Wicked Ambition (18 page)

Oh God! Oh
God
!

Kristin gagged but all that came out was a desperate
whimper, muffled by the pillow. Memories of their nakedness haunted her, the twisted passion on their faces as revolting as it was shocking, and most hours she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry or shoot herself in the fucking head. It explained Scotty’s problem with sex, his avoidance and why he’d become distant of late. It explained why he’d tried to do that thing that day, because he’d wanted Fenton, not her, and yet he’d been trying to pretend…

It was too grisly to contemplate!

Scotty would be beside himself—that pervert manager, too. They’d be desperate to persuade her to hide their dirty secret for them. Well, let them stew. Let them think about what they had done and the devastation they had caused. At least there was some small satisfaction to be had from knowing that now, after who knew how long of being ridiculed, she was in control, and if she chose to could tear their lives apart with a single phone call. She hoped Scotty was in hell. She hoped he was disgusted with himself. Then again, she thought bitterly, she was sure the lovers found comfort in each other.

Kristin couldn’t entertain the idea of speaking to him. What would she say? How would Scotty explain himself? Any scrap he offered would be a joke.

Try as she might there was no denying what she had witnessed. Only a second before she had turned and fled, but enough to be certain of the absolute and unequivocal truth: no excuses, no misunderstandings, nothing that could be in any way mitigating. That night she’d driven aimlessly, burning like wildfire, swerving across the road and not caring if she lived or died. Part of her had wanted to hurtle through the crash barrier on Mulholland Drive and send the Mercedes
soaring like a silver comet through the star-pricked Hollywood sky.

It had been Fenton who had been star-pricked that night.

How many other nights? Had it been going on for weeks, months…
years
?

Had anybody else known? On top of everything, had he made her a laughing stock?

Kristin switched off her cell, squinting through red-rimmed eyes that were puffy from violent bouts of crying. She didn’t want anyone contacting her. The day after her discovery she had booked herself the first flight to the most remote location she could find, settling on the distant shores of the Paradise Palms Hotel, Barbados.

Ramona had been furious.
‘Just where do you think you’re going?’
her mother had crowed as Kristin numbly packed a bag, Bunny hovering confusedly at the doorway and chewing her lip.
‘Kristin! Don’t you dare ignore me! Come back here right now!’

She’d given neither an explanation. How could she? Where would she start?

‘Thing is, my boyfriend’s been ass-fucking his manager. I know—rad, isn’t it? I’m taking time off, you know, getting away while things calm down…’

As was customary, a need to go to the bathroom eventually hauled Kristin out of bed. Like an animal, she reacted to her body without consideration: she ate when she was hungry, she slept when she was tired, she cried when she was sad. Now she showered and brushed her teeth robotically, her mind completely blank. She had trained herself to hold the details at bay, knowing that as soon as one macabre recollection crept in the rest would follow.

There was a knock. ‘Room service!’

She opened the door to the porter, turning to the ocean view and making it clear she wasn’t interested in conversation. Dutifully he deposited a tray of fruit and coffee and quietly left the room. Kristin picked feebly at a blood orange, musing on how long she could feasibly block out the world. Her label thought she’d had a mental collapse—which wasn’t far from the truth—and it was only a matter of time until the press tracked her down.

They were a month from December. Fraternity were about to release their Christmas single, ‘Keep You Warm’, and would be slamming fans with their most romantic and pop-perfect offering yet. She’d seen the video design: Scotty and Joey and the guys bundled up against the winter in tailored coats and scarves, snowflakes on their eyelashes and rosy cheeks split by a boyish dimple as they crooned about the girls they adored, beseeching the camera, hands on hearts as they travelled a frosty wonderland thawed only by their grins.

The
fraudulence
.

It beggared belief. Scotty Valentine didn’t want girls, he wanted
guys
; he didn’t want soft lips, he wanted a
beard
; he didn’t want a waist, he wanted
muscle
; he didn’t want tits…

He wanted an ass!

Despairing, Kristin flung herself face down on to the bed. The tears flowed, great, heaving sobs that shook her body and sliced her throat.

Her life as she knew it was over. What was she going to do?

‘Bunny, get over here this minute! We haven’t got all night, for crying out loud!’

The sound of her mother’s voice ricocheted across the Venice Juniors Club car park, accompanied by a sharp click-clack of heels as Ramona charged towards the family Escalade. Bunny struggled to keep up. She wanted to burst out crying.

‘It’s my heels,’ Bunny tried. ‘They’re really hurting…’

‘I’m hardly surprised.’ Ramona rounded on her daughter as the car’s lights flashed and she hauled open the mammoth door. Another Mini Miss tottered past with her zebra-skin carryall and a smug lipstick-smile plastered across her face.
Little bitch!
thought Ramona, noting that the Mini Miss’s mom had splurged on a wig twice the one Bunny’s size and maybe that was where they were going wrong. These baby beauties were like Samson when it came to their pelts: scrimp on the hair and they were as good as done for.

‘The way you were dancing I expect they’ll cause you pain for days!’ she carped.

Bunny climbed into the car and gazed stoically out of the window.

‘I did my best,’ she said miserably.

‘Your best wasn’t good enough,’ came the tight response.

‘It was the pirouette start. I told you, I never wanted to do it—’

‘You
did
it,’ snipped Ramona, gunning the ignition, ‘because that was going to set you apart and make you
better
than the rest of those tramps! I wasn’t to know you’d mess it up in such a spectacular fashion. How could you have been
so careless? You were like a blundering animal out there, Bunny. After all we’ve worked for!’

Bunny’s lip trembled. The first round of the Mini Miss Marvellous competition had been a disaster. She’d lost. Lost! Coming second wouldn’t be so bad on an ordinary day, but this was important, this was the super league, and Ramona didn’t see the point of being there unless they came away with the gold. Instead it had gone to her archrival Tracy-Ann Hamilton, and unless Bunny stole the limelight in the next bout it would be game over.

‘Please don’t shout at me,’ she whispered.

Ramona rolled her eyes, shoving the vehicle into gear. ‘It’s not as if I take pleasure in your failure, believe me.’ She grimaced, already fantasising about sabotaging Tracy-Ann Hamilton’s next appearance. How she’d love to shave her bald! ‘I do it because I care about you. Why else would I? Where would you girls be without me? Well? Where would you be?’

‘Nowhere.’

‘Exactly right.’ The car roared down the freeway. ‘And what thanks do I get? First your sister runs out without a word and now you. You’ve let me down. Both of you.’

‘When’s Kristin coming home?’

‘God knows.’ Ramona shouted an obscenity at a passing driver for pulling into her lane. ‘Your sister’s fame has gone to her head; it’s the only explanation for this behaviour. Fancy running off like that when you’ve got commitments to fulfil, a job to do! Oh, don’t you worry.’ She laughed humourlessly. ‘I’ll sort her out when she gets back.’

Bunny would do anything to speak to Kristin right now. Where was she? It was unlike her sister to bail without a
word, but she hadn’t been answering her phone and, apart from the one message she had sent in the beginning, Bunny had heard nothing.

Night seeped in through the window in a thick black curtain. Bunny rested her head against the leather seats and watched the road rushing by. In the glass her sequinned dress sparkled and glittered in bursts of pink and green, a shield made of stars.

Her phone buzzed and she scrambled to retrieve it from her bag.

‘Is it your sister?’ Ramona demanded. ‘Tell her she’s got a Friday interview I’m yet to reschedule and a backlog of appointments I have no idea if she’ll be able to—’

‘It’s not.’

The message was from an unrecognised number. Bunny frowned at it.

Bunny, hi, it’s Scott. Can we meet?

For a second she didn’t understand, and then slowly, a piece at a time, it registered. Scotty Valentine?

Scotty Valentine!

Hands shaking, she replaced the phone, clutching it tight in her bag.

Her number one crush wanted to hook up—at last, the two of them! Bunny’s heart leapt, blind to questions why. Whatever the reason, she wasn’t going to miss it for the world.

‘Well?’ insisted Ramona. ‘Who is it?’

‘Nobody.’

Her mother sighed dramatically. ‘If you want me to start
checking your cell then you’re going the right way about it,’ she stated. ‘Kristin can’t bear it but what choice do I have? If you girls will insist on keeping secrets…’

Bunny bit her lip. Ramona prattled on but she didn’t hear a single word.

Scotty wanted her. He had messaged her. And just like that, Kristin, the Mini Miss, her mother—everyone and everything in Bunny’s world—ceased to be remotely significant. The boy she loved was all that mattered. He would never let her down.

23

B
efore she became famous, Robin had held Puff City up as the kind of group she would never in a million years get access to. They were part of that untouchable league of megastars who had been around for so long and were such an institution that they existed outside the rules of the industry. Typically private, the crew were never snapped getting debauched or vacuuming up drugs or disappearing into hotel rooms with sixteen-year-old groupies, and through this had managed to retain the air of mystery and allure belonging to only the truly legendary. Notorious behind the scenes, they relied on the rumour mill to shade in the missing pieces—and speculation was a hundred times more exotic than evidence.

It was surreal, therefore, to be in a booth, singing for all she was worth on their single. Out in the studio, Slink Bullion and G-Money listened on headphones and collaborated on the production. Slink had invited Robin to take the bridge on their charity project and she had accepted. ‘Take
It Down’ was a bold, brave, brilliant lament to gang culture in LA and what kids did to survive on the wrong side of the tracks. Everyone knew that Slink himself had come from challenging beginnings, and one glance at Principal 7 told the same story. This was music that came from the heart.

‘You rocked it, Robin, let me get you one more time—take it a little higher on the run into “
Ain’t we seen enough?
”’

Having the infamous Slink Bullion direct her was a trippy dream and she had to pinch herself to make sure it was happening. She felt fortunate G-Money was there. Slink, nice as he was, couldn’t help but intimidate, the other guys drifted in and out in varying shades of indifference, while Principal 7 regarded her shiftily, creeping about in the background as if her presence offended him. Then there was Slink’s girlfriend, who had answered the door to Robin so rudely on that first visit to the house and now trailed her lover like an Alsatian. Shawnella’s glare was more effective than any growl in warding off threats.

Not that Robin saw Slink that way in the least. She was here for work, and some job it was turning out to be. When she’d been offered a slot she had decided not to overthink the Leon Sway connection: they would be recording on different days anyway.

The track ramped up once more and as Robin hit her falsetto she shut her eyes and dived headfirst into the emotion. When she opened her eyes, for a crazy second she thought she had magicked him there, because it was the first time in weeks that she had let herself think of Leon.

Just like that, there he was.

A marble of pleasure shot up from her stomach, and Robin stood dumb in her goldfish bowl watching the men
greet each other. Leon was wearing a shirt that matched his eyes and was smiling genially.
Manners
, was Robin’s first thought, because she knew he wasn’t keen on the collaboration.
Must’ve been brought up good
. No wonder he felt like a fraud having to bleat on about hardship. Jax Jackson was there too, throwing his weight around and engaging in an impossible amount of backslapping. He sported a white vest with tons of gold jewellery and evidently imagined himself to fit right in with the Puff City vibe. Robin felt suddenly aware that she was the only girl. She looked hopefully at Shawnella but the woman sashayed off with her customary scowl, unable to compete any more for her boyfriend’s attention.

Slink gestured to her to come out. She emerged to a wave of ‘Hey, my man’, ‘How’s it hangin’?’, ‘Dude, what’s up?’ and a flurry of guy hugs.

Principal 7 was hanging back as usual, the surly kid at the party, while G-Money was all about the gracious hand shaking.

‘No shit, it’s Lady Robin Ryder!’ Jax flashed her a grin and she noticed he’d had a gold tooth put in. Seriously?

‘No shit, it’s you,’ she replied. ‘Nice dental work.’

Jax guffawed. ‘We know each other,’ he explained to their onlookers, and irritatingly made it sound like they knew each other and
then
some.

‘Hello,’ said Leon. ‘How’s it going?’

‘Great.’

‘Better than great,’ Slink intervened, nodding to the booth. ‘Robin’s got this track down.’ He put a palm flat to his chest. ‘She’s takin’ it to a whole new place.’

‘It’s good to see you.’ Leon smiled at her. God, his eyes were green.

Jax puffed his chest out. ‘Are we gettin’ goin’ on this shit now or what?’