Idol

by Carrie Duffy

  With some trepidation, Jenna had rung Gerry to tell him. She knew that they couldn’t keep it a secret forever. Casa Santos was incredibly private, but the second they left the house the paparazzi would be crawling.

  When she told Gerry there was a long silence. So long, in fact, that Jenna began to worry the connection had been cut off.

  ‘Gerry?’ she asked hesitantly.

  Gerry sighed, and Jenna could almost picture him massaging his brow. ‘Is that really a good idea, Jenna?’ he asked finally.

  ‘What do you mean by that?’ she snapped, furious at him for puncturing her good mood. She’d been living in a blissful bubble for a week now – she didn’t want Gerry’s reality check bringing her down.

  Gerry didn’t pull any punches. ‘People already think you’ve slept with Ryan. Do you want them to think you’re working your way through the whole band?’

  ‘Screw you,’ she retorted. ‘I don’t care what people think. This is serious Gerry – he’s the one for me.’

  ‘But are you the one for him?’ Gerry had asked maddeningly. Jenna knew exactly what he was alluding to – Nick’s womanizing reputation.

  ‘Jesus, why will no one give him a break?’ Jenna burst out in frustration. ‘This is different, Gerry. He’s told me so himself, and I believe him.’ It was true – Nick had lavished her with praise, telling her he’d never met anyone like her; that he’d never felt like this before. He’d talked about their future together, mentioning kids, marriage – the full works.

  ‘Well, as long as you’re sure,’ Gerry said witheringly, sounding as far from sure as it was possible to be.

  ‘I am,’ Jenna retorted. ‘Just organize it, Gerry.’ She hung up the phone and angrily threw it onto the bed. She didn’t want to admit that the reason he’d riled her so much was that she’d had exactly the same worries herself.

  But Gerry knew better than to interfere in Jenna’s personal life and, despite his reservations, he did as she’d requested. A staged paparazzi shoot was organized on Nick’s private beach. They invited a friendly photographer with links to Gerry’s agency, and worked out a contract to split the profits from the sale. It was par for the course and meant everyone won – the papers got their story, and Jenna got to control the output and ensure she looked fabulous in the pictures. And she did – her body was tanned and toned in a minuscule bikini, while Nick looked hot in black board shorts, his finely honed six-pack rippling in the sunlight. They were young, gorgeous and sexy as hell, frolicking in the surf. It was a publicist’s wet dream.

  The plane hit the runway and Jenna was jolted out of her daydreams by the bumpy landing. As they taxied towards the arrivals terminal, Nick leaned over and squeezed Jenna’s hand. She felt his breath, warm and delicious against her ear, and noticed a stewardess watching them with barely concealed envy.

  ‘Don’t you worry about anyone else,’ he reassured her. ‘Anything they can do, we can do better. Our act is gonna blow them away.’

  Jenna stared straight ahead, her face set with the determined look that Nick recognized and knew not to argue with. ‘Let’s go get ’em,’ she declared.

  Sadie was up early. She’d already spent thirty minutes in the gym, swum laps in the pool, and made herself a dubious-looking smoothie containing carrots, orange and spinach. She reminded herself of its nutritional value as she forced herself not to gag.

  She padded outside to the garden, feeling the warm flagstones beneath her bare feet. Another scorching day, she realized, as she turned her face up to the cloudless blue sky and shielded her eyes. They hadn’t had a drop of rain the whole time she’d been in Vegas. Maybe she’d sunbathe out here for a while, she decided, until the other girls got up. She’d heard them roll in about five that morning. Brooke had stumbled into their shared room, reeking of cigarette smoke and alcohol, crashing into the furniture and giggling to herself in a failed effort to be discreet. The Kandy Girls didn’t have a show tonight so they could afford to slack off, and Sadie was rapidly learning that these women liked to party hard.

  As she settled herself beside the pool, she heard the doorbell ring at the front of the house. Typical, dammit. She wondered who it could be – maybe a neighbour coming to complain about all the noise they’d made last night. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time.

  Sadie opened the door to see a young, skinny guy dressed in a FedEx uniform.

  ‘Package for Miss Sadie Laine?’ he asked, squinting up at her from beneath his baseball cap.

  ‘That’s me.’

  ‘Sign here please.’

  Sadie did as she was told, wondering what on earth was in the box. For a brief moment she thought maybe Tyrone Cole had sent her something, then realized that was crazy. Why the hell was she thinking about him?

  As she carried it through to the lounge, she saw Carla’s name on the sender’s details and grinned, ripping it open excitedly. Carla had promised to send over the possessions Sadie had requested, but looking at them now they seemed rather pathetic. The box was barely even full as Sadie had got rid of all her winter coats and thick jumpers, knowing she wouldn’t need them out here. She’d told Carla to take what she wanted, and to send the rest to a charity shop. She imagined Carla had kept very little – she was so tiny that Sadie’s clothes would probably swamp her.

  She wondered briefly how Carla was. They’d exchanged a few emails and texts, spoken a couple of times on Skype, but Sadie had been so busy she’d barely had a chance to contact her, she realized guiltily. She knew Carla had split up with Tom, and for that she was grateful. Carla was currently single, tentatively dating, but Sadie felt sure she’d find a good guy soon. She just hoped it was that easy for her too …

  Curiously, she began sorting through the box. It was strange, seeing the remnants of her old life out here in Vegas, like a merging of two very different worlds. There wasn’t much – a couple of light jumpers, some skinny jeans and half a dozen vest tops that looked faded and dated. She’d bought loads of new stuff out here, and doubted she’d ever wear them again. She lifted out her black cocktail dress and a summer jacket to reveal framed photos of her family and friends. Out of nowhere, she felt tears of homesickness start to prick at the corners of her eyes and quickly placed the photos on the pile, reaching into the box to see what came next. Her hands closed on a large black notebook and she smiled in recognition. Carla had included the jotter in which Sadie had meticulously made notes after every dance class. She flicked through slowly, glancing at page after page of her neat, sloping handwriting, the hours of work that had gone into it, proving her dedication to her craft.

  She heard a noise on the stairs and glanced up to see Brooke making her way into the room. She was wearing Disney pyjamas, and her bushy blonde hair was out of control. She yawned widely, stretching her fingertips up to the ceiling, and her shirt rode up to reveal her tiny, flat stomach.

  ‘Good night?’ Sadie asked.

  ‘Yeah, it was amazing. You really missed out,’ Brooke said lazily, throwing herself down on one of the squashy sofas. ‘We ate at Joël Robuchon then partied at Tao. I seriously think it was the most amazing night of my life.’

  Sadie smiled. ‘Maybe I should have come.’

  ‘Hey, it was your call. We did warn you,’ Brooke said easily. She glanced down at the FedEx box and the heap of clothes scattered beside Sadie. ‘What’s that?’

  ‘My life,’ Sadie replied wryly.

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘Everything I needed from home. My friend’s just sent it all over from London.’

  ‘Oh wow!’ Brooke plopped down beside her and began searching through the pile. ‘Is this your family?’ she asked, holding up a picture taken at a long-ago birthday party. Sadie nodded. ‘Your mom’s so pretty. I can see where you get it from.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Sadie grinned, as Brooke picked up another photo.

  ‘Who’s this?’

  ‘My best friend.’ It showed her and Carla in their dance gear, taken backstage at some terrible show they’
d only done for the money. They looked so different, Sadie marvelled. It had only been taken a couple of years ago, but they seemed so young, their faces full of optimism.

  ‘She’s very thin,’ Brooke commented, wrinkling her nose.

  ‘Yeah. She sometimes forgets to eat,’ Sadie said lightly.

  ‘Wow. Bad memory.’

  ‘Yeah … So is there any gossip from last night?’ Sadie asked, changing the subject.

  ‘Well, Tyrone wouldn’t stop asking about you,’ Brooke teased, as Sadie pulled a face.

  ‘I expect Heidi proved to be ample company.’

  Brooke clapped a hand over her mouth. ‘Oh my God, I totally forgot. Heidi came home with Dexter!’

  ‘Dexter?’ Sadie looked puzzled. ‘Is he one of the football players?’

  ‘No, Dexter, the guy from the show,’ Brooke hissed under her breath, glancing around as though worried he might appear at any moment.

  ‘The engaged guy?’

  Brooke nodded vigorously. ‘I guess at least he can say he slept with a Vegas stripper at his bachelor party. Kind of a cliché, huh?’

  ‘We’re not strippers,’ Sadie said defensively. ‘We’re burlesque dancers.’

  Brooke shrugged. ‘Hey, you say tomato … anyway, there’s nothing wrong with being a stripper,’ she said, her expression growing wistful.

  ‘Oh no, don’t tell me you’re missing The Pleasuredome.’

  ‘Hell, no. I love my new life. I wanna be a Kandy Girl forever.’

  ‘Forever?’

  ‘Uh huh,’ Brooke nodded.

  ‘I think in this profession there’s kind of an age limit,’ Sadie told her sadly.

  ‘There’s always surgery. I’m gonna have everything nipped, tucked, squeezed and pulled. I’ll tell the surgeon to just grab hold of my scalp and yank everything upwards until it’s all stretched out and there’s no more wrinkles.’

  ‘Sounds beautiful.’

  ‘It will be or else I’ll sue,’ Brooke grinned.

  ‘So what happened with Tyrone Cole?’ Sadie asked, curious in spite of herself. ‘Did he go home with anyone?’

  ‘Nah, he left early. Didn’t look like he was enjoying himself.’

  ‘Really?’ Sadie arched an eyebrow. ‘He probably had some girl waiting back at his hotel room.’

  Brooke stared hard at Sadie. ‘Why are you so down on the guy? I mean, what did he do to you?’

  Sadie sighed. ‘Sorry, I know I’m being unfair. My track record with men isn’t very good. I guess you could say I’ve lost my trust in them.’

  ‘Bad experience?’

  Sadie nodded.

  ‘Well, you need a good experience to get you over that.’

  ‘I guess so,’ Sadie smiled. She couldn’t fault Brooke’s logic.

  ‘I’m glad you agree ’cos I gave Tyrone your phone number,’ Brooke mentioned casually.

  ‘You did what?’ Sadie exploded. ‘What the fuck did you do that for, Brooke?’

  ‘Woah, calm down, girl. I did it because I thought it would be good for you. You haven’t been out on one date the whole time we’ve lived here, and he seems like a nice guy.’

  ‘I’ve had plenty of guys offering me their phone number,’ Sadie retorted hotly. ‘It’s not like I can’t get a date. I just don’t want one.’

  ‘It’s like this,’ Brooke began, slowly and patronizingly. ‘Sometimes people don’t know what’s best for them, and their friends need to give them a push in the right direction.’

  ‘Of all the people you could have set me up with, you decide on an NFL player? Yeah, they’re really known for being loyal and committed.’

  ‘Just give him a chance,’ Brooke insisted.

  ‘How can I? He hasn’t even rung me and I bet he’s not going to.’

  ‘He just doesn’t want to look too eager. Give him time,’ Brooke stated confidently. ‘He’ll call. I guarantee it.’

  23

  The Colosseum at Caesars Palace is a spectacular building at the best of times, but for The Night of a Thousand Stars they had really pulled out all the stops. A 4,000-seater Roman amphitheatre, decorated in red and gold with state-of-the-art equipment, it had played host to some of the world’s biggest superstars since it had opened. But Vegas had never seen anything quite like the show planned for that evening. One megastar after another would take to the stage for their 15-minute set, each aiming to be bigger, better and more fabulous than the last.

  Already they were competing to see who could make the most outrageous demands, and some poor flunkie had been despatched to find a dozen white kittens for an R’n’B diva that no one was allowed to look in the eye. Rumour had it that rap mogul TJ Daze had refused to come out of his dressing room without an assistant walking in front of him scattering hundred-dollar bills, but no one had been able to verify that.

  Out front, technical rehearsals had been taking place all day. Each act had thirty minutes to sound-check and set their lights. Some were using pyrotechnics, others had enormous video screens, backdrops, projectors and holograms. Even the air humidity in the arena was controlled, to protect the performers’ delicate vocal chords. The whole thing was a logistical nightmare. It was now mid-afternoon and they were inevitably running way over schedule.

  Jenna was nervous as hell and trying not to explode. Things kept going wrong. A quaking assistant had been sent over to tell her that the shoes she’d planned to wear on the red carpet couldn’t be flown in from Paris on time, and an alternative would have to be provided. Then Karl discovered he’d been given the wrong dimensions for the stage, meaning their carefully choreographed routine didn’t work right in the space. The dancers were tense and bitching, Karl was flapping, and Jenna thought how ironic it was that she was the one who was labelled a diva.

  And where the fuck was Nick?, she wondered irritably. He’d promised he’d be there to support her, and she hated it when people let her down. He knew how nervous she was, and she really wanted him there. Hell, Phoenix’s tech slot was up next, so he’d better get his arse in gear, she thought, chewing on her nail as she moved across the stage so they could focus the spotlight. She hadn’t bitten her nails since high school. Fuck, she was nervous.

  All of the problems meant Jenna was too distracted to notice the solitary figure in the darkness of the auditorium. It was Zac. He was sitting on the mezzanine level, looking down at the stage where Jenna was running through her routine, and wondering what the hell he was doing there. But he couldn’t help himself. He watched, mesmerized, as the intro to ‘Sexual Rush’ blasted out and Jenna began to dance. The suggestive lyrics kicked in and Zac found himself enthralled, just watching the way her body moved. She had such guts, such presence, such … in-your-face sexuality.

  This was a mess – he was under no illusions about that. After leaving Ibiza he knew he wouldn’t see Jenna again until the rehearsals for Vegas began, a good two months away. Zac had thought this would be a good thing. It turned out to be torture. With Amber back in New York and the two of them barely speaking, he’d been rattling round his Arizona ranch, taking solace in his guitar and writing miserable songs about lost love. He’d spent hours in the gym, which had left him with a hard, ripped body, but had done surprisingly little to work out his frustrations. It had been a truly depressing time.

  To really stick the knife in he’d started reading the papers. Usually he didn’t touch those rags, but he couldn’t help himself. Day after day he pored over the tormenting images, watching Jenna and Nick’s blossoming relationship play out in the gossip pages. The papers speculated that Nick’s womanizing days were over. Zac wasn’t so sure. He’d heard rumours and he hoped for Jenna’s sake they weren’t true.

  Zac had barely seen Amber either. She’d been working in New York fronting the Guess Jeans campaign, and he’d made lame excuses about being too busy to visit. She didn’t seem too heartbroken. They talked dutifully on the phone a couple of times a week, but both claimed their schedules made it hard to find an opportunity. He felt as if
they were putting off the inevitable.

  And now she was here, in Las Vegas. She’d turned up unannounced at his hotel suite. She was developing a habit of doing that. Once upon a time it would have seemed romantic, but now it felt disturbingly like she was trying to catch him out.

  Zac had currently left her behind in the dressing room, tiring of her sarcasm and her insults and the loud, grating voice she used when she was smashed off her face. He’d left her flirting with TJ Daze, and he couldn’t have cared less. He’d told himself that he wanted to get to the stage early – that Phoenix’s sound-check was up next and he wanted to be ready.

  But if Zac was being honest with himself, he knew it was more than that. During the time he’d been away from Jenna he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her. All the things that had driven him crazy in the first place – the inappropriate clothing, the fact that she always needed a second take, the way she flirted to get herself out of trouble – he’d started to miss them. The first day they’d got together to rehearse for this show had been like a slap in the face – she was even more beautiful, feisty and vivacious than he’d remembered. And she was dating his best friend. She was all over his best friend, in fact, and clearly blissfully happy. Zac’s thinking wasn’t rational – he wanted to take Nick outside and beat him into the ground.

  And now Zac had come to watch Jenna rehearse, knowing full well that he was going to see her at her most seductive, her most provocative. It didn’t bear thinking about. He knew he was playing with fire. She was his mate’s girl, the ultimate taboo. He would have to forget about her, learn to handle it and—

  His thoughts were broken by a sudden commotion taking place on stage. Zac sat bolt upright, trying to work out what was going on. He could see the dancers all huddled together in one spot, as though surrounding something. Karl was flinging his hands in the air dramatically, and Jenna had pushed through to the centre of the group, looking worried. One of the runners, self-important with a headset and clipboard, went dashing into the wings.