Pop Princess (19 page)

J introduced an old B-Kid clip of me doing a hip-hop dance routine with Kayla. The audience was all “awww . . .” looking at our ponytail hair and awkward preadolescent faces and bodies. J said, “You've come a long way since those days, Wonder. What do you think of all this?” He gestured toward Kayla, the studio audience, the tall buildings of Manhattan outside the studio windows, the giant billboard of me.

What I was really thinking was not appropriate to say aloud, much less on national television.
Well, J, I think about sex all the time—when will I do it, with whom? (I'm, like, extremely curious about The Liam.) And my mind is so in the gutter that I'm in actuality wondering what your raw pecs look like without that tight black muscle shirt you have on, even though your attractiveness quotient gets severe demerits cuz I am fairly sure you wear a toupee. But I'm distracted because I have cramps at this moment and why did the stylist have to choose an all-white outfit for me during this time of the month, and this is the third day of my period and really what I am thinking is I COULD SCARF DOWN TWO BIG MACS RIGHT NOW!

But I was a good pop princess. Instinctively I turned on for the camera, smiled wide, and said, “I'm thinking I can't believe I am on this show and that this is my life!” The audience offered a small trickle of applause, sincerity points.

J said, “We've got a game we like to play here—it's called Quick Questions. I'm going to ask you a few questions; just answer rapid-fire—don't think, just go. Question one: What is your favorite movie?”

“Bring It On.”
My favorite movie is really
Heathers
but during the preinterview in the dressing room, J told me not to say that movie because advertisers on
J-Pop
would not appreciate a reference to a movie about a clique of nasty girls and dreamy Christian Slater who wants to blow their high school up.

“Best song to make out to?” This was a surprise question! The second question was supposed to be, “Who are your favorite singers?”

Without thinking, I blurted out, “Anything by Paul Weller.” D'oh! Why did I have to say that? I prayed that Liam was too completely cool to ever watch a show like
J-Pop.
I saw Karl standing in the distance; I could have sworn his bushy eyebrow raised upward at my answer.

J turned to the audience. I think he was annoyed with me for referencing a singer obscure to the teen pop audience. “That was an interesting choice Wonder had; I didn't realize she had such eclectic taste in music. A lot of you here might not know who Paul Weller is. He's a British singer who—”

I interrupted, my face at full blush. “Next question please!” Everyone laughed.

J said, “I think Wonder speaks from experience! Well, that leads to the next question. First kiss?”

Okay, the last question was supposed to be, “Boxers or briefs?” (Boxers, fer sure.) I realized I had been set up. I didn't want to say “Doug Chase” because that jerk was certainly my first real kiss and no way did I want the whole town of Devonport knowing that, but J was laughing, and said, “No need to answer that one, Wonder, we've got a clip here to answer that question, one that I think the girls in the audience will particularly be interested in.” There it was, a New Kids on the Block-looking fourteen-year-old Freddy Porter asking me in a squeaky voice, “Wanna try?” and me bouncing my head like I was the genie girl on
I Dream of Jeannie
and then quite possibly the most embarrassingly bad lip smack in the history of television. The girls in the
J-Pop
audience squealed. Some girl shouted out, “You are so lucky!”

I laughed too. “How did you find that?”

J said, “We have our sources. Speaking of whom, we've got another surprise today, a very special caller on the phone. Freddy, are you there?”

More screams (LOUD! No wonder Kayla wore earplugs) from the girls in the audience as a current-incarnation video clip of Freddy Porter was shown, a close-up of the eighteen-year-old sex god with arms open wide on some tropical beach singing,
“Girl, I wanna get wit' you.
” I looked at Kayla. Even she looked surprised—and Kayla
never
looked surprised. She whispered in my ear, “I have no idea. Just play along. Whatever.”

“Wonder! J! Kayla!” Freddy's voice boomed out from phone speakers coming from I don't know where.

J said, “Freddy, what's up, dawg? So to Wonder's apparent mortification, we've been sharing with the audience—and all of the world—Wonder's first kiss, which it turns out was with you, dude. Care to share your memories of this magical moment? It's not every pop princess we get in here who has footage of getting her first kiss from Freddy Porter.”

Freddy's voice blared: “She was a great kisser! A quick study!” Audience laughter and applause.

I played along. I went, “I was twelve!” Blech, my parents were watching this! How embarrassing!

Freddy teased, “Yeah, unfortunately there was no tongue. But you all want to know something?” The audience cheered. “That clip shows our kiss, right, on
B-Kidz.
But Wonder, do you want to tell everyone what happened
before
that take?”

The camera zoomed on me shaking my head vehemently. Freddy's voice again: “We had a practice session in the dressing room first! Her idea!”

The camera was on me again, this time my head nodding fast and embarrassed. “It's true,” I said. Why did he have to remember that? I winked at the audience. “Practice makes perfect, I always learned.” Cheers for Wonder from the audience. I saw Tig standing next to Karl, and if I didn't know better I'd say Tig's stone face had an almost-smile on it. I was doing good. I hoped Jen Burke
was
part of the Devonport contingent watching
J-Pop
this morning—I knew for a fact she had pictures of Freddy Porter taped all over her notebook.

Kayla ribbed me. “You never told me that!” How comfy-coze we all were, like a little B-Kidz reunion moment captured on
J-Pop.

Then Freddy said, “Wonder, I'm . . . uh . . . wondering.” (Audience laughter again, some screams of “We love you, Freddy!”) “Should we pick up where we left off? Maybe dinner sometime?”

And I swear to God, the shrieks and screams in that audience you couldn't believe. The girls in the audience apparently didn't know Freddy wasn't bad as a dance partner, but that he was a little . . . shall we say “frisky”? . . . with where his hands strayed. Not to mention that Freddy had a tendency toward bad breath and toward assuming all girls are easy. I doubted the swooning girls in the audience would have appreciated me reeducating them about the object of their lust, however.

J said, “Wonder, I think you've just been asked out on a date on national television by Freddy Porter. I think the screams in this audience can testify to the fact that a lot of girls wouldn't mind being you right now! So, does Freddy have a shot?”

I repeated Kayla's earlier hand phone gesture, thumb at my ear, pinkie at my chin, but instead of mouthing the words I sang out, “Call me, Freddy!” and the audience cheered and applauded again.

J said, “Wonder, care to introduce your video?”

I said, “Here it is: ‘Bubble Gum Pop.' I hope you all—and Freddy!—like it!”

And I was officially launched.

Kayla and I were in
the monster SUV with the darkened windows riding back to her house from the
J-Pop
set when a text message flashed across my cell phone. From Liam!
Pop Princess:
J-Pop
makes me wanna puke, but even I will admit you were a star. Did I leave my Paul Weller CD in your Discman?; >-L

Oh, I couldn't take it anymore! I blurted out to Karl, sitting in the front seat, “Hey Karl, did you give Liam my cell phone number? Is he coming back to Brooklyn once he finishes finals?” I'd lost count of how many times I'd tried to give Karl a subtle hint to drop my digits on Liam. Karl was practically my suite mate up there on that brownstone fourth floor, and I didn't know how many more times I could pretend that I'd found Liam's book in the bathroom, or I'd heard about some awesome restaurant up by Dartmouth that Liam should know about, so maybe Karl could tell Liam to like call me sometime or whatever? Now that Karl had finally gotten the message, I felt like the universe as I knew it could not possibly go on any longer without me finally getting the DL on Liam. Who cared if Kayla was in the car? After my
J-Pop
performance, I was golden—for now.

I had read the CliffsNotes for that book Liam was studying when he visited during spring break,
Anna Karenina,
and I was primed to impress Liam with how smart and literary and shit I could be. I'd surely learned enough about the book to fake a conversation about it with Liam, hopefully a conversation that could end quickly with another make-out session while Paul Weller played from the Discman with the minispeakers attached.

You'd think a pop princess getting a huge launch from her record company would have better things to obsess over. You'd think.

Karl turned to face me. There appeared to be a squint under all those eyebrows, like he was on to me. “Maybe,” he grunted. He pointed at Kayla. “Think you can behave?”

Kayla giggled. Weird how she loved to be called on her bad behavior. “Tell Liam he can crash at the brownstone all summer if he wants, doesn't bother me, Wonder and I'll be gone on tour. But Karl, don't break his heart too badly when you tell him I'm no longer saving myself for him.” Kayla turned to me in the way backseat we shared. She grabbed my hand. “I wanted to tell you before but you have been dead asleep every night when I get home: Dean Marconi and I hooked up. We're like unofficially a thing and all.”

I said, “But I thought you said Dean was gay.”

“Not all the time,” Kayla said, with this near-exasperated voice like,
Well, duh.

Tig was sitting in the aisle seat in front of us. He said, “Kayla, this doesn't have anything to do with Freddy Porter's sudden interest in Wonder, does it? The press will love it if you show up at events with Dean, but come on, are you for real?”

Kayla said, “Dean's manager is going to give you a call. He thinks he can put some deals together for me.”

I swear you could almost see smoke rising from Tig's head of tight spike braids. He said to the driver, “Stop the car, I'll take a taxi home from here.” The SUV pulled up at a red light and Karl jumped out to open the back door for Tig, who didn't even say good-bye to us.

Karl hopped back in and said, as the driver proceeded down the avenue, “You'd better watch it, Kayla, or you're going to lose your manager.”

Kayla said, “Tig had better watch it or he's gonna lose his star client.” She turned back to me, her face all glowing and girl-talk-ready. “So, Dean. Ahhh!!!!!!!! Do you agree?”

“Lucky never liked him.”

“Lucky's standards were impossible. You practically had to be certified by a bishop to meet her approval. I'm amazed she liked
me
! But dig this: Dean wants me to come out to L.A. with him next week, to read for a part in his new movie. It's a small role but there are some hot love scenes and like it could totally help me break out of this pop princess mold. Maybe I'm ready to move on to something new, something bigger, after the tour.”

I said, “That's great about Dean, if you're happy about it.” It did seem weird that this superstar girl who was regularly named one of the sexiest performers in America never seemed to get around to dating. Here was a girl who guys literally drooled over, but then again, what guy had a chance, having to go through Karl or Jules or Tig or all the other record company and promo people surrounding her at all times? I guess it was no wonder the girl never had a real date. On the other hand, Kayla seemed more interested in her career than in any prospective love life. She worked like a demon, fourteen-and fifteen-hour days of rehearsing, dancing, and promoting, followed by nights out clubbing till dawn.

Kayla said, “What about Freddy! What was that all about? Are you gonna go out with him?”

I wanted to shout NO WAY! but a publicist from our record company had already arranged a date through Freddy's assistant before I'd even left the
J-Pop
studio. Not only was I told in no uncertain terms that I was to go on this date, but so would a photographer from
Teen Girl
magazine. When I protested to Tig he said, “So Freddy's a jerk, so what? Just go, have a quick dinner; you don't have to marry him, just get the photo op and be done with it. Not a big deal, just part of the job—the part ninety-nine percent of the teenage girls in America would kill to have.” Yuck. Still, probably better than a date cleaning puke and crusted-on hot fudge sauce off baby high chairs back at the DQ—or was it?

I shrugged at Kayla, said, “Guess so.”

Kayla said, “I heard he is like a major STD case.”

“Nuh-uh! Who told you that?”

“I have backup dancers, you know. Guess what else? Dean told me. Freddy and his buddies, a couple other young male stars—you know, TV and movie actors, a few boy band types—they have this thing called the Pop Princess Club. It's like this contest to see who can . . . you know . . .” Karl was glaring at Kayla from the front seat. Kayla leaned over and placed her hand on my ear to whisper the rest: “It's like this contest they have to see who can take away the virginity of the most pop princesses or teen actresses or former child stars and whatever.”

“That's disgusting!” I about shouted.

Kayla laughed. “I know!”

And I might have called Tig that very second to tell him the date was O-F-F not-gonna-happen, but something as exciting as Kayla's revelation was despicable happened just then. My song was on the car radio! My voice, singing “Bubble Gum Pop,” blasting from the number one pop music radio station in New York on the radio program J deejayed after his Saturday morning television show. I jumped out of my seat, screamed, “That's my song, turn it up, turn it up!”