The Accidental Bestseller (46 page)

Faye had left earlier to pick up Mallory and Tanya at O’Hare. The three of them planned to come directly to the studios, where tickets for the taping had been left under Tanya’s name. They’d all insisted they wanted to be there for Kendall and had joked about wearing disguises. This gave Kendall yet another thing to worry about—as if she needed one.

The bad feeling in the pit of her stomach grew with each mile. The local station interviews she’d done during her tour had given her a certain comfort level with the whole television experience. But comparing a local talk show to the nationally syndicated
Kristen Calder Show
was like comparing a glass of tap water to the Pacific Ocean. She was deathly afraid she was going to drown.

The limo’s leather interior smelled new and expensive and the Plexiglas that separated Kendall from the driver gave her quiet within which to think. But she couldn’t shake her growing unease.

She was a fraudulent
New York Times
Bestseller. She’d achieved her dream under false pretenses; she’d gotten there on the backs and coattails of her friends. What if Kristen took one look at her and sensed her guilt? What if she didn’t? Kendall felt swamped by fear and self-doubt. Not exactly the sort of aura one wanted to project on national television.

Before she was ready, the limo arrived at the studio. She practiced deep breathing while the driver walked around to open her door. At the building entrance, Kendall drew another great gulp of air into her lungs then slowly exhaled, taking a moment to examine the show’s marquee, which sported a life-sized photograph of the thirtysomething Kristen Calder. Kendall studied the blonde’s camera-thrilling cheekbones and burnished good looks, all of which had been toned down several notches to a nonthreatening level.

When Kendall entered the lobby, a threesome dressed in New York black awaited her as she went through security and showed ID. Lacy Samuels separated from the group and moved toward Kendall. The assistant was more attractive than Kendall had imagined and much more conservatively dressed than Kendall had painted her in
Sticks and Stones
. She wore black trousers with a short black vest over a black-and-white pin-striped shirt and boots that added to her long lean look.

The assistant smiled. “I left the nose ring at home.”

Before Kendall could apologize, Lacy threw her arms around Kendall, further dispelling the air of New York sophistication. “I am so excited for you!” She smiled full out, not even trying to contain her enthusiasm. “The audience is packed with book clubs. Cindy and I get to pass out copies to everyone in the audience. And Hannah back at Scarsdale just called to say that we’re already in a fifth printing.” She threw her arms around Kendall again and squeezed with all her might.

Kendall squeezed back. “I don’t know how you did it, but I appreciate you going to bat for me.” She disentangled herself gently. “I never could have imagined ending up here.”

Lacy introduced Naomi Fondren and Cindy Miller and then Kristen’s people began to appear. There were a lot of them, all of them smiling and efficient, most of them also dressed in black.

One perky blonde took the Scarsdale people back to the waiting area, which they referred to as the green room. Another female staffer, who identified herself as a segment producer, escorted Kendall to makeup. While the makeup person worked on Kendall’s face, the producer prepped Kendall for what was to come.

“Kristen’s tied up right now”—she looked away for a moment, her eyes sliding away from Kendall’s—“something’s come up—so you’ll meet her onstage. We’ve got people who’ve had surgery to look like celebrities first, then Kristen will introduce
Sticks and Stones
and then you’ll come out for your interview. After that there’ll be a commercial break and then she’ll open up to questions from the audience. We have a lot of book club members here today and a lot of them have already read your book. Don, our stage manager, will escort you out.”

The young woman talked pretty much nonstop as they left makeup and wound their way through a warren of dressing rooms and offices, but she had a disturbing habit of looking away whenever she mentioned Kristen. Something in the woman’s manner felt off, but Kendall had no experience with television of this magnitude and chided herself for glomming onto yet another worry.

People raced by, but underneath the apparent chaos Kendall sensed slick orchestration. Sights and sounds swirled around her, but Kendall was unable to absorb or catalogue them. The producer took note of Kendall’s reaction. “It’s a bit overwhelming,” she acknowledged. “But you don’t need to worry. We’ll get you out there and Kristen will take care of the rest,” she promised. “She cares a great deal about the book club. She’s made a point of choosing less weighty books than some of the other book clubs, but she’s still very aware of putting her name and reputation behind an author.”

Kendall swallowed uncomfortably and this time the producer made clear eye contact. “She watched Oprah, who is her absolute idol and role model, get burned by the James Frey incident and she’s very sensitive about any kind of misrepre- sentation.”

Kendall nodded dully. Millions of people were going to see her on this show. Millions more would buy her book because of it—assuming she didn’t freeze completely or blither like an idiot.

She thought longingly of the backseat of the limo and wished she was in it already heading safely back to Faye’s. She had a sense of impending doom, but chalked it up to her guilty conscience.

In the green room, which wasn’t actually green, Kendall took a bottle of water from a table full of food and drink and sat down next to the Scarsdale contingent. Lacy and her friend Cindy were practically bouncing off the walls with excitement. Naomi Fondren smiled nonstop. Despite her professional manner, Kendall had the sense the PR woman was mentally pinching herself—something with which Kendall could identify.

Then the monitors in the green room were filled with images of Chicago from the show’s opening montage. There was a shot of the cheering audience and then another camera followed Kristen as she entered the studio and walked between the audience sections to take her place on center stage.

Kendall concentrated on drawing air into her lungs, each steady “in” followed by a not-so-steady “out.” The first segment of the show featured a parade of everyday people who’d gone under the knife to resemble their favorite celebrities. There was a Gwyneth Paltrow, a Tom Cruise with his Katie Holmes, even a Paris Hilton. They talked and laughed about being mistaken for the real celebrities; several had signed autographs and another worked as a stand-in and body double for the star she now resembled.

Kendall found herself wondering what would move people to alter themselves so drastically and whether they ever regretted their decisions. It was hard enough to get rid of a tattoo; what did one do when one tired of having Angelina Jolie’s lips or Kyra Sedgwick’s nose?

And then the young producer came back to get her. Trying not to hyperventilate, Kendall followed her to the studio doors through which she would make her entrance. As promised, the young woman handed her over to Don, the stage manager, who had a gentle air about him.

Next to Don a TV monitor showed Kristen Calder in center stage. A projected picture of
Sticks and Stones
’ cover rose giant sized behind her.

“You OK?” Don asked.

Kendall nodded numbly as she heard Kristen give a brief but accurate recap of her book. And then Kendall’s stomach dropped down around her knees as Kristen Calder called out Kendall’s name.

“OK then. Here we go.” Don led her through the door into the studio.

Kristen said Kendall’s name again and with a gentle push from Don, Kendall began to walk toward the stage where Kristen stood. She got a glimpse of herself, white faced and nervous, in a monitor as she passed. After that she kept her gaze fixed on Kristen.

The applause was loud and although the studio was heavily air conditioned, she could feel the heat from the lighting grid that hung above, raining light down on stage and audience alike. A large studio camera followed her progress toward the stage, its giant box of a lens moving with her as she walked. Out of the corner of her eye she saw two other cameras pointed toward the audience, panning for reactions. Faye, Mallory, and Tanya sat somewhere in the crowd. Kendall was very careful not to look for them. She kept her gaze fixed on Kristen Calder.

Onstage Kristen smiled her trademark smile, but there was a question in her clear blue eyes, as if she were somehow reserving judgment.

“Kendall Aims is not an overnight success,” Kristen informed her audience. “Kendall Aims was in the trenches of publishing for years. She wrote eight books that did OK, but not quite well enough. The editor who first championed her left to have a baby and never came back. The new editor assigned to Kendall didn’t like her. And things began to go downhill.”

Kendall drew a deep breath as unobtrusively as she could. She knew a camera was pointed at her face to record her reactions. She tried to figure out what kind of facial expression would go over best, but it took everything she had to avoid imitating a deer in the headlights. She tried for humbly interested, but had no idea if she was pulling it off.

A movement to her left drew Kendall’s eye and she spotted Tanya, Mallory, and Faye seated four or five rows up. Faye was wearing beige and had kept her makeup to a minimum; she fit right in with the audience members around her. Mallory was not so easy to disguise, but Kendall could tell she’d tried. Her dark brown hair had been pulled back into a French braid and her pantsuit, though undoubtedly designer, was black and simply cut, her jewelry understated. Tanya’s big hair and overly made-up face would never blend in, but while some present might know her name, they were unlikely to recognize her face.

“But Kendall Aims took the disasters that befell her and built a book around them,” Kristen intoned. “And that book is now on the
New York Times
Bestseller List, which is, of course, a very big deal.
Sticks and Stones
is first and foremost a story about friendship, and that’s what we’re going to talk about in just a minute.”

They stopped for what would be a commercial break and Kristen considered her carefully. “You all right?”

Kendall nodded then managed a somewhat wobbly, “I think so.”

“Good,” the host said, though the warmth of her words didn’t seem to be making it to her eyes. “We’re going to be seated for the rest of the interview. When we come back from the break, I have a few things I’d like to clarify.”

Kendall drew another breath and tried to smile benignly at the audience as she followed Kristen to the sofa and chair at the other end of the set. Through sheer willpower, she kept her gaze from straying to Tanya, Faye, and Mallory. She was glad they were there but worried about it at the same time. She made a conscious effort to relax, but hundreds of pairs of eyes were trained on her and something in the way Kristen had said, “I have a few things I’d like to clarify,” had sounded more aggressive than Kendall had expected.

A young woman whose headset was plugged into the center camera raised her hand above her head and began to count down on her fingers. When only one finger remained, she pointed it at Kristen, who welcomed the audience back.

The interview began innocently enough. How, Kristen asked, did Kendall feel about her success after so much struggle? Was she surprised by how well
Sticks and Stones
was doing? What tips would she offer aspiring writers who hoped to one day be published?

Kendall found her voice and answered as clearly and succinctly as she could. None of the questions seemed meant to trip her up. Kristen seemed genuinely interested in hearing about the writing process. When she asked what it felt like to make the
New York Times
list, Kendall did her best to explain it, jettisoning her guilt about having had help with the book and focusing on her very real amazement and excitement.

When she stole a peek at the audience, Kendall could tell they were interested in her insights into the publishing world. Kendall stopped worrying and began to enjoy herself. She even managed to squeeze in a small joke about chaining her refrigerator shut when the words weren’t flowing, and she got a laugh.

As she spoke, she became aware of the strangest things: how straight and white Kristen’s teeth were. The way she seemed focused on Kendall but also managed to play to the audience. Kristen Calder might be co-opting Oprah Winfrey’s city and format, but the manner in which she drove the interview forward was her own.

Then something in the air changed subtly. Kristen’s attention on her sharpened. All three cameras slid closer. A red light glowed on the camera on her far left, which she had been told would get her close-ups.

It was then that the tone of Kristen’s questions began to change. “Readers are always curious how much of an author’s characters are based on real people,” Kristen said. Kendall’s close-up camera rolled even closer. “The character of Kennedy Andrews is awfully close to your real life, Kendall. My staff has confirmed that the problems your character Kennedy experiences with her publisher are almost identical to the ones you ran into at Scarsdale. Like you, Kennedy Andrews was up for a Wordsmiths Incorporated Zelda Award she didn’t win. Like you, Kennedy Andrews has three very close writer friends she’s been critiquing with for a decade.”

Kristen paused then and Kendall realized that the talk show host was heading somewhere completely intentional. “Like you,” Kristen said carefully, “Kennedy Andrews discovers her husband has a girlfriend and wants a divorce.”

The blasted red camera light was still on and Kendall could just imagine what her face must look like right now as all the horror and confusion she was feeling displayed itself across it.

Her mind raced at the surprise of the attack. Kristen Calder and her staff had spent time comparing her life to her character’s. Kendall blinked rapidly, trying to regain her composure. Kristen Calder knew about her impending divorce. How could Kristen know when she hadn’t even told her children yet? Oh, God, she couldn’t let Melissa and Jeffrey find out this way. . . .