Emancipated (27 page)

“I gotta finish this civil rights essay.”

“You still haven't finished?” Grace asked.

“I got distracted by the ol' ‘Tube.”

“Hamsters playing the piano?”

“No,” Candace said calmly. “Lucy playing with Green Day.”

Candace placed the laptop on the balcony's drinks table and played the video. Grace watched over her shoulder, marveling at the young Lucy's supreme confidence.

“Well, I'll be. . . .”

“I know. She's got major stage presence.”

Candace said, “You know what's even more surprising about her past?”

Grace hesitated for a moment. There was a gleam in Candace's eye, the air of someone on the verge of divulging a juicy secret. Did Grace really want to risk where this conversation might lead?

“More surprising than Lucy playing live with Green Day?”

“Yeah,” Candace said. “You'd think she'd have mentioned something huge like that before, right? But I'm talking about something else, something bigger.”

Grace cast her eyes around, looking for some kind of distraction. She swung round, toward the sunset. “Whoa. I never get tired of looking at that view.”

“It is awful pretty.”

“Your mom's so lucky to have this place. What made her buy out here?” Grace risked a sidelong glance at Candace. But she didn't seem remotely suspicious of Grace's apparent lack of curiosity about Lucy. She leaned forward on the rail, shoulders hunched, and allowed a dreamy gaze to fall over the golden beach.

Good ol', laid-back Candace. Grace faintly wished that she could be just as relaxed when the time called for it. Her own languor was studied by comparison.

“My mom always dreamed about living with artist types,” said Candace. “Such a boho wannabe. Until she got her hands on some real money. Now she does all her shopping on Rodeo Drive. A real hipster, ha.”

“Her loss, our gain.” Grace smiled at Candace. “You wanna walk down to Santa Monica? We could go to the boardwalk. I'm kind of in the mood for a banana split with a lot of hot fudge. And a fairground ride.”

“Banana split?” Candace frowned. “You have any idea how long I'd have to run to burn that off? I'm not allowed to gain more than a pound or two.”

“Maybe it would be more fun if we went with the others.”

“Yeah. You know, when we moved here, I thought we'd be there every couple of weekends.”

Grace grinned. “Me too. It's because it's so close. We can do it anytime.”

“So we do it never.”

They both laughed. Candace straightened up. “God, I love living here. I don't know what I'd do if anything happened, and we had to move out.”

“We have to make sure that doesn't happen,” agreed Grace. The distraction seemed to have worked—Candace had gone quiet, probably thinking about food, which wasn't surprising since she was usually hungry.

“We could just walk along the boardwalk,” Candace suggested. “Maybe grab some fish tacos. Or a chicken salad.

My treat, little sister,” she said, wrapping an affectionate arm around Grace. “And then I can tell you this amazing news about Lucy.”

“Are you sure it's something Lucy wants everyone to know?”

“Why not? It's nothing bad. She didn't make a big deal out of it.”

Grace gave up. Clearly, there was no discreet way to prevent Candace from indulging in gossip. “Okay, so what is this big secret?”

“Well, guess what? Our Lucy, rock guitar goddess, used to be on TV.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, she was on some show.”

“Regularly?”

“Didn't say.”

“On network TV? Or some crummy cable channel?”

“What, you mean like me?” Candace said, smirking.

Grace frowned. “Yours is hardly one of the crummy cable channels, Candace.”

“She didn't say what channel it was on.”

“So maybe she was on a show
one time
.”

Candace shrugged. “Hey, getting any kind of a spot on a TV show is major. Especially for a kid.”

“Huh.”

“Why are you so down on this, Grace? I thought you'd be psyched like me.”

“I don't get why it's a big deal.”

Just then, the yellow-painted spiral staircase began to shudder with the rhythm of someone ascending the steps. Maya's face appeared in the stairwell. She seemed tired, with gray shadows under her eyes.

“Did I miss the sunset?”

Candace said, “Almost.”

“Darn,” Maya said. “I promised myself I'd catch one this week.”

“We were just talking about that,” Grace said. “All the cool things we said we'd do but never actually do.”

Maya nodded. “There's just so much schoolwork. With all the shopping and the cooking and cleaning, and the coding on top, I swear, I haven't had more than an hour to myself these past two weeks.”

There was definitely more work involved in simply keeping a home going than Grace had expected, too. But like the rest of them, there was no way she was going to admit it. They'd all bought into the idea of emancipation and so far, none of them had breached the unspoken rule to never say a word against it.

“How's the computer stuff going?” Grace asked.

Maya leaned lazily on the edge of the balcony and stared up at the canopies of the palm trees, black fronds of silhouette against the teal-green-colored sky. “It's going really well, thanks.”

Candace interrupted, “So hey, guess what? I was just telling Grace that I found out that Lucy used to be on TV.”

Maya glanced at Grace. She didn't seem all that impressed, either. “Really? What show?”

“We don't know,” Grace said warily. “Did you ever see a TV show with Lucy on it?”

“I hardly ever watch TV,” Maya said, in a wary tone, which struck Grace as slightly jarring.

“We could search for her online.” Candace pulled up a chair and sat in front of the laptop. “Why didn't I think of this before?”

Grace froze. This wasn't taking the direction she'd expected. She wasn't sure how she felt about the housemates knowing more about Lucy. It might not be safe.

“Because you're not an actual stalker?” Grace answered, trying to sound casual.

“It's TV. Hardly a state secret,” Candace said. “Presumably she wanted to have an audience.”

“Is that why people act?” Grace said with an edge of challenge to her tone. “For the audience?”

Candace shrugged. “It's a big part of it.”

“But in TV you usually don't see the audience.”

“You still know they're there. I mean, you gotta kind of imagine them. Anyhow, Lucy actually told me she loved the buzz she got from playing on stage with Green Day.”

Maya flinched. “Lucy played with Green Day?”

Candace nodded. “They got her up on stage when she was, like, fourteen.”

“I didn't know that.”

Grace looked at Maya with sudden curiosity. “Why would you?”

“Just seems like she'd tell us a thing like that.”

“I wonder how many other secrets she's got up her sleeve,” Candace mused.

Grace and Maya said nothing, exchanging uncomfortable looks.

“Okay. I can't find anything on IMDb for Lucy Long,” Candace said. “Not for Lucille, either. What else is Lucy short for? Lucinda?”

Maya interrupted. “Candace, no offense but this is getting kinda stalkerish. If she didn't tell you the name of the show, maybe she doesn't want to talk about it? Shouldn't we respect her privacy?”

Candace looked baffled. She closed her computer and shrugged. “Whatever. I just thought you'd think it was cool is all.”

Deep in thought, Grace studied Maya. Ever since the younger girl had caught her looking through Lucy's letters, Maya had been a vault. She never revealed anything about herself, yet it seemed everyone's secrets were safe with Maya—Grace's own crush on Paolo as well as Lucy's past. But what did they really know about Maya?

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

..................................................................

VENICE BEACH, FRIDAY, MAY 22

John-Michael was behind the wheel of the Benz within five minutes of the end of his calculus class. The shock of being accosted outside school by Judy yesterday hadn't quite left him. Maybe he was being paranoid, but John-Michael didn't want to stick around to find out if she'd be back.

The Friday afternoon commuter beach dash had already started. A five-minute drive back to Venice turned into a twenty-minute crawl in the blazing sun. He thought of the beach, the weekend ahead. He plugged in his headphones and listened to his newest pop punk playlist. Yet even as his lips moved along to the lyrics, his mind couldn't quite let go of the image of Judy.

There'd been venom in her eyes.

His dad's executor had told him how much the estate would be worth once the house sold. It wasn't a fortune, but even half of it was a whole lot more money than Judy had ever been near. He didn't regret calling her a skank. As far as he was concerned, she was a gold-digging harpy, a former stripper with zero education who'd lived off the vices of idiot hetero men for most of her life.

Now that the police had decided that his father's suicide was suspicious, however, Chuck Weller's place might forever be whispered of as “that murder house.” It might affect the sale. That was all the money John-Michael would ever be able to count on. It included his mother's inheritance, which they'd used to make a sizeable down payment on the house. It made him sick to think that he might not be able to sell the place. Even as a rental, it might be hard to find a tenant. These weren't the kinds of problems he'd ever envisaged having during high school.

He parked the car in the garage spot he'd managed to secure at huge expense. During the short walk
to the beach house, he gazed out at the wide stretch of sand. The ocean looked startlingly blue today. The sun was hot enough that he could feel his face smarting from the slight burn he'd gotten during the drive home. Maybe a sunbathing session was called for. He was never going to have a physique remotely like Paolo's. But he didn't have to have skin the color of milk, either.

He'd been lying on his beach towel in swimming shorts for over thirty minutes when he heard Candace's voice.

“Here you are. God, finally, a chance to get horizontal. I'm totally exhausted.”

John-Michael raised his sunglasses. “The TV show?”

She nodded a confirmation and sat down, sighing with relief.

“You came to LA to work, and you're working.”

Candace shook her head slowly. “Hardly.”

John-Michael said, “What? I thought you loved it.”

“You didn't come to the studio that time with the others. You'd understand if you had. I'm just eye candy.”

“So? At least you're on TV.”

Candace tugged at his towel. It was a broad bath towel, sea green with a navy blue border. Easily wide enough for two to share. “I thought so at first. But now I want more. Hey, c'mon, let me lie down.”

“Ah, the human condition to always want more.”

She flashed a grin. “Ain't that the truth? Anyway, I'm hanging in there for more auditions.”

“You'll see, Candace, someday you'll be up for something amazing.”

She flicked his shoulder playfully. “When that happens, if it happens . . .”

“You'll what?”

She rolled onto her back. “Oh! I can die happy, I guess.”

“I think you'd be better to stay living and enjoy the experience, but, whatever.”

Candace shoved him this time, hard enough that he rolled onto the sand. As John-Michael stood, brushing himself off in indignation, she leaned back. “Hey, did you hear about Lucy? That she used to be on TV?”

“Yeah. I know. So?”

“You knew?!” This possibility clearly hadn't crossed Candace's mind. “You knew and you didn't tell?”

John-Michael lay down once again. “Lucy doesn't like to talk about it. It's ancient history.”

Candace rested her chin in her hands and peeked up at him from under a sun visor. “Do you know what show she was on?”

“Jelly and Pie.”

“That?! Huh! I never saw it.”

“It wasn't great. Show got canceled after three seasons.”

“What was Lucy?”

“Oh, you know. The archetypal, cute, dimply, sassy black kid. Now shut up talking about it, Lucy really doesn't want it dragged up. Lay down, it's sunblock time.”

Candace rolled onto her stomach and gave way to his hands as he applied lotion to her shoulders and back. She sighed and he could hear a lazy smile in her voice. “Oh, JM, if only you liked girls.”

“Stop it,” he said firmly, but with a grin.

“So how's it all going, on that front? You seen anyone you like?”

“No,” he said, even more firmly. “You've had all the juicy gossip you're going to get here. Why don't we talk about you, not me? You seen anyone that
you
like?”

“Oh, me. Who wants to talk about that?”

“I never met a girl who didn't want to talk about herself.”

Candace propped herself onto one elbow and stuck out her right hand. “Well, hello, I'm Candace Deering. There. Now you've met
one
.”

“Seriously? But you're in showbiz!”

“I play many parts.” She smiled with fake modesty.

He laughed. “Yeah. I believe it. Now you're playing the introverted artiste.”

“Ha. Well, maybe. I'll tell you who doesn't like to talk about herself—my stepsister.”

“Yeah. She's pretty quiet. And actually, Maya.”

“That's different,” Candace said. “She's a geek. Not that there's anything wrong with that,” she added hastily. “I love geeks. They invent all the pretty toys. But it's a lot of work—all that coding.”