I’m not sure whether Cookie has the ability to save me from Tiffany’s wrath, but it’ll be nice to have my own gang of reinforcements this time.
When we arrive, Tiffany is already strutting over the main stage and barking orders at her groupies, who are already standing in the right places but don’t have the posture she wants.
Leila comes over to join us. Her voice drips with resentment as she says, “Can you tell she’s been waiting her whole life for this? That bitch will do anything to get on the stage…”
Before I reply, McCallister turns like a bloodhound, and his lip curls. “Video Girl! We need to talk.”
“Is that really what he calls you?” Cookie whispers incredulously.
I shrug. “I’m used to it.”
“Fucking asshole,” Leila hisses under her breath, firing him a death stare and making me stifle a giggle as I head over to him. Rehearsals will be more bearable with her around.
From the furious expression on McCallister’s face, he must have got Jacqueline’s request. As I get close to him, McCallister blows the whistle around his neck at full volume. The shrill sound pierces my ear drums, almost deafening me. The bastard did it on purpose.
Everyone turns to stare.
“We are going to make a change,” McCallister snarls. “Ashley will be singing the second verse in the final song.”
Tiffany staggers backward like someone told her the world is gonna end tomorrow.
“What?” Her shriek hurts my ears as much as McCallister’s damn whistle. “Her? Why? She can’t even keep up with the choreography!”
“Tiffany.” Desiree, our dance teacher, frowns. She’s standing nearby and crosses her arms. “You’re supposed to be working as a team, remember?”
I snort. Yeah, a team to bring Ash down…
“Jacqueline requested it herself,” McCallister snorts, throwing me to the pack of wolves.
“Jacqueline?” Tiffany glares at me like I’m the devil incarnate. “Jacqueline requested her?”
“Yes, she did,” Cookie pipes up to defend me. “And as the stage manager, I say that we need to start rehearsals.” She taps her watch. “Time’s ticking.”
“Cookie’s right,” Zach Royal agrees, picking now to arrive with a steaming cup of coffee in his hands. Tiffany’s death stare could have disintegrated Cookie on the spot, furious at how the boyfriend of her dreams is on first name terms with someone who dared stand up for me. “We should be getting started.”
“You better get up there, Video Girl,” McCallister sneers, “before I change my mind.”
Knowing Tiffany doesn’t want me on stage with a solo will make it all the more fun.
* * *
After three hours singing and dancing in the beating sun, and McCallister shouting criticism about my lines because I don’t sing at the same pitch as Queen Barbie, I’m close to telling him to stick the microphone right up his ass, when Zach steps in.
Zach has been overseeing rehearsals by supervising, which means consuming a crazy amount of caffeine and lounging in the shade. There’s no sign of Damon or Levi. They must have decided to stay over in paradise on the other side of the lake. If I were in their position, I’d avoid the chaos too.
“Ashley seems to be struggling,” Zach comments. Tiffany snickers loudly as I wipe the sweat from my brow. It’s bad enough that I’m not hitting the right notes; I don’t need him reminding me of it. “I can spend time with her in the studio this afternoon to practice.”
Tiffany’s smirk vanishes as it dawns on her that I’ll get alone time with her wannabe future husband. Zach’s eyes meet mine and he grins. Has he always had such cute dimples? After my recent sexual encounter, the Basilisks have made me so horny, I’m even looking at Zach Royal and thinking he has a cute face. And muscles underneath that shirt… fuck, Ash, you need to stop!
“Fine,” McCallister agrees, pinching his nose in exasperation. “She can only get better.”
“Let’s break for lunch,” Cookie says tactfully, clapping her hands at the sound of the bell that couldn’t have come at a better time. “Everyone else, back here in half an hour.”
I grab my backpack, pleased to leave the main stage behind. I’m not the only one. Everyone’s earlier excitement has been dampened, reflected by the sea of frowning faces.
“You aren’t kidding when you say McCallister has it out for you,” Cookie mutters, linking my arm as we file to the mess hall.
“See? I told you I wasn’t over-reacting,” I say. “He hates me.”