Chapter 3: Thank You
Chance sat on the stage after everyone had already left the studio. Dan and Darren were still there signing autographs for the cast and crew of TRL. She waited for them to finish so they could discuss the details of what was going to happen now that she had won the contest.
Chance extended her feet to stare at her shoes. At the moment, it seemed as if the world was in her hands. She felt like jumping and skipping for joy, but stayed put fearing that everyone would think she was crazy. The more she stared at her shoes, the more she thought about getting the chance to record an album with her idol, Darren. Picturing it made a wide smile come across her face.
There was something about winning the contest that brought Chance down. She wished her parents were there to see her win. Her smile faded into a frown as she thought about their deaths. It hurt so much thinking that she’d never be able to smell her mother’s cooking, or hear her father’s old music again.
Darren turned away from the crowd of people leaving the studio and looked at Chance staring at her feet. He walked over to her unnoticed and said, “You must really like those shoes.”
Chance’s head shot up at the sound of his voice. “Yeah,” she replied with a wry smile.
“They look good on you. I really mean it,” Darren tried to keep the conversation up. “So…”
“So?” Chance asked. She looked up at Darren with her chocolate brown eyes waiting for him to say something. Even with him beside her, Chance’s frown wouldn’t leave her face.
“This is going nowhere fast,” he said, sitting down beside her. “Why do you look so sad? You need to be happy. You’ve just been chosen to sing on my album. What girl would be so sad about that?”
Chance stared at Darren for a few moments before answering. “It’s not that. I’m really happy about being able to record an album with you. It’s just… I wish my parents were here to see me. I miss them so much. Even though it’s been a year and a half since the crash, it still feels like it happened yesterday,” she explained, holding back the tears.
“Hey, don’t cry. I hate it when someone cries. It makes me want to join in.” Darren put his arm around Chance to show her that he cared.
“I’m trying. It seems to be working.”
“Let’s change the subject,” Darren suggested. “How old are you?”
“I’m 17, about to turn 18,” Chance replied.
“You do not look 18. You look 21,” he complimented. Chance smiled. She liked it when someone thought she looked older. “See, that’s what I was hoping to get from you. I love it when you smile.”
“You say that to all the girls, don’t you?” Chance replied playfully. “You’re a player!”
“I’m no player!” Darren defended.
“Yes you are!”
“No, I’m not!”
“Will you two just shut up already?” Dan interrupted the little play fight. He walked up to Chance and Darren and sat down on the other side of Chance. “You’re giving me a headache. And if you really wanted to know, Chance, Darren is a player. He’ll never admit it though.”
“Ha!” Chance screamed in his face.
“Dan, you are so dead,” Darren warned.
“Now, boys. Don’t act like children. You’re grown men. How do you expect people to look up to you if you fight with each other?” Chance said in her best imitation of a motherly voice.
The three of them started to laugh. Chance fit right in. She barely knew Dan and Darren, and already they began to accept her as if they had been friends for the longest time.
“That was fucked up,” Chance said, still giggling.
“Yeah, it was. We should make fun of each other more often,” Darren replied.
“And here comes Charles, right on time,” Dan interrupted.
Chance lifted her head up to see a man walking towards them. He was dressed in a business suit and had a briefcase in his hand. From the looks of it, there was going to be a lot of business discussed tonight. He went straight up to Chance and held out his hand while saying, “Hello, I’m Charles Fisher.”
Chance shook his hand and relied, “Chance Malone, pleased to meet you.”
“As you know, I’m going to be handling the business end of the mess these two have gotten themselves into,” Charles said as he set the briefcase down at his side. Chance nervously laughed. She didn’t know what to do now that she was actually in the presence of someone that could possibly hold her destiny. “I have some things I need to discuss with you, but the most important thing is, how old are you?”
“I’m 17, about to turn 18 in another month, and before you ask if you could speak to my legal guardian, I don’t have one. I have the papers to show that I am an independent and that I don’t have any parents. I am capable of making my own decisions, and I’m ready to sign everything that you need me to sign,” Chance firmly answered him.
“Well, then, I guess we don’t have much to discuss. I’ll have to see those papers before I have you sign anything. How about I set up dinner tonight and we can talk over the deal then?”
“That’s fine with me. Give me a time and a place and I’ll be there ten minutes early.”
“The Palm Court at 7:00 sharp.”
“I’ll be there.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Chance drove back home around 5:30 that afternoon. The sun hung low over the horizon indicating that summer was coming to a close. She quietly made her way down the drive, soaking in the rays of the sun and smelling the fresh air. She loved having this newly found life. Everything had changed so quickly for her in those last few hours, it was hard to comprehend.
As Chance parked her car and stepped outside, she could hear Brutus’s barking through the door. “I’m coming,” she yelled to him. She went inside to see him sitting on the carpet at the bottom of the stairs with a big piece of paper at his feet crumpled and tattered.
Chance bent down to reach it, already knowing what it was before having the chance to see it.
On the front of the paper it said, “Bitch Finally Gets A Record Deal.” Chance turned it around to find the names Brad Jackson, Paul Hunter, Rick Ashland, and Scott Holland. She immediately ripped the paper into shreds and threw it out the door in an angry rage. She knew the four guys that had done this to her. Brad had always been rude to her, and this was no surprise. He was popular, rich, and his parents owned one of the biggest companies in New York. Paul was his best friend, and had always been in on any trick Brad pulled. Rick and Scott were new to their group. Rick was as bad as Brad, but about three years younger. He had vowed to take over when Brad left for college.
Scott, on the other hand, was a sweet boy. Chance had known him when she was little, but he moved away when they were six. It wasn’t until this year that they had seen each other again. Scott had moved back to Smithville with his father after his parents’ divorce. He became involved with Brad after being invited to join. He didn’t know what he was getting into, and Chance didn’t blame him for the mistake he made. She kept talking to him, but always in secret. If Brad found out, they’d both be in deep, especially Chance. She’d get the worst of his constant rudeness.
Right now, Chance couldn’t think about this. She had to get ready to head back to New York City for the dinner that night at the Palm Court. She rushed to her room and began to search her closet for something better to dress in. She needed a presentable outfit, but didn’t have the time to go shopping. She was already running late.
After about half an hour of searching her closet, she finally found a black velvet dress with little spaghetti straps that didn’t look so bad. Chance could remember the last time she wore the dress. It was to church the day of her parents’ funeral. Even though it brought back painful memories, Chance put it on and looked at herself in the mirror. It still fit well, surprisingly. She walked into the bathroom and plugged the curling iron into the wall, then left the room to find some makeup.
On her way towards the stairs, Chance passed her parents’ room, a place she hadn’t been in a year. This was the first time she had thought about it. It was as if putting on the dress brought back so many painful memories. She just wanted to take it off and rip it to shreds, but there was nothing else left for her to wear, and this was the most presentable thing she could put together. Finally, Chance snapped out of her daze and ran down the stairs to retrieve her purse. She ran back up and walked into her room just as her phone began to ring.
Chance dropped her purse onto her bed and began searching for the source of the ringing. The phone wasn’t on the base on her nightstand. Instead, it was beneath the rumpled leopard print sheets of her comforter.
“Hello?” she answered hoping the person was still there.
“Hey, Chance,” a familiar voice on the other end said.
“Hey, Scott,” she replied, heading to the bathroom.
“I saw you on TRL today. It’s cool that you won the contest,” Scott said.
“I know, but I can’t believe that you and the others made that sign and dropped it off at my house. How could you?” Chance nearly yelled. She walked into the bathroom and put the phone on another base to turn on the speaker and have her hands free to work on her hair. She looked into the large mirror about the sink and waited for Scott’s reply.
“I tried talking Brad out of it, but you know how he is,” he tried to explain.
“Don’t give me that shit. Besides, why the hell are you still in the group?” Chance started to curl her hair with the hot iron, but listened to Scott as he spoke.
“You know what Brad will do if I try to get out. He’s going to kill me, literally. It’s like I’m stuck in a gang and I can’t get out. If I had only known that Brad did these sorts of things to you, I would have never joined his stupid group. They’re nothing but a bunch of jerks. I don’t even know why I got involved in the first place.”
“We’ve been through this conversation about a thousand times already. I don’t have the time to argue with you tonight. I have to get ready.” Chance stuck a pin in her mouth as she pulled her hair into a tight ponytail.
“What? Where are you going?” Scott instantly asked.
“Mm mmmmm mm mmmmmm mmmm mmmmmm mmmmmmm mmmmmmmmm,” Chance mumbled with the pin still in her mouth.
“What?”
She spit the pin out and said, “I’m going to dinner with Savage Garden’s producer.”
“Oh.”
“Look, Scott, I’d love to continue this conversation with you, but I’m running late, so I’ll see you tomorrow at school.”
“Okay, bye Chance.”
“Bye Scott.”
“Wait, before you hang up, good luck tonight.”
Chance smiled. This was the first nice thing Scott had said all day. “Thank you,” she softly replied and hung up.