Size 12 and Ready to Rock
Page 23
“No worries,” Muffy says cheerfully. “We already received a list from Facilities of the rooms that need the least work—”
“Facilities?” Then I remember bumping into Carl in the hallway, with his ladder. “Of course,” I murmur. “The lightbulbs.”
“Exactly,” Stephanie says. “Our girls are going to need good lighting to put their makeup on in the morning for the cameras.”
“Cameras?” I fling a panicky look at Dr. Jessup, but it’s Muffy who answers.
“New York College has been offered a tremendous opportunity, for which I’m told we have you to thank, Heather,” she says.
I know what’s coming, but I’m still hoping there’s been some kind of mistake. “What opportunity?”
Stephanie’s smile isn’t reflected in her eyes.
“Tania felt like you handled the little crisis she had while she was here the other night so competently, she says the only place she can feel safe right now while filming Jordan Loves Tania—with Bear laid up in the hospital—is in Fischer Hall.”
“This is going to do wonders to boost Fischer Hall’s reputation when the show airs,” Muffy says enthusiastically. “So long, Death Dorm! Hello, most-sought-after residence hall in the country! Everyone is going to want to live in the building where they hosted Tania Trace Rock Camp.”
“But . . .” I look at Dr. Jessup in desperation. “But filming is not permitted in any New York College residence hall without proper authorization.”
Dr. Jessup has his hands buried in the pockets of his suit trousers. He’s rocking back and forth on his heels.
“What can I tell you, kid?” he says, his smile grim. “They got authorization, straight from the president’s office.”
I glance at Stephanie. Her own smile has gone catlike. “I told you President Allington is a big fan of Cartwright Rec-ords Television.”
I frown. More like President Allington’s son is a big fan of Stephanie and used his influence on his dad—who has no idea what’s happening on his own campus because he’s hiding in the Hamptons during Pansygate.
I look at the girl in the T-shirt and jeans on the couch. She’s so cute and little, I assume she’s with CRT, maybe another production assistant or Stephanie’s personal assistant. Though I can’t figure out why she’s dressed like a student.
“Who are you?” I ask, trying to sound polite, but not sure I succeed. “A Tania Trace Rock Camp counselor?”
The girl raises her eyebrows, her mouth making a little round O of surprise.
“No, Heather.” Dr. Jessup takes his hands out of his pockets. “This is the other piece of good news. I’d like you meet the new Fischer Hall residence director, Lisa Wu. Lisa, this is Heather Wells.”
Chapter 8
Triple A
Two in the morning
And my hopes were high
Till I saw you leave
With that other guy
Shoulda left then,
But she caught my eye
Whispered, “Come on, babe,
Let’s go get high”
Shouldn’t’ve listened,
Shoulda gone straight home
But I couldn’t stand
Another night alone
Got what I deserved
For that misplaced desire
When I said I couldn’t stay
She slashed all my tires
Now I’m standing in the cold
When’s it gonna go my way?
You’ve got my heart
All I’ve got is Triple A “Triple A”
Performed by Jordan Cartwright
Written by Jason/Benjamin
Goin’ Solo album
Ten consecutive weeks in the
Top 10 Country Billboard Hot 100
“Hi, Heather,” the girl says, jumping up from the couch with a huge grin, then leaning over my desk to pump my hand enthusiastically. “I’ve heard so much about you. I can’t wait for us to start working together.” I stare in complete shock at the girl standing across from my desk.
“Uh,” I say, putting my hand in hers and letting her shake it up and down. “Hi. Same here.”
My gaze slides toward Sarah, checking to see if she’s laughing. Maybe this is all a joke, part of the reality show. Possibly they’re punking me?
Sarah’s got her chin in her hands, watching me avidly for my reaction.
No, this isn’t part of the show. This is real. This girl—who looks about ten years younger than I am—is my new boss.
“But,” I say lamely, “what about Simon?”
“Simon?” Lisa glances uncertainly at Dr. Jessup. “Who’s Simon?”
Dr. Jessup clears his throat. “We didn’t feel Simon was the right fit for Fischer Hall.”
Stephanie, who’s pulled her cell phone from her tote bag and is texting, makes a face. “Do you mean that redheaded man? Oh God, no. He was not the right fit at all.”
Wait. How does Stephanie know Simon? Was there a panel of judges auditioning my new boss, like The X Factor or something?
“We’re going to have so much fun with this,” Lisa is saying. “I can’t wait! Fifty girls and a reality TV crew? This is going to be crazy.” She sings the word “crazy” like it’s part of a song lyric.
I’m glad someone’s excited, because I’m sure not. Everything Sarah said over the phone about the woman she saw sitting in Dr. Jessup’s office comes back to me. I can see what Sarah meant about Lisa Wu being so perky, Sarah wanted to cram her fist down her throat. Perky like a reality television show host.
It doesn’t help that Lisa’s wearing jeans and a T-shirt to her first day of work and that her dark hair has been swept back into a ponytail and that there is a scrunchie involved—who wears scrunchies anymore, except to wash her face? Plus, she has on flip-flops. Flip-flops. At work!
All right, this is the way my employees look, but they’re in college. They sleep until noon whenever they can get away with it. They smoke weed (well, Gavin does, but he says he needs it medicinally for his ADHD) and build love dungeons in their rooms.
This is supposed to be my new boss. Yeah. Right.
“But you’re a real residence hall director, right?” I ask, drawing my hand away from Lisa’s like I’m afraid she might whip out a microphone and ask for a sound bite. “You didn’t audition for the job through Cartwright Records Television?”
“Facilities?” Then I remember bumping into Carl in the hallway, with his ladder. “Of course,” I murmur. “The lightbulbs.”
“Exactly,” Stephanie says. “Our girls are going to need good lighting to put their makeup on in the morning for the cameras.”
“Cameras?” I fling a panicky look at Dr. Jessup, but it’s Muffy who answers.
“New York College has been offered a tremendous opportunity, for which I’m told we have you to thank, Heather,” she says.
I know what’s coming, but I’m still hoping there’s been some kind of mistake. “What opportunity?”
Stephanie’s smile isn’t reflected in her eyes.
“Tania felt like you handled the little crisis she had while she was here the other night so competently, she says the only place she can feel safe right now while filming Jordan Loves Tania—with Bear laid up in the hospital—is in Fischer Hall.”
“This is going to do wonders to boost Fischer Hall’s reputation when the show airs,” Muffy says enthusiastically. “So long, Death Dorm! Hello, most-sought-after residence hall in the country! Everyone is going to want to live in the building where they hosted Tania Trace Rock Camp.”
“But . . .” I look at Dr. Jessup in desperation. “But filming is not permitted in any New York College residence hall without proper authorization.”
Dr. Jessup has his hands buried in the pockets of his suit trousers. He’s rocking back and forth on his heels.
“What can I tell you, kid?” he says, his smile grim. “They got authorization, straight from the president’s office.”
I glance at Stephanie. Her own smile has gone catlike. “I told you President Allington is a big fan of Cartwright Rec-ords Television.”
I frown. More like President Allington’s son is a big fan of Stephanie and used his influence on his dad—who has no idea what’s happening on his own campus because he’s hiding in the Hamptons during Pansygate.
I look at the girl in the T-shirt and jeans on the couch. She’s so cute and little, I assume she’s with CRT, maybe another production assistant or Stephanie’s personal assistant. Though I can’t figure out why she’s dressed like a student.
“Who are you?” I ask, trying to sound polite, but not sure I succeed. “A Tania Trace Rock Camp counselor?”
The girl raises her eyebrows, her mouth making a little round O of surprise.
“No, Heather.” Dr. Jessup takes his hands out of his pockets. “This is the other piece of good news. I’d like you meet the new Fischer Hall residence director, Lisa Wu. Lisa, this is Heather Wells.”
Chapter 8
Triple A
Two in the morning
And my hopes were high
Till I saw you leave
With that other guy
Shoulda left then,
But she caught my eye
Whispered, “Come on, babe,
Let’s go get high”
Shouldn’t’ve listened,
Shoulda gone straight home
But I couldn’t stand
Another night alone
Got what I deserved
For that misplaced desire
When I said I couldn’t stay
She slashed all my tires
Now I’m standing in the cold
When’s it gonna go my way?
You’ve got my heart
All I’ve got is Triple A “Triple A”
Performed by Jordan Cartwright
Written by Jason/Benjamin
Goin’ Solo album
Ten consecutive weeks in the
Top 10 Country Billboard Hot 100
“Hi, Heather,” the girl says, jumping up from the couch with a huge grin, then leaning over my desk to pump my hand enthusiastically. “I’ve heard so much about you. I can’t wait for us to start working together.” I stare in complete shock at the girl standing across from my desk.
“Uh,” I say, putting my hand in hers and letting her shake it up and down. “Hi. Same here.”
My gaze slides toward Sarah, checking to see if she’s laughing. Maybe this is all a joke, part of the reality show. Possibly they’re punking me?
Sarah’s got her chin in her hands, watching me avidly for my reaction.
No, this isn’t part of the show. This is real. This girl—who looks about ten years younger than I am—is my new boss.
“But,” I say lamely, “what about Simon?”
“Simon?” Lisa glances uncertainly at Dr. Jessup. “Who’s Simon?”
Dr. Jessup clears his throat. “We didn’t feel Simon was the right fit for Fischer Hall.”
Stephanie, who’s pulled her cell phone from her tote bag and is texting, makes a face. “Do you mean that redheaded man? Oh God, no. He was not the right fit at all.”
Wait. How does Stephanie know Simon? Was there a panel of judges auditioning my new boss, like The X Factor or something?
“We’re going to have so much fun with this,” Lisa is saying. “I can’t wait! Fifty girls and a reality TV crew? This is going to be crazy.” She sings the word “crazy” like it’s part of a song lyric.
I’m glad someone’s excited, because I’m sure not. Everything Sarah said over the phone about the woman she saw sitting in Dr. Jessup’s office comes back to me. I can see what Sarah meant about Lisa Wu being so perky, Sarah wanted to cram her fist down her throat. Perky like a reality television show host.
It doesn’t help that Lisa’s wearing jeans and a T-shirt to her first day of work and that her dark hair has been swept back into a ponytail and that there is a scrunchie involved—who wears scrunchies anymore, except to wash her face? Plus, she has on flip-flops. Flip-flops. At work!
All right, this is the way my employees look, but they’re in college. They sleep until noon whenever they can get away with it. They smoke weed (well, Gavin does, but he says he needs it medicinally for his ADHD) and build love dungeons in their rooms.
This is supposed to be my new boss. Yeah. Right.
“But you’re a real residence hall director, right?” I ask, drawing my hand away from Lisa’s like I’m afraid she might whip out a microphone and ask for a sound bite. “You didn’t audition for the job through Cartwright Records Television?”
