Star Power (20 page)

“I still am!” Mac cried.

“Best friends show up,” Becks said curtly. She crossed her arms while Mac stared at her, speechless.

“Okay, fine, you can hate me in the car, but we have a party to go to!” she said jokingly. She reached for Becks's hand, but Becks jerked away from her grip.

The Dixie Gals were ahead, walking across the sand to their sun yellow Mini Cooper, which as usual was parked in the closest spot to the beach.

“Last chance!” Tully hollered, dangling her car keys.

“One sec!” Becks screamed back.

“But what about the party? It's for
you
!” Mac cried.

But Becks had already started walking toward Tully, Darby, and Lei. She turned to Mac one last time. “Gotta go,” Becks said. “I made plans with my
friends
.”

coco

C
oco sashayed onto the long red carpet that led to Mac's Bel-Air house, looking very much like Cordelia Rose, a rock star in the making.

“Coco! Over here!” screamed a tuxedo-clad photographer.

Coco swiveled on her cowboy boots, lifted her red plastic sunglasses, and posed, one arm on her bell-bottom-clad hip, other arm dangling at her side. Pout. It was exactly how her mother always did it. Coco counted to three in her head to give them enough time to get a good shot. Then she took a deep breath, repositioned herself, and gave the photographers another set of shots.

Inside, Mac's Spanish-style house had been completely transformed into a twinkling sea of stars. Blue star-shaped lights hung from the ceiling and around the walls and even lined the floor, giving the room a soft blue glow.

Coco peered out the French doors for a full view of the party, which was mostly in Mac's outdoor living room. It seemed like all of BAMS had turned up. Coco spotted the Rubybots in matching green Juicy sundresses dancing with their arms above their heads. Over by the black marble fountain, the sketchbook girls were sitting with their hands in their laps, talking quietly. The guys from the water polo team milled around the barbecue. Coco smiled and headed toward the pool, which overlooked the canyon. Rumer Willis and Katherine McPhee were sitting on lounge chairs, laughing with Adrienne.

It wasn't just the guest list that was impressive—Mac had (predictably) gone all out. Coco stepped around a life-size cutout of herself dangling from the ceiling. It said CORDELIA ROSE in swirly white lettering. Another one of Emily was perched in the other corner. Mac had apparently custom designed life-size posters of the Inner Circle and ordered them just for the event.

Coco took a deep breath and stepped outside. When her foot hit the grass, the DJ lowered the music.

“Please give a warm welcome to Cordelia Rose!” he boomed. All of BAMS cheered wildly. Coco smiled and shrugged, slightly embarrassed, but loving the attention.

Just as Coco was about to find Mac, she felt an annoying triple tap on her shoulder. She turned.

Ruby Goldman.
Of course.

“Heyhowareyou,” Ruby said. It was not a question; it was more like a command to begin a conversation.

“Hey Rubes.” Coco smiled coolly. “I'm good. Performing a lot these days,” Coco added. There was no way she was going to let Ruby rain all over her VIP parade.

Ruby arched an eyebrow and snorted. “Oh, and I'm sure it has nuh-thing to do with who your mom is. . . .”

Coco blinked in shock: Usually parent-jabs were off-limits, but Ruby had gone from first gear to fifth in seconds. Coco quickly recovered from the diss—she'd certainly had enough practice with
that
recently. “For your information, Rubes, it has nothing to do with her.”

“Mmmmmkay.” Ruby smirked. “I can't wait to go online and buy tickets to the reunion tour.” Ruby whipped out her BlackBerry. “Are they on sale already? I could buy them now.”

Coco stared at Ruby, annoyed. “
Actually
, I'm not part of my mom's reunion tour. I'm performing my own songs. In
coffee houses
.”

Ruby gasped like Coco had said
jailhouses
.

“It's indie, Ruby,” Coco spat. “But I guess you're just a little too
mainstream
to get it,” she added, with an eye roll.

Ruby's turquoise eyes twinkled while she digested what Coco had just said. “Um, kewl?” She ate a piece of lobster sushi.

Coco resisted the urge to cross her arms because she had read that it was a sign of defensiveness, and she did not want to appear defensive. “In case you didn't notice, I have my own new look,” Coco added.

“I guess I figured the sequins were being dry-cleaned.” Ruby shrugged. “And that you thought today was Dress Like a Cowgirl day.”

“No, Ruby, it's part of my whole
persona
. In case you
also
haven't noticed, this party is kind of for me.” She glanced pointedly at another life-size cutout of herself by the cupcake table. Ruby's eyes followed her gaze, and she read the poster.

“Ooh, Cordelia Rose, right! My bad! A fake name,” Ruby retorted. “Way to keep it real.”

Coco sailed on confidently. “I'd invite you to Java Joy for my next show, but I wouldn't want you to get jealous.”

“Java Joy. That sounds classy. Gee, I'd love to come support. I'm sure it's awesome,” Ruby hissed sarcastically. “Oh, one last question,” Ruby asked.

Coco rolled her eyes. “Yes?”

“What does your
mom
think about all this?” Ruby smiled an evil grin.

“Why do you want to know that?” Coco stammered, taken off guard. Her mom didn't
know
about it, of course, but how could Ruby know that?

“Hmm . . . doesn't seem like this new
persona
would jibe with her new tour.”

Coco paused for a beat. “My relationship with my mom is none of your business,” she said finally.

Ruby's eyes slanted like a Siamese cat's. “Of course. . . .” she said mysteriously.

Coco set her shoulders back. No one was forcing her to be in this conversation, and she refused to be annoyed by the static that was Ruby Goldman for another second. Life was too short.

“Gotta go,” she said, and stalked off. It was time to enjoy her party.

emily

Even though there was a party outside, Emily refused to leave the Armstrong guest bathroom. She placed her hands on both sides of the marble sink and checked herself in the gold-trimmed mirror for the thousandth time. Davey Woodward would be here any second, and she couldn't take any chances.

She'd already spent hours flat-ironing, spritzing, and mussing her hair to make it look like she'd just woken up with it like this. She straightened the straps on her Agnès B. dress, borrowed from her film wardrobe just for the occasion, and wiped a bead of sweat off her face. Finally, she took a deep breath of the lavender mist that filled the bathroom and then stepped into the party.

Emily had made her way over to the Nobu sushi station, and was taking a tuna roll when Kimmie Tachman bounded over in a pink sundress. It might have been cute if she hadn't paired it with pink Converse and a pink polka-dot headband.