Hidden in the Stars: HITS (a Falling Stars novel) Book 2 Page 5

  Nodding my acknowledgment, I sit down at the breakfast bar and start in on egg whites, pancakes, and hash browns covered in ketchup.

  "Then you have a meeting at the studio to listen through some of the contestants who have qualified for the next stage. From there, you have lunch with the judges, as well as a radio and a local TV show appearance."

  "Departure time?" I ask around a mouthful of eggs.

  "We need to be downstairs in an hour." Julia moves to my side as she answers.

  I shovel in the last of my food and push away from the table to stand, needing to get dressed for the day.

  At the bedroom door, I turn back to Julia. Her eyes lock on me, an eager, ready-to-please expression on her face. I smile.

  "I need a table at the same burlesque club I was at last night. Can you make that happen?"

  She nods and begins typing away on her iPad.

  Closing the door behind me, I dig through the closet and pull out my standard attire: dark jeans, white t-shirt, and black leather belt with my favorite oversized buckle with “Cock Fight” in bold silver. Slipping into black boots, I walk into the bathroom and wet my hair to gain some control over the mess.

  "Fuck, I need to get my hair cut."

  My eyes catch on my black leather bag. Licking my lips, I reach over and take out the brown paper package. Lining up a couple rails, I take care of second breakfast and wash any remnants from my face.

  Shaking water out of my hair, I stride back out into the main area of the suite. Julia jumps to attention.

  "I made arrangements with a Thom for your table at the club tonight." She grins in satisfaction. "He's pleased you will be joining them again and wants you to let him know if you have any requests before you arrive."

  She looks at me expectantly.

  "Oh, I have a request alright, but I don't think he can lay her out on the table for me." I grin down at Julia and her eyes widen. "But," I continue, "if he can arrange for the snake charmer spread out, I'll take it."

  "Umm…" Julia stands completely still, even as I make my way to the door of the hotel suite.

  "Julia?"

  She looks up when I call her.

  "Don't worry about it, sweetheart. I'm just being an ass." Smirking, I pull open the door to the room. "Come on, doll, we gotta get moving."

  With a deep breath and a nod, she moves into gear.

  And when Julia kicks into gear, she talks a mile a minute. From the itinerary for each meeting, interview, and meal, to assuring me she made the subject the interviewers weren't allowed to address clear. She's definitely thorough.

  Inside the L.A. Memorial Sports Arena, an assistant shows us to a large waiting room. There is only one co-judge I know personally.

  "Gemma," I exclaim.

  Her bright, neon red head turns toward me, a large grin spread across her porcelain face.

  "Jackson Shaw." Gemma excuses herself from the group, approaching me with open arms.

  She wraps her arms around me and I lift her off of her high-heel clad feet, spinning her in a circle.

  "Put me down, you beast," she laughs. "I think I'm getting a fucking nosebleed."

  Smiling, I put her back on her heels. She grabs my arm and pulls me over to a couch.

  To look at tiny little Gemma, with her neon red hair, black pin-up girl eyeliner, and bright red lips, you would think she’s a member of Hush. But hidden beneath the wild hair, elaborate make-up, and a multitude of tattoos currently hidden by her clothes, is the latest operatic sensation. The voice of this girl is unbelievable. Her range is out of this world.

  "How you been, gorgeous?" I sit on the couch next to her.

  "Good." She shrugs. "Still can't believe I'm doing this type of show."

  "How did you end up doing this?" I settle into the plush leather, Julia flittering around the room with production assistants catching my attention briefly before I turn back to Gem.

  "I'm about to star in a rock opera." She leans back into the cushion beside me, laying her head on it. "This is supposed to help bring it to the attention of the masses." Always one to talk with her hands, her arms stretch out at the end of her sentence.

  "Well, I guess it will be pretty good publicity." I nod.

  "What about you? How'd you get roped into this?" Her head, still resting on the cushion, rolls in my direction.

  "Unanimous vote by band and management sentencing me to weeks of ear piercing headaches."

  "Maybe it won't be that bad."

  We stare at each other for a moment before bursting into laughter.

  "Okay, so maybe at first it will be…"

  "Excruciating?" I finish for her.

  Laughing louder, we draw the attention of the other judges. As they begin gathering around, Gem and I stand from the couch, and introductions are finally made.

  I know of these judges, but this is my first time meeting them in person. Melody Waymen: a tall, curvy, young, golden-blonde, who can't be mistaken for anything but a country girl. She has dominated the country music charts for the past four years and recently found some pop chart success. Gideon Thorne: an average-sized man with a broad nose and dark hair, who's produced some of the greatest artists at Bel Suono Studios—the sponsor of the show. Kamden "Big Kam" Miller hit the rap scene nine years ago, built an empire around his name, and has discovered at least five major rap artists. And Cheyenne Post: the most hard ass music critic around. To this day, I think even Chris gets nervous about her reviews in HITS magazine. Hell, the whole band’s balls shrivel up when she’s involved.

  After the last introduction, I do a count.

  "Someone missing?" I ask anyone who has the answer.

  "Zar—”

  Just as Cheyenne is about to answer, a tall, wide-shouldered man enters. He stands a foot shorter than me, his dark hair just brushing his shoulders.

  "Cheyenne, you talking about me already?" With a broad grin, he winks at her.

  She blushes. Holy shit, he just made the hard ass blush! I may love him, too.

  "Hey, man." He steps toward me first, his hand out.

  We clamp hands tightly and shake. The sleeve of his shirt pulls back, revealing some nice ink around his wrist disappearing beneath the fabric.

  "Hey." I give a nod. "Jackson Sh—”

  "No need to introduce." He releases my hand. "I'm honored to be in the room with you." His grin grows larger. "I'm Zarek Sisko, singer for Vehicle of Destruction."

  "Fuck, man. I'm sorry." I'm such an ass. "Best New Artists 2013." I smile. Finally recognizing him, I feel like an ass cheek.

  "No apologies necessary." Zarek turns to the rest of the group, greeting them. When he comes to Gemma, he pauses for a second and scowls.

  "You," she growls from beside me.

  "That's right, sweetheart. Me." A smirk tips the corner of his mouth.

  "Are you stalking me now? And don't call me sweetheart!"

  They step toward each other, facing off. The rest of us take a step back—a step way back.

  "Don't flatter yourself, sweetheart." Zarek's nostrils flare. "You aren't worth the effort to stalk." He crosses his arms over his chest.

  "You self-absorbed, arrogant jackass!" Gemma closes the distance, clenching her fists at her sides.

  Zarek leans close to her face. His lips move, but no one could hear. Except Gemma—she hears him. Her face reddens and she starts shaking. Her hand snaps back and across his face so fast, if you blinked, you missed it.

  He grabs her wrist and yanks her against his chest. I step toward them.

  "Okay, you guys don't like each other. We get it." Putting my arm around Gemma, Zarek's eyes go to my hand before they meet my face, anger flashing. "Let go, man."

  For the briefest second, I think he might attack me. I don't know what the hell went on with these two, but I don't want any part of it.

  "Calm down and let go. Don't do something stupid." I keep my voice calm and level.

  He takes a deep breath, exhales, and turns to Gemma with a smirk. "Th
is isn't over." Abruptly, he releases her and walks to the other side of the room.

  "What the hell was that?" I look down at a flustered Gem.

  "Nothing," she mumbles, pulling herself free of my arm.

  "It didn't look, or sound, like nothing."

  "It's nothing, okay?" she snaps.

  Putting my hands up in surrender, I walk away. As I said, I don’t want any part of it.

  "Jackson, I'm sorry," she calls after me.

  I just lift my hand in a loose wave. I don't need this shit. Women are fucking crazy.

  Sitting down next to Julia, I bury my head in my hands.

  "When can I get the fuck out of here?"

  "Good morning, everyone. Thank you for joining us today." I look up from my hands at the sound of a man's voice. "If you will all follow me, I will get you set up with your microphones."

  He waits as we file out the door. I motion for Julia to exit before me and scowl at the man as he checks out her ass. When he sees he's busted, his eyes drop to the floor. Yeah, fucker, how do you know she ain't with me? You don't.

  In a large, open space with multiple cameras and crew members, our interviewer, Meriwether Shay, sits, flipping through oversized index cards. We sit to the left of Meriwether in assigned director chairs. Crew members flit about, wiring us up and having each of us test the small mics. The gleam in Meriwether's eyes when they land on me tell me she's not going to hold back. So much for topics not to be discussed. This bitch is going to bleed me for everything she can get. With shaking hands, I feel around my pockets for the little brown vial of numbness and think of a reason to escape to the bathroom.

  Liza

  My bag for work is packed and the chicken macaroni bake is in the oven. Sitting at the breakfast bar, which is already set for three, I'm finally sorting through mail.

  Junk mail, cable bill, phone bill, a manila envelope undoubtedly containing documents my case worker told me to expect, and a thick, white envelope. The junk mail goes unopened into the trash. Last time I checked, I am not old enough for AARP and I don’t need a preapproved credit card. Groaning, I open each bill and mark the due dates in my Dollar Store purchased monthly planner. Slipping from the stool, I put the bills in the wall organizer near the phone.

  Already knowing the manila envelope contains papers I have to complete every year and return to our social worker, I pick up the white envelope.

  I tear open the side and slide the papers halfway out as the oven timer goes off. Placing the papers on the counter, I silence the timer and retrieve dinner before it burns.

  I burn my finger through the worn potholder and curse just in time for Luke to hear me.

  "Ah, you kiss your baby boy with that mouth?" He chuckles.

  Kel's laughter follows.

  "Ha-ha, smart-butt." I set the hot dish onto the counter and grab a serving spoon.

  "You’ve got to admit, it was pretty good." Kelvin slides onto the stool next to Luke, both of them facing the small kitchen.

  "No, I don't." I dish out chicken macaroni onto each plate, trying not to laugh while Kelvin serves the salad.

  "What's this?" Kel picks up the papers I have yet to look over.

  Pushing the dish off to the side, I shrug. "I haven't been able to read them yet."

  He unfolds the papers, then folds them back up quickly. The look he shares with Luke doesn't go unnoticed.

  "Hand them over," I speak around a mouthful of food, my arm stretched over the spread before us.

  "They can wait." He shrugs, pushing the papers off to the side.

  Standing, I walk around the breakfast bar, grab the papers from the far corner Kel shoved them to, and move back to my seat. Before I can sit, I freeze, reading the words on the paper.

  CONGRATULATIONS!

  You have progressed to the next round in Hidden Talent! Enclosed are necessary documents needing your review and signature.

  "What the hell did she do?" Falling back onto my stool, I keep flipping through the papers, not actually seeing anything but a blur of congratulatory remarks, signature lines, dates, times, addresses, and that damn logo.

  "Who?" Luke chokes out, just as Kel asks, "What's wrong?"

  I look up at them, my eyes still wide with shock.

  "Sid! She entered me into that Hidden Talent competition somehow!" Standing quickly, I move straight to my bag by the door, dig around, and pull out my cell phone.

  "What are you doing?" Luke jumps down from his seat, hurrying to my side.

  "I'm going to give your aunt Sid the biggest earful!" Scrolling to her name, I touch the screen to initiate the call.

  "Mom, wait!" Luke protests, reaching for my phone.

  "Go finish eating. I'm going to go cuss her out in Kel's room." I step to walk away, but Kelvin stands in front of me.

  "Miss me already?" Sid's voice chirps.

  "What are you doing?" I ask Kelvin.

  "Um, working on designing the website I told you about," Sid answers in confusion.

  "Not you," I speak to Sid, then angle the phone away from my mouth. "Move."

  "No." Kel shakes his head. "We have something to tell you."

  "We?" I ask.

  Kel reaches out and pulls Luke to his side.

  "What the hell is going on?" Sid asks, my phone still to my ear.

  "I wish I knew. Sid, I'll call you back."

  "No way, sister. Put me on speaker!"

  "Well, what is it?" I look between the both of them expectantly.

  Kel nudges Luke and he drops his head.

  "Remember when we went to the carnival fundraiser?" He peeks from under his lashes. I nod. Clearing his throat, he continues, "And how they had those booths to record yourself singing?"

  "You didn't," I gasp.

  His head pops up, determination on his face.

  "Mom, you are sooooooo good! All my friends thought so, too, when they heard you sing at the carnival. You deserve to be famous, to be a star."

  "Holy shit, did he do what I think he did?" Sid whispers through the phone.

  "Yes, he did." I take a deep breath and exhale.

  "YES!" Sid's scream makes me pull the phone from my ear. "I love that boy, I tell you! He is just like me. I might cry." She fakes a sniff.

  "Sid, I'll call you back." Before she can protest again, I end the call. Turning my attention to Kel, I ask, "You knew?"

  He gives a nod. "He needed help filling out the forms."

  I shove the phone into my back pocket. "Back to the table and finish dinner."

  I ignore the vibration from my phone; Sid apparently trying to call me back.

  My words are weak. I'm still attempting to process what my son and brother have done. It's not a bad thing. He did it with all the best intentions possible, but he also illegally forged my application.

  Neither of them argues with me. We sit silently, none of us touching our food.

  "Luke…"

  "I know I shouldn't have filled the application out without telling you. But, Mom…" he pauses, and I focus on his face, "you deserve better than working all night at that club."

  My heart aches. Lucas isn’t stupid and I don’t hide my job from him, but I've never provided details either. However, by the time he was old enough to visit friend’s houses, he was also old enough to overhear parental gossip. I knew there had been gossip about me when the news spread around. It was never a big issue, nor did anyone approach me about it—mostly because no one wanted to admit how they knew I worked at the club.

  "I'm sorry I…I do what I do. I know it can be embarrassing for a boy—”

  "You think I'm embarrassed by you?" he cuts me off with a hard worded question, matching the scowl on his boyish face.

  "I'm sure it can be—"

  "You’re totally not understanding me," he cut me off, again. "I'm not embarrassed. I'm proud you are my mom. Look at Sean, Mom. His mother runs off with all the money and lets him go without food or clothes. I've never lived like that, and it's because of you."


  Unexpected tears fall from my eyes.

  "I didn't mean to make you cry." Luke drops his head.

  "I don't think she's sad, buddy." Kel wraps an arm around his shoulders.

  "No, I'm not sad." I wipe the wet streaks from my cheeks. "I love you, Lucas, and you just made your mother cry happy mommy tears."

  He smiles. "Then you won’t be mad about the papers?"

  His hopeful expression tugs at my heart.

  "You know that forging information is not something you should do, right?"

  He nods. "Yes. I just knew you wouldn't do it. I had to do it."

  "Finish your dinner before it gets cold." I start reading over the papers again.

  "So, you'll do it?" Kel asks.

  I look up from the papers. "After I read through this and see what's involved."

  By the time we finish eating, we’re having a new debate.

  "But Aunt Char would stay with us!" Luke argues as I slip on my jacket to leave for the club.

  "Your great-aunt doesn't need to fly across the country to take care of my responsibilities. She's done enough for us."

  "What about Sid? She'd come, too." Luke tries another tactic.

  "She was just here for a week. I'm not going to ask her to take time out of her life to spend weeks here with you two so I can go lose a reality show." Sliding my bag strap over my head and into place on my shoulder, I palm both sides of Luke's face and plant a big kiss on his forehead. "Don't give Uncle Kel a hard time when he tells you to go to bed, okay?"

  "Uncle Kel could take care of us while you go on the show." His eyes light up.

  "You both have school and he has work. Listen, baby, it just doesn't seem like it's going to work out. Thank you for believing in me, though." I kiss him again and turn to the door.

  "Night, Kel," I call over my shoulder, leaving for a crazy night at Lux.

  Jackson

  "Jesus, man, you look like shit."

  It's only been a day, but Xavier looks like someone chewed him up and shit him out. Sitting, once again, at Lux Hedonica, we wait for Red to show up. He was more than happy to accommodate my request to visit again tonight as well as receive a proper introduction to the staff. Most importantly, one particular snake charmer.