Somewhere in California Read online

  “Let’s get back to the edits,” Alan says. Lugging the monitor, I follow him.

  What would it be like to belong to a family like that? Mine is a tense group of two—me and my mother, the “legendary” Melissa. We hardly hug, let alone jump up and down for joy. But I made that joy happen for Jade today, and along the way a little of it rubbed off on me.

  Chapter 13

  Jade

  I can hardly believe that my entire family is here. Mom’s face is shiny with tears, my little nephew Peter has his arms around my waist, and Ruby and Pearl are hugging me too as Rafe and Magnus smile and look on.

  “You look like the Sugarplum Fairy in this getup,” Mom says. “I’m so glad you made it to the next round! How am I going to handle ten more days of this?”

  “I don’t know, Mom, I’m having trouble too—but you guys coming is going to make it much better, no matter what. I can’t believe how special it is for us all to be in one place. How did you get here? To this? Rafe, did you set this up? Cuz if so, good job.” Rafe is a zillionaire who makes everything look easy. Bringing the family out to LA in the Learjet is just the great kind of thing he’d do.

  “Well, not quite.” Rafe brushes a bit of lint off his black dress shirt. “I did have the jet round everyone up, but I think you owe thanks to Pearl. She called that producer, Brandon Forbes, and he sent tickets for all of us. Great seats, too.”

  I turn to Pearl as my heart sinks. That phrase is one of those clichés that’s just the right way to describe the sensation I’m feeling, a sort of dropping, hollow tightness that begins in my chest and ends in my stomach.

  “Pearl?” I whisper. “You called Brandon? I mean, Mr. Forbes?”

  Pearl fiddles with the tassels on her fancy Coach bag. “I did. He’s an old friend. I called him to see if you’d made it onto the show. He offered the tickets to us himself.”

  “I know what kind of ‘friend’ of yours he was,” I say through clenched teeth. “How great of him to do this for you.” I turn my back and give Mom and Ruby another hug. “Well, I’m sure glad to see you! Have you eaten? We have a great cafeteria.”

  I manage not to address Pearl the rest of the evening. She doesn’t seem to notice, bantering with everyone else.

  While we’re sitting in the caf, one of the cameramen spots Pearl—that skinny guy with the gauged ears—Stu—who filmed Alex and me in the street. He runs over carrying his equipment, followed by Kate, the emcee. Of course, it’s Pearl they want to talk to.

  “Hi, Pearl. Welcome to Dance, Dance, Dance! What a great outfit, you look beautiful!” Kate gushes. Pearl does look great, wearing a pantsuit in gray silk, a wide leather belt cinching her waist. Her shimmery silver-blonde hair brushes her shoulders like tinsel.

  “Thanks, but this is my sister Jade’s special day.” Pearl looks right at me. “I’m just here to support her.”

  Kate ignores that. “So what’s it like for you to have your little sister dancing on national TV?”

  Pearl’s still looking me in the eyes. I can’t seem to look away. “I’m just so proud of Jade. She’s so talented and works amazingly hard. America’s not going to believe what she can do.”

  Pearl sounds sincere. Maybe she is sincere. But really? Calling Brandon to get special favors for the show? I’m not sure who I want to kill more, Pearl or Brandon.

  “There you have it, folks, supermodel Pearl Michaels is here to support her sister!” The bright light, camera and mic swing to my face next.

  I’m no dummy. I can’t let my conflicted feelings show. I switch on a smile.

  “I’m so thrilled the family could make it out to watch the filming!” I clasp my hands together. “My family’s the best. Meet my sister Ruby.” I introduce the whole family on camera. They get their sound bite, and finally move on.

  After dinner, tiredness from the day creeps in, gray around the edges of my vision. “Where are you guys staying?” I ask Mom.

  “We have rooms here at the hotel.” Rafe’s sitting beside Ruby, one big hand on the back of her neck, massaging, as she leans against him. I thought it was pretty nuts when Ruby married him as a freshman in college, but it sure worked out great. Three-year-old Peter, intent on a little pile of blocks next to his plate, is the perfect addition to their family. As if reading my mind, Ruby smiles at me.

  “We’ve got some exciting news to share. We’re having another baby.” Ruby pats her tummy fondly. “I’m three months along, so it’s safe to tell people.”

  “Oh, that’s so great! I’m so happy for you!” I glance at Peter. “You’re going to have a little sister or brother, buddy.”

  “Yeah.” He leans against Ruby’s side. “I want to play with him.”

  We all laugh.

  Magnus, from across the table, gives Pearl’s hand a tug. “We’re bushed. Need to get to our room for some shut-eye. We’ll see you tomorrow night after the show, Jade. Break a leg!”

  “I’ve never liked that saying,” I reply, and he laughs. We all say goodbye. I turn back to Mom as they leave. “I’d love to visit more, but Ernesto and I have a big day of practice and then performance tomorrow. Want me to walk you to your room so I know where it is?”

  “No, that’s fine, dear. I’m staying in a two-bedroom suite with Rafe and Ruby. We’ll be fine.” She tells me the suite number and leans over to kiss me. “You freaked me out, sneaking off like that. I was the one who asked Ruby and Pearl to try to find you.”

  “I’m sorry. I did call and leave you a message…but I couldn’t stand to have anyone try to talk me out of the audition. And then, if I didn’t make it...” I hug Mom, breathing in her familiar scent, that of coconut and jasmine. She has a friend from St. Thomas mail her the oil she uses on her skin, and it’s a potent reminder of those warm, lazy childhood days in the Virgin Islands. “I’m sorry if I worried you. I just wish Dad was here with all of us.”

  “Me, too, darling. But tell me what you’re doing next time.” Mom waggles a finger. “You may be twenty, but I’m still your mom.”

  “Who could forget that?” I hug her again, and kiss and hug Ruby, Peter, and Rafe too. “If you see Brandon, tell him thanks for me, will you?” It’s the right thing to say.

  “You can tell him yourself.” Rafe points.

  I turn. Brandon is entering the door of the cafeteria area. Wearing a wine-colored dress shirt, no tie, and dark slacks, he looks like he could be modeling menswear.

  It takes a long minute, but I remember that I’m mad at him.

  Rafe waves for him to approach. He does, weaving among the tables like a matador.

  “How’s the food tonight?” He addresses Rafe.

  “Not bad, not bad at all. Jade was just saying how she wanted to thank you for the tickets,” Rafe prompted.

  “Yes, so kind of you to do that for Pearl,” I emphasize her name.

  “And let’s not forget how nice it was for Pearl to call me, worried about you. She’s a good big sister.” Brandon’s brows draw together, registering that I’m not happy.

  Rather: I’m happy that the family’s here, but I’m not happy he brought them here because of Pearl.

  Or something like that.

  I’m confused.

  “Well, thanks. It was nice of you,” I say, finally.

  “It sure was!” Ruby smiles at Brandon. She always says the right thing—unlike me, the freaky, awkward Michaels sister. “And to make it perfect, we got rooms here and can eat here, too. So convenient. We’re going to the zoo and to do some sightseeing tomorrow—we’re making this into a real family vacation. Thanks again.”

  “Well, like I said, I have to get to bed early.” I brush a few crumbs off my Sugarplum Fairy dress. “I hope it’s okay to return this to Costume tomorrow?” I ask Brandon.

  “Sure. Can I have a word?” Brandon takes my arm. I wave back at the family and we walk toward the entrance. As soon as decently possible, I tweak my arm out of his grasp.

  This is the first time I’ve noticed that icky human-conta
ct feeling all day, and I’ve hardly thought about germs today either. Maybe this contest is working to get me over the phobia? But why does Brandon’s touch activate that feeling sometimes, and not others?

  Definitely not others. I think of the sauna again.

  I stop in the hall outside the cafeteria. “Listen, Brandon, I’m really tired. I’ve danced all day and had a stressful evening. I really do need to get back to my room and get some rest.”

  “Okay. I’ll just walk you to your room, and we can talk on the way.”

  “Why?”

  He swings to fully face me, and those gold-green eyes seem to blaze. “You know why.”

  “No, I don’t know why.” I fold my arms over my chest. The rhinestones on the bodice scratch my skin. “Just like I don’t know why you got the tickets for Pearl.”

  “No good deed goes unpunished!” Brandon throws his hands up. “I just thought it would be nice for you to have your family come support you!”

  I start walking, feeling guilty, but surly now, too. I can’t explain my fear that he made the gesture for Pearl, not me, without being a whole lot more vulnerable than I’m willing to be right now. “It was nice of you to send the tickets. I mean that sincerely. Thanks.”

  I try to say it in a tone that conveys I mean it. I’m so mad at myself right now—I really don’t like how I’m being mean.

  To Brandon. To Pearl.

  The honest to God truth is, I’m jealous. I can hardly bear to admit it. Even to myself.

  We reach the elevator and it opens promptly. We get on, standing side by side, facing the doors. His nearness vibrates like an electric field next to me.

  Brandon hits the STOP button on the elevator after a moment. “Where’d you run off to last night?” He is still facing forward, not looking at me, and I’m so fixated on the tickets and the Pearl issue that I’m taken by surprise. Color floods my face as I remember last night.

  The sauna. And that I hid, after.

  “I just went to the locker room and changed. When I left, you were gone.” Perfectly true, to a degree.

  “It felt like you were running away from me.” He’s still not looking at me. “I didn’t like you disappearing like that. It felt… like you were... uncomfortable with me. With what we did.”

  “I was. I am. I’ve never done anything like that before. I don’t know how I’m supposed to act.” It’s easier to talk without looking at him, standing side by side like wooden soldiers in the box of the elevator. “It was so—random.”

  His mouth twitches up. “Yeah. And yet—I can’t stop thinking about it.”

  My face heats. “Me too.”

  He finally turns to me, slowly, as if to keep from spooking me. A big cat stalks prey with the kind of deliberateness with which he slides his warm hands up the jeweled netting on my arms, all the way to my neck. My pulse hammers as he takes just one step closer, and that magnetism between us intensifies, lifting every tiny hair on my body. We’re separated by mere inches. Slowly, so slowly, his mouth drifts down to mine.

  I fall against him as my knees go instantly soft, and like two powerful magnets, we collide. My mouth opens to his and he angles my head with his hands for better access.

  Warm pulsing redness behind my closed eyes. Swirling. Spinning. Taking. Giving.

  His hands roam, skimming my edges. My hands clutch his shoulders. I’ll fall over if I don’t hang on.

  “Jade,” he whispers against my mouth. “You taste so good. You feel so good. I can’t get enough of you.”

  I have no words for how he tastes, how he feels. All rational thoughts cease as I press tight to him. My arms twine around his neck, pulling him closer, as we dive into the kiss again.

  I hate the clothing between us, the barriers, the misunderstandings. There must be a way through all that and I’m desperate to find it—but I have no words. Words seem to mess it up even more. But when we touch—it all works.

  Maybe that’s the answer.

  He pushes me against the wall of the elevator, sliding his hands up to clasp my waist, squeezing. “I love this ribbon. I love watching this ribbon when you dance.”

  He’s standing between my spread legs, the froth of pale pink tulle skirt bunched between us. I can feel myself melting, wanting him.

  Oh, if he could just unzip those tailored pants and slide into me…I’m ready for it. I want it. I tug at his belt buckle and he’s so busy kissing me, his hands spanning my waist, that he doesn’t notice until I get the buckle of his belt and the top button of his pants undone and I’m rubbing my hand over the thick ridge there.

  He groans, pulls back. He’s withdrawing. “No. Your first time—it’s going to be amazing. Not here.”

  “How do you know it’s my first time?” I tug at his belt again, impatient, burning. Damn it, I want this. He smiles down at me and those green-gold eyes seem to glow.

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  He knows.

  I sigh, and clasp the corners of his richly colored collar and set my lips on the warm triangle of skin where the buttons of his shirt begin.

  “Mine,” I growl, and kiss him there, where his pulse pounds beneath my lips. God, he tastes good, and smells good too.

  “No biting me,” he chuckles. “I had to wear a tie today, and I think Pearl saw the mark on my neck.”

  The mention of Pearl freezes me for a long moment. I step back out of his arms.

  I have to say something, put my fear into words. “What is going on here, Brandon? Is this—what we’re doing—about her? Am I just… some sort of consolation prize since she chose Magnus, not you?”

  Brandon draws himself taller. He straightens his shirt and takes a step back even further from me. His face shuts down, going remote and hard-edged. The warm color of his eyes cools to brass.

  “I don’t know what this is,” he says. “But it’s not about Pearl.”

  He turns away and hits the STOP button again. We trundle on, and he gets off at his floor without looking back or acknowledging me.

  I’m too tired and numb to cry when I finally get into the shower and try to figure out how to untangle my elaborately braided hair alone.

  Chapter 14

  Jade

  Saladin is wearing an open leather vest and a pair of baggy satin pants at practice the next morning. He looks more than ever like a djinn.

  “Ready?” he says. “Let’s do some warm-up. We’ll just dance freestyle and do stretches.”

  He stands in front of us facing the mirrored wall. As the music comes on, a mix of hip-hop, R & B and disco, we get down and funky. I learn just watching Saladin. He shows me how far I can grow. An hour later, smiling, hot, loose in the joints and muscles, we’re ready to get back to our routine.

  Saladin rolls out the butcher paper outline. “Take a look. Let’s see what you remember.”

  He cues the music. We get started, and pretty soon we’re back to where we were the day before.

  Ernesto really is a sexy guy, and the way he moves—crisp, but somehow lingering, like there’s an echo in the air behind him—infuses our “story” with a passionate burn, every appearance of real longing. I feel that longing between my thighs, along my nerve endings, and it makes me think of Brandon more than I have room or time for.

  We have some spectacular screw-ups: the time I’m supposed to slide down his back and land in a roll, and instead just land on my tailbone with a bone-jarring thud. The time Ernesto’s supposed to cartwheel over me and instead, lands his hand right on my hip, mashing me into the unforgiving floor. The time our heads crack together as we leap toward each other.

  “You kids are going to be sore tomorrow,” Saladin tells us at the end of the day, “but remember—today’s the day that matters. Tomorrow is just the results show and new partners, a whole day to get going on your next routine. So give it all you have tonight.” The choreographer puts his ropy, tattooed arms around us and pulls us in for a hug. Our foreheads touch in a sweaty, smelly, warm and wonderful bond. “Mak
e me proud.”

  I walk away toward Wardrobe blinking tears out of my eyes, amazed that I still don’t need to sanitize after all that sweaty contact.

  “I wish he was our choreographer for all the pieces,” Ernesto says as we walk down the hall. “He’s a master.”

  “Me too.”

  “And I wish you were my partner every day, too.”

  “Ah, you’re just saying that.”

  Ernesto slings his arm over me in that way he has, skimming my arm with his fingertips. This time, I don’t like it—that icky human contact feeling again, for the first time today. “We have some mean chemistry. I could make it good for you,” he says.

  I know what he’s talking about. “Ernesto. Damn it. I’m not into you that way.” I’m getting tired of having to have this conversation with every randomly assigned partner.

  We pause in the dimly lit hall. The overhead fluorescent flickers over us, bathing us in chilly grayish light—but even then, he’s attractive with his large brown eyes, coppery-gold skin, full lips and that body that defies description. “Just sayin.’ The story we’re telling in the dance works for me.”

  “I agree that it works. On stage. We’ll work it hard. But even if I did like you that way, which I don’t, Alex is my friend. And like he told you last night, he’s not into sharing.”

  “Too bad. I’m not ready to settle down, and Alex is going to have to deal.”

  “Well, be nice, will you?” I reach over and touch his arm. “Please don’t hurt him.”

  “Can’t help it. I’m a heartbreaker.”

  I sock him in the shoulder for that.

  We reach the costuming area and get outfitted. There’s just time to go to the cafeteria, wolf down a little food, shower, and get ready.

  It’s show time.

  Brandon

  I’m going to watch the action tonight from the film booth with Brad, the producer. I send Tad from Yale to be the director’s helper in the pit. I sit down in front of the bank of camera monitors with the fifth cup of coffee of the day and the agenda for the night. Tonight, I want to keep an eye on the big picture of the show.