Rock Idol (Reality With a Twist Series) (7 page)

“What
you should have done was swear you knew I was clean!” Fawn retorted.

“And
that would have just convinced the both of them that I was covering for you.”

“I
can’t believe you did this to me,” Fawn repeated, bringing their conversation
around full circle.

“I
didn’t do anything!” Ember insisted. Then she thought of another tact she could
take with Fawn. “Look, Fox didn’t tell you about this himself, did he?”

Fawn
eyed her suspiciously. “No.”

“But
he told Mitch and me about it in advance. That means he wanted you to hear he
was thinking about you. He wants you to have a chance to go straighten yourself
out and pass the test.”

“But
you didn’t give me the warning.”

“Fawn,
it hasn’t been two hours yet. I’d have told you when we had a moment to talk in
private.”

Fawn
sniffed. It was obvious that she didn’t believe Ember. “You as good as told him
I’m high all the time.”

“No,
I didn’t. I told him that you’re so flighty on stage that I can’t tell if
you’re high or not. But that
flightiness
is you, Fawn! It’s what America loves about you.”

Fawn
burst into tears.

“Oh,
sweetie,” Ember said. A lot of her anger evaporated at the sight of those
tears. “We’ve got a good thing going here. You don’t need the coke.”

“There’s
so much pressure!” Fawn said.

“You
don’t need it,” Ember repeated.

“Yes,
I do!”

“But,
sweetie, you can’t keep going like this. He’ll catch you!”

“Why
should he catch me?” Fawn asked. “I’m forewarned. I can fake the drug test.
I’ve always been a little flighty. You’re the one who’s making a fool of
herself walking around with mooneyes for a twenty-one year old boy.”

“What
are you talking about?”

“Try
to look at someone besides the judges
,” Fawn mimicked. She was good at impersonating, and
especially good at adding a twist of pure nastiness with her inflection. “Admit
it! You don’t think Rick is looking at the judges. You think he’s up there
singing just for you. He’s half your age, Ember, with a million female fans who
think he’s the hottest thing since Brad Pitt or Johnny Depp. He’s not
interested in a washed up forty-two year old has-been like you!”

Fawn’s
words rekindled the rage in the pit of Ember’s stomach.

“Do
you have any idea how pathetic you looked out there in the hallway just now,
fawning all over him hoping he’ll kiss you?” Fawn continued. “You probably
think he’s really interested. At least when Mitch goes after his nubile young
girls he’s honest enough to know that the only thing they’re after is a chance
to be on this show or a record deal. You’re insane if you think that boy’s
doing anything but using you!”

Fawn’s
words struck at the heart of Ember’s insecurities. She had a terrible track
record with men. They had always been her biggest weakness. She had a long
history of making bad decisions where guys were concerned, but like her drug
addiction, she’d been keeping it under control these last few years and damn
it, she was not doing anything inappropriate with Rick!

“You’re
a washed up, forty-two year old has-been with delusions of—”

Ember
finally lost her cool. “Get out! Get out of here!”

Fawn
stared at her a moment or two longer, then smirked and stepped out of the
conference room, leaving Ember alone with her thoughts. They weren’t
attractive—and apparently neither was she anymore. A washed up, forty-two year
old has-been pretty much summed up her existence before Fox brought her on
board at
Rock Idol
. Maybe she was fooling herself. Maybe the world had
been laughing at her all this time she’d sat on the judges’ panel and she’d
been too wrapped up in the rebirth of her career to notice.

And
Fawn? What the hell had happened with Fawn? Ember knew they’d never been close,
but she’d genuinely thought they’d become friends. How had things with Fawn
devolved like this? Was it just a week ago they’d been on top of the world
together?

Ember
sank down into one of the chairs and dropped her head in her hands. She needed
a drink. No, she needed a snort of cocaine! There wasn’t a day she didn’t think
about the drugs, but it’d been two years since she’d felt she
needed
them like she did now.

She
still knew all the old phone numbers. One call and none of these problems would
be important anymore. One call! Her cell phone was in her dressing room just a
couple of minutes away.

“Ember?”

Rick
slipped into the conference room and closed the door behind him. “Ember, are
you all right? I got worried when you didn’t come back with Fawn.”

Ember
forced the thoughts of drugs out of her mind and pulled herself back together.
“I’m fine, just fine.” She got up and attempted to walk past Rick but he caught
her arm and turned her around to face him.

“You
don’t look fine.”

“No,
I look forty-two,” she said, not even trying to keep the self-pity and
self-loathing out of her voice.

“What?
No, you don’t! Who said that?”

Ember
attempted to pull free of him, but Rick didn’t let her go. Instead his hand
came up and caressed her cheek. “You are so beautiful,” he whispered. “You
could never look forty. You’re Ember Blaze!”

Ember
knew it was a mistake, but she let Rick pull her into a hug. Let Rick prove on
some level that there was some trace of attractiveness left in her aging body.
She’d even let him kiss her again when he did the guy thing and took advantage
of her despondency. Her arms slipped around his back as she waited for him to
make his move.

“You’re
the most beautiful woman I know,” he crooned.

The
words felt good. In the back of her mind, Ember knew this was a bad idea, but
if the choice was drugs or a guy, wasn’t Rick the better choice?

“No
one should ever tell you you look old,” Rick reassured her.

His
hands moved on her body, slightly repositioning himself as if he were building
his nerve. It wouldn’t be too much longer, Ember predicted. Any moment now and
he’ll loosen his embrace just enough to touch her cheek, and then he’d try to
kiss her again and she’d let him prove she was still desirable.

“Why
don’t we sit down at that table and you tell me what happened?” Rick suggested.

Ember
felt a stab of mortification that Rick wasn’t going to take advantage of her.
Fawn was right! She was too old. Rick wasn’t embarrassed about trying to kiss
her last week. He was disgusted because he found her so revolting. She pulled
away and stumbled back a step.

Then
she caught a look at Rick’s face and froze.

Even
in her current state of self-loathing, there was no way she could convince
herself that there was disgust in Rick’s expression. Concern? Yes. Compassion?
Certainly. But there was also something much harder to define. Ember had had a
boyfriend when she was fifteen-years-old who’d looked at her like that. It was
the same look she used to catch on her husband’s face when they first started
dating. It was…
unnerving
to see it on another face now.

She
realized suddenly that Rick was holding her hand. Her heart skipped a beat. His
fingers were so warm and comfortable. He stepped close against her again,
reached around her body and pulled out a chair so she could sit.

Somehow,
Ember didn’t feel rejected this time.

Rick
let go of her hand and claimed the chair across the table from her. A
professional distance if someone were to peek into the room.

He
looked around, found a box of tissues, and handed it to her. “Here, why don’t
you blow your nose and take a minute to pull yourself together. Then you can
tell me all about it. I can be a good listener.”

The
smile on his face was gentle and encouraging, not the trademark cocky grin he
liked to flash on stage.

Ember
blew her nose and began to regain her composure—enough of herself to feel
embarrassed by her breakdown. “This was very kind of you, Rick, but I’m okay
now. Really. Fawn just took me by surprise. You can go back to the others. You
don’t have to sit here with me.”

He
made no move to get up. “Oh, I like sitting with you, Ember. You know,
sometimes life hits you out of the blue. We’ve all been there at one time or
other. I don’t know what Fawn said to get under your skin like this, but please
consider the source. Fawn Fields is not Ember Blaze or even Mitch Daniels.
She’s not even the sweet judge anymore. She’s the dopey one.”

Ember
froze a moment, wondering if Rick had heard or figured out that Fawn was using
coke again, but quickly came to the conclusion that he really meant Fawn was an
airhead.

“Nobody
even understands what she’s going on about half the time. And if she can’t make
sense talking about music, how is she supposed to know anything about anything
else.”

Ember
found a smile forming on her face. “That’s pretty funny,” she admitted.

“I’m
not the only one who thinks that,” Rick said. “All the contestants joke about
how Fawn has lost it. Mitch scares the hell out of people. You challenge and
encourage them. Fawn…well, no one can quite figure out what Fawn is doing. We
just try and listen to her comments and not break out laughing.”

Ember
felt her smile growing broader as she responded. “It would kill Fawn to hear
you say that, but honestly, I have to agree with you. The things that come out
of that woman’s mouth…”

“And
that’s why you can’t let her get to you,” Rick said. “If she seems to make
sense, it has to be an accident. What’s that thing they say about monkeys and
word processors?”

Ember
laughed outright. She didn’t feel so bad anymore.

She
tried to answer his question. “If you put enough monkeys in front of a
keyboard, the laws of chance says that one will eventually type out
Hamlet
or something like that.”

Rick
was obviously enjoying himself too. “And what that means in our situation is
that the laws of chance insist that Fawn will appear to make sense once in a
while, even if she still doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

Ember
laughed harder.

“This
is what I needed to hear, Rick. Thank you.”

They
were still laughing when Gina Hartley ducked her head into the room. “Oh,
Ember, Fawn was right. You are down here. Fox wants to give the judges a pep
talk before the show tonight.”

Her
eyes shifted to Rick, but with the table between them there was nothing even
slightly inappropriate for her to pick up on. “How are you, Rick? I think I
heard the call for you contestants to get to wardrobe.”

“Thanks,
Gina,” Rick said as he got to his feet. “And thanks Ember, I really appreciate
the tips you’re giving me. Zach Donderhue was saying the same thing earlier.
Everybody knows it. You’re the judge who really cares.”

Ember
got to her feet. She had her equilibrium back—thanks to Rick—and felt ready to
do the show. She could hear the usual pep in her voice as she called out after
him. “I’ve got one more piece of advice, if you’d like to hear it.”

Rick
immediately turned back to face her.

“Since
you’re going to wardrobe anyway, why don’t you ask them to find you a new
shirt?”

Gina
Hartley nodded emphatically. “She’s right, Rick. That shirt is a loser! Get
something that shows your chest off a little.”

Ember
laughed. “That’s right! Give your female fans a treat tonight.”

Rick
looked down at his shirt. “But…”

“Trust
us on this one, Rick,” Ember told him.

He
looked up and met her eyes again. His baby blues were beautiful, even without
his smile to brighten them. “If you really think so, Ember. I guess if I’m
going to take your advice on singing, I should take it on wardrobe as well.”
Rick still looked dubious as he walked out of the room.

“Boy,
is that young man hot!” Gina whispered. “If Fox hadn’t laid down the law this
year, I think I’d be looking to give him some private direction.”

Ember’s
chest clenched in apprehension. She didn’t like the idea of the younger Gina
Hartley giving Rick a little private tutoring. Fortunately Fox’s assistant was
too preoccupied with Rick to notice Ember’s reaction. She caught the door as it
swung closed and leaned slightly into the hall to watch Rick walk away.

“He’s
got some talent too,” Ember told her. “He just may be on the outside track to
winning this thing.”

She
followed Gina into the hall trying not to think about the look of adoration
she’d seen on Rick’s face.