not for the way I’d brought her back into our lives, but because it should have always been like this.
- 52 -
Lou
We’d promised to open our letters from Waverly University at the same time, at the coffee shop. I’d gotten my letter a day before Olivia did. I’d given it to her to hold on to, in case I couldn’t handle the temptation and opened it without her. Hers had come that morning, and we sat staring at each other, our mugs of coffee forgotten on the table.
If I didn’t get in, I’d go with her anyway and get a part-time job. We’d live somewhere close to campus. If she didn’t get in and I did, well, that was a bit trickier. She swore she’d apply again, but it meant waiting another year. I’d take university classes, register for real, and think about working toward something, maybe an English degree. It would mean working at the
store for another year, which I wasn’t crazy about. If we both got into Waverley, I’d be able to escape. After everything that had happened with Georgia, being somewhere new, where no one knew who I was, would be good.
I didn’t talk to Georgia. I know Dizzy did. After a conversation, she’d get this glowy look on her face, which made me kind of sick, to be honest. Warning bells rang constantly. Dizzy was vulnerable, and I didn’t want her to fall in love with the idea of a mom she’d never have. Georgia had a life separate from ours. We were still nothing more than Shadow Children.
Olivia passed me my envelope. It wasn’t thick, which I thought was a bad sign, but Olivia said that was just in the movies. The acceptance letter looked the same as the rejection letter. The Waverley University emblem was embossed on the top corner. “Ready?” she said.
My stomach twisted. Please let her get in, I prayed. If it’s between the two of us, give it to her.
She ripped into the corner of the envelope and I did the same, slicing across it until the top was open. We pulled out our letters and looked at each other across the table, then we unfolded them. I didn’t look at my letter, I watched Olivia. She gasped, closed her eyes, and tilted her face to the ceiling. “I got in,” she whispered, her chin trembling. “I got in!” Tears welled in her eyes. I pushed my chair aside and came to her chair, bending down so I could kiss her.
“I knew you would.”
“Oh my god! I can’t believe it.” She was shaking. “What about you?” she asked, laughing and crying at the same time. She looked at my letter, lying on the table, still folded. “Did you get in?”
“I don’t know.” I laughed. “I haven’t checked.”
She wiped her tears and reached for the letter, handing it to me. “So?”
“Dear Mr. Lou Doucette, we are pleased to inform you…” it began. I grinned at her. “I’m not so easy to get rid of.”
Professor Addison’s class passed in a blur. Every time I caught Olivia’s eye, we shared an excited smile. It felt like a whole world was opening up; the path forward shiny and bright. There were no twinges of doubt. I’d never felt so sure about anything in my life.
Spin Page 20