Pop Princess Read Online Free

asked.
    â€œYou mean not falling apart?” I said.
    Tig came outside to greet us. The wind flapped his white suit against his dark skin. The guy was the smartest dresser I have ever seen. He had a round face that would have appeared youthfully innocent and kind were it not for those shark gray eyes framed by short spiked black braids. He said, “Thanks for dropping her off, Marie. Great seeing you. We’ll call you later when she’s ready to come home.” He flashed the killer smile and put his arm around my shoulders before Mom had a chance to protest. She had definitely expected to stay with me, not drop me off.
    Tig’s house was decorated with frilly, flowery patterns, New England quilts on the walls, and awful lace curtains, and it smelled like carpet cleaner. I guess Tig could see the look of confusion on my face because he said, “The soon-to-be ex decorated the house. Sucks, doesn’t it?”
    â€œKind of! I guess I woulda thought you’d have like gold records lining the walls and big leather couches and electronic equipment everywhere.”
    â€œSoon as those divorce papers are signed next month this house will be fully de-Martha Stewartized. Tell your friends they can come over and spray-paint the walls over this effin Laura Ashley wallpaper if they want.” I noted the walls’ spray-painting potential and made a mental note to myself: Make friends.
    We walked through to the back of the house and outside to the backyard. Tig led me to a large garage and punched a code into a security system. “My sanctuary,” he announced.
    The garage door opened to reveal a recording booth with a glass wall separating it from a recording console room, and a small separate room with a big TV and stereo, a La-Z-Boy recliner, a long futon on a wooden frame, and a bookcase full of CDs.
    â€œCool!” I said.
    Tig shrugged. “Eh, this is really just a PlayStation for a guy who thought he could be a record producer but turned out to be better at managing talent. Strictly juvenile, this spread.” As we walked inside, Tig turned to me and asked, “Wonder, before we start this, you need to tell me now: Are you in this?”
    I thought of Lucky and answered for her. “Sure am!”
    I sat down on the stool below the microphone.
    â€œGot a favorite song you want to try out?” Tig asked.
    I so closely associated Tig with Lucky that I didn’t think before suggesting, “ ‘I’m Ready,’ ” the last song my sister had written.
    Tig looked at me funny. “You’re sure?” I nodded. He sounded skeptical, but he said, “That’s maybe not the strongest song of hers but, okay. I don’t have music on it so why don’t you just sing straight out.”
    Tig gestured GO to me from the other side of the glass window in the studio.
    I sang,
    I’ve known you so long.
    We’ve been friends forever.
    You’ve always been there for me.
    I’ll always be there for you.
    We’ve waited so long
    Now I’m ready
    I’m ready to love you.
    I thought my voice was confident and sounded good, but Tig stopped me.
    â€œDo you know how you sound?” he asked through the headset.
    I said, “Pretty damn good?”
    â€œNope. You’re singing like Lucky. Sweet and innocent, nice. Sing like Wonder.”
    I wanted to tell him, But Wonder always sang backup for Lucky. Wonder doesn’t know how Wonder sings. Wonder was the dancer! Didn’t you watch Beantown Kidz?
    I tried again, but this time was worse. I saw my sister’s face on the other side of the microphone, holding the headset to her ear with one hand. Her blond curls hung down her shoulders, and her cheeks were rosy and happy with the joy she found in singing. She was such a pretty girl, especially when she sang.
    Tig announced, “I see your feet tapping and your hips rocking, Wonder. I know you have more in you.”
    One more