Keeping the Beat Read online

  “She had to fly to Zurich this afternoon,” Dad said. “I thought she was going to call you to wish you luck.”

  Harper shook her head.

  “Oh. Well, I’m sure she’s sorry she’s going to miss seeing you off,” he said. “When do you leave, by the way?”

  “We leave in the morning. The finale is August twenty-eighth, so we’ll be back before the new school term starts.”

  “That’s good stuff, kiddo. Why don’t we —” The phone in his hands buzzed. “Oh, hang on.” He clicked on his hands-free. “Bill? Thanks for getting back to me. We need to talk about this dilution clause … Hang on, let me grab my laptop.”

  He hurried toward his home office. At the end of the hall he turned and called back to her, “Text your mother when you land!”

  Then he was gone.

  Harper sighed. At least she didn’t have to worry about her parents being crazily overprotective like Lucy’s were. What if they stopped Lucy from coming to LA? Or worse, what if Lucy decided that she was just being used to get to Rafe again and didn’t want to go anymore?

  Harper would never admit it to anyone, but she didn’t think she could do this without Lucy.

  A knock at the back door sent a charge of adrenaline up her spine. That was Lucy. It had to be.

  “Please be coming, please be coming, please be coming, please be coming,” Harper whispered to herself as she crossed the kitchen and flung the door open.

  It was Lucy, all right. Harper’s heart deflated when she saw the tears running down her best friend’s face.

  “Oh no,” Harper said. “They’re not letting you come, are they?”

  Lucy shook her head. “No.”

  That was it. Crush was done for.

  But then, to Harper’s surprise, her friend straightened up and scrubbed the tears from her eyes.

  “They’ve forbidden me to go, but I don’t care,” Lucy declared. “I’m going to LA and they can’t stop me.”

  3. I'll Cross the World

  Lucy stretched and yawned as the pastel light of morning at thirty thousand feet washed over her. She felt great for about twenty seconds, and then the hot ball of anxiety in her stomach flared to life again.

  Lucy had been light-headed with exhaustion, fury and tears when she and Harper arrived at Bella the night before. Toni had taken one look at Lucy’s splotchy face and declared that they all needed shots, ASAP.

  There had been shots. And champagne. And they’d got into clubs full of cute boys to dance with. And thanks to the dancing, champagne and cozy upper-class sleeping pod she’d been led to on the plane, Lucy had been able to sleep.

  She hadn’t thought she would. She’d never fought with her parents that way, and she’d certainly never walked out of the house and boarded a plane to another country against their explicit instructions. What if they never forgave her?

  “I can hear you worrying from here, Luce,” Harper said, from her pod. “Stop! Your parents will get over it, and we’ll win Project Next and sell a bajillion records so you can buy them a matching set of new Volvos to say you’re sorry.”

  Lucy shook her head. “I know, I know … I just … I wish it didn’t have to be this way, that’s all.”

  “I know you do, lady,” Robyn said, walking up the aisle from the bathroom. “But you had to do what was right for you. They’ll come round. And in the meantime, we’re about to be surrounded by movie stars! Cheer up!”

  Lucy thought it would be impossible, but she felt her spirits lifting as they exited the plane into the international terminal at LAX. Even the airport in Los Angeles thrummed with energy, like the sound box of a guitar being tuned, about to burst into song.

  “Isn’t someone meant to be picking us up?” Toni asked as she scanned the milling crowds.

  “I think so,” Robyn said, dragging out the thick stack of paper that one of the Project Next producers had handed her after the semifinal show. “Right, we’re meant to be meeting someone from Catch-22 here in the arrivals hall. I wonder who they’ll send.”

  “Judging by your adorable accents, I believe that would be me,” a voice from behind them said.

  Lucy turned toward the voice and found a handsome stranger grinning at her. He just looked LA, she thought, if LA had been transformed into a cute guy just a few years older than her. He had spiky, sandy-colored hair, which fitted perfectly with his elegantly rumpled linen shirt, dark jeans and deck shoes that were just worn in enough to suggest he’d been in them on an actual boat once or twice. He was brandishing a professionally printed sign that read Catch-22 welcomes CRUSH.

  A tall, bearded man with a camera stood a couple of feet behind him, capturing the meeting.

  “That’s us!” Harper stuck out her hand. “I’m Harper McKenzie, lead singer.”

  “Ash Chester, manager’s assistant,” Ash said, quite obviously playing to the camera.

  Lucy thought she must be imagining it, but his dramatically blue eyes seemed to be laser-focused … on her.

  “Welcome to the city of angels, Crush,” he continued, eyes still lingering on Lucy. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll escort you ladies to your chariot. Today, your wish is my command.”

  “I think I’d like to be carried around on a divan with male models to feed me grapes — can you make that happen?” Harper said as she threaded her arm through his, effortlessly ignoring the camera that trailed behind them as they wove through the heaving arrivals hall.

  “Naturally,” Ash replied.

  “What about you?” he asked Lucy, leaning in to help haul her ancient acid-pink suitcase. “Shall I find some grapes to feed you?”

  Lucy giggled, trying not to look at the camera as she said, “Nah. I’m pretty good at feeding myself. Kind of mastered it when I was a toddler.”

  “My, my, how non-rock diva of you.” He shook his head in mock dismay. Then he pitched his voice down to a whisper too low for the camera to pick up and added, “Anytime you feel like forgetting, let me know.”

  Then he turned to help the others retrieve their bags, and Lucy wondered if she’d imagined it. Had he really just ignored Harper’s attempts to flirt in favor of chatting her up? That was ridiculous. No sane boy would pick Lucy Gosling over Harper McKenzie, particularly not a glamorous Hollywood-type like Ash.

  Iza giggled helplessly as Ash staggered theatrically under the weight of her sensible black suitcase. The other girls were texting or chattering brightly on their phones.

  Talking to their families, Lucy thought.

  Suddenly, she wanted to cry all over again.

  But she couldn’t leave her phone switched off all summer. She’d have to deal with her family eventually and now was just as good a time as any. Lucy pulled her cracked-screen Samsung from her backpack and powered it up. The screen whirled and whirled, searching for service among the unfamiliar signals.

  “C’mon, Lucy!” Robyn shouted.

  Lucy looked up to find that the whole group was spilling out of the sliding glass doors of the terminal, leaving Lucy behind.

  Lucy sighed and tucked her phone into the pocket of her jacket. “Coming.”

  She broke into a trot that ended abruptly as she collided with a rugged, bald man in a baseball cap and sunglasses.

  “Bugger,” she muttered. “I mean, I’m so sorry.”

  “Hey, Bruce,” Ash said, dodging back to her side. “How’s it going?”

  “Not too shabby, Chester,” the man rumbled. “Not too shabby. Your girl here is in a hurry — must be excited to see you.”

  “Of course she is,” Ash said, pulling Lucy against him.

  Lucy stared at the stranger. He looked so familiar … Bruce … Nah. It couldn’t be.

  “Say hi to your dad for me,” the man said as he moved on toward a waiting limo.

  “Come on,” Ash said, dragging her along toward the sleek blac
k limousine that the other girls were already piling into, leaving the cameraman behind.

  “OMG,” Harper stage-whispered when Lucy slid into the seat beside her. “Was that who I think it was?”

  “I’m not sure … he looked familiar but he couldn’t be —”

  “Yes, he could be,” Ash said. “He’s one of my dad’s clients. I interned on set while they were shooting Intrigue last year, too.”

  “Our first celebrity!” Toni crowed.

  Lucy couldn’t help but join in the overjoyed shrieking that followed. It was official. They were in Hollywood!

  The shrieks settled into lively chatter, but it didn’t take long for the unbelievably intense traffic to lull them each into their own separate worlds.

  Lucy didn’t have any more excuses. It was time to check her phone.

  She stared down at the envelope icon that pulsed on the screen. She had a text message. And it was from her dad. With shaking fingers, she clicked the OPEN button.

  Pls let us know you’ve arrived safely.

  It wasn’t exactly warm and fuzzy, but at least they cared enough to want to know she hadn’t died in a fiery plane crash.

  She tapped in —

  Just landed. Love you. Pls don’t be angry.

  — and hit SEND.

  Lucy stared down at the dim, cracked screen and waited for the buzz that would mean her dad had texted back. And waited. And waited.

  How long can this drive possibly be? she wondered. It felt like it’d been hours already.

  She clicked the screen back on and saw that only five minutes had passed. How was that possible? It was as though the longer she stared at the little screen, the longer each minute got. She couldn’t just sit there, waiting for her parents to reply. It would drive her mad. She needed to distract herself.

  Lucy deliberately tucked the phone into her pocket and looked up at her friends. Toni and Iza were completely zonked out. Robyn was scribbling in her notebook with such ferocity that Lucy didn’t want to interrupt. Harper was staring out the window.

  “I grew up here, you know?” Harper said quietly. “It’s kind of weird to be back.”

  “I’d forgotten,” Lucy said, turning to follow Harper’s gaze as the limousine slipped out of the gnarled traffic and accelerated down an exit onto a palm-tree-lined street. “Does it look the same?”

  “Sort of. Like, I remember this street, but I remember it being a lot bigger. And it feels strange to see cars on the right side of the road, which is totally weird since seeing cars on the left back in London still freaks me out sometimes. But now that I’m back here, the right side doesn’t look normal anymore either!” Harper laughed. “I’m not making any sense, am I?”

  “Obviously not,” Lucy kidded. “Cars clearly belong on the left. Any sane person knows that.”

  “Guess I’m insane then,” Harper giggled.

  “We’re here, aren’t we?” Lucy said. “I think that’s proof enough we’re all mad.”

  The girls fell quiet again as the odd assortment of grubby shops, expensive cars and tropical greenery that crowded the wide street blended into bigger and more expensive buildings with even flashier cars parked in front of them and grander, lusher plants lining the pavements.

  Lucy strained to get a better view of the gorgeous wedding dresses, elaborate cakes and fancy beauty salons that called out from understated display windows. Eccentric and beautiful men and women strolled between the nail bars and boutiques wearing everything from full business suits to beach cover-ups that barely hid their bikinis, to faded, ancient sweatshirts and leggings. Strangely, no matter how ragged the outfit, every woman Lucy saw seemed to be toting an oversized — and obviously pricey — designer bag.

  “Look, Lucy!” Harper said. “There’s The Ivy.”

  “Oh wow! I can’t believe that’s it. It looks so much bigger in magazines.”

  “Look at all the paparazzi,” Harper said. “Hey, they’ll be following us soon!”

  “Who do you think —” Lucy cut her own question off with a squeal. “Omigod. Seriously? It that really him?”

  “Of course it is!” Harper said, smirking at the look of awe on Lucy’s face. “We’re in Los Angeles. There’s an OK! Magazine moment waiting to happen on every street corner. I’m surprised you recognized him though — he’s got so fat lately I wouldn’t have known it was him.”

  “He has not got fat!” Lucy protested. “And besides, I read he’s beefing up for a new role, so you can hardly —”

  But then the limo turned up a steep hill onto a wide, curving street that quite literally took Lucy’s breath away. The plain green signs that stood at each intersection they passed seemed so familiar that Lucy could hardly believe they existed outside of a movie screen.

  “Sunset Boulevard?” Lucy whispered, unable to squeeze more than that out of her awestruck vocal cords. “We’re actually on Sunset Boulevard? We just took a left turn and we’re on honest-to-God Sunset Boulevard, just as though that happens every day?”

  Harper giggled. “It does happen every day when you live in LA, silly. Look! The Beverly Hills Hotel! Isn’t it pretty? And there’s the House of Blues!”

  Lucy let the brilliant billboards and neon lights of the Sunset Strip dazzle her eyes as Harper narrated their trip through the heart of Hollywood. Then they turned left and started uphill again. Less than a block from the crazed mish-mash of neon lights, expensive cars and enormous film posters that was Sunset, the street faded into a twisting two-lane road that wound past huge trees and private roads that Lucy was sure led to fabulous mansions where movie stars hid from the prying eyes of the world.

  The driver slowed and turned up one of the narrow side streets. Wonderland Avenue. Only in Los Angeles, Lucy thought, could a place called Wonderland Avenue really exist. But the name fit the house at the end of the driveway where the limo pulled to a stop.

  It looked like some science-fiction princess’s castle more than it did a house. Enormous and angular, the building seemed to have more windows than walls. The glass rippled as it reflected the maze of sparkling water that ran between the slate pavement tiles of the courtyard.

  A red SUV stood in the driveway beside a black BMW roadster, and a camera crew was already waiting by the front door.

  “Wake up, gang,” Harper said, prodding Toni with her foot. “We’re here!”

  “Is this really ours?” Lucy asked, quickly checking her phone one last time. Nothing. She fought back the sting of tears. If Mum and Dad didn’t want to reply to her, there was nothing she could do about it just now. No use crying over it.

  “Yes, it is! This is 8242 Wonderland Avenue. One of the four Project Next houses for the finalists,” Ash said, speaking slowly and clearly for the camera’s benefit, “and your home, for the next two months.”

  “Isn’t it gorgeous?” Robyn asked.

  “It’s almost enough to make up for it being full of hidden cameras,” Iza said.

  “I can show you how to avoid the cameras in the house,” Ash said quietly with his back to the camera crew. “You’ll be able to get up to plenty of trouble with nobody the wiser.”

  Lucy looked up in awe at the soft yellow and dark green hills that rose around the narrow cul-de-sac.

  “Laurel Canyon,” Lucy breathed, taking in the sharp, tangy scent of the eucalyptus trees and the vague hint of salt water in the air. “I actually live in Laurel Canyon.”

  “What’s the big deal about Laurel Canyon?” Toni asked, watching the cameramen film Iza and Harper, who had taken off their shoes to splash in the water maze. “I mean other than the fact that it’s intensely gorgeous.”

  “This place is, like, built of rock-and-roll history. Everyone has lived here. Jim Morrison. Long Road. The Byrds. Joni Mitchell.”

  “And now, Crush!” Toni crowed. “YEE-HA!” She charged at Iza, twirling her about in jo
y. “Crush is here, LA! Watch out!”

  Lucy couldn’t help but grin. They were in bloody Laurel Canyon. In bloody Hollywood. In bloody California. Nothing could make this less than amazing. Not even her parents.

  “I’m glad you like it.”

  A slim man in obviously expensive jeans and a soft black T-shirt that somehow managed to look hand-tailored stepped out of the house. His spiky blond hair and deliberate stubble framed a smooth face that could easily have belonged to a college student, but the way Ash scurried to the blond man’s side as he crossed the courtyard told Lucy that this was the boss Ash had mentioned. Their new manager.

  “I had to fight for it, but no band of mine was going to live in a house with fake Greco-Roman pillars in their front yard.” He shot them a grin so full of mischief that, for a moment, he looked even younger. “I’m Jason Darrow. Your new manager. You got lucky, girls. I’m the best Catch-22 has to offer.”

  “Even if you do say so yourself,” Toni snarked.

  “That’s right. I do. And so does Sir Peter Hanswell. He personally selected me for Crush and I can already tell this is going to be a good fit.” Jason Darrow winked at Toni. “I like smart-asses. And I love great musicians. With a little help from my team, I think you girls can be both. I have no doubt that Crush is going to be just as huge as my first client.” He stretched out a dramatic pause before adding, “You all have heard of a little group called Electric, haven’t you?”

  “I love Electric!” Lucy exclaimed. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just … You’re Electric’s manager? That’s brilliant. They’re brilliant. I —”

  She clamped a hand over her mouth, having just realized how insane she must sound. “I’ll just stop talking now, shall I?”

  Jason chuckled. “I discovered Electric when I was still an assistant and I helped them become what they are today. I’m glad you’re a fan. Crush is going to be just as big as they are, if not bigger. But getting there is going to mean a lot of hard work. Get some rest tonight. You’re going to need it.”