“But I tried, baby,” Jordan said when he and Tania were reunited. “I really tried to get him for you.”
“I know you did,” Tania said, so overwhelmed with relief that Jordan had been found alive that she insisted on riding along to Beth Israel with him in the ambulance to make sure his CAT scans turned out normal. Four hours later, we got the call that the scans had, and that they were sending over Jordan’s assistant to collect their things from our house.
“Thanks so much for everything, you guys,” Jordan said into the phone. “But Tania doesn’t feel like we need to stay with you anymore. She’s ready to come home.”
“Oh really?” I’d said, holding up my hand for Cooper to high-five. “That’s too bad. We’ll miss you both so much.”
Now I stroke Lucy’s head as she curls up on the bed beside us and gaze at Cooper’s new Armani tuxedo, hanging from my closet door.
“You know,” I say, “that paint is supposed to be washable.”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Cooper says and reaches into the drawer of the nightstand on his side of the bed for the remote. “What do you say we unwind by watching one of those shows you like, where the people eat weird things?”
“You shouldn’t beat yourself up over it,” I say with a smile. “I thought those girls were being attacked too.”
“They were being attacked,” Cooper reminds me.
“Right,” I say. “Good thing you were there with your Glock to put a stop to it—”
He lifts one of the pillows and puts it over my face, pretending to smother me as I laugh and Lucy begins to bark and Owen, over on the dresser, looks away in disdain.
I don’t blame the cat. Cassidy, in her nonstop quest to get as much on-camera time as possible on Jordan Loves Tania, had thought it would be highly amusing to pull a paintball gun from where she’d hidden it in the dressing room and ambush the competition as they were lined up in the hallway outside the stage door, waiting for the Rock Off to begin.
That turns out to have been what all the screaming was about right before Gary came upon Tania and me backstage . . . and why, because the paintball attack caused so much hysteria and chaos, it took Cooper a little while to wade through it and get back to us.
“What did I do that was so wrong?” Cassidy kept asking, her eyes widened innocently, when Mallory and the other girls, in tears, accused her of purposefully ruining their outfits. “Anyone can check out paintball stuff from the college sports complex. All you have to do is leave your ID. Don’t be such bad sports, you guys. The show must go on, right?”
Only it turns out that in cases of shootings, the show does not go on. The Rock Off was canceled due to the real-life shooting, the film crew turned off their cameras, and the girls were told to go home with their families. Tania Trace Rock Camp was over, for good.
“This is outrageous,” I overheard Mrs. Upton raging at Stephanie on the sidewalk outside the auditorium as I accompanied Cooper to Detective Canavan’s car (because it turns out you can’t shoot someone, not even a wanted suspect in multiple crimes, in self-defense and not have to go down to the station house to answer a lot of questions about it). “I demand that my daughter be given the opportunity that she was promised in the contract that she signed to compete for the $50,000 prize and recording contract with—”
“Mrs. Upton.” Stephanie Brewer was leaning against the side of the building. She looked happier than I’d seen her in a while, but I’m pretty sure that was because the camp was officially over. “I’ve been wanting to say this to you for two weeks now. Shut. Up.”
Mrs. Upton looked shocked. “What did you say to me?”
“I said, shut up,” Stephanie said again. “Even if we did reschedule the Rock Off, there’s no way your kid would win, because she’s such a little bitch, no one at Cartwright Rec-ords can stand working with her. Okay? So take my advice and get out of here. No, wait . . . get out of show business.”
Mrs. Upton blinked as if Stephanie had slapped her.
“I . . . I . . . I’ll sue Cartwright Records for this!” she cried.
“That’s right,” Cassidy said, backing her mother up. “Cartwright Records and Tania Trace.”
Emmanuella and a few of the other girls, including Mallory St. Clare, happened to be walking by with their parents as this happened.
“What did she say?” Emmanuella asked, coming to a halt beside Mrs. Upton.
“She said she’s going to sue me,” Stephanie said, dragging a hand through her hair. “And Tania. Like I care.”
“That’s what I thought she said.” Emmanuella looked at the other girls, and then, in pitch-perfect harmony, they began to sing, “ ‘Go ahead, go all the way, take me to court, it’ll make my day!’ ”
Their exuberant voices lifted toward the night sky, causing people as far away as the dog park in Washington Square to turn their heads curiously to listen.
“ ‘If I’ve got one regret,’ ” they sang, giggling in their paintball-streaked clothes, “ ‘it’s all the time I spent, all the tears I wept, thinking you were worth the bet . . . So sue me!’ ”
Christopher Allington walked over to where Stephanie was standing, tears in her eyes, as she watched the girls dance and sing as if they didn’t have a care in the world. He took out his camera phone to record the moment forever, but Stephanie put her hand on his arm and shook her head.
“No,” she said. “Don’t film it. Let’s be in the moment, not view it through a lens.”
Christopher smiled, lowered the camera, and put his arm around her.
Over by his car, Detective Canavan rolled his eyes. “Kids,” he said as he unlocked the door. “Lord knows I love my own, but if I had to work with ’em all day, I’d shoot myself in the head.” Then, with a glance at Cooper, he says, “Oh. Sorry. Aw, what am I apologizing for? You got the guy in the chest. Nice shot, by the way. Remind me to buy you a drink.”
Back in my room, Cooper stops pretending to smother me, rolls over with a sigh, and looks up at the dolls from many nations. “It’s nice to have your bed back.”
“It is,” I say. “Although I can’t stop thinking about what they might have done in here.”