Every Pearl Has Its Oyster (5 page)

“I thought my publicist would want pictures of me heading back to work,” Gemma smiled at Perrin as they stepped into the elevator. Perrin peered over at her, dipping her sunglasses to once again look at Gemma’s outfit.

“You look cute,” Perrin shrugged. “But they’ve got some new ideas for you.”

“So do I.” Gemma waved her leather sketchbook.

“Yeah… we’ll talk about it inside with Cliff.”

Cliff Westin, of course, was the chairman of Oro Records and the man behind the majority of the pop industry’s successes. He was an unabashed man in his fifties with an affinity for vintage button-down shirts and gold wing-tipped shoes. If it weren’t for his graying hair and beard, he could easily be mistaken for a teenager with his tall and gangly body.

“Thank God, she got here alive!” he exclaimed, jumping up from his leather desk chair when Gemma walked into the large office of endless records and awards. He wrapped her in a tight hug with his lanky arm, pulling away to look at her undisguised face up close. “No wrinkles yet! I have older artists who wouldn’t hold up to all this drama without collapsing on themselves.”

“Oh,” Gemma laughed. “Thank you, I think.”

“Take a seat, take a seat. You too Perrin.” Cliff rounded his desk jovially to return to his chair. But when he sat down, his smile began to quickly lose luster. “Well, let’s talk here, Bee. Gemma. Bee, Gemma.” Cliff gestured at her face. “I gotta say, I was really stunned when you came out at the Kick Bullying charity with your real identity.”

Gemma touched her forehead as she thought back on the day. “Yeah, it was a pretty big decision, but it’s made me – “ Before she could say “happier,” Cliff interrupted.

“I wish you would have informed us before you did it.”

His voice was cold. Gemma looked up in surprise then over at Perrin, whose eyes refused to meet hers.

“You know, Bee, I’ll give you credit. You know how to put on a show, even if it’s with your personal life and not your music. You’ve got the world obsessed with knowing Gemma Hunter now.” Cliff threw his hands in the air dramatically. “Meanwhile, Queen Bee is no longer the mysterious diva we branded her as and not-so-coincidentally, she’s moved only two million copies of Makeup in the past ten months.” Cliff was no longer in the least bit cheery. “That’s less than half the number we expected from you by this time considering your enormous popularity and the money we sank in promotion.” He looked up at a stunned Gemma, taking in her reaction. “But boy, are you in luck, though, Bee. Because I know how to fix this.” He tossed a CD box onto the desk. “Meet Romy.”

Gemma leaned over to look at it, quickly wanting to pull back, jolted. On the cover was a woman with long magenta hair, standing in a boxing ring with her extremely full backside facing the camera. She winked over her shoulder with her matching pink lashes. While the wig and falsies were two elements familiar to Queen Bee’s wardrobe, the rest certainly was not. The woman wore nothing but panties, pair of bejeweled boxing gloves and six-inch Lucite heels that stood on the limp neck of some poor model who’d been hired to pose as her knockout victim.

“From now on, we’re making you a little more like Romy – but bigger,” Cliff said to Gemma’s horror. “She gives people what they’ve never seen or heard before in her music, so her records sell. You give people what they’ve never seen or heard before in your personal life, so your personal brand sells. Meaning this double identity, now-I’m-Gemma, now-I’m-Bee, now-I’m-being-stalked bit is great for you and your endorsements, but it doesn’t help Oro one bit.”

“Oh.” Gemma raised her eyebrows at Cliff’s callousness. “I apologize that my personal turmoil didn’t help the label profit.”

“What Cliff means to say,” Perrin interrupted. “Is that your fans want to consume as much as they can of your life, but they’re not consuming your music on the same level. This is a problem because Oro invested an unprecedented amount of money on Queen Bee’s album and they have yet to see the profits they were expecting. Therefore, it only makes sense to explore a different direction to try and reach those profits.”

Gemma’s head snapped over to face Perrin. “You agree with this?” she sputtered. “What about Mira? She wouldn’t want this for Queen Bee.”

“Regardless of who’s managing you, Bee, Oro has made it clear that this is the only direction that they will support for your career.” Perrin sighed at the unconvinced look on Gemma’s face. She took the CD box and slapped it into Gemma’s palm. “They distribute your album and own its copyrights. You really don’t have much of a choice here.”

~

“Still not talking to me?”

Gemma ignored Tyler’s question as she reached behind her body and pulled up the zipper on her back. It was an impressive feat, considering how long it ran on her leather paneled sheath dress. She had decided the outfit was the best option to please everybody for now – it was sexy enough to appease Cliff and Oro but simple enough that she found it appropriate for Zoe’s bond premiere, her first public outing since the charity ball announcement. Her team’s idea of easing her back into the limelight was by sending her out on a night that was technically Zoe’s. She’d have every excuse not to talk about herself on Zoe’s big day.

Besides, Perrin and the rest of her team had advised her to keep completely mum about the Elizabeth incident until her big interview with Frances Browning. While it was mostly to boost the ratings of the interview, Gemma preferred it that way too – that way, she’d be leaving her story in the hands of a respected, veteran journalist instead of letting it get mangled by sleazy gossip reporters who preferred to broadcast scandal over truth – especially since they’d been waiting for Gemma for months, waiting to make a story of anything they saw her doing.

“You nervous for today?” Tyler came up behind Gemma as she stood in front of the mirror. Though they were scheduled to leave the house in ten minutes, he had yet to get dressed and was still walking around in heather grey boxer briefs, which sat several inches below the V-shaped muscles of his pelvis. Gemma narrowed her eyes at Tyler as she let him wrap his arms around her waist. It was hard for her to resist him shirtless these days and he was well aware of that. “Babe,” he groaned into her neck. “You know I’m sorry about sending Mike. I was just worried because I hadn’t heard from you and no one else was picking up.”

“Because we were all busy being on vacation, Tyler,” Gemma said, gazing at the bold cat eyes that the new makeup artist had done. They didn’t match the shape of her eyes, but she’d have to make do with Penelope back in New York to work for Armand.

“I know.” Tyler let out a sigh that tickled her skin. He pulled her closer so she could rest her head back on his shoulder. She closed her eyes as he hugged her tight. It felt like her whole body was enveloped in his arms. “I just want to make sure nothing happens to you, Gemma. But I’m sorry.”

She opened her eyes to cock an eyebrow at him through the mirror. “Do you promise to never pull that kind of thing on me again? Babysitting your girlfriend’s not a cute look, you know.”

He laughed. “Promise.”

As the car neared turned onto Hollywood Boulevard, Gemma’s ears perked to that familiar buzz of media and fans. It was audible from down the block and gradually got louder as the black sedan got closer to Grauman’s Chinese Theater. By the time the car stopped and Andro stepped out, the buzz exploded into boisterous cheers. They recognized him by now. They knew an Andro sighting meant that Queen Bee was somewhere nearby. Finally, taking a deep breath, Gemma stepped out of the car and onto the carpet.

Instantly, the roar of the fans blasted her eardrums and the camera flashes blinded her. Oddly, the sensations felt like home to her. She knew how to pose and smile through them, and she knew that her vision and hearing would refocus within seconds. That part she knew. The next part – ignoring the media and their questions – was more foreign to her. As she and Tyler walked up the carpet, the shouts of questions grew louder and more persistent. Amidst all the inquiries about how it felt to be out undisguised and whether she still thought about Elizabeth, Gemma heard someone finally ask something harmless and related to Zoe.

“Of course I approve of her date! I know firsthand that he’s a pretty good guy,” Gemma answered as she spoke of Gavin, relaxing at the mere thought of her goofy brother. Her genuine laugh as she gazed down the carpet at him drew all the more camera flashes. It was beyond amusing to her that Gavin was going through all the motions of a premiere night – walking the carpet with Zoe, posing for photos, even answering a question or two from reporters. Most amusing was that he managed to look right at home with Hollywood in his sleek black suit, sporting a charmingly messy hairstyle and that devilish grin that he’d always been famous for within the family. Now, with the cameras devouring him, he’d be famous for it everywhere. It was a strange thing to think about. An hour ago, he had just been Gavin, getting ready with Zoe, Harper and Harper’s date in a hotel suite, which essentially meant throwing on a suit and then sitting around and playing Call of Duty till the girls were ready. But since being photographed as Queen Bee’s brother and Zoe Mercury’s date, he had no doubt earned himself a permanent spot on the radars of gossip hounds. It was just “The Queen Bee Effect,” as Damian had once called it having experienced it himself last year. People wanted anything that had to do with her.

As she and Tyler continued, the shouts of questions continued.

“Bee! Do you miss the wigs and costumes, Bee?”

“What has changed in your life since being stalked by Elizabeth Clarke?”

“Bee, are you fearful of the day that Elizabeth Clarke gets out of Metropolitan State Hospital? How do you plan on securing yourself from another attack?”

Though the plan from the start was to ignore the questions, Tyler shot the last questioner a dirty look. A few “ooh”s came from the throng of media.

“Come on, Bee, are you going to talk about Elizabeth Clarke at all?”

Though she had no problem remaining quiet despite the challenge, Gemma heard Tyler’s voice speak up beside her. She turned to look at him with confusion. His calm demeanor clashed with the steely tone of his voice. “Listen, man, it’s not the time and place for that topic.”

After a beat of surprised silence, the goateed reporter shot back. “What, you speak for her now, big guy?”

Gemma sighed, letting her gaze drift elsewhere with deliberate boredom. Tyler, to her mild chagrin, opted to answer the guy.

“I don’t need to, but I’m also not going to stand here and watch you harass my girlfriend.”

“Harass her? This guy!” He pointed his thumb at Tyler and let out a belly laugh. “We’re just catching up, it’s been too long! So if you call that harassing, then sorry, that’s what my boss pays me for and I’ll harass her till she talks, ‘kay, buddy?”

Tyler cast an icy stare. “Not if I can help it,” he said sternly before they moved down along the carpet.

Despite being farther though, the reporter persisted, a self-satisfied sneer on his face. “Ay, Bee! How do you like Damian Evans’ look tonight? Guy looks great in a suit, doesn’t he?”

Gemma groaned inwardly as the goateed reporter continued jovially, his eyes on Tyler as he asked the questions.

“C’mon! Rookie of the year, big fat contract with Nike. Six-foot-three and two hundred pounds o’ muscle… hey, slap a wig on my head and sign me up for that guy! You gotta be crazy not to go for a stud like that, right?”

“Alright, man, you know what – ”

Gemma’s eyes widened as Tyler stepped forward with such purpose that the man actually looked scared for a moment. With an urgent tug, Gemma brought a reluctant Tyler back to her side before even security could step in. Glancing around awkwardly, she pulled on his arm so he’d finally budge and walk the now silent carpet with her.

Once he did, the man’s heckling voice rang out again. “Not surprised about who wears the pants in this relationship! No wonder you couldn’t save her from that crazy bitch, Elizabeth!”

With that, Gemma and Tyler let their handlers escort them past the red carpet and straight into the theater. Once they were inside and away from camera lenses, Gemma hissed the string of expletives she’d been holding in for the sake of poise and composure.

If that was the media on her first day out, she wasn’t sure she was looking forward to the rest of the year.

~

“Tyler, did the movie get you all hyped up? You look like you want to murder someone right now,” Gavin said, waving a hand in front of Tyler’s blank stare as he gripped his Stella bottle like he was trying to strangle it. He’d been quiet and wooden for over an hour now as the group, minus Zoe, chatted by the bar at the film’s after party. Tyler blinked and gave a forced smile.

“Oh. Nah,” he grinned. “Just… thinking.”

“About the movie, right? That had to be the best Bond movie I’ve seen so far,” Damian said earnestly, turning to Tyler with a broad smile. “What’d you think? Since you got the action background.”

As Leah, Kate and Nicki turned to him expectantly, Tyler simply took a swig of his beer. He looked at Damian with dead eyes and gave a simple shrug before whipping out his phone and checking his messages. Gemma blinked. She stared at Tyler with bewilderment before peering up at Damian, who like everyone else, pretended not to notice the chilly response. For some reason, their reactions to the awkward silence were all to whip out their phones as well, checking their messages, searching desperately for a topic change. By the time the quiet had become unbearable, Gavin of course spoke up.

“Okay, who’s with me in finally watching this dumb shit?” he asked, holding up his phone. It was opened to YouTube, the title of the video reading “Ballerina dances on the edge of roof.” It was Madison’s so-called viral video. Gavin arched an eyebrow at Gemma. “Fingers crossed that she falls off, right?”

Gemma snorted, giving him the go-ahead to watch with everyone.

As they did, she took Tyler’s arm and looked up at him. “What’s up with you?” she hissed though he didn’t return her gaze. He took a swig from his bottle, staring hard at nothing in particular. “Listen, I don’t know what’s going on but if you’re upset by the guy outside, just ignore him. He works for Pop Dinner, those guys say anything to get a story out of us. You just can’t give them one, alright?” she asked, again to no answer. With frustration, she released his arm and returned to the group.