The Daughters Take the Stage

  “Hope instant’s okay,” Mrs. Geyer said, putting a kettle on the stove. “I know we’re not supposed to be drinking stuff like that, but sometimes it’s just so much easier.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Hudson said. She didn’t think her mom even had Hershey’s chocolate in the house, let alone instant Swiss Miss.

  “You know, I saw you sing with Hillary,” she said. “You really are very talented.”

  “Thank you,” Hudson said.

  “And there’s something so familiar about you,” Mrs. Geyer said. “Maybe it’s your voice. But you remind me of someone.” She shook her head and shrugged. “So, you live in the city?”

  “Yep,” Hudson said, starting to get nervous. She scanned the kitchen for a cast-aside US Weekly or Life & Style. But before Mrs. Geyer could question her further, Ben walked into the kitchen. Or rather, tripped into the kitchen, over a hockey stick that lay diagonally on the ground. “Oh, hey, Hudson!” he said, grabbing a chair to steady himself.

  “Honey,” Mrs. Geyer said.

  “Good news,” Ben said, straightening up. “We have our first show. This Friday night.”

  “This Friday?” Hudson asked.

  “Well, it’s not really a show,” Ben said, taking off his glasses and blowing on them to clean them. “It’s my friend’s birthday party. I told them we’d play at it. It’s just at her house.”

  “Ellie is going to love you guys,” said Mrs. Geyer, handing Hudson a mug of Swiss Miss.

  “Are you sure we’re ready for that?” Hudson asked as she followed Ben down the stairs to the basement. “We’ve barely had a rehearsal.”

  “Yeah, it’ll be great,” Ben said casually. “No worries.”

  “Okay,” she said, unconvinced. He may not have been worried, but she was. And who exactly was Ellie?

  When she reached the basement, she realized that the show was going to happen a lot sooner than Friday—it was about to happen now. There, draped on the pink and brown plaid couch and sitting cross-legged on the floor, were four girls and four guys. All of them seemed to be Ben’s age. Two of the girls were identical twins. A couple of the guys watched the TV on mute. The rest seemed to be watching Gordie and Logan, who were in the middle of another experimental jazz set. Gordie wailed on his drum kit while Logan blasted away with his sax. Hudson didn’t know how anyone could listen to them for long. She didn’t want to say anything, but she thought that they definitely needed some quality rehearsal time before they played for a group.

  “Okay, guys, Hudson’s here,” said Ben. “Everyone? This is Hudson Jones, our new lead singer.”

  “Hi, everyone,” Hudson said, waving shyly.

  “Hey,” one of the girls said, getting to her feet. “I’m Ellie. It’s my party on Friday. Oh, and don’t worry—we have a piano. You guys are gonna be great.” Ellie was Asian-American, and she had a friendly way of leaning in close when she talked. Her black hair splashed against her shoulders, and she wore an adorable purple ruffled blouse that Hudson immediately wanted to borrow.

  “Thanks,” Hudson said. “Are you guys here for our rehearsal?”

  “Yeah, but we all promise to be super-quiet,” Ellie said, dropping back down to the floor. “Okay, everyone,” she announced to the group. “Time to zip it.”

  “Hudson, we definitely want to do the song you sang the other day,” said Ben. “But we thought we’d just practice a few covers, too. Anything you want to start with?”

  Hudson sat down at the piano. She could still feel the group of kids behind her, staring at her. She wished Ben had warned her about having an audience. This didn’t seem fair. But then she reminded herself: Nobody knows who you are.

  Gordie waved hello from behind the drum kit, and she waved back. Logan kept his head down, and busied himself by fidgeting with the keys of his sax. She couldn’t tell if he was ignoring her.

  “Let’s do ‘I’ll Be Seeing You,’ ” she suggested. At least it has lots of saxophone in it, Hudson thought.

  “Cool,” said Ben.

  She started playing, and when Logan joined in, his sax was so loud that it almost drowned out her voice. Hudson did her best to sing over him, but it wasn’t easy.

  “That was awesome!” Ellie yelled out when they were done. “You guys have to do that one!”

  They followed with “Fly Me to the Moon,” “At Last,” and “Feeling Good,” which Logan almost entirely blotted out with his sax. But Ben was phenomenal. He never missed one beat, and seemed to have practiced all of these songs for hours. Finally they ended with “My Baby Just Cares for Me,” which had only a small part for Logan to ruin.

  “That was soooo good!” Ellie said as the rest of the kids clapped. “Hudson, you have an amazing voice!”

  “I told you, right?” Ben asked.

  “Thanks,” Hudson said, feeling herself turn red. Receiving praise always made her uncomfortable. When she happened to catch Logan glowering at her, she felt even more awkward. “But I probably should try to make the six-oh-seven train.”

  “Ellie can take you,” Ben said, getting up. “She’s got her license. She’s a junior.”

  Hudson turned to Logan. “Good rehearsal,” she said to him, smiling.

  “Yeah,” Logan replied, barely looking at her. Then he got up and went to sit down next to the twin girls, as if Hudson were no more than a stranger.

  Yep, he hates me, Hudson thought as she followed Ben and Ellie out the back basement door. There was probably nothing she could do about it, but it gnawed at her, like one of her geometry problems.

  Outside it was already dark, and a big frosty full moon hovered above the trees. Hudson craned her head back to look up at the night sky. “Wow,” she said. “You can actually see stars.”

  “Uh, yeah,” Ellie said, laughing, as she opened the door to her Saab.

  “You can never see stars in the city,” Hudson said. “There’re too many lights.”

  “We could use a few more lights up here,” Ben said, crawling into the back and flipping the seat back up so Hudson could sit in front.

  Hudson got into the car and shut the door. She had never been driven by someone who was so close to her age. For a moment she was almost scared, but then Ellie turned the key in the ignition and expertly backed out of the driveway.

  “What?” Ellie asked, catching Hudson watching her.

  “I don’t know any kids in the city who drive,” Hudson observed.

  “It kind of comes in handy up here,” said Ellie, pulling out onto the street. “What part do you live in?”

  “The West Village,” she said.

  “Cool,” said Ellie, nodding with approval. “My dad works in the city. We go in once in a while, to shop or go to some restaurant that’s way overpriced. Where do you go to school?”

  “Chadwick,” Hudson said. “Same place Ben’s cousin Hillary goes.”

  “I’ve heard of that school.” Ellie wrinkled her nose, as if she smelled something bad. “Isn’t that where all those celebrities’ kids go?”

  Hudson started. “Um, I guess so,” she said carefully.

  “Wait,” Ellie said. “Ben, didn’t you ask your cousin once who went there? Who did she say again?”

  “I can’t remember. And I think you just missed the turn,” Ben said, sitting forward. “It’s back there.”

  “Oh, great,” Ellie said, pulling over and then making a U-turn. “Um, how long have I lived here?” she joked. “Earth to Ellie.”

  Hudson smiled. She liked Ellie more and more. But she wondered if Hillary had ever told Ben who she was. It sounded like she had, a long time ago. What if he remembered?

  “Where do you guys go to school?” Hudson asked quickly, before Ellie could return to her line of questioning.

  “Mamaroneck High.”

  “It’s in the next town over,” said Ben.

  “Do you guys have a football team?” Hudson asked.

  “Of course,” Ellie said. “Why?”

  “That’s something else we don’t h
ave,” Hudson said.

  “It’s really not that great,” Ben put in. “I’d rather go to Chadwick any day. At least there are cool music clubs downtown.”

  “Ben is really into jazz,” Ellie said, as if Ben weren’t in the car.

  “I think that’s great,” Hudson said. She looked at Ben in the rearview mirror. He smiled.

  “No. Really into it,” Ellie repeated.

  “Better watch out,” he joked. “I’m pretty serious about this.”

  “Good,” Hudson said, smiling back at him.

  They pulled into the train station parking lot. A few people stood huddled on the platform.

  “Thanks for the ride, Ellie.” Hudson got out of the car and wrapped her scarf over her face. It was so cold her nose felt like it might fall off.

  Ben got out of the backseat and moved to the front. “So be at my place by six o’clock Friday night,” he said. “And Hudson?” Ben stuck his head out of the passenger side window. “You were awesome tonight.”

  “You really were,” Ellie said.

  “So were you, Ben,” Hudson said. “I’ll see you Friday.”

  She walked up the steps to the platform, touched by how nice they’d been to her. But she had to wonder if they would have been so nice if they’d known who she was. She remembered the way Ellie had wrinkled her nose as she said celebrities’ kids. Eventually they were going to figure out who she was. But by then, she hoped, they’d be able to see her the same way as they had tonight: a shy girl with a big voice who loved jazz and Nina Simone. A girl, Hudson thought, watching Ellie’s car drive out of the lot, who felt like she might just have a career in music after all.

  chapter 18

  “I just want you to be honest,” Holla said as the service elevator creaked on the long ride up to the recording studio. “It’s your song, so I want your true reaction.”

  “Sure, Mom,” Hudson said uncertainly, shifting her book bag onto her other shoulder. No matter how often Holla said she wanted Hudson’s “true reaction” to something—whether she wanted to know if her hands looked “veiny” or if the dance routine for a certain song was too “Solid Gold”—Hudson never told her mom what she didn’t want to hear.

  “I think you’re going to be very proud,” Holla said, taking off the black oversized sunglasses she’d put on to walk past the photographers and fans who’d been waiting outside the recording studio. “Chris thinks it’s gonna be huge.” She smiled nervously as she put the glasses in her ostrich-skin shoulder bag. “We’ll see.”

  Hudson glanced at Little Jimmy and Sophie, and for a moment they made sympathetic eye contact with her. They, too, knew how Holla felt about other people’s opinions, even when she’d asked for them.

  “And how’s Jenny?” Holla asked.

  “Jenny?” Hudson asked, momentarily thrown.

  “You were with her for hours yesterday,” she said. “Did you run the party idea past her? Does she want to do it?”

  With a start, Hudson remembered lying about seeing Jenny so she could go to Larchmont for band rehearsal. “Oh, yeah, she thinks it’s a great idea.”

  “And February twenty-first is fine with her?”

  “Yup,” Hudson asserted, as brightly as possible. Hadn’t Jenny actually said that the other day? She couldn’t remember. She needed to text her.

  Hudson followed the group through a pair of glass doors into the studio’s reception area, past the lounge and the kitchen, and down the hallway to a door marked CONTROL ROOM 2. Holla opened the door.

  “Hey!” Chris said, standing up from behind the wraparound sound console. “Welcome back, Hudson!” He wore a blue knit hat that made his eyes seem extra vivid, and a T-shirt with Jimi Hendrix’s face on it. He started to hug her, but then gave her a high five instead. “Thanks for coming down.”

  “Hey, Chris,” Hudson said, feeling, as usual, a little awkward around him. “How’s everything going?”

  “Great. I can’t wait for you to hear the song,” he said. “Oh, this is Liam, the sound engineer,” he said, gesturing to the older man sitting in a chair. He had big, sad eyes and a mustache, and seemed eager to get started. “Liam, this is Holla’s daughter, Hudson. I used to be her producer.”

  “Hi,” Liam said tersely, then went back to studying the knobs and dials of the immense console.

  “Okay, who has a coconut water?” Holla asked, putting down her bag.

  Chris opened a mini-fridge in the back of the room and pulled out a blue can. “Here you go, madam.”

  Holla popped open the can and gave him a meaningful smile. “Merci,” she said with a giggle and took a couple of sips. “Okay!” she said sharply. “I’m ready. Let’s do this.” She turned to look at Hudson. “Remember, tell me what you think. Okay?”

  Hudson nodded earnestly and Holla walked out. Hudson went to the couch in the back and dropped her book bag to the floor. She sat on the couch and spread her coat over her legs, staring at Chris as he manned the sound console. She still got a weird feeling about him and her mom. They were spending hours together in this tiny room every day. Then he was coming over at night. And he seemed extra amped-up right now, as if he were on his best behavior.

  Chris leaned close to the intercom and said, “Okay, Holla, how are you doing in there?”

  Through the glass they watched Holla walk into the vocal booth next door. She slipped on a pair of headphones and gave Chris a thumbs-up.

  Chris turned around and looked at Hudson, his blue eyes sparkling. “Just wait, you’re gonna love this,” he boasted, and then turned back around. “And uh one,” Chris said into the intercom. “Uh, two. Uh one, two, three, four…”

  Liam hit a button and Hudson’s song poured out through the speakers. It sounded even worse. They’d added even more tracks to it, which Hudson hadn’t thought was possible. There were more crash cymbals and kick-drums, and now a chorus of digital voices screamed “Hey!” on every fourth beat. At one point, Hudson thought she could hear a sampled car alarm. Oh, God, she thought, hugging her knees to her chest. How do I tell my mom that this is good?

  Through the glass she watched her mom in her stretchy purple sweater and yoga pants, swaying to the music.

  And then Holla closed her eyes, tilted her chin, and started to sing.

  Oooh, I love the way you talk to me on the line

  Ooh, I love the way you tell me that you’re mine

  I love the way you won’t let me go

  And now I love that I’m telling you so…

  Hudson had experienced many surreal moments in her life—being mobbed with her mom by screaming and crying Japanese girls in Harajuku, Tokyo; racing a Big Wheel through the winding tunnels below Madison Square Garden; being photographed by a cell phone camera in her dentist’s waiting room—but this topped them all. Her thirty-seven-year-old mom was singing a song about a sixteen-year-old boy. A boy Hudson had once had a crush on. And she was practically writhing as she was doing it. She hugged her knees in tighter, cringing even more. The four-minute song seemed to last a lifetime.

  “Perfect!” Chris yelled into the intercom when Holla was done. “That was just perfect!”

  “Really?” Holla asked excitedly. She pulled off her headphones, looking flushed and giddy. Then she left the booth.

  Chris swiveled around in his chair to face Hudson. “What’d you think?” he asked, his face bright with pride. “Sounds pretty good, huh?”

  Hudson swallowed. “Yeah!” she chirped.

  Holla bounded into the control room. “Phew!” she cried out, striking a dramatic pose, with the back of her hand pressed against her forehead. “So it was okay?” she asked Chris. “I didn’t go too high at the end?”

  “It was amazing,” he said. “And someone else liked it, too.” He jerked his thumb in Hudson’s direction.

  “You did? You liked it?” Holla asked, her brown eyes filled with delight.

  Hudson bit her lip. “You guys really put a lot of work into it,” she said carefully.

  H
olla’s eyes narrowed, catching Hudson’s hesitation. “What do you mean?” she asked, stepping closer to Chris.

  “I just think it sounds a little… busy,” Hudson said delicately.

  Holla and Chris traded quizzical looks. “Busy?” Holla repeated.

  “Forget it,” Hudson said. “It’s great. I’m sure it’ll be a big hit.”

  “Wait, hold on,” Holla said, holding up a hand. “You don’t get away that easy. Explain what you mean.”

  “Um, just that it… well… it just doesn’t sound like…” Hudson let her voice trail off as her mom continued to stare. “Can I talk to you in private?”

  Holla looked at Chris and the sound engineer. Without a word they got up and went to the door. Sophie and Little Jimmy followed. The door shut behind them.

  Alone with Holla, who seemed to be growing more annoyed every second, Hudson tried to figure out how to tell her mom the truth. “Your voice sounds great, Mom,” she began, “but there’s too much going on. He’s done too much to the backup track. It’s too layered. All the sampling… it just sounds a little cheesy.”

  At the word cheesy, Holla raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like you hated it.”

  “I didn’t hate it,” Hudson said. “I’m just saying that it could be better with less going on in it. That’s all.”

  Holla nodded, seeming to mull this over. “Well, you haven’t wanted me to do this song ever since we asked you about it,” Holla said. “Admit it. You’ve had a problem with this from the beginning.”

  “You said you wanted my opinion, just now, in the elevator,” Hudson said, getting angry. “And I’m giving it to you. I’m not trying to be mean or anything.”

  “This is supposed to be my next single,” Holla said, her voice starting to get louder. “How could you tell me it’s bad?”

  “Because I’m just trying to be honest.”

  “Well, Chris seems to think it’s great,” Holla pointed out.

  “Of course he does,” Hudson muttered.

  “What does that mean?” Holla asked.

  “It means you’re totally dating him,” Hudson blurted out. “Right?”

  Holla’s angry expression lifted. “So that’s what you’re mad at me about? Chris?”