Tangled Mess (5 page)

“No,
” he said in that deep, rumbly voice that had made me quiver as a teen.

Deidra’s eyebrows shot up.
“What?”

I felt like someone had punched me in the stomach. I blinked
back tears.

“No,” he said, not even
glancing my way. “Sorry, I vote ‘no’. Now, bring on the next contestant.”

Ransom

When I’d first heard Tiffany’
s speak, I’d felt like someone had thrown a bucket of ice-cold water at my face, sobering me up from what was left-over from my buzz. It had shocked the shit out of me. Little Tiffany Banks, one of my sister’s best friends was actually
here
, trying to get herself onto American Icon.

She had no fucking clue
.

It had been years since we’d seen each other
. Now she was all grown up, and more beautiful than ever with those wide, blue eyes, cupid lips, and upturned nose. She reminded me of the farmer’s daughter, the curvy one with the long legs, and innocent demeanor. She was definitely too naïve and trusting for Hollywood, even
with
that voice, which, surprisingly, had blown me away. As amazing as it was, however, there was no way in hell I was voting Tiffany into this circus of bullshit. Not her. I wouldn’t be responsible for that. I’d never forgive myself if she ended up like me, a miserable puppet.

“Why in the world did you vote ‘no’?” asked Deidra after Tiffany had
walked away.

“Didn’t you see how terrified she was? Hell, she was shitting bricks up there. Face it,
that
girl will never have good stage presence,” I replied. “She’s too timid and self-conscious.”

“S
he’ll certainly get her shot to prove you wrong,” said Tyrone, tapping his pen on the table. “We’ll see how she does during the next round, and how the audience and television viewers receive her.”

That was the bitch of it.  Two out of three votes were all she needed to keep progressing. I’d just need to find a way to get Tyrone or Deidra
on my side. Or, to somehow get her ass disqualified.

Tiffany was
not
going to win this contest.

Not on my watch.

***

Tiffany

“He voted
‘no’
? You’re kidding me,” said Sinclair, pausing as we walked out of the building. “That egotistical prick! What in the hell is wrong with him?”

I stared down at my shoes, trying not to tear up again.
“He must not have thought I had enough talent.”

“Let me tell you something, sweetheart,” said Jesse
, looping his arm through mine as we walked towards his car. “I’ve heard Ransom sing and he’s not bad, but you… you have more talent than anyone on that show, past
and
present. Hell, I’m still in shock after hearing you sing. I had no idea you were
that
good.”

I smiled. “
Aw… thanks Jesse.”

“I’m serious. I know talent,” he said. “
Don’t forget… I grew up in Hollywood.”

“He’s right,” said Sinclair.

“I’m
always
right,” he replied with a smirk. “Face it, girls.”

She rolled her eyes and then turned to me.
“So what’s next?”

“I guess I’m headed to
Hollywood in a month, to meet the competition, and to start performing live. They gave me all the info, I just have to read through everything,” I said, holding up a large envelope.

“
So, are you even more nervous now?” ask Sinclair.

“Actua
lly I’m not too bad, especially now that I’ve made it through the preliminary auditions.”

And facing Ransom…

“Good,” said Jesse. “And don’t let that judge, Ransom, bring you down. He’s obviously a total asshole who couldn’t see real talent if it socked him in the face.”

I still couldn’t believ
e that he’d actually said ‘no’, either. When I was a teenager, he’d always teased me, and his sister, but had never been downright heartless or cruel. He had to have known how much the audition would mean to me, but apparently didn’t seem to give a rat’s ass.  It was bad enough that the guy I’d fantasized about during high school had not only turned me down when I was a kid, but hadn’t thought twice about doing it again.

“S
o, what about the salon?” asked Sinclair.

“I guess I’ll have to take a temporary leave.”

“A temporary leave? Are you kidding me, this is the first day of the rest of your life. You’re going to be a celebrity, not a service worker any longer,” said Jesse. “I’d call them tomorrow and say ‘hasta la vista’ bitches.”

Sincla
ir raised her eyebrows.

He waved his hand.
“Oh, you know what I mean,” he said. “She should be focusing on preparing for the contest.”

“
Maybe, but, I would never abandon
Tangled
,” I said. “I’m not letting the shop or my clients down. I’m working until the day before I leave. Seriously.”

“
I still can’t believe you’re going to be on television,” grinned Sinclair, as we slid into Jesse’s Jag. “Wait until everyone finds out that you made it to the next round of competition. They are going to be so proud of you.”

I
put my seatbelt on, and lay my head back against the seat. “You know, it’s all so surreal, I’m still trying to absorb everything.”

“Absorb this,” said Jesse. “You’ve got talent, oodles of it, and when you win this
thing, you can stand on the stage with your chin raised up high, and tell Ransom to go fuck himself.”

I smirked.
“I might just do it sooner than that.”

“
Oh, right,” said Sinclair. “You’re way too nice. You should really start learning how to stand up for yourself. Not let anyone push you around.”

“
I don’t let anyone push me around,” I protested.

“
Girl, please,” said Jesse. “You are
way
too nice. I mean, look at the other day when Felix destroyed your new purse. Most women would have kicked all of the remaining lives out of that mangy cat. But not you. You acted like it was no big deal, but we all obviously knew better. That purse cost you a lot of money and you just brushed it off. Now
that
was being too nice.”

“He’s a cat,” I said. “Wha
t should I have done, plotted a deadly revenge?”

“Felix isn’t mangy,”
pouted Sinclair. “He’s a handsome little devil.”

Jesse’s eyes narrowed.
“See, even you agree he’s evil.”

She rolled her eyes.
“Gee, and you wonder why he doesn’t like you? I guess he can sense your affection.”

“Listen, Sin, I like cats but I stopped
going near yours right after he bit my hand when I tried petting him the first time, then the second, and finally the third time. He has no love for me, or anyone else.”

“
He was probably abused as a kitten or something,” she said.

“Right, believe what you want
, but let me just say that your cat has some major issues, and probably needs to see my mother’s pet therapist. In fact, I’ll find the number for you, later Sin.”

Sinclair’s eyebrows shot up.
“Pet therapist?”

“Oh yeah, Ms. Duncan. They call her ‘The Cat Whisperer’. She is amazing, she helped mother’s cat
, Flora, get over her eating disorder.”

“Eating disorder?”
I asked. “What kind of eating disorder can a cat have?”

He shrugged. “All I know is that she refused to eat for a few days
, and then right after Ms. Duncan met with Flora, her appetite came back. Mom raves about her.”

“Maybe the cat was just tired of eating the same food?” I asked. “I’ve heard even animals get bored with their food.”

“Mimi probably feeds her cat caviar and liver pate,” snorted Sinclair. “And that’s just on Mondays.”

“Believe what you want, she fixed whatever was wrong with Flora. Anyway,” said Jesse. “Back to the subject at hand, Tiffany you really do need to stop taking shit from people. If you don’t, you’ll definitely never make it in Hollywood. Ask my dad.”

Jesse’
s dad was a casting director who’d recently retired. From what Sinclair had told me, he was a real tool who thought he was some kind of Hollywood Godfather or something. She didn’t care for him one bit.

“
How is dear old dad?” asked Sinclair, with a look of distaste. “Is he still living with that young actress?”

He frowned.
“Yes, that bimbo is going through his money like water, too. He just bought her a new Astin Martin along with tickets to Italy for next week. It makes me sick how she uses him.”

“
I’m sure he uses her, too, so they’re obviously made for each other,” replied Sinclair.

My cell phone began to ring. I pulled it out of my purse
, and looked at the number. I didn’t recognize it. I answered it anyway. “Hello?”

“Oh my God, Tiff?! It’s Remy!”

I grinned. “Remy! How are you, it’s been so long!”

I hadn’t seen Remy since we’d graduated
high school and she’d left for T.C.U. while I’d stayed back in Stanton, and went to beauty school. We’d called each other for a while but then eventually lost touch all together.

“I’m doing okay. I heard
you’re a finalist on American Icon! I can’t believe it. Well, actually I can, you always had a beautiful voice.”

“Thanks
,” I said. “So, where are you?”

“I’m engaged
, and working in New York right now.”

“You’re engaged! Seriously?”

Like me, she was only twenty-one but it didn’t surprise me that she was engaged. She was beautiful, just like her brother, and people were drawn to her warmth and kindness.

“Yes, you’ve met him in fact,” she said, with a hint of laughter.

“Who?”

“Taylor Blake.”

“Shut up, seriously?”

“Yes.
We’re getting married next month. In fact, I’m holding your invitation right now. I just didn’t know how to get a hold of you. You’re phone number is obviously unlisted and now that your mother’s gone… ”

“I know,” I answered
softly.

She sighed.
“I’m so sorry about your mother, Tiff. She was such a sweetheart.”

“
She was,” I said, feeling my eyes mist up. I’d never get used to her being gone.

“I um…
I’m sorry I didn’t make the funeral. When I heard I was in the middle of a nervous breakdown, I don’t know if you heard about it. I just didn’t think I could handle seeing her laid to rest. I spent so much time at your house growing up… shit,” she choked. “I feel horrible about not being there for you, Tiff.”

“It’s okay,” I murmured. “And yes, I heard what happened from your mother.”

Remy had been dating someone in college who’d committed suicide. It had happened right before my mother had died. 

“Still, I wish I would have done things differently.”

“Don’t worry about it Rem. You had your own problems to deal with. So, how are you now?” I asked, feeling sad that I hadn’t been there for her either. We’d always been so close growing up.

“I’m doing great, actually. And
my fiancé, he’s wonderful,” she said. “We’re really in love.”

I smiled. It was good to hear.
“I’m very happy for you.”

“And I’m
so proud of you, Tiff, for auditioning.”

“
So, how did you find out? Ransom?”

“
Yes, he found your phone number and then sent me a message.”

“That’s what I figured.”

She sighed. “That’s another reason why I’m calling. He asked me to talk to you, although when he told me why, I almost told him to fuck off.”

“I don’t understand,” I said.

She paused. “Ransom wants you to drop out of the contest.”

Tiffany

“For real?” asked
Felicia, staring at me from across the salon, her eyes wide.

It was the day after my au
dition and we were the only stylists in the salon, save for our two customers seated before us.

“
Yup,
and
he had his sister call me. He asked her to try and talk me out of continuing with the contest.”

She put a hand on her waist. “Did you tell them both to kiss your fucking ass?”

I glanced towards her customer, expecting a look of disapproval on her elderly face, but instead, she looked at me and with a straight face and said, “fucking-snot-boogers.”

It was then that I remembered, it was old Mrs. Conway who has Tourette Syndrome.

Trying not to giggle, I replied, “Not in those exact words,” I said, raising my customer’s chair. “But basically, yes.”

“Good, because if you would have agreed I would have had to slap you silly.”

“And I’d deserve it.”

“
So, why does he want you to drop out?”

“I’m not really sure. Maybe he thinks I’m a horrible singer.”

“Pfft… I highly doubt that.”

I sighed.
“He did vote ‘no’.”

She waved her hand.
“He’s obviously an idiot.”

“
Maybe, but there has to be a reason why he wants me to drop out. Maybe it’s because we know each other, and he’s afraid of getting kicked off the show?”

“Past tense. Y
ou
knew
each other.”

“Still,
I just can’t believe he asked Remy to work on me.”

“You actually
know
Ransom?” asked the seventeen-year-old girl in my chair.

“Kind of
.”

She sighed, dreamily. “Is
he as gorgeous in real life as he is on television?”

“Cock-bite-shithead,” murmured Mrs. Conway.

Smiling, I turned back to my customer. “Well…”

Just then the f
ront door of the salon jingled, letting us know that someone had entered. I stepped around the partition to see who it was, and nearly dropped my comb.

Ransom.

Along with two men, who I assumed were
his
bodyguards, although he towered over the both of them with his tall, lean frame.

Taking a deep breath,
I set the comb down on the counter. “Excuse me. I’ll be back in a minute, Eve.”

“Okay.”

Ransom stared at me with such intensity as I moved towards him that I was suddenly conscious of every step that I took in my white leather boots.

Nobody had a right to look that handsome
, I thought. The fact that he was dressed in a tight, white T-shirt with low-riding jeans, and had obviously spent
some
kind of time in the gym didn’t help matters either.

“Ransom,”
I said. “What an unexpected surprise.”

One corner of his mouth twitched. “You left out ‘pleasant’.”

I smiled coolly. “Did I?”

He let out a low, rumbly chuckle
and something whirled in my stomach.

I folded my arms under my chest. “What do you want?”

He looked around. “This is a salon, right? I
sn’t it obvious?” he said, running a hand through his long hair. “I need a haircut.”

“I see that
. Let me check when Felicia is available,” I said, grabbing the schedule. There was no way in hell that I was going to cut his hair.

He stepped closer to
the counter and leaned forward. “Are you available?” he asked in a low voice. “Because you’re the only one I want touching me.”

I knew what he meant but it di
dn’t stop my cheeks from burning. I stared down at the schedule, petrified of looking up into those silvery eyes. “I’m busy right now,” I said, evenly. “If you can come back in an hour, I might be able to fit you in.”

He tapped his fingers on the counter.
“That’s fine, my afternoon is free. I’ll just wait here.”

Crap.

“Uh, are you sure? There’s a coffee shop next door, maybe you’d like to wait there, instead?” I asked, looking up.

He cocked an eyebrow. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

“Isn’t it the other way around?” I said quickly, unable to stop myself.

Our eyes held for a few seconds
, and then he grinned. “Touché.”

I pointed towards a stack of magazines
sitting on the coffee table in the lounge. “Well, if you are going to stay, feel free to check out the magazines. We also have a soda machine in back, if you need caffeine or sugar.”

He
nodded and ran a hand through his wavy dark hair. “Thanks.”

“You bet
.”

He turned back towards his security guards,
murmured something, and seconds later they left the salon without him.

I put down the pen and nodded.
“Um, I’ll be back at my station, if you need anything.”

“I’
ll be fine,” he said, walking over towards the magazines. He picked up one of the tabloids, and chuckled. “Looks like I made the cover again. Oh, and look, I’m a father of triplets.”

My eyes widened. “
Triplets?”

He shook his head, walked over to the garbage can, and threw the magazine away. “The bullshit they come up with.”

“So, it’s not true?”

His eyebrows lifted. “You’re kidding me, right?”

“My friend told me that there is usually some truth about all of those stories.”

“The only thing true about that particular magazine is the
month and year on the cover, Tiffany. Don’t believe everything you hear or see.”

I lowered my voice. “
So you’re not an out-of-control-rock-star who drinks to access, drives like a bat out of hell, and goes through women like water?”

“R
olling Stone
may
have exaggerated, a little. I don’t drink and drive, like a bat out of hell at the same time. That would be pretty fucking stupid.”

“
Right,” I snickered.

He laughed and picked up a magazine with a sexy model on the front. “Looks like Sela Royce is pregnant
.”

“Do you know her?” I asked, remembering that Sel
a had once been engaged to Sinclair’s boyfriend.

“I only knew her one night,” he answered with a devilish grin. “At least, that’s what
she
said. I guess I was too shit-faced to recall much of anything.”

I snorted. “You’re a sick man, Ransom.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Hey, she’s the one that took advantage of me when I was hammered. You tell me who’s sick?”  

I rolled my eyes
.

“It’s tough being
me,” he went on, sitting down near the window. “Women are always trying to get me into the sack. I mean, hell, God not only gave me a decent voice, but he also made me irresistible to women. It’s damn exhausting.”

“
Same old Ransom, I see. Cocky and arrogant.”

“I wish
I was the same old Ransom,” he answered, his face growing serious. He opened up the magazine, and started flipping through it. “So, I guess I’ll be right here when you’re ready for me.”

“Okay,” I said,
wondering if he was breaking some kind of ‘American Icon’ rule by being here, and if so, why he was risking it. I knew one thing, there was no way in hell I’d let him talk me out of dropping out of the contest. I didn’t know what kind of game he was playing, but I wasn’t the young girl he once knew, nor was I easily manipulated.