Wicked Ambition. Victoria Fox

wanna tell me how to live my life, asshole?’ Principal stepped forward, ready for battle.

      ‘Chill,’ warned Slink, and Robin got the impression he was used to dispelling friction. ‘We got a philosophy, you feel what I’m sayin’? We ride with the new school, the cool school, the anything that’s true school, and that’s about my girl Robin right here. G, get on down to the studio, dog, we’re gonna lay out some beats.’

      Principal backed off. There was a sinister gleam in his eye. As the youngest member of the group he fronted with the best of them, fuelled by anger at the life that had done him wrong. Robin didn’t know his history but she guessed it made her own look like Little House on the Prairie. He’d take a while to warm up, but she was determined to get on his right side.

      Slink’s studio was in his basement and rigged with mixing consoles, drum kits, monitors and mics. It was bigger and better equipped than the booth in which she’d recorded her album back in the UK, and as Slink eased into a chair and began wiring up the track she understood this was his empire and the home he’d always had.

      ‘Don’t worry about my brother upstairs,’ said G-Money. ‘He’s got beef with most people so don’t take it personal.’

      ‘I haven’t. But thanks.’

      ‘You just be doin’ your thing.’

      Robin smiled at him. ‘Always do.’

      ‘It’s since hookin’ up with the track team boys, he ain’t too happy about that. Can’t say I am either, but you gotta give it up for a good cause, you feel me?’

      ‘Jax Jackson’s idea, right?’

      ‘Dude’s a clown.’

      She couldn’t resist asking. ‘What about Leon Sway?’

      G-Money’s countenance changed. It was like a cloud passing over the sun.

      ‘None of us ever met the guy,’ he said flatly. ‘Guess he’d have a reason to get involved with the anti-weapon stand, though, huh?’

      Robin frowned. She thought Leon’s involvement with the charity venture was the stupidest, most hypocritical thing she’d ever heard. What would he know about the streets?

      ‘How do you mean?’

      But G-Money was taking a seat alongside Slink at the workstation.

      ‘You wanna get in the live room?’ Slink suggested. Barney fired her a thumbs-up. ‘Drop some sounds, see what’s up?’

      Robin put Leon Sway from her mind. She was playing with the bigger boys now.

      ‘You bet I do.’

       15

      Kristin’s home resembled one of her video sets. It was Friday evening, and in the vast mansion grounds an ivory marquee had been erected in the style of a Disney castle, its billowing fabrics and soaring turrets home to the most perfect princess in the land. On her fourteenth birthday, Bunny White was that princess. Bunny was the star of the show—and the show, it went without saying, had been orchestrated to a military agenda by their mother.

      ‘Those damn caterers, late as usual!’ bitched Ramona, rampaging through the mansion doors and slapping Kristin’s hand away from a platter of salmon tartare.

      ‘What? I’m hungry.’

      ‘Guests are arriving any second,’ she complained. ‘We’ve just this minute put the arrangements out and already you’re troughing. I thought you were dieting.’

      ‘I don’t need to diet.’ Kristin’s waist was miniature in a clinging peach Marchesa gown. Her face stung at the criticism.

      ‘Neither do I, but I do it all the same.’ Ramona lived like a bird, pecking on nuts and seeds. ‘It’s part of the job. Image, Kristin, you should know that. Bunny does.’

      ‘Bunny doesn’t need to lose weight, either.’

      ‘She will. Fourteen is the cut-off point for those puppy-fat excuses. It’s hard work from here on in. Alexis!’ The catering manager, no doubt hoping she could slip past unnoticed while Ramona was distracted, stilled in her tracks like a fox in the headlights.

      ‘Yes, Ms White?’

      ‘Where are the beignets?’

      ‘They went out with the buckwheat blinis.’

      ‘And have they been tasted?’

      Alexis looked harassed. ‘One of my girls said she ran them past you—’

      ‘Well I’m not going to do it, am I? Please! If I’d sampled every single canapé from every single party I’ve ever thrown I’d be the size of this house!’ She clamped her hands to her hips, bone on bone. ‘And if you turned up on time to your engagements then we’d be able to avoid these eleventh-hour issues, wouldn’t we?’

      ‘There are no issues, Ms White,’ said Alexis coolly. Alexis was tempted to reiterate that they’d arrived less than five minutes behind schedule, and that had only been because the ETV Birthday Brilliant! van and all its equipment had been blocking up the drive. The popular channel had agreed to come film because of the Kristin connection—Bunny wasn’t yet prominent enough—and Ramona was determined to put on a spectacular.

      Bunny appeared in the doorway. Ramona’s attention switched, as automatic and unthinking as a shark thrown fresh bait. Alexis scuttled off.

      ‘Why aren’t you wearing the wig?’ Ramona demanded. ‘We bought it specially.’

      Bunny looked to the floor. ‘I didn’t want to.’

      ‘Why?’

      ‘It’s itchy.’

      Ramona rolled her eyes, exasperated. Not once did she tell Bunny how lovely she looked in her fairy-tale coral dress with delicate sash bow.

      ‘Wow,’ said Kristin, making up for it. ‘You look so amazing, Bun. Really grown-up.’

      Bunny smiled shyly.

      ‘Go and put the wig on,’ snapped Ramona.

      ‘I don’t want to.’

      ‘You don’t want to? What do you want, then? For everyone to think you look like a silly little infant? You’re a woman now, Bunny.’

      ‘No, she isn’t,’ countered Kristin, her anger bubbling over. ‘And I don’t think she should wear the wig either. It makes her look like a drag queen.’

      Bunny giggled. Kristin joined in.

      ‘Stop it!’ shrieked Ramona, close to the edge. ‘Don’t you ever dare laugh at me!’

      The camera crew entered, a bunch of girls in DMs and guys with shaggy hairstyles and lumberjack shirts. Ramona composed herself.

      ‘We’ve done the interior shots,’ said the girl in charge. ‘OK if we step outside?’

      ‘Of course,’ said Ramona, eager to please, and just a touch paranoid that they might have witnessed the tail end of her outburst.

      ‘We’ve got a team out front,’ the girl went on, ‘so we can catch the celebrities as they arrive. Did you say you had a carpet you wanted to lay out?’

      ‘Oh!’ Ramona’s bejewelled hands flew to her face. ‘What am I thinking? I completely forgot!’ She acted the loveable ditz but the oversight secretly slayed her.

      Kristin wanted to strangle her mother. Why couldn’t Bunny hang with her own friends, have a barbecue in the sun? This party wasn’t for her at all; it was for Ramona. Their mother was obsessed with having the best set, the best coverage and the best guests—where ‘best’ stood for ‘expensive’ or ‘most bankable’. There had been tears when Bunny had asked to invite