This made her laugh, a genuinely amused laugh that turned her mouth up in a smile and lit her eyes with something resembling belief in what I was saying. "You got that right. No dishonest guys for me. I mean it." She looked at me significantly.

  I put my hands up in surrender and gave her my sincere gaze, opening myself up and being vulnerable to her as she’d done with me. "Already told you, cross my heart and hope to die."

  Tracy sat there in the seat for a moment, considering.

  I opened up my arms to her, waiting.

  Still looking me in the eye until the last moment, she sank into my arms and relaxed against me. “Yes, I’ll be your girlfriend.”

  I stroked her hair and held her. “Thanks for making my world a much better place.”

  21

  Going Pro, Tracy

  I was Gunnar’s girlfriend! Gunnar was my boyfriend! My whole being shimmered in joy for the rest of the ride to the airport while he held me close.

  All too soon, Brian pulled up in front of our gate at the airport.

  Tiffany jumped up and let Brian help her out onto the curb.

  Gunnar didn’t let go of me. “Tell me again why you can’t come on tour with us?”

  My heart pounded, and I looked over at Tiffany, to see if, now, she thought I should tell him what skanks the girlfriends of his bandmates were. I wanted him to take care of this. To tell his friends to tell their girlfriends to back off. But I felt like I needed a second opinion, to figure out if this was a good idea or not.

  Unfortunately for me, Tiffany was chatting with Brian out on the curb while the skycap took charge of our luggage. She winked at me and raised her eyebrows, so she knew Gunnar and I were official. But she wouldn’t be any help with the question in front of me now.

  Gunnar’s face was open and vulnerable in front of me.

  What kind of girlfriend would I be if the first thing I did was make demands of him? I had to stick to the story Tiffany and I had come up with. But I could soften it. “I’ll be with you every weekend, at every show, just not on the tour bus, and not on stage with you. I just can’t handle your fame 24/7. I need breaks in between, you know?”

  He hugged me tight, there on the seat of the limo, and his voice sounded extra husky in my ear. “Yeah, I know. I’m sorry I pressured you, Tracy. That’s the last thing I wanted to do. Have a good flight. I’ll call you tonight.”

  “Okay,” I told him just before he kissed the breath out of me.

  “Come on!” Tiffany called from the door to the airline gate. “It’s not like he’s going off to war. You’ll see him five days from now.”

  I met Gunnar’s eyes, and we both cracked up laughing.

  He nudged me toward Tiff. “She’s right. And we’ll talk tonight.”

  I started to get up. “Okay, talk to you later.”

  But he pulled me back and kissed me again before letting me go.

  Tiff and I ran to catch our flight.

  Only once the plane had taken off did I check my messages. There were even more offers for talk shows. Bigger ones and more respectable ones. But they all wanted to talk about why Tiffany and I were mocking Jessica.

  While I would have loved to tell all about what a witch she was, I knew it would be bad for Gunnar if I did. I emailed my agent to explain this, asking her for advice. And then I indulged in social media, laughing with Tiffany over all the ways people were making fun of Jessica.

  It was Sunday, so I didn't expect my agent to email me back. But she did, and the news was much better than I had hoped for.

  I showed it to Tiffany.

  "We’re being requested as dancers on other people's shows?" she said breathlessly.

  True to his word, Gunnar called that night. "How's my girlfriend?"

  "Pretty jazzed. We got a gig dancing on Howie Fine’s show."

  "You'll do great."

  "I hope so. No idea what we’re going to wear."

  "Oh, I'm sure your agent has designers lined up again. Will you still be able to meet the tour this weekend for our date?" His voice was tentative in a way that I had never expected to hear it. He really wanted to see me, and he was worried that I wouldn't want to see him.

  "I wouldn't miss it."

  "Can we consider it a standing date, that you'll fly out and meet the tour every weekend?"

  "Yep. We’ll fly out every Friday and back after your noon show on Sunday, if there is one."

  "Most of the time. When there's not, when do you want to fly back?"

  "Sunday dinner with you sounds good."

  Our big talk show was the very next night. My agent called us both into the studio first thing in the morning so we could plan what we were going to wear, study the choreography, meet everyone involved so they knew who we were, and get our hair and makeup done.

  Minerva knew we were coming, of course, but she greeted us as if it were a surprise, obviously just for the fun of it, both for her and for us. We all shuffled together as she led us once more into the big warehouse full of clothes, but this time she stopped next to a small locked door.

  She produced a key and let us in, proudly showing us the designer outfits hanging in there. "These have been sent for you, Tracy. And these for you, Tiffany."

  Tiffany squealed with excitement over getting her own designer clothes.

  This time, we both poured over the outfits.

  "I like this one because of the purple,” I said, “but I like this one because of these jagged ruffles."

  “Take them all,” Minerva said, gesturing to a cart, “and let's go back to my room, ladies. There's nothing for it but try every single one of them on so we know which fits best."

  We had a busy day, indeed.

  Finally, we were both dressed and makeup done, had rehearsed our dance number, and were waiting in the wings after the barest of dress rehearsals, which just went over the choreography.

  We would be the last guests brought on, so the other guests were all on stage already, making the audience laugh.

  I tried my best to listen to what they had to say, in case we were expected to join in with our opinion, but it was so hard. All I could think about was our dance moves. The stage manager had made some changes, saying certain things would play better in front of a TV camera. I was so afraid of messing up, I kept going over and over the new steps in my head.

  Halfway through the show, Tiffany caught my eye and leaned in close to whisper the routine in my ear, waiting for my nod of affirmation every time she listed another move in the correct order. This felt better, going over the moves together.

  When they call us out on stage, we had absolutely no idea what they’d been talking about a moment before.

  "Please welcome Tracy and Tiffany!"

  There was applause from a live studio audience, and as had been decided, Dark Horse’s best song played and we came out dancing.

  I had never been so nervous in my life. My head was full of what to do each and every step.

  Proud of myself for not making a mistake, I gave Tiffany a high-five before going over to the seats where we knew we'd be sitting.

  That was when I first noticed Jessica.

  She smiled her fake syrupy smile at us, then turned to give a real smile to the audience. Once again, she seemed to think the applause was all for her.

  The thrill was wearing off now, and I was hot and sweaty under my makeup, wanting nothing more than to sit down and have a cold drink.

  There was no time for that. Tiff and I were on stage more now than we’d been while dancing. At least our seats were next to each other, and I found reassurance in that. Marge had been so right, insisting I bring her. I owed her a big thanks.

  Howie Fine held up his hand, asking the audience to stop their applause so we could talk.

  It took a minute.

  I took the time to smile and wave.

  That caused the applause to go on longer, but I loved it.

  When at last Howie felt like he could be heard over all the clapping, he spoke up. "Tiffany and Tracy, you ladies put on quite a show. I'm impressed. Was it different, doing the show without Jessica?"

  What a question. Thankfully, my agent had coached me in how to respond to these sorts of queries, even though we hadn't expected it from this host, who we thought was more classy than this.

  I smiled at the audience and then high-fived Tiffany again. "Not at all. We did the exact same preparation for that show as we did for this one. We didn't know she was going to be there. We were surprised when she took center stage and assumed the lead."

  Howie said something.

  Jessica jumped to her feet and used her lapel mic to yell at us over him. "You filthy little liars. There is no excuse for what you did. You both owe me apologies at the very least, if not half your take for that show."

  At that point, her microphone must've been turned off, because even though she kept talking for another moment, we couldn't hear what she had to say.

  Two stagehands came up and escorted Jessica back to her seat.

  Once she was out of the way, Howie asked, "Do you have any response to that, Tiffany?"

  Tiffany calmly sat back, looking at the audience with a glint in her eye and a smile on her face, poised and proper. "Since Gunnar paid Tracy with kisses and hugs, I don't think you'll be getting half of that, Jessica."

  The whole audience erupted in uproarious laughter.

  All in all, it was a very successful show for us.

  Both our emails were flooded with offers now, and since we had an agent, we just ignored that.

  She contacted us herself and explained we were getting paid gigs now. The pay was on the bottom of the SAG scale, but it would be a good idea to go ahead and join so that we would get better offers.

  22

  Reporters, Tracy

  Tiffany and I were driving home from Howie’s show in our adorable new Volkswagen Jetta when we saw all the reporters gathered around the gates to our underground parking garage. They were blocking the way.

  "I wish we could just plow right through them," Tiffany growled as she leaned forward in her seat. "Look how many there are."

  "No thanks," I told her, slowing down to stop in the middle of all the madness for a chance at getting to the keypad. "I don't want to serve jail time."

  "Right now, from where I sit, that seems easier."

  "This was bound to happen sooner or later," I told her resignedly. "No doubt Jessica's people found our address and told them we would be coming here."

  "There's still time to just go somewhere else," she told me hopefully.

  I let out one chuckle as I pulled to a stop in the middle of them all. "Yeah, that won't work. I have it on good authority that they’re patient and will wait here until we finally come home."

  “From Ava?" She asked me, "or Gunnar?"

  "Neither. Our agent told me that. Ready for this?"

  She rolled her eyes. "Ready as I'll ever be."

  "Good," I told her, "you're taking this with the right attitude. Don't let them get you down, no matter what."

  "Agreed," she told me with a fist bump.

  I rolled down my window.

  So did Tiffany.

  The reporters’ questions came almost as fast as the photographs had been going since we first came into their midst. Zip zip zip zip zip zip. Thirty five millimeter, eh? That meant they wanted good film quality for print.

  The chicken in me wanted to just tell them to go away, run and hide.

  But the business side of me —which up until this minute, I hadn't known existed— was urging me to milk this for all it was worth. Who knew, maybe we could get a regular spot on a TV show.

  Gunnar's face came into my mind, reminding me not to anger his bandmates. Drat.

  I smiled at the reporters. "So how's your day going?"

  Now that I opened up a conversation with them, the questions started to sink in, the words before had been just a bunch of noise in the background.

  "Is it true Gunnar's dumping you because of how you treated Jessica?"

  "Are you trying to break up Dark Horse so you can have Gunnar to yourself?"

  "Do you feel bad about not getting along with your boyfriend’s bandmate’s girlfriend?"

  All that and worse, they were firing at me.

  Tiffany took care of it, opening her door and getting out in her talk show outfit, then spinning around slowly for everybody to get more pictures close up. She hammed it up, using some of our dance moves.

  The reporters backed up to give her more room to do this, making noises of appreciation and thanks for the photo opportunities.

  I took a cue from Tiffany and also got out, not saying anything to the reporters, just going over to join Tiffany. I met eyes with her and raised my eyebrows in the expression we'd used to start the timing of our routine.

  She gave the answering nod.

  We did our dance, without any music, but still as perfect as it had been on the show.

  After a moment, one of the reporters helped us out and put the music on. Not in the same place, but we adjusted, backing up the routine to start where the music was going.

  When we did that, the music got louder.

  Soon, passersby were stopping to clap along with the music, cheering us on.

  When our routine was over, I reached out and took Tiffany's hand so we were bowing together, hoping she would understand this was my way of insisting she be included in whatever offers came of this.

  She gently squeezed my hand in acknowledgment, making me feel that much better about having dragged my friend out here to California away from everything she knew in life just because some guy had deigned to talk to me while I waited tables.

  She continued to help, saying after the applause started to die down, "Thank you, everyone! Follow Tracy on Twitter to know where we’re dancing next!"

  I had no doubt they'd gotten all this in their videos. Good thinking on Tiffany's part.

  There was enough goodwill now among the reporters to let us into our garage in peace and not followed. But I was careful to hide the access code with my other hand.

  "I think we’re in for a long evening following the results of that on social media," Tiffany told me with an excited smile.

  "Can't wait!" I told her with the same excited smile as I pulled into our parking space.

  "I don't feel like cooking, do you?" She used a handkerchief to wipe sweat from her body as we walked to the elevator.

  "No, I don't," I told her, "but if we order pizza every time we don't feel like cooking, we’ll look like elephants before the month is out."

  "True," she told me in a pensive tone while getting her phone out. "I'll research healthy deliveries in our area."

  "Good idea." I laughed a little. "It might be easier just to get a live-in cook."

  She laughed a lot while she played with her phone. "Let’s not get ahead of ourselves." But she looked at me sideways slyly as if she too was thinking that might be possible in the not so distant future.

  Something the reporters had asked me niggled at the back of my mind, though, and I got out my own phone.

  Me to Gunnar: Are we still on for this weekend?

  Gunnar: Yes on my end. Has something come up for you?

  Tension that I hadn't been aware of drained out of my body and I smiled at my screen.

  Me to Gunnar: Reporters asked me if it was true that you were dumping me because of how mean I was to Jessica on the talk show today.

  Gunnar: Paul says reporters will make up anything just to get a rise out of you in front of the cameras.

  Me to Gunnar: I'm starting to realize that.

  Gunnar: Can I call you?

  Me to Gunnar: Of course you can. Why would you ask that?

  Gunnar: Never know if there are people around.

  Me to Gunnar: We’re in our apartment alone. Please do call.

  Dark Horse’s best song played on my phone.

  I let all my relief and longing sound out in my voice when I answered. "Hi, Gunnar."

  "It's so good to hear your voice, Tracy."

  "Yours, too," I told him when I heard the same relief and longing in him.

  "So you were on a talk show today, eh?"

  "You can't tell me you weren’t watching. I know you better than that."

  "You caught me." He chuckled in that scrumptious low tone of his that made my knees melt. Good thing I was sitting down.

  "So is this weekend’s date destination a surprise, too?" I asked.

  "Always. I've got to keep you on your toes so you stay interested."

  "Gunnar, there's not much chance at all of me losing interest in you."

  "Good to hear, but you’re getting famous on your own. I see bright things on your horizon. Other guys will start making their offers."

  "Yeah, but you knew me when I was a waitress, so I know I can trust you. What if those other guys are just after me for my money?"

  There was fond amusement in his voice. "Good point. But how do you know I'm not after you for your money?"

  "Well, your band flew me and Tiffany first-class to our last date, and Dark Horse is flying us first-class to our next date, right?"

  "You bet. Again, I have to keep you interested, don't I?"

  I was starting to enjoy this game. Smiling big, I relaxed into the couch and played it into the evening.

  23

  The Pop Charts Show, Tracy

  Tiffany and I had the top down on the Jetta and were happily on our way to our third talk show that week.

  I answered my agent’s call in my usual enthusiastic tone that I had for her. "This is Tracy. What's up?"

  "Your big break, that's what. It finally came. Thanks to your brilliant job handling those reporters at your building yesterday, you and Tiffany both have been invited to dance on The Pop Charts Show Saturday morning!"

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18