the quarter-smile. One of the first things her mother had coached her in was that there was a complex spectrum of smiles and each one meant a different thing, and the quarter was coy, a little bashful, promising more than she was prepared to say. Her mom had worked hard to get Kristin to where she was today: pop princess, the angel every little girl dreamed she would one day grow up to become, strumming on a guitar or gliding across a piano and singing gentle songs about true love and knights in shining armour who whisked their beloveds from towers in the sky. Scotty Valentine as her steady completed the picture.
‘The movie’s fantastic,’ Kristin gushed. ‘It’s been a magical experience.’
‘You and Scotty look blissful. Has he been supportive through the process?’
Kristin stole a glance in her boyfriend’s direction. Scotty was talking into someone’s cell, now in his comfort zone and a pro at pleasing his crowd of devotees. She had to remind herself that he was her guest tonight, not the other way around. Kristin had her own following—her last four consecutive singles had shot straight to number one; her trio of albums had gone platinum, selling in excess of sixty million records; and she had claimed more than eighty awards—but Scotty Valentine, with his mop of blond hair and huge, puppy-like blue eyes, was that thing to which, when done right, there was and never would be an equivalent: lead vocalist in the most outrageously popular boy band in US history, a five-guy line-up with the slick tunes and the heartthrob status to take it all the way.
People had thought the boy band was dead…and then along came Fraternity.
‘He’s been great.’ Kristin expanded the smile, unable to help how elated the truth made her. ‘He’s absolutely, amazingly perfect.’
Scotty was her muse, her inspiration and her reason for everything. Everyone said they made a bankable duo as if in some way that took away from the genuine feeling they had for each other, but Kristin knew it was special. She had never been in love before. Scotty was her first. Being one of millions worldwide who felt the exact same way was just something she’d have to get used to. Couples in the fame game appeared and vanished quicker than a fast-food order, but what made their relationship different was that they had ridden the wave together—they had known each other since they were seven years old, novice entertainers on The Happy Hippo Club. Best friends first; it had made sense that once the innocence of childhood affection wore off they would upgrade to the next level. Kristin had liked Scotty for ages before it became official, admiring him from behind a line she could not cross, until a nudge from their management had finally sealed the deal. It was a true romance, like something from a fairy tale—and Scotty her treasured Prince Charming.
The golden couple was ushered off the carpet. Away from the cameras Scotty’s smile wavered. He still looked peaky from the helicopter.
‘Are you OK?’ she asked, concerned.
‘Yeah. Feel a bit sick, that’s all, all the adrenalin…’
‘You poor thing.’
Scotty allowed himself to be comforted.
‘I’m so glad you’re here,’ she whispered, inhaling his scent.
He took her arm. ‘Do we have to stay for the whole thing?’
‘Why?’ Kristin asked, disappointed. ‘Do you have someplace else to be?’
‘Of course not!’ It came out a touch sharply, before he corrected himself. ‘I mean, forget it, baby; it’s fine. It’s just that whole act out there, it’s kinda exhausting.’ He consulted his reflection in a gilded drinks font. ‘Do I look OK? Not too pale?’
‘We’re sitting in a theatre,’ Kristin teased, ‘in the dark. Does it matter?’
In the event Scotty fidgeted all the way through the boy-meets-girl romance to which Kristin had arranged the score: he never had possessed a long attention span. The movie starred two of Hollywood’s most coveted teen actors; the pretty-faced guy was plastered across every bedroom in Young America. Maybe that was why Scotty got jittery whenever the shot lingered on the actor’s face. He didn’t like it when a challenger arrived on the scene.
It didn’t matter. Kristin would never notice another guy while he was around.
The arrangement sounded good and she was pleased with how they had fed it into the final take. At the reception she was congratulated by a mob of industry players.
‘Talk about making an entrance!’ they flattered. The retelling of the helicopter story, from which he omitted the finer points of his anxiety, cheered Scotty. Kristin loved seeing him in his element, smiling and charming, her favourite boy in the world.
She was chatting with the director when Cosmo Angel, A-list action hero whose wife had taken the part of the young mom in the movie, collared her with an alligator smile.
‘You really write all those songs yourself?’ he leered.
‘I sure did.’
Cosmo was ridiculously hot but there was also something dangerous, almost unpleasant, about him. Some women liked that, but Kristin wasn’t so sure. Cosmo was of Greek descent, hairy like a wolf, with a full mouth, and thick, bristling eyebrows that met in the middle. His presence was massive, oppressive, looming. He looked as if he could hook an arm around your waist and crush you to death like a snake.
‘Well—’ Cosmo stepped closer and she noticed how musky and exotic he smelled, an aroma that matched his brooding looks, sort of smoky, not like Scotty, who was vanilla-clean like freshly washed laundry ‘—you know how I like to see young talent emerge…’
‘Thank you,’ she said carefully, ‘I appreciate that.’ She wasn’t about to tell him that twenty-two years felt like longer when every waking hour as far back as she could remember was spent in preparation for How To Be a Star. Hence learning to play three instruments by the time she was eight and taking her Grade 9 piano before any of the other kids in her class had learned their times table. No wonder The Happy Hippo Club had snapped her up.
Scotty joined them. He and Cosmo shook hands and Kristin watched them talk, for a second feeling dislocated from everything and everyone around her, as if she were a stranger to her own life and looking in through a window. Some days she felt fortunate. Others she didn’t know how she had ended up here or even if it had been her choice at all.
It was crazy, but this was her world. She had never known anything else.
Thank God for Scotty. So long as he was around she’d be just fine.
3
‘Baby, you know what I am; I’m a wild girl, wild girl…’
Turquoise da Luca, undisputed queen of the US charts and in possession of the goddess-like status that meant she was known only by her first name, ground to the pulse of her latest single. They were shooting the video for ‘Wild Girl’ in a downtown Los Angeles warehouse, an army of hot male dancers mirroring Turquoise’s every move.
‘Honey, you can’t tame me, I’m a wild girl, wild girl…’
The wind machine picked up and Turquoise’s silky mane of ebony hair blew about her face, relinquishing flashes of the pale emerald eyes that had inspired her name. She could feel the energy of the troupe at her back, the force coming
