Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 121916 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121916 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
We see Cooper first, his name appearing at the top of the screen as he struts around onstage, performing with his band. I peek toward Kendrick again, figuring Cooper will be too enamored with himself to be looking anywhere but the screen; and my instincts are right. Cooper’s staring at the screen, while Kendrick’s looking straight at me. When our eyes lock, he flashes me a look of disdain that makes me chuckle. It’s like the man can read my mind.
When the audience gasps, I return to the video just in time to see Cooper being escorted out of Reed’s party, followed by rapid-fire visuals of “Don’t Call Me” hitting various milestones. Number one on a big chart, huge streaming numbers on the biggest platform, etc. Next, Cooper appears, smiling and winking at the camera in slow motion, dressed in the outfit he wore at the press conference, while a voice-over says, “Cooper Constantino of Alexa Play Music.”
I look at Laila and we both roll our eyes and cringe. Barf.
Thankfully, the next image on screen is a far more pleasant one: Kendrick Cook, as he masterfully plays his drums in a packed arena. And then Kendrick looking gorgeous as he throws his head back and belly laughs at something Savage has said to him. Kendrick as he holds up one of the many awards we received after “Hate Sex High” stormed onto the scene and changed all of our lives forever. Kendrick as he strips off his shirt onstage at Reed’s party and makes me scream and throw up my hands in the audience. And, finally, Kendrick wearing the clothes from the press conference, smiling in slow motion at the camera. “Kendrick Cook of Fugitive Summer,” the voiceover says, and the live audience behind us goes far crazier for Kendrick’s introduction than they did for Cooper’s.
Laila pokes me, since I’m obviously coming up next, and I cover my eyes and peek through my fingers at the screen. To begin with, we get everything I’d expect, based on how the first two video packages went. There’s footage of me playing with my band. Me acting silly with Laila. Me riding piggyback on Kendrick down a sidewalk in Europe somewhere. When was this? They must have gotten that off Fugitive Summer’s social media account from years ago. Oh, jeez. In the next rapid-fire clip, I’m kissing Cooper underneath a streetlamp. Seriously? The footage is grainy and taken from a distance. Something they took off the internet, obviously, from when Cooper joined me on tour. Did I consent to them using footage of me like this?
Next up, there I am, kissing Kendrick at his birthday party in the now-viral video clip. And then mugging with Cooper into a camera in personal footage, followed by him kissing my cheek. Again, that was footage from during the tour. But Cooper definitely shot that himself on his phone, which means he must have supplied that video. Motherfucker. And finally, there I am, kissing a glistening, shirtless Kendrick in the middle of Reed’s packed party, followed by Cooper being escorted out by three men dressed in black, the order of the clips making it look like those two things—me kissing Kendrick and Cooper being ushered out—happened simultaneously.
“Such bullshit,” I whisper to Laila with a scowl, since I know for a fact our mics are off.
“Smile,” Laila whispers back through her own fake one, and I force myself to follow her lead. Laila warned me the producers would pull some kind of fuckery today, and she was right. But she also said the only thing to do is smile and not bat an eyelash, no matter what happens, and then speak up, as needed, the moment they turn on my microphone.
In conclusion, my video introduction ends the same way the other two did: I’m shown in the smoking-hot dress I wore at the press conference, beaming excitedly for the camera, blissfully unaware all prior footage would make me look like a two-timing hussy.
“Ruby Connolly of Fugitive Summer,” the voiceover says. And a second later, the lights in the soundstage come back up.
“Wow, wow, wow!” Sunshine says, as the audience claps. “We’ve got three talented guest mentors joining us today.” She side-eyes the camera. “And they bring with them a bit of drama, wouldn’t you say? Oh my!” She giggles and flings her arm toward Cooper. “It’s Cooper Constantino, everyone!”
The audience roars, and Cooper waves and makes prayer hands, pretending to be humble.
Banter ensues between Cooper and the host, during which I dare to peek at Kendrick again. When his eyes meet mine, he shoots me a look that says, “Don’t even sweat it.” And that’s all I need—that tiny bit of support from Kendrick—to let that stupid video package roll off my back.
After laughing at something Cooper said, Sunshine says, “A little birdy told me you’ll be performing your number one hit, ‘Don’t Call Me,’ during the finale. Yes?”