The Pike_Evermore Page 2

  Madelyn was scurrying along in my shadow, and I reached back and dragged her up beside me. I chastised, “No hiding.”

  My posse was hanging around on the walk, leaning against the wall near their rides. What a motley crew they were. A ragtag band of hardcore rockers and punk aficionados who have attached themselves to me in one way or another over the years.

  The useful ones I keep around, the rest I have the tendency to send packing. And as dysfunctional as our relationship was, I still liked the group, even though I knew they were only around because of Na Na's fame. That was the only reason I don't know if I'd exactly call them my friends, but we were friendly at least, and we got along famously.

  Brandon held open the door of his shiny black Escalade SUV, with its chrome trim. He usually drove me around. I don't remember the last time I pulled my bike out of the little garage out back. That made me think. I guess I only ride anymore when I have personal business to attend to anymore.

  Brandon's family is old money, and from what I gather, he doesn't really work. He has a “Style Agency” that his parents set up for him, but I don't know what that is or what he does since he spends most of his time hanging around with me. But he's funny, and hey, free chauffeur.

  Kat and Bethany waved a good morning to me from his back seat. I kept walking, knocking his shoulder with mine as I passed, saying, “The shrimp has me this morning.” He just inclined his head and ran around to the driver's side to follow us when we headed out.

  I was hopping a little bit after that, when Maddie kicked my shin. “I'll give you shrimp, right between the eyes.” I grinned down at her. That's why I loved her, she calls me on my bullshit every time. I'm amazed that Danielle has survived so long with her without getting buried in a shallow grave in some nearby forest.

  Then she blushed and said as we loaded up in her rusted out truck, which had her vendor cart secured in the bed. “You don't need to ride with me. I'm sure Brandon's SUV is more comfortable and has air conditioning. My truck isn't as... glamorous.”

  I just grinned at her and waited patiently for her to start the beast up. Then I offered, “You know that with your commissions from the Downtown Gallery, you can get a new truck, ten times over.”

  She shrugged like she does, checked the mirror to make sure her wig was secured well under her hat, then asked, “Why? This truck has never let my brother and me down, it's been with me since I got my license. And Sparkplug keeps it running strong for me. Gives the old man something to do.”

  Then she added with more meaning than one would think at first blush, “You don't just throw something away because you can.” There were so many implications and buried meanings in those simple words that it was almost frightening.

  The roar of the engine precluded me from giving any response. She grinned smugly at me, and I looked lazily out the window, capitulating, “Got it. You win.” Then added with a lazy smirk, “Shrimp.”

  She was all smiles and innocence now as she nodded to herself as we pulled out into traffic, “Damn skippy.”

  I squinted one eye and just had to ask, “Damn skippy?”

  “Shut up.”

  I chuckled at her as I glanced back to see the procession behind us. Three posse-mobiles and the inevitable paparazzi.

  There were more of them than usual today, likely because of the new segment I was to be broadcasting today. Bet they're expecting some sort of blowup that would have the city blushing and the FCC leveling fines against the station.

  I shook it off and I engaged in small talk with Mads as we went along, my nerves over this news segment causing my anxiety to spike. Then before I was ready, we were pulling up along the main arcade at Pike Place. The posse went past us to find parking, except for Brandon. He parked in front of us and hopped out quickly to rush back to help with the cart. Say what you will about the guy, but he is pretty considerate for a rich kid.

  I noted Kat and Bethany didn't get out to help. I keep track of these things mentally, so I know when it is time to thin the herd a bit.

  The three of us unloaded the cart, then I said, “I'll hang until you find parking.”

  She saluted and hopped back into the truck and drove to the parking garage at the end of the market, Brandon's vehicle following behind. Madelyn's brother usually drove her, but he had another job now... a legit one. One that will keep him out of jail.

  I took the time to ignore a man across the street that I saw hanging out his car window with his camera in hand. What kind of money shot does he think he'd get with me standing by Maddie's cart? What a waste of time and resources.

  Who in their right of mind wakes up one morning and has an epiphany, “Hey, I think I'll grab a camera and go poke my nose into other people's personal lives. That's what I want to do for a living.” Dumb fucks, that's who.

  I glanced at the cart and grinned. Nobody could ever say that Madelyn Stone was lazy. She was always creating fabric art, making merchandise to sell in the market, attending art showings at the gallery, and still having time for her overly cute officer girlfriend.

  It's like she had some sort of time dilation device that allowed her to get more done in a day than the rest of us mortals. And again, she didn't need to bake in the sun at the Market every day anymore, but she did. I glanced around at all the vendors setting up for the day before the opening bell. It was an amazing place, not just for its tourism value. I could see why she liked it here so much. It was a community.

  I grabbed the handles on the cart and started rolling it to where I knew my friend enjoyed watching the opening ceremony each day, as my people started arriving. I grinned at them as I pushed the cart, remembering the hilarious story of how Dani and Sparkplug had rebuilt the wheels on it. It rolled well so I'd count the story as a success.

  My people were such a patchwork group. Spanning the spectrum from clubbers to rockers and punkers. But each of them had a use in my collective. Whether it was contacts in the underground rave scene, to acquisitions for the eCommerce site, or even things as simple as a parent being an investment banker I could tap the brain of.

  At one time I felt almost guilty that I used them for my own needs until I realized it was a two-way street. A symbiotic relationship in which we each got something out of.

  Madelyn caught up with me and looked me up and down, straightened the collar of my professional jacket and said, “Now shoo. You have somewhere to be by opening bell too. Good luck, lady.”

  I gave a strained, toothy grin to her, playing up my nervousness. Then I put on my over confident mask with a little smirk, which just got her hamming it up and giving me two thumbs up before shaking her head, waving me off, and turning back to her cart. I blurted out a laugh at her antics, then spun on one of my kitten heels and marched off toward the Post Street Alley buildings and the Pike.

  The others joined up just as we arrived. I noted the news van parked at the curb and people gathered by the door to the building, some heading in. I sure hope this didn't disrupt the Pike's sales today. The bakery wasn't that big, and with a camera man, me, and what looked to be three assistants or techs... then my people, there wouldn't bee too terribly much room for customers. Especially for the regulars.

  I second guessed my determination that this was a good idea. The last thing I wanted was to negatively impact the sisters here. I really liked them.

  I looked around to my crew and said, “Only a couple in the bakery itself, ok? We don't need to crowd out their customers.”

  They nodded, and Brandon and Spike stepped forward with their HD handhelds. They were always ready to provide b-roll and promo shots. I'm still not sure what Spike's real name is. He doesn't really talk much, or really at all, but he is a video editing wizard. We all just call him Spike because of the three huge spikes in his green mohawk, and his five lip spikes.

  He runs an appointment only piercing boutique for the scene, and that's where you can find him when he isn't hanging with me. I'm pretty sure he and Kat have something going on between them
. Bed buddies or something since, besides physical compatibility, they don't seem to like each other much.

  He just sort of followed us one night to my office and started editing the video Brandon had shot that night, doing a professional quality job of it. Hell I could use talent like that. He and Brandon have been with me almost since the beginning.

  I looked at the contrast between Spike's classic punk appearance, and Brandon's clean-cut, bad boy look in his thousand dollar clubbing gear. It was just a jacket away from being formal business attire, and he made it look good. He always sported the obligatory three-day stubble that was just as much of a front as my own facade.

  I approached the gaggle of newsies at the door, and an average height blonde woman, who wore a professionally relaxed outfit, stepped forward, giving me an appraising look and cocking an eyebrow at me. I thought to myself out loud, “And this would be my producer from the studio, Porter.”

  She met my eyes, and her eyebrow cocked a little higher, I cocked my eyebrow in return and then smirked as I ran my hands along the lapels of my jacket, “What? It seemed appropriate.”

  She chuckled and exhaled with a grin and leaned in a bit and confided, “Na Na Evermore and appropriate, are diametrically opposed concepts. That's the whole reason we are all here today.”

  She offered a hand. “Porter. Porter Graves. As you surmised, I'm the producer for the Seattle Evermore segment. It's a pleasure to meet you in person. I'll admit to watching your podcasts, you have that certain something that makes people listen... in between profanities that is.”

  I grinned, she wasn't the stick up the ass I thought she'd be. I shook her hand then saluted, my mohawk bobbing as I said with military precision, “Message received, no fuckin' cussing on air.” Then I added, “I'd say it was my pleasure as well, but I don't know how much of a buzzkill you're gonna be yet.”

  She was stopping herself from chuckling as she fought off a smile, and said with a touch of humor, “I'll make you a deal, don't fuck with me and I won't fuck with you. We both have a job to do, and I prefer this venture to succeed.”

  I nodded at that, a slight smirk on my face at her profanity. “Fair enough.”

  She said, “Now then before we go in we have...”

  A small voice beside us finished her sentence, “...the finalized contracts both lawyers agreed to.”

  I glanced over, then down... and down. A short brunette with a yellow ribbon in her hair was holding a sheaf of papers up to us. She was even shorter than Madelyn. Was she even five feet tall? She wore a sailor style white and blue blouse with a blue skirt. I had to grin at the Pusheen watch she wore on her wrist. I couldn't see the color of her eyes because she was looking down and away bashfully. Holy mother of all things cute, Batman.

  A little chibi inside my head was hugging herself and gushing, “Dawww,” and I couldn't stop my smile.

  Porter grinned at the woman and then said to me as I looked over the document, “You'll have to...”

  The other girl stood on her tippy toes to look at the contract in my hands and said, “...initial at the two green arrows, and sign at the pink.”

  I patted my pockets, but the short woman had anticipated this and held a pen up to me. I accepted it with a grin and hesitated when I looked at it. It was a purple pen with JiJi, the animated black cat from the KiKi's Delivery Service anime, sitting on the top of it. I grinned as I depressed the cat and the ballpoint of the pen clicked out.

  Then I turned my thoroughly amused attention to the PostIt sticky-back arrows on the pages as she turned them for me and pointed as I started initialing. Someone had googly eyes drawn on them. When I signed the last page and dated it, she pulled the papers away.

  Then Porter said, “And we'll need you to...”

  The girl materialized another sheet from the paperwork she carried and finished, “...sign a waiver for using your likeness in station promotions.”

  She held the document on top of the others so I could sign, which I did after a cursory glance at the verbiage. I know my lawyer goes over every scrap of paperwork I sign, but I still like to have a general idea of what I am signing.

  I started to ask, “Can I...”

  She finished, “...get a copy for your records? Of course, I'll have a copy in your email before we finish today, and will mail out hard copies by certified mail by the end of the business day to you and your counsel.”

  I blinked at her efficiency and started to thank her, “Tha...”

  She blushed and hugged the papers to her chest and said, “You're welcome.”

  Porter chuckled at my overly entertained look and said, “Miss Dupree, this is Karmin Hughes. She's...”

  Karmin finished for her, “...assigned to you as your PA for the Seattle Evermore segment.”

  Porter continued like she hadn't been hijacked mid-sentence. “We all just call her Cassandra since she seems to know what we need before we even know it.”

  I smiled at the reference. In mythology, Cassandra was a woman who was given the gift of prophecy by Apollo in an attempt to woo her. She refused him, so he turned the gift into a curse so that even though she tried to save people with her prophecies, nobody would believe what she said.

  Hey, don't look at me like that. I'm quite well educated despite the look I wear. As my alter ego would say, I know shit, ok?

  Porter pulled my attention away from the girl who was now rocking on her heels humming a vaguely familiar tune to herself. “The gaffer is setting up lighting in the bakery for the cameraman, and they'll be ready for us soon. The segment starts in fifteen.”

  I was absently nodding, causing my high reaching mohawk to bob and sway as she continued, “I wanted to go over how we'll handle the segment. I...”

  I held up a hand. “Whoa now. Hold on there, I do things my way.”

  She started to argue. “There are certain formatting norms that we have to...”

  I stopped her right there by stating, “Listen darlin', does any part of me look as if I follow the norms?”

  She exhaled and said patiently, “I know reining you in is going to be like herding a passel of gerbils into a corral, but there are things we need to go over quickly. Your live segment is seven and a half minutes, but it is broken into two takes.”

  That... was something I didn't know. She paused for that to sink in, then continued. “You'll do the segment introduction, a tech will be holding cue cards to prompt you with the required information like calling out the station callsign, the segment name. I expect you can ad-lib the rest of an intro and be yourself.”

  She held up a hand as I started to smirk. “Well mostly be yourself. The station has already laid out the dos and don'ts with you as far as what the Federal Communications Commission will allow or disallow. Any breaches will have you paying any fines levied by the FCC from your own pocket.”

  I nodded with a cheesy grin to Karmin as I replied to Porter, “No fuckin' cussing, flashing, or lewd gestures on air, got it.”

  The younger girl looked down and failingly fought off a smile as she bit the tip of her tongue. This made me feel like I had accomplished a great feat to be proud of. I truly liked that I had made her smile. I hesitated when I saw the blue ankle socks sticking out of her sneakers. Something about her whole outfit was feeling so familiar to me, but I couldn't quite place it.

  Porter rolled her eyes at my snark and said in a very businesslike manner, “Duh.” Then she added, “And after the commercial break, the same thing. Prompts on cards, yadda yadda, and at the end of the segment as well. I'll be signaling one-minute warning and fifteen-second warning, and counting down the last five for you to wind things up.”

  Ok, I really hadn't given much thought to the structure of the segment as I just spoke my mind until I said my piece on my podcasts, they weren't any given length. Format and structure took a back seat to content.

  I felt a little sheepish at the realization that, ok, fine, maybe I did need a producer for this segment. It was in the professional world
after all, not the off the cuff, from the gut productions I normally did.

  I blew away a long lock of hair drooping down into my eyes from the end of the hawk, and gave her a toothy smile. She responded with a knowing, smug look. Ok, I liked her, she wasn't intimidated by Na Na.

  She seemed done with me as she turned to the other woman and said, “Cass could you...”

  She was cut off by the girl finishing for her, “Get her in for makeup and a light test. Ryoukai!”

  I hesitated as the odd platypus of a girl made an ushering motion to me. Porter looked just as amused as I was. I was wracking my brains trying to figure out why Karmin, and the way she was dressed, seemed so damn familiar to me as I followed her through the doors to the corridor leading between the other shops and the Pike.

  I muttered to the women as the other assistants, and my people followed behind us, “I do my own makeup.”

  Porter didn't seem to be listening, and Karmin was too determined upon leading me to the bakery which I already knew so well. We stopped outside the doors, and I could already see how much this whole production was adversely affecting the regular customers as they were all standing off to the side watching the camera crew set up, taking up a whole third of the bakery.

  Porter said, “Nadine?” And a redheaded woman with a portable makeup kit stepped up to me dutifully. She started just reaching up with a pad, and I glared down at her and cocked an eyebrow in challenge. If she didn't like my harsh look, too bad. It was my brand, and Na Na would break her if she tried to change it.

  Nadine swallowed hard then looked between me and Porter who crossed her arms. Nadine hesitated then started reaching toward my face again. Was she really more scared of Porter? Well, I guess she would be since the studio cut her paycheck, not me.

  I said cooly, “Think really hard about this before you do anything you may regret.”

  She stopped again and looked back at Porter, I pulled her attention back to me with, “Don't look at her, look at me. Are you sure you want to be doing this?” Gawd, Na Na could be a bitch at times, but I wasn't going to change what I had worked so very hard to perfect over the years. I still had to look into the eyes of my fans after this.