“No,” I said, sighing inwardly. “I’m done with all the easy stuff like my essays and letters of recommendation, but I’m stuck on what to do for my prescreening.” As part of the application process,I had to submit a video recording of my proposed live audition. Problem was I’d developed a nasty case of deer-in-headlights when it came to selecting what pieces to play.
“What’s the issue? Maybe I can help.”
Raising a brow, I turned in my seat to stare at Violet. She was joking, right? When we were kids, Mom wanted both of us to learn to play violin, but Violet gave up after a handful of lessons. “No offense, but I doubt that.”
She crossed her arms. “Oh yeah? Try me.”
“Okay, any idea what Paganini caprice I should pick? Or how about which movement from a Mozart concerto I should play? I also need two movements from a Bach solo sonata or partita, so if you have any suggestions, I’m all ears.”
The confidence faded from her face. “Ah…”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
“Jeez, I was only trying to help.”
Realizing my response had come out sharper than intended, I let my breath go in a quick huff. “I’m sorry. It’s just…this audition is really important.”
“I know,” she said, reaching over the armrest to briefly squeeze my wrist. “When’s it due?”
“December first.”
“Well, you have some time left. You’re the best violinist I know. I’m sure you’ll figure things out.”
That wasn’t saying much. Who did Violet know that played besides me and Mom?
“Yeah, hopefully.”
We fell quiet again. As the silence mounted around us, it occurred to me that this conversation was one of the longest we’d had in months. And that meant we weren’t due for another exchange until New Year’s Eve at the earliest. Perfect. I turned my attention back to the comic in my hand, but before I could start reading, Violet perked up in her seat.
“Hey, guess what?” She didn’t wait for me to respond. “I’m almost done recording my album. I just need one or two more tracks, and then we can decide which to use for my first single.”
Now thatINwas ending, Violet wanted to take a break from acting to start a career as a recording artist. At first, she considered signing with Mongo Records because of our friendship with the Williams family. Not only was Mongo one of the top music labels in the industry, but they were responsible for superstars like Jenna Ocean, Diego St. James, and Starlight Summer, just to name a few. But it only took one business meeting for Violet to realize that King didn’t care what her music sounded like as long as her millions of fans bought the album. So Violet did something risky: she walked away from her deal at Mongo and partnered with King’s son, Alec, who was launching his own label.
Alec Williams was so unlike his father, I often wondered if there was a mix-up at the hospital and he’d been switched at birth. He was quiet but loyal, the kind of person who’d drive hundreds of miles to help a friend in need. Our moms were college roommates turned BFFs, so Violet and I grew up with Alec and his sister, Vanessa, as if they were our cousins. Play dates, birthday parties, Fourth of July celebrations—the Williamses were there for it all.
Until they weren’t.
Like most of the good things in my life, the era of Mitchell-Jamiolkowski/Williams family get-togethers came to an end when Violet’s career took off. Around the same time, Alec joined a garage band that later became the Heartbreakers, arguably the most famous boy band of my generation. Things were never the same after that.
“That’s awesome. Still glad you signed with Alec instead of King?”
Violet’s entire face lit up at my question. “A hundred percent! He’s such a natural, you’d never guess this was his first time producing a record. Speaking of, Alec might be at Comic Con this weekend.”
“How come?”
“Jewel wanted one of the boys to make a guest appearance during our panel. Drum up excitement, you know? Dad’s been coordinating with their manager, and since he’s known Alec forever, I’m guessing he’ll be the one attending.”
Oh, right. God only knew how I managed to forget the three-episode arc the Heartbreakers filmed forINearlier this summer. In the months leading up to the shoot, it was Dad and Violet’s sole topic of conversation. MTV thought having such a popular band on the show would help boost ratings for the final season.
“Since we’re on the topic of Saturday,” Violet said, looking me up and down, “I’m assuming you brought more appropriate clothes? Something more…”
I glanced at my outfit. Fishnet stockings under a pair of distressed jeans, a black lace kimono over myHocus Pocusgraphic tee, andDoc Martens. Then there was my amethyst pendant, which was a permanent fixture around my neck no matter what I was wearing.
I grinned at Violet. “Something more what?” I asked, rolling the crystal between my fingers.
Her mouth twisted as she tried to think of an adjective that wouldn’t insult me. Violet never approved of my fashion sense or, as she referred to it, lack thereof. She was forever trying to give me a makeover, and while I didn’t mind her style, the designers she preferred didn’t make clothes for girls my size. Well, screw that. I’d keep my comfy T-shirts, plaid flannels, and jeans, thank you very much.
“Something more professional,” she said at last. “As my assistant—”
