Now we continue to chapter four. I have not received many reviews yet but that is not my concern. Sorry for putting a hold on this story for so long. I managed to come up with something good, and now I am able to write the story I wanted it to be. If anyone wants to see the original screwed-up version of this story, please tell me and I shall consider uploading it. Mind you, I still do test the importance of every word before submitting it. It's hard to do it with only 24 hours in a day. So without further ado, chapter 4!
Disclaimer: Don't own anything related to Hannah Montana. But I hope you know who it was that I based my interviewer on.
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Seven o'clock arrived. I put on the wig, dressed up in my Hannah clothes, sat down of the couch and waited for Daddy to come and get going. I felt like jumping up and pacing back and forth; it was a very uncomfortable feeling, butterflies bursting to life in your tummy. By the time Daddy came down, I was biting my nails nervously, wondering whether this was a good idea like I thought only hours ago.
"Hey, don't worry honey. You did a brave thing. Let's move." Daddy touched me lightly on the shoulder in reassurance.
But no amount of comforting words were going to quieten down those butterflies. I felt slightly sick, and my hands were clammy. I mouthed a "help me!" to Daddy, gripping his hand tightly.
"Now I know honey, it's hard having to tell the world a secret like that. But you gotta stay strong. You're doin' a noble thing. Besides, the world deserves to know what happened to the famous teen-pop sensation gone to seed like a farmer turning into a baboon and jumping into a refrigerator's patch."
I gave him a look that said, "Huh?"
"You're doin' good, bud. C'mon, we're gonna be late." With that, he urged me out of the door.
A long black limo awaited us outside the door. The chauffeur opened the door and welcomed us in, giving Daddy and me a slightly pitying look. Lilly (in her purple wig disguise) and Oliver (in his musketeer suit) stood waiting on the balls of their feet, apparently nervous about the future as much as I was.
"Boogie driver!" Daddy called out to the chauffeur as we got in.
Lilly and Oliver said nothing for the next ten minutes; the atmosphere was so thick with nervousness I could feel it pressing on my chest, threatening to push out all the air. Daddy then cut through the air by asking in a raspy voice, "You kids want a drink?"
Lilly and Oliver accepted a can of Coke in silence. I refused with a wave of my hand; Coke made me gag, particularly these days, when I was still recovering from the amputation.
Unable to take the awkward silence anymore, I took out my whiteboard and wrote to Lilly, "Why aren't y'all talking?"
Lilly replied in a quiet voice, "Aren't you nervous?"
I shook my head, not to say no, but to acknowledge the presence of those annoying butterflies in my stomach. Feeling a bit sicker than just now, I held on to my stomach, hoping I wouldn't have to retch in the limo.
Perhaps Oliver noticed; he shook my shoulder and said, "You're all pale. What happened?"
I shook my head fervently at Oliver, hoping he would get my message: "Well I'm nervous, DUH!"
He didn't get it. I wrote to him angrily, "I more nervous than a porcupine in a balloon mall! How do you think I'm feeling?"
I hoped that this anxiety would wear off upon reaching the production studio where I would be interviewed, Daddy doing all the talking for me. All I had to do was sit next to him.
But I knew immediately that I was wrong when I stepped out of the limo and made my way up to the studio, Lilly, Oliver and Daddy marching behind me like a vanguard. Nervousness, pity and even grief permeated the air. The news about Hannah's passing was too painful to take.
We've reached the studio, where they did the make-up and all that preparations before going up on national television. Time ticked on faster and faster, and I felt my heartbeat quicken. Why was time running so fast? Had someone sped up all the clocks?
But this was no time for me to back out. I had to do this.
"Hannah, you're up in one minute."
Steeling myself for the interview, I squeezed Daddy's hand and gave him a determined nod. Daddy gave me a little smile in return.
"Hannah, you're up in three...two...one..."
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The theme music for the show played. As I took the step forward in full view of the cameras, I pondered on why had I not noticed those butterflies for very long now. Instead my stomach felt empty, as if it did not exist...
Miley looked like she was about to faint any moment. But despite her anxiety, she visibly steeled herself and held my hand tight. I felt a squeeze and saw her give me a nod. I only just realised that my little girl was braver than I would have dreamed her to be. It was as if an aura of radiance, hope and courage emitted from her frail body.
"Hannah, you're up in three...two...one..."
"Show time." I sighed and took a step forward.
As the theme music played, I marched onto the stage, Miley trotting up beside me, still gripping my hand.
"And now, let us welcome our guest on tonight's show, Hannah Montana and her father!"
The studio audience (I only just noticed them there!) went crazy with applause. Miley and I jumped a foot and stared wildly at them before making our way to the two chairs prepared for us on the show.
Then I saw Miley gasp audibly and wave happily at a certain person in the front row seat, labeled "invitees". To my utter surprise, I saw none other than Jake Ryan, waving back and yelling above the crowd, "How're you doing, Hannah?"
We took our seats. The host shook hands warmly.
"Good evening Mr Montana, Hannah. Welcome to Tonight's Star, live on National Television!"
"Howdy, partner."
The audience went into a hailstorm of applause once more.
"I am your host, Tom Burgundy. You may call me Tom."
"Good meetin' you here, Tom."
Tom received us warmly; that's a good sign. I could feel Miley, seated next to me, relax a great deal.
"So let's get on to the most recent issues regarding little miss over here," he gestured kindly towards Miley. "I think what everyone wants to know is, what happened?"
Miley nudged me in the arm gently, and I launched into the full story, hoping I didn't scratch that dang moustache too much; it felt like I was wearing a caterpillar.
Tom was a very experienced interviewer; I could tell. He interrupted at the the right moments, he asked questions between my pauses, and there was a while when he directed his attention to Miley, who, having been asked about her feelings and thoughts, either wrote them on the whiteboard, or whispered voicelessly into my ear so that I may answer on her behalf.
"She said it was kinda a huge shock at the start, and then horror when she realised she couldn't sing another song again."
"I see..."
nod from Miley
The audience were also perfect; they gasped where they should, they groaned when I told Tom about our crying, and some (Hannah fans, I should think) even screamed when I told the grim-faced Tom about the amputation of the vocal chords. Though I highly suspected they were told when to react, and how to react appropriately at the moment.
Miley, obviously very uncomfortable, started wringing her wrists and meddling with her fingers.
After a while...
"So Hannah, how do you go about your career now that you can't sing anymore? Have you given it a thought?" Tom prodded on.
Miley shrugged. What else was there to say?
I had to tell them the truth now. There was no avoiding this. Every word heavy with emotion, I muttered, "What is there to do now? She can't sing, she can't just dance to the music, can she? Pointless now. Guess we'll just have to face it."
Tom nodded grimly.
We did it. We announced to the world that Hannah will be retiring as a fallen pop star, and with her, her name and fame. It was pointless trying to retain Hannah's career if she can't sing. And what about potential opportunities to rise? We pondered that too. However hard Hannah tries to only dance to the music, she will never be as great as she was before.
The audience wept with grief and pity. The all-the-while squirming Miley also began to cry with bitter earnest.
Tom never expected something so severe.
"Are you sure your decision is final? That seems pretty hard on everyone."
Firmly, I declared once more, "We are retiring from the spotlight. It's over."
Seconds after saying that, I heard a signal telling us the time was up, and the show was over. Sighing deeply, Tom shook Miley's hand solemnly.
"Well, this is farewell, Hannah. Good luck in your life. And to you, Mr. Montana-" he turned his attention to me and shook my hand as well- "I can only say that we are all sorry such a tragedy should happen to everyone's favourite pop star. Such ill fortune befall your daughter."
Fighting back tears, I hung my head low and gripped Miley's shoulder as she stood up. Tom announced the end of the show, and trying to look as dignified as possible, I steered Miley off the set, marching resolutely away from the cameras.
"Well, that's all the show we have, so see you next time on Tonight's Star!"
The audience clapped with half-hearted gusto.
Backstage, Lilly and Oliver embraced their silently sobbing friend warmly. Choking on her own tears, Lilly tried to reassure herself as much as Miley, "It's okay, Miley. Everything will be alright."
Oliver was utterly speechless. For someone who is usually is ditz and all that, he really does have an emotional side. I joined in the group hug, and with a wavering voice, said, "It's done. Let's get out of here before we get attacked."
We were halted on our way out, however, when Jake Ryan appeared before us. Miley put on a dreamy look on her face I have not seen for quite some time, Lilly followed suit, and Oliver greeted him brightly, "Hey Jake!"
Jake was surprised.
"You know me?"
"Like, who doesn't know you? Hottie of the year, and all that..."
Miley gave him a look of daggers to shut him up in case he blew our cover. Lilly stepped on his foot hard when he failed to notice the warning look.
Though mystified, Jake did not ask questions. He motioned a man behind him to come forward, and the man bounced before me, taking my hand before I offered it.
"Hey there! I'm Carl Moore, director of Zombie High, and you, sir, look fa-bulous!"
His smile faded; his pep drained away when I gave no reaction. Getting down to business, Jake and his director made a proposal for Hannah to take a permanent role in Zombie High, as the undead princess Zerronda. They further explained that they would edit the story slightly so that Hannah may play the role without talking, which was impossible for her.
Miley wrote on her whiteboard "I'm listening.", looking eager and interested. Something in me was beginning to stir as well.
"So you say Hannah can play the role without talking?" I asked again.
"Yup!" Jake was happy upon noticing that we have perked up and are showing signs of interest. "We can write the story this way: Zerronda receives punishment for having a romantic but forbidden relationship with the Zombie Slayer. The King of the Underworld curses her, she loses her voice and is doomed to suffer for eternity." He added.
This proposition awakened something in us. Hannah can still take part in showbiz, can't she? So what if she can't sing? We'll figure something out. Not all is lost; it's just that Hannah is now a sidelines actress. Fate knocked at the door...
And yet, I heard these words come out of my mouth.
"Jake, I appreciate your offer, but I did say we retire from showbiz, and in any case we're gonna have to think about it."
Miley whipped her head around so fast her wig slipped dangerously. She gave me a purely incredulous stare and mouthed a "huh?!". Lilly and Oliver followed suit. I had to admit that I even surprised myself.
Jake and Carl were shocked to hear me say those unforeseen words. Trying to persuade me, Carl tried me again.
"But, surely, Mr Montana, people still do love Hannah, and it would be an ultimate disappointment if she just steps off the stage of showbiz like that! Care to reconsider?" He looked at me with begging eyes. Wow, that eager to recruit Hannah, are they?
But our decision was final.
"I'm sorry, gents, but we signed official papers to terminate all contracts. Nothing is going to revive the career now."
Miley pleaded me desperately to let her go, grasping my hand tight, her eyes wide with shock. I thought I heard her telepathically exclaim, "Daddy, if you let Hannah fall through the grass like this, I'll be just Miley! And what about the fans?"
Everyone was giving me the 'puppy pout'. I relented, trying to assure everyone, including Miley, that I will see what I can do to revive the career despite those terminated contracts.
"Let us think this over first, Jake, Carl. Gentlemen, if you will excuse us."
I steered the reluctant Miley out of the building and into the limo waiting for us outside, leaving Jake our contacts. As we moved out, I heard Oliver ask, "Aren't you supposed to be in Romania?"
"Oh, yeah, we took a break off shooting the film for a week. I resume filming in three days."
As the limo went on the highway,I noticed that Miley was sitting in brooding silence, Lilly and Oliver excitedly debating possible story plots for Zombie High with Hannah in it as a permanent cast, completely oblivious to their friend who was sitting between them. Feeling a little guilty, I turned my head to my left and decided to stare out of the window as much as possible.
After what seemed like an eternity in the limo, I opened the door of our house. Immediately Miley marched right in, angrily. With a powerful flourish she pulled the wig of her head and flung it on the couch. She sat down beside it just as Lilly and Oliver made their way to the living room.
Apparently, judging from the hasty scribbles on the whiteboard and her facial expressions, Miley was bursting with rage. I couldn't blame her. I knew how it felt like when you were so close to reviving your ruined career, and due to a moment's indecision, blew off the beautiful chance that came along.
After "Well, I'm going to bed, and I am going to think about it myself!", Miley stormed up the stairs to her room. Lilly and Oliver bade me goodnight as they turned and left, taking off their disguises. Lilly also thought along Miley's lines, while Oliver was interested in getting Hannah back up on the popularity board.
And as I twisted and turned in bed that night, thinking hard, I could not help feeling I just blew a good chance for Hannah. For Miley. I should have taken that deal just now. But, what if something goes wrong?
"No! Nothing will go wrong, Robbie Ray! Miley can take care of herself perfectly, even though you've tried to terminate Hannah's career. People still love Hannah, don't they? Why miss this opportunity?"
"I don't know, hun. What if people think she's lost her juice after all, and abandon her? Forget about Hannah? I don't want to see her get hurt like that."
"Our baby girl knows perfectly well she wants to try and redeem her stardom, even though she can't sing. And if she is successful, won't you say things ended up great anyway? Hannah the actress, not singer. But still good!"
"But what if she fails to win public appeal? What if she loses out despite trying?"
"Then she knows she perished bravely, trying her best to do good. I know Miley, dear. And I don't think she is that weak a person."
"Yeah. Guess you're right, honey. We'll see..."
Rays of morning sun pierced through the windows...
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I will definitely get on the next chapter as soon as possible. The next chapter is completely connected to this one, and I think I know how to write it. I made a modification to this chapter so that it bore the storyline I originally wanted, and yet still resembled the earlier screwed-up version of chapter 4. I don't need reviews telling me what you like in this chapter; I need suggestions as to all do you think the next chapter should look like. Please give me some additional ideas. It's been very hard trying to best my three-week long writer's block. Thank you.
Terrorking Tragedian