Chapter One #2
As for Summer? I shake my head, the memory of that time still possessing the power to hurt me.
In the tight world of the television show, the staff and talent were together twenty-four seven.
It was easy for us to sneak away often, and although our time together was brief, I believed we had a deeper connection.
Something I honestly thought could turn into more over time, or else I never would have violated the terms of my contract.
Not for a quick lay. Unfortunately, she betrayed me for reasons I still can’t fathom, and it burns in my gut because I should have known better.
I saw my father humiliated and betrayed by his wife, yet he took his wife back the first time, only to be cuckolded again by Rita with the same man—his longtime friend and partner.
In the end, Nate Hollander lost a lot more than his pride.
He lost his business as well. He was a broken shell of a man after that, and I’ve sworn never to repeat my father’s mistakes …
only to find myself screwed over by a woman.
Summer Michelle was my undoing four years ago, but I am determined not only to keep my distance but to make certain that I am the one calling the shots this time around.
* * *
Summer
I am living my dream, and how many people are able to say the same?
This morning, I rehearsed with the band the producers put together for my appearances, and now I am working with a stylist. I follow as the woman drags me past rack after rack of clothing in the New York City showroom.
I was instructed to choose a wardrobe for a variety of appearances I have coming up, from the opening of a restaurant to performing at a club to morning show appearances.
All in conjunction with the competition to be the opening act for the world tour of Jade Glow, pop star extraordinaire.
I am a jeans-and-tee-shirt kind of woman, but if the dresses and elaborate designer clothing are any indication, that is about to change, and I have to admit I am extremely excited about the opportunity.
I haven’t had any major appearances since the tour after the television show, Star Power, ended, and I’ve been left to my own devices in choosing my clothing.
That was four years ago, and now at twenty-six years old, I’m not used to people telling me what to do or how to dress. But if I want the opportunity to open for Jade, I am going to have to learn to play the game.
Starting right now.
“So? Let’s start with the colors that work best on you, yes?” Rose Lafoy, the stylist, asks.
“Black and white,” I automatically say, glancing down at my black tee shirt, ripped jeans, and white sneakers.
Rose’s eyes open wide in horror. “No. Color. We want people to notice you. You need to stand out. You have a beautiful complexion, so let’s bring out the gold in your eyes.
” She immediately begins to pull warm colors, like reds, golds, and burgundy, and then she goes on to explain I can also pull off bright blues, aquas, and deeper navy tones, as she layers clothing over her arm from the racks.
“These are for daily wear. You can’t run around the city like an average girl who blends in.
Not if you want social media presence and coverage. ”
Other than my voice, I am an average girl, but I have to stop thinking that way. I need to remember to photograph the process, build my Instagram presence, my Snapchat stories, and a million other things I normally ignore so I can get lost in my head and create my music.
At the reminder, I pull out my iPhone for a selfie with the clothes in the background, put on a playful pout, snap, choose a filter, type, “All in a day’s work!” and hit share.
“Jessie, put these in the dressing room,” Rose says to a harried-looking young girl, who hops to do her bidding.
“Now for the club opening, what about this Chanel?” She chooses a light gold beaded gown that appears to have low cleavage and a high slit along one leg.
“Gorgeous!” I exclaim, all the while wondering how I am going to hold my ample size C’s in that skimpy dress.
“Good. And this Givenchy for the morning show appearance?” She lifts a bold yellow fitted dress that also has me pondering where I’ll put the girls.
But the woman is a stylist and hopefully knows her business. “Let’s try it!” I keep my excitement high despite my nerves.
I glance at the time on my cell, wondering when the bodyguard I’ve been assigned will appear.
I was told he’d meet up with me at the stylist’s studio.
Thanks to some creepy, semi-threatening emails sent to Jade’s PR firm, someone is fixated on the opening act.
On me, in particular, so the firm hired protection for both Tawny Renee and me, the other runner-up for the opportunity, just as a precaution.
I’m not worried about the threat. There are plenty of crazy people out there who write nasty letters but don’t act out their fantasies.
Still, in this day and age, you can’t take a threat lightly, and I appreciate the security.
Even if I think it is unnecessary because I doubt I am the object of anyone’s obsession.
“Come. Let’s go to the sitting area,” Rose says, breaking into her thoughts. “There’s a private fitting room where you can try on the clothes, then come out and show me. Good? Good,” she says without waiting for me to reply.
I follow her from the large room filled with racks of clothing into a spacious studio area, and then I go alone into the small back room to change. For the next thirty minutes, I dutifully perform the equivalent of a fashion show, twirling out into the lounge area to show Rose each outfit.
I don skirts, dresses, shorts, and jeans, slip on high-heeled Christian Louboutin heels—gorgeous shoes with red soles that I teeter in because I wear flip-flops in my normal life.
Still, I smile and preen my way out to where Rose and her assistant wait to appraise me, and after a while, the excitement of new clothes and Rose’s elation are contagious.
After accumulating a wardrobe of daywear for when the paparazzi catch me out getting Starbucks or traveling to and from the recording studio, it is time for the dressier items for the big events.