Chapter 1 #2
My brow inched up in speculation. Despite the absurdity of its direction, I had a feeling where this conversation was heading. “And what does any of this have to do with me?”
“Well, I was hoping you could fill in for Lydia.”
Ha! Over my dead body.
On Thursday, the doors to the East Coast’s largest and most kick-ass gathering of geeks, fangirls, and pop culture aficionados would open—New York Comic Con.
The cast of Immortal Nights would have a busy schedule packed with autograph signings, press interviews, and, of course, a panel.
No doubt my sister would run me ragged if I took Lydia’s place.
Had Violet planned on leaving for New York Wednesday night, I might have considered assisting her so I could meet Chelsea Hirano, the creator of Lady Phoenix, my favorite comic book.
As soon as Dad told me Violet was making an appearance, I’d looked up the convention schedule to see if I could beg her to get my favorite issue autographed.
Unfortunately, Chelsea’s panel was scheduled for Thursday morning before Violet’s flight even took off.
The fact that I would miss her appearance by half a day made the thought of attending with Violet even less appealing.
For a moment, I wondered if I could see my mom. Baltimore was only a few hours away from NYC by train, so maybe she could come up and visit, but then I remembered that she would be out of town on a girls trip.
“Not going to happen.” If I wanted a good dose of torture, I’d stick my hand down the garbage disposal.
“Just hear me out before you say no.” The alarm in her voice made me pause, and she seized the opportunity to keep talking.
“I only need your help on Saturday. I’ll pay you five hundred bucks for the entire day, and you’ll get to skip school on Thursday and Friday.
You can do whatever you want with your free time—sightsee, check out the convention, maybe take a tour of Juilliard? Please say yes. I’m desperate here.”
I had to give it to Violet, she made an enticing offer.
I’d been dreaming of Juilliard since picking up my first violin.
Throw in a get-out-of-school-free card, cash to spend, and a weekend trip to New York, and any normal teen would jump at the opportunity.
Then again, most kids my age didn’t have a celebrity for a sister.
If I did this, I was in good conscience agreeing to participate in the Violet James show, which meant screaming fans, paparazzi, and watching everyone and their mother kiss my sister’s ass. The thought made me cringe.
“I don’t think so, Violet. I have a test in calculus on Friday and—”
“That makeup artist you like,” she interrupted. “What’s her name?”
“Melody Nguyen?”
“Yeah, her. She’s on a panel called Behind the Prosthetics. It features a bunch of Hollywood’s top special effects makeup artists. If you help me out on Saturday, I’ll give you a break to go see her panel.”
I pursed my lips. I hadn’t thought to check if Melody was making an appearance.
Violet must have saved her as a trump card in case I refused her offer.
Because we both knew there was no way I’d pass up a chance to meet one of my idols, even if it meant spending time with my sister.
The question was, how much did Violet need an assistant?
Studying my nails, I tried to appear as uninterested as possible. “Make it a grand and you’ve got yourself an assistant.”
Violet’s lips curled in a triumphant smile. “Done.”
* * *
“So…” Violet said, twisting her hands in her lap.
“So…” I said back.
As of five hours ago, the two of us were New York bound. Violet had explained my duties for Saturday on the way to the airport. Essentially, I was a glorified errand girl who was also in charge of manning her business phone.
But now that we were trapped at an altitude of thirty-five thousand feet? Violet was struggling to come up with a conversation starter. Neither of us knew what to say to each other, almost like we were distant relatives forcing small talk at a family reunion.
Maybe that was because we hadn’t felt like sisters in years.
We used to be best friends, but ever since getting her big break, Violet never had a free moment.
If she wasn’t in New Orleans filming IN, then she was off promoting the show or on the set of whatever side project she was working on.
Bottom line—she was too busy to be my big sister.
Violet cleared her throat. “Did you schedule a campus tour?”
“I tried.”
When I didn’t elaborate, she shot me a look. “And?”
I glanced at the comic resting on my tray table, the latest issue of Lady Phoenix, and ignored the urge to start reading. “All the slots were full.”
“Oh, that sucks. I’m sorry, Indie.” She tucked a curl behind her ear and glanced over at me. “Have you finished applying yet?”
“No,” I said, sighing inwardly. “I’m done with all the easy stuff like my essays and letters of recommendation, but I’m stuck on what to do for my prescreening.
” As part of the application process, I had to submit a video recording of my proposed live audition.
Problem was I’d developed a nasty case of deer-in-headlights when it came to selecting what pieces to play.
“What’s the issue? Maybe I can help.”
Raising a brow, I turned in my seat to stare at Violet. She was joking, right? When we were kids, Mom wanted both of us to learn to play violin, but Violet gave up after a handful of lessons. “No offense, but I doubt that.”
She crossed her arms. “Oh yeah? Try me.”
“Okay, any idea what Paganini caprice I should pick? Or how about which movement from a Mozart concerto I should play? I also need two movements from a Bach solo sonata or partita, so if you have any suggestions, I’m all ears.”
The confidence faded from her face. “Ah…”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
“Jeez, I was only trying to help.”
Realizing my response had come out sharper than intended, I let my breath go in a quick huff. “I’m sorry. It’s just…this audition is really important.”
“I know,” she said, reaching over the armrest to briefly squeeze my wrist. “When’s it due?”
“December first.”
“Well, you have some time left. You’re the best violinist I know. I’m sure you’ll figure things out.”
That wasn’t saying much. Who did Violet know that played besides me and Mom?
“Yeah, hopefully.”
We fell quiet again. As the silence mounted around us, it occurred to me that this conversation was one of the longest we’d had in months.
And that meant we weren’t due for another exchange until New Year’s Eve at the earliest. Perfect.
I turned my attention back to the comic in my hand, but before I could start reading, Violet perked up in her seat.
“Hey, guess what?” She didn’t wait for me to respond. “I’m almost done recording my album. I just need one or two more tracks, and then we can decide which to use for my first single.”
Now that IN was ending, Violet wanted to take a break from acting to start a career as a recording artist. At first, she considered signing with Mongo Records because of our friendship with the Williams family.
Not only was Mongo one of the top music labels in the industry, but they were responsible for superstars like Jenna Ocean, Diego St. James, and Starlight Summer, just to name a few.
But it only took one business meeting for Violet to realize that King didn’t care what her music sounded like as long as her millions of fans bought the album.
So Violet did something risky: she walked away from her deal at Mongo and partnered with King’s son, Alec, who was launching his own label.
Alec Williams was so unlike his father, I often wondered if there was a mix-up at the hospital and he’d been switched at birth.
He was quiet but loyal, the kind of person who’d drive hundreds of miles to help a friend in need.
Our moms were college roommates turned BFFs, so Violet and I grew up with Alec and his sister, Vanessa, as if they were our cousins.
Play dates, birthday parties, Fourth of July celebrations—the Williamses were there for it all.
Until they weren’t.
Like most of the good things in my life, the era of Mitchell-Jamiolkowski/Williams family get-togethers came to an end when Violet’s career took off.
Around the same time, Alec joined a garage band that later became the Heartbreakers, arguably the most famous boy band of my generation. Things were never the same after that.
“That’s awesome. Still glad you signed with Alec instead of King?”
Violet’s entire face lit up at my question. “A hundred percent! He’s such a natural, you’d never guess this was his first time producing a record. Speaking of, Alec might be at Comic Con this weekend.”
“How come?”
“Jewel wanted one of the boys to make a guest appearance during our panel. Drum up excitement, you know? Dad’s been coordinating with their manager, and since he’s known Alec forever, I’m guessing he’ll be the one attending.”
Oh, right. God only knew how I managed to forget the three-episode arc the Heartbreakers filmed for IN earlier this summer.
In the months leading up to the shoot, it was Dad and Violet’s sole topic of conversation.
MTV thought having such a popular band on the show would help boost ratings for the final season.
“Since we’re on the topic of Saturday,” Violet said, looking me up and down, “I’m assuming you brought more appropriate clothes? Something more…”
I glanced at my outfit. Fishnet stockings under a pair of distressed jeans, a black lace kimono over my Hocus Pocus graphic tee, and Doc Martens. Then there was my amethyst pendant, which was a permanent fixture around my neck no matter what I was wearing.
I grinned at Violet. “Something more what?” I asked, rolling the crystal between my fingers.
Her mouth twisted as she tried to think of an adjective that wouldn’t insult me.
Violet never approved of my fashion sense or, as she referred to it, lack thereof.
She was forever trying to give me a makeover, and while I didn’t mind her style, the designers she preferred didn’t make clothes for girls my size.
Well, screw that. I’d keep my comfy T-shirts, plaid flannels, and jeans, thank you very much.
“Something more professional,” she said at last. “As my assistant—”
I cut off her excuse with brutal precision. “Absolutely not. I never agreed to that, and we’re going to Comic Con, not an award ceremony. Tons of people will be dressed in cosplay. Nobody will think twice about my wardrobe.”
Violet’s mouth flattened into a thin line, but after one tense moment, she flicked her gaze heavenward and exhaled slowly. “Fine, I suppose you’re right. But please, for the love of God, no black lipstick.”
“Miss James?” a flight attendant interrupted.
I jerked my head toward the woman in surprise. It always startled me to hear people call Violet that. She’d taken James as a stage name because the show’s executive producers thought Mitchell-Jamiolkowski would be too hard for people to pronounce. Five years later, and I still wasn’t used to it.
“Yes?” Violet replied, glancing toward her.
“We’ll be starting our descent momentarily. Is there anything I can get you beforehand?”
“No, thank you.” Violet turned back to me and, despite our disagreement moments ago, smiled.
“I’m really excited you’re coming with me this weekend.
I cleared some of my schedule so we could hang out.
We have dinner reservations tonight, mani-pedis at the hotel spa tomorrow morning, and I even got you on the list for one of the industry parties I’m attending on Saturday. How cool does that sound?”
Me at some hipster nightclub packed with Hollywood stars?
This wasn’t the deal we’d agreed to. Violet promised I could do whatever I wanted with my free time, and playing at being sisters didn’t fall under that category.
Did she feel bad I’d be spending most of the weekend by myself?
If so, my sister had reached new levels of obliviousness—with Mom gone and Dad and Violet constantly working, I was always alone.
“Violet, you don’t have to worry about entertaining me. I already have plans.”
“Oh. Are you sure? Because it’s not a prob—”
“Trust me,” I said, making a show of opening my comic to signal our conversation was over. “I’m positive.”