computer and tapping at it in a way that implied she was very important, or at least very official.
Gil marched right up to her. “Hi,” said Gil. She smiled brightly.
“What do you want?” The woman put her hand on her hip. The tips of her nails were painted red, as though she had been clawing at something bloody.
“We’re here to see Vicky,” Gil said.
“And you are?”
“I’m no one.” Gil smiled. “But my friend is Lucy Wrenn.”
“Is that supposed to mean something to me?” She gave Lucy a look. Lucy felt herself shrivel.
“She’s singing tomorrow in the New Voices tent. We were told to come by and check in?”
“And who are you, her manager?” The woman snorted. “Well, the good news is that you don’t have to look for Vicky anymore because you’re standing right in front of her. The bad news is she has no idea who the hell you are or what the hell you’re talking about. And Vicky doesn’t make mistakes.”
“Our mutual friend Paisley played you her tape and helped set this up.”
“I don’t have a friend named Paisley.”
“Are you sure? DJ? Really hot?”
Vicky shook her head. And then snorted again. “DJ? What is this, 1998? You must be talking about Vicky, V-i-i-k-i is how she spells it, which should give you some sort of idea of the type of person she is.”
“Well, can we see V-i-i-k-i Viiki, then?” said Gil.
“She’s gone.”
“Where is she?”
“She left.”
“But she was supposed to put Lucy on the list of performers.”
“Well, I don’t know what to tell you—she didn’t do lots of things she was supposed to do, hence my being here right now.” The woman clenched her jaw. “The lineup is already full. And your friend isn’t on it.”
Gil smiled calmly. “She was only going to sing one song, though. So you could probably put her on the roster, right?” Out of the corner of her eye Lucy saw Gil grabbing something out of her little brown leather purse. Then Gil pretended to scratch her neck and as she did, slipped what looked like a glittering earplug into her ear.
“Yeah, I could ,” Vicky said. “But why would I?”
Gil paused for a moment. “I’m sure you were dealing with enough already, having to work with that girl in the first place. And now that she’s gone, you’re probably doing two full jobs. Sorry, that’s a really crap situation. We’ll leave.” Gil linked her arm through Lucy’s as if to go. Then she stopped and cocked her head. “Out of curiosity, where did she go? Run off with some guy or something?”
Vicky rolled her eyes. “Yeah, good guess. One of the guys in Monster Hands, actually. Last night.” A frown flashed across her face. A moment later it turned into a scowl. “And she left me to clean up her mess, of course.”
“From what Paisley said, she was always a star-chaser. Not even cool or hot or interesting, she just fawned over anyone famous. Pathetic.” Gil shook her head. “I’m sure in a week they’ll be back, her begging for her job and him wishing he’d never made such a dumb choice. Sucks that she left you so much to do, though.”
Vicky nodded. “Yeah.” She took a breath. “It kind of does.” She paused. “What did you say your name was again?”
Gil smiled. “I’m Gil. And this is Lucy.”
Vicky nodded again. “Listen, I shouldn’t be doing this, but”—Vicky smiled a tiny little smile—“Viiki had added a couple of her friends to the list last minute when we had a few spots left to fill. How about we just say she forgot to tell me about one of them . . .” Vicky swiped her finger across the screen and drew up a list of names. She crossed one out. “. . . but remembered to tell me about you. What’s your last name, girl?” Vicky looked at Lucy.
“Wrenn,” said Lucy. “W-r-e-n-n.”
Vicky typed it in. “Well, there we go,” she said. “You’re on tomorrow from four fifteen until four twenty-one. And you know what? What the hell, here.” She reached into her pocket
The Science of Leonardo: Inside the Mind of the Great Genius of the Renaissance