by Jen Calonita
“So what do you guys think so far?” Briggs asked the boys. “Is it album-worthy?”
Heath exhaled. “There’s something about this chorus that isn’t working for us. It’s got no edge, you know? And there’s only one lead on vocals.”
“All our songs have one lead on vocals—me,” Zander pointed out. He had his sunglasses on indoors, which is a pet peeve of mine. Sunglasses inside sort of defeats the purpose, but for Zander I was willing to make an exception.
“Why don’t you try it for Piper and the girls, and they’ll tell you what they think?” Briggs suggested before anyone could respond.
Kyle looked at the others, who nodded. Then he began to play his guitar, his fingers moving swiftly across the strings, making a melody that was fast and sounded more like a rock song than a pop hit. Seconds later Heath joined in. Zander was the only one without an instrument. I guess he doesn’t need to play one when he has the voice of an angel. When Zander started to sing, I closed my eyes and listened without really trying to hear the words. It was always hard to catch them all on the first listen of a song, but I got the gist pretty quickly. They seemed to be about a boy who wanted a girl who wanted someone else, and the lyrics were… sort of dull. Zander sounded great, but Heath and Kyle barely did more than ooh and aah on the chorus. Usually a PS song makes my foot tap and my body bop along by the first chorus, but this time, nada.
Heath strummed the last note. “See?” He looked at us, and I looked around. No one seemed that impressed. Jilly was examining a chipped nail. Mom’s jaw was set, and Briggs was wiping his sweaty brow. Mikey G. popped gum in his mouth.
Briggs looked at me. “Well? You’re a huge PS fan. What do you think?”
Everyone looked at me. “It’s—um—” There was no getting around the truth. “It’s boring.”
“See? The chorus is not catchy at all,” Kyle said, sounding frustrated. “Our fans love a good chorus to sing along to.”
“I like it,” Zander announced.
“You would,” Heath shot back. “It’s practically a solo.”
Uh-oh.
“I agree it doesn’t have the right beat, but how do you ask Einstein to rework a song?” Briggs sighed. “I was hoping it would be so good we could record it right away and release it as a single in anticipation of the album. But…” He shook his head and looked at my mom. “Wave One wants us to find something that will be even bigger than ‘I Feel Blue.’ I don’t think this is it.”
So far PS had released only an EP, which is a smaller version of an album. They’d had a few singles but not enough airplay to be considered big stars yet. Wave One was responsible for getting them more radio time. Z100 had played their single only to promote them being in Song Slam, and now Mom was desperately trying to get the label’s publicity department to get the boys on the morning show with Elvis Duran. She said one time on the show with him and the band would be unstoppable. I didn’t know much about the music industry, but Briggs was probably right. The guys needed a hit.
Heath and Zander were still bickering. Kyle was scribbling more notes on the sheet music and strumming his guitar. He seemed lost in his own world—the world of a song meant for PS. That was it! “What about Kyle’s music?” I blurted out, and Kyle stopped strumming. His cheeks colored slightly. “He’s written a bunch of music for PS, haven’t you, Kyle?”
“I didn’t know you were writing music,” Briggs said. “Why haven’t you shown it to us?”
“Yeah.” Heath poked him in the ribs with a guitar pick. “You said you were just messing around. You didn’t say you had actually written something we could use. Let’s hear it.”
I gulped hard. I had put Kyle on the spot, and I didn’t even know if he was ready to show his work yet. The two of us made eye contact, and I tried to send him a message telepathically like they always do on Life After Life: You’ve got this.
Kyle reached into the binder in front of him and pulled two sheets from the back. “Okay. This one is called ‘Just Another Love Song.’” He passed pages to Heath and Zander, who looked surprised that Kyle actually had copies.
Maybe he was just waiting for the right moment to share this song, and I had made it happen.
Or maybe Kyle was never going to speak to me again.
Heath read the music over. I watched his mouth moving. His head started to bop. “Can I get on the guitar, too?”
“Absolutely,” Kyle said. “You okay with this, Briggs?”
Briggs threw his hands up. “Why not? Give it a go.”
Kyle looked at the others. “Okay, ready and…”
As soon as Kyle started to play, I knew the song was special. It was a riff on love songs—making fun of how mushy some were and how they said things guys would never say in real life. Each of the guys had their own section to sing, and they all came in on the chorus, which had this great pop beat with a rocker edge. Heath was banging his head along with the music, and I could see Zander’s toe tapping. Mine was, too. Forget Einstein! This song sounded like a PS song should. I looked at Jilly, and she gave me two thumbs-ups. The question was, would Briggs agree?
When the song ended, the room was silent. We all looked at the decision maker. Briggs broke into a huge smile and started to applaud. “That’s the song! It has ‘hit’ written all over it.” He grabbed Kyle around the neck and pulled him in to give him a noogie, and we all cheered.
“Do you think the fact that Kyle’s not a hit maker will be a problem?” Zander said, to my surprise. Zander wasn’t going to ruin this for Kyle, was he? “The song is great—just great—but usually I do all the leads, and we’d share the lead on this number, so…”
“The song is perfect,” Briggs said, and turned back to Kyle again. “Why have you been hiding this talent from me? We could have been doing stadium tours ages ago if you’d given us some material.”
Kyle laughed, and I couldn’t help but bounce on my toes. This was what he wanted—to write music he could perform—and now it was going to happen. I was so happy for him.
“I’m booking us studio time. Let’s lay this down and make some tweaks before we lose this momentum. I have a feeling this song will send PS into the stratosphere!”
Everyone was clapping, but I couldn’t help noticing that Zander seemed a bit down. Kyle was blushing madly. “Thanks,” he mouthed to me.
I thought I might burst. “You’re welcome,” I mouthed back.
“We’re going to leave you boys be so you can get back to work creating genius!” Briggs said, shooing the rest of us out. “One more hour, okay? Then you can sleep! Now go! Work!”
Briggs shut the door behind him and looked at my mom. He was sweating more than ever. “This is it. The hit we’ve been waiting for.”
“Between this and the contest, I think these boys are going to have so much press they’ll hardly be able to fit it all in,” Mom agreed.
“What contest?” Jilly asked.
“Piper thought of it,” Briggs told us. “I already looped in publicity. They loved the idea! They think this will give us a way to show the band’s softer side.”
Softer side? That was my idea! I beamed. Wow. Maybe I should consider a dual career—artist and publicist. I obviously have a knack for this sort of thing.
“We’re offering fans the chance to win their perfect PS moment,” he explained as his phone began to ring. “Fans write in to ask the band to do something personal with them—go on a date, take them to the prom, join their soccer team—and we’ll narrow those wishes down to the most innovative. The entry the boys like most will win the fan her PS moment with the band.”
“We’re going to build on the momentum of the Lemon Ade tour and rush entries in,” Mom added. “The PS fan club says it already has a few thousand pieces of fan mail to sort through from the last month alone. So between those letters and the new entries we get in the coming weeks, we’ll have a lot to choose from. Some fan is going to be very lucky.”
Some fan. My ears started to ring. I was a fa
n. A fan who had written just that kind of letter myself before I knew Mom was going to get a job with PS. What if I was with the guys when someone found my letter and read it out loud? Sure, I had put my middle name on the poster so that I had a secret identity, but if they laughed at my poem, I would still feel tinier than a flea.
And what would Kyle say about my poem? He was such a talented songwriter. What if he thought it was stupid?
What if, what if, what if.
Who was I kidding? I was being paranoid! According to Jilly, there was fan mail collecting dust at the PS fan club headquarters, and they’d had thousands of new letters this month alone. There was NO WAY my little poem and drawing would be found and make it into the top entries. Perfect Storm would never see it.
Right?
Wednesday, March 9
LOCATION: Santa Fe, New Mexico
Fact: I had to check my phone to see what day it was before I wrote it in my journal!
Second fact: I wasn’t sure what city we were in when I woke up this morning!
I’ve always read in Popstar! magazine about bands who claim that all cities look the same from a hotel room, but I didn’t believe them. Now I do! I feel like a Ping-Pong ball. In the last few days we went from Austin to San Antonio, Texas; made a stop in Oklahoma City, Oklahoma, for PS to do a photo shoot that label publicity arranged for the contest; and then were on to Santa Fe, New Mexico.
I feel like the only time I’ve seen my mom the last few days was when she was snoring in the bed next to me. After the craziness that went down in Nashville, I’ve been trying to stay out of the way. Z100 mentioned PS and their YouTube videos on the morning show a few days ago, and ever since then the band has been getting followers and requests like crazy! Mom can barely finish her favorite caramel lattes, let alone sightsee, so Jilly and I have found something else to do with our time. We’ve been holed up with Mikey G. on the bus getting Jilly hooked on Life After Life. (“So Carmen is secretly a royal and looking for a prince, and Oliver doesn’t have a clue?” she cried.)
Taking a walk down Life After Life memory lane has been fun, but today Mikey G. brought us to the Hilton down the block from the Sheraton we’re staying in (pop-star rule learned in Nashville: Never host an event at the hotel you’re actually staying in). PS was doing a fan listening session there that was being taped for PS’s YouTube channel AND was being considered for a segment on Today about the rise of new boy bands. Mom wanted the room as packed as possible, and since the event came together on such short notice, Jilly and I were called in to serve as warm bodies. We were not allowed to ask questions, though (boo!). I was settling into my seat in the third row, watching girls trickle in as they saw the tweets from the boys, when Zander approached.
“Hey.” Weeks later Zander’s smile still had a way of making me feel like the inside of a molten chocolate cake.
“Hi,” I said back. (Obviously, this was a very exciting conversation.)
“I still owe you some authentic quesadillas, don’t I?” Zander asked, leaning on the back of one of the folding chairs in front of me.
“Um—OUCH!” I replied. Zander looked at me oddly. Jilly had pinched me! “I mean, yes!”
“If there’s time, maybe we can go to Poco Loco. Word has it that it’s the place to go for authentic Mexican food,” Zander said. “I know, I’m not cooking, but I bet this is better. You up for another chip-eating contest?”
This was what I got for winning the chip-eating contest against Jilly and the roadies the other night in Austin. How was I supposed to know Zander was watching me shove tortilla chips in my mouth at record speed? The prize was exclusive use of one of the golf carts backstage, and I was not passing up my own golf cart. I am a much safer driver than Jilly!
At least Zander had noticed I liked tortilla chips.
I could feel the giggles starting and then that overheated feeling I get when Zander is nearby and looking cute (today his hair was extra messy, and he was wearing a red bull’s-eye T-shirt that looked great on him).
Jilly pinched me again and I recovered. “Sure, sounds fun.”
“Awesome. My mouth is watering thinking about that food already.” He winked at me. Or maybe he winked at the girl squealing behind me. I wasn’t sure.
“See you after the show!” I said as girls around us started to give me dirty looks. My mind was already far, far away. I was on a beach with Zander, eating blue corn tortilla chips and talking about the first time we really hung out together, which would be today. This would be the moment Zander and I really got to talk. I bet we had a lot in common, like Kyle and I did. So far all we’d really talked about was his role in the band, what it meant to be in a band, and how much he loved the band. Zander as a person, separate from PS, I just didn’t know yet.
“OH NO,” Jilly said. “Not her again.” I turned around to see who had gotten Jilly worked up.
It was Lola Cummings. She stood in the doorway carrying a mega-expensive designer bag and wearing a dress that showed just how much older she was than most of us in the room.
“Noooo!” I groaned. She was walking right toward us. Jilly and I sat there in our beat-up T-shirts, which we hadn’t bothered changing because we didn’t know we were being filmed, and our summer shorts, which were better suited for an outing at an amusement park than an on-air concert, and tried not to look bothered. But I was bothered, especially when Lola, her babysitter, and her equally annoying friend Bridget walked past us and went right for the FRONT ROW. They sat down in three reserved seats just as the lights began to dim and Briggs was telling the audience about being taped and waivers and other things I didn’t care about at that moment.
So instead of concentrating on the boys and listening to them talk about how they had become a band (I already knew the story) and how Lemon Ade had picked them to open on her tour, I was staring at Lola’s big blond head, getting more annoyed every second. I could picture her smiling at Zander and giggling at his every word (“You mean, like you do?” Jilly asked). When the listening session was over, I made a beeline to the front row, where Lola was talking to Zander.
“There you are!” Lola cooed, linking her arm through mine.
Exsqueeze me? I unhooked my arm STAT!
“I was just telling Z. that they have the best clothing boutiques in town. Daddy told me to buy Zander some new threads for his next few shows.” Lola’s glossy pink lips were way too close to my face.
“Too bad he’s already having lunch with Mac,” Jilly said, and I realized she was standing behind me, legs spread, arms crossed, looking like a mini Mikey G.
“Are you doing a sixth-grade paper on Zander or something?” Lola started texting someone on her phone, then got bored and handed her phone to her babysitter to text for her.
“I’m in seventh grade,” I told her, feeling small but hoping I didn’t look it.
“So, Zander, how about it? Want to shop? We can alert the paparazzi so they can get some pics.” She looked at me. “Being seen with the daughter of the Wave One owner is great press.”
“Is it?” Jilly asked. A girl pushed her from behind to get a selfie with Zander. “Because I don’t think I’ve ever seen a picture of you in Popstar!”
Lola’s eyes narrowed. “That’s because they post my pictures online to reach fans faster.”
Zander stopped scribbling autographs. “Sorry, Lola. I actually do have plans with Mac.”
Score: Lola 1, me 1. HA!
“But I have to cancel.” Zander flashed me those puppy-dog eyes.
What?
“Publicity scored me some meetings with radio executives in town, and they’re going to take me to lunch to talk about PS stuff we can do together. You don’t mind, do you?”
“Of course not,” I said, and tried not to sound disappointed.
Zander looked relieved. “Thanks, Mac. You know how important this is.”
I did. I watched him turn around to sign more autographs. I tried not to look too dejected. Lola stomped off in a huff
herself, and a local reporter began interviewing Zander.
“So, is there a special girl in your life?” the reporter asked.
“Girl?” Zander played to the camera. “Every girl is my girl—I’m doing my job for them. I love making girls happy.” More screams.
“I mean a girlfriend,” the reporter pressed. “Do you have one?”
Zander laughed. “No way! I don’t have time for a girlfriend.” A few girls nearby gasped. “But I’m always looking for that special someone to make me change my mind.”
I felt like a bouncy house that had just sprung a leak. Zander didn’t want a girl in his life right now. And if he was looking for that special someone to change his mind, that special someone obviously wasn’t me.
“You okay?” Jilly pulled me out of the conference room and into the lobby, where Mikey G. and the extra security were ushering girls out of the hotel. Briggs was going over something with the videographers he’d hired, and Mom was on the phone again. “You’ll come up with something way better to do this afternoon,” Jilly assured me. “I just wish I could do it with you. My mom flew in on her way to Lake Tahoe, and we’re going to the spa.” She made a face. “Like I want to spend hours getting a manicure!”
With all of Jilly’s basketball playing with the roadies, a manicure was going to chip in an hour. “I’m sure you’ll still have fun hanging out with your mom,” I said, trying to be optimistic. “Mine is so busy this week, I don’t think she remembers what I look like.”
“Of course I remember what you look like.” Mom put an arm around Jilly and gave her a hug. “Hmm… you do seem a tad taller, though, and I don’t remember you biting your nails, either.”
“Mom!” I swatted at her. “That’s not funny!”
My mom hugged me and held on extra long. “What are you up to today? Any chance you want to check out Santa Fe with your mom? Jilly texted me a list of places to see while we’re in town, and I know one you’d love—Comic Book University.”