The Lonely Hearts Club (29 page)

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Authors: Brenda Janowitz

BOOK: The Lonely Hearts Club
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Out of the corner of my eye, I see Chloe roll her eyes.

“What?” I say. “Music is important.”

“It is,” Chloe says. “That’s why you should be making more of it.”

53 – Sing

“That sounded good, Jo,” Amber says, and I see my engineer nod his head in agreement.

“Let’s play it back!” Chloe says, and I can see the engineer fighting a frown. He does not want to play it back. Chloe has asked for a playback on just about every track I’ve recorded today. She’s excited to be in the studio, but we’ve been here for three hours straight already, and it’s definitely time for a break.

“I think maybe we’ll record that one,” I say to my engineer. And then to Chloe, “And we can give all the tracks a listen later over dinner.”

“Speaking of food,” the engineer says, “ready for a lunch break? We’ve got a great Thai place around the corner.”

I smile in agreement, careful not to let my expression betray me, but I can’t help feel a stab of sadness. Thai food reminds me of Max. I keep my vibe upbeat as we all place our orders, but all I can think about is Max. But then again, everything reminds me of Max. Having pepperoni pizza with red wine, going to a rooftop at a downtown club, hearing Daft Punk’s new single on the radio.

“How can we turn that frown upside down?” Amber asks me, touching her index finger to my nose.

“I wasn’t frowning.”

“You were doing that thing with your face,” Chloe chimes in.

“I don’t do a thing with my face,” I say.

“Are you unhappy with the tracks?” Amber asks. “We can do them over after lunch if you’re not happy. I thought they were great, but if you’re not feeling good about them, let’s do them again.”

“That’s not what the face is,” Chloe says. “I know that face.”

“Can everyone please stop talking about my face?”

“You’re still thinking about Max,” Chloe says.

“No, I’m not,” I say, but then I instantly wonder why I’m trying to hide my heartache from my friends. After I finally cried, I felt so much better. Maybe if I confess my feelings about Max, I’ll feel better, too? “Okay, I
am
thinking about Max. In fact, he’s all I think about. I can’t stop thinking about him, wishing we’d get back together.”

“Then why don’t you call him?” Amber asks, as if this simple solution will solve all of my problems.

“I’ve already called him a million times,” I say.

“And texted,” Chloe says. “And e-mailed, and blogged. Anything I’m leaving out? Did you try Instagram yet? We can post a picture of that frowny face you keep making.”

“I didn’t tweet,” I say. “Maybe I should send a tweet?”

“You definitely should not tweet,” Amber says. “Maybe you could accidentally-on-purpose bump into him somehow?”

“I tried talking in person,” I say. “That didn’t go so well. Is there some form of communication I’m not thinking of?”

“Smoke signals,” Chloe says.

“An old-fashioned letter?” Amber suggests.

“That’s actually a good idea,” Chloe says. “Letter writing is so romantic.”

As Chloe and Amber wax philosophical about the lost art of letter writing, it dawns on me. There
is
another method of communication. It’s just a matter of getting access to it.

“I just thought something,” I say. “I’ve gotta go.”

“What about lunch?” Chloe asks.

But I’m already out the door.

54 - Coming Clean

“I’m pleasantly surprised that you called,” Kel says. “I didn’t think I’d ever hear from you again.”

He’s in the hair and makeup chair, with a little tissue tucked into his collar, getting ready for the 12
P.M.
live broadcast of
Saturday, New York
. Nothing like a dainty little tissue tucked into the collar to make a man a whole lot less formidable and scary. A man with a prim tissue tucked into his shirt can’t hurt you. He’s not a lion; he’s a lamb.

This is just what I needed. Just the thing to give me the strength to do what I need to do.

“Thanks for making this happen,” I say. It’s exciting to be at the News 4 offices. The newsroom is a tornado of energy and excitement. I can feel it pulsing through my body. I’m ready. Ready to apologize to Max on air, ready to admit everything to the world (or at least the viewers watching News Channel 4). Ready to admit that I am a total, utter, and complete fraud—I’m going to tell everyone that I really do believe in love and that I’m in love with Max. Kel couldn’t get me on the air fast enough.

“Do you want a touch-up?” Kel’s makeup artist asks me.

“I think I’m okay the way I am,” I say. I look into the mirror to take a peek at my appearance, and I decide that I don’t want to change a thing.

“How about some hair?” she asks.

“Nope,” I say, finding my hand subconsciously brushing the hair off my shoulder. “I’m going to go on like this. Just be myself. Kel, is that okay with you?”

“No problem at all,” Kel says, as his makeup artist goes back to applying a thick layer of foundation to his head, neck, and face. Then his hairdresser gets in on the action, forcing his hair into a helmet with an enormous bottle of hair spray.

“Are you ready?” Kel’s station manager asks me.

“Yes,” I say. “Let’s rock.”

“We’re here with Jo Waldman,” Kel begins, “founder of the recently defunct Lonely Hearts Club movement.”

“Thanks, Kel,” I say. I’m hoping my words sound even, that my voice doesn’t tell the world how I really feel inside: scared, terrified really, and a little bit overenergized. I’m going for steady, smart, strong, except I’m sure I sound anything but. “I just want to thank everyone who was a part of this thing. The people who believed in it, the people who contributed to it, the people to whom it really meant something.

“And I also want to apologize to those people, too. Because the truth is, I’m a fraud. Kel was right when he outed me the night of the Lonely Hearts Club Ball. I’m a liar. And I deceived all of you.

“I am madly, completely, head over heels in love with someone. His name is Max and he’s the person who helped me design the Lonely Hearts Club site in the first place. We met the night after my first post, when my computer crashed from all the traffic, and from the second he walked through my door, I knew. I just knew. I fought it at first, because I’d sworn off love, and encouraged the rest of you to do the same thing, but the truth is, I love him.

“I do believe in love. So, there you have it. There it is. What else can I say? I believe in love.

“But I also believe in hating love, in raging, in telling the world exactly how you feel. Sometimes you need to experience that. Maybe it’s a good thing to get all of the negativity out—to scream it at the top of your lungs. Because you’ve got to get rid of it. You can’t let it fester, can’t let it stay with you. You cannot keep it inside. Because you don’t need it. What you need is to move on.

“Love
is
important. And not just romantic love. All types of love. The love you have for your family, the love you give to your friends, and the love and attention you give to making your dreams come true. It’s all important. It all needs to be nurtured.

“I’m sorry to anyone who I hurt throughout this whole crazy ride. I truly am—I hope you can all see that. And to the one person I hurt the most, I want you to know: I love you. I love you so much. If you give me another chance, I promise you, things will be different this time.”

Kel smiles back at me and nods his head. “Well done, Jo,” he says.

“How did I do?” I ask.

“We’ll find out after our next segment. I’ll give you some time to get yourself ready and then you’ll find out for yourself,” he says, as the window shades open to reveal an entire plaza filled with people. “That’s the power of live TV.”

55 - We Can Work It Out

Tweet from
@allymargolis
:

Hey, lonely hearts, check out Jo Waldman on Saturday, New York talking about the Lonely Hearts Club Ball. Turns out, she’s in love! #notsolonelyhearts

Tweet from
@allsnotfairinloveandmusic
:

Hey,
@madmax
, if you’re not watching
@NewsChannel4
right now, you need to tune in.

Tweet from
@londoncalling
:

Did you see Jo Waldman pour her heart out on Saturday, New York? Watch it here:

http://tinyurl.com/mlovbyu

How I wish I were
@madmax
at this very moment. #notsolonelyhearts

E-mail from
[email protected]
to
[email protected]
:

You need to get your ass to the Channel 4 studios ASAP. Seriously, dude. I know you’re spending the day at the Ziegfeld for that Star Wars marathon. Let me help you out—Vader is Luke’s dad.

You’re only 6 blocks away. Run, do not walk. You’ve got 10 minutes.

56 - Let’s Stay Together

Twenty minutes later, I walk out of the studio and it’s a sea of people. The entire plaza is filled with fans of Kel’s show, and it seems they’ve all just watched it on enormous screens that are strategically placed around the Channel 4 building. A camera’s followed me out—Kel said he wanted me to go out in the crowd, gauge their reactions, and when I stop to take it all in, absorb how many people are there, people who just witnessed my grand confession, the cameraman doesn’t realize I’ve stopped and walks right into the back of my head.

“Sorry, Jo,” he says, as he dislodges his camera from my mess of hair. “This will work better if you actually walk out there.”

“There are just so many people,” I say.

“This is a fraction of the people who were on your site,” he says. “The Plaza only holds about a thousand people. Didn’t you have over a million on your site? You can do this.”

I take a deep breath and walk right out. There are gates set up, so that I have to approach the crowd if I want to interact. They can’t all rush in and grab me. I walk into the tiny circle of space they’ve created and the cameraman motions for me to talk.

“Hi,” I say, unsure of what to say next. “I’m Jo Waldman. Thanks for watching me on News 4.”

“Say something more, Waldman,” I hear in my ear. Kel’s on the earpiece they gave me on my way out. “
Do
something.”

“Thanks for giving me the chance to set the record straight,” I say. “Anyone have anything to add?” I ask the crowd.

The whole crowd clamors for a chance to speak. I have no I idea who to talk to, who to give their due. But then I hear a voice. A familiar voice. I spin on my heel and see Max.

“I have something to add,” Max says. I rush over to him. He’s holding his phone, which is playing a clip of the interview I just did. I was hoping he’d see it. I have no idea how he knew it was on, or how he got here so fast, but I don’t care. I’m just happy he’s here.

We don’t say a word. We come together and kiss. I throw my arms around his body and he’s got his around mine. We kiss and we kiss and we kiss. I can barely breathe, but I don’t care.

“I missed you so much,” he says.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he says. And then he kisses me again.

I can feel the light of a camera on me but I don’t care. We kiss and we kiss and we kiss, like it’s the end of the world.

But it’s not. It’s just the beginning.

57 - Start Me Up

“Well, what did they say exactly?” Max asks. We’re at my apartment—my new apartment—and we’re eating Thai takeout on the floor, drinking Riesling out of the new glasses I bought earlier at the flea market across the street.

“I don’t know, really,” I say, trying to recall my conversation from earlier today. “Something about getting the site back to its former glory. I wasn’t really paying attention to that part. I kind of got stuck on the whole we-may-be-interested-in-buying-your-site thing. That was the important part, right?”

“Are you going to get something in writing, something that guarantees they’ll buy the site?” Max asks. “We don’t want to lose out on this again.”

“We have a meeting set up next week,” I say. “But I thought it would be a good idea to reconfigure things now, so that the site’s up and ready to go with the new format before our meeting. Let them see what it can do. Get that bid up as high as we can get it.”

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