The Next Big Thing

Chapter 5

Lauren slumped into bed waving off Keana's attempts at socializing. She was tired. Beyond that. Possibly dead. And it was only Wednesday.

The days in the rehearsal room were getting longer and longer, as they tried to cram in more coaching, more vocals, more practice. Always more, more, more, to be ready in time to start recording on Monday.

Fuck recording, Lauren thought with a groan, burrowing her face into pillow. She didn't care about the record label's deadlines, or Camila's window of fame, or the attention span of the average twelve year old. All she cared about was the fact that it was 11pm and she had to be back at the Syco offices at nine the next morning.

Grumbling she sat up grabbing laptop and checking email, firing off a quick response to her mother to let her know she was still alive. Barely.

She checked facebook, scrolling through her feed and smirking at some of her friends' posts, before turning her eyes to the search bar. After a second's hesitation, she typed in "Camila Cabello" and let herself browse through google's offerings.

The first couple of articles were about Camila's loss in the X-Factor finale, just a few months before, but the fourth was a cryptic piece about Camila being spotted having dinner with the male presenter of a related program. Who was thirty-two, fifteen years older than the kid.

Lauren wrinkled her nose and kept scrolling.

After the spate of articles, there were ones about Camila and a mysterious man at a club, Camila and a man out at the movies, Man kissing a girl goodnight on her doorstep, Camila and a male model spotted getting coffee.

Camila and a boy, Camila and a boy, and more Camila with more boys.

It seemed to go on endlessly.

Lauren rolled her eyes and closed the browser. At least she knew now that Camila definitely wasn't in it for the music. She could stop pretending the kid might give a shit, and leave her to endless parade of boys.

Lauren wanted to make music that meant something to people, but she'd settle for making music that people enjoyed.

She was less thrilled about the idea of making music that got Camila Cabello laid.

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On Thursday Lauren could only look askance as Camila trotted into the rehearsal room, her usual wide grin plastered on her face. She looked younger in the mornings, her big eyes still heavy-lidded and sleepy. She wasn't all slick professionalism before ten a.m., and it made her seem more like the kid she was.

Lauren couldn't believe that someone like her curled on a chair and making big eyes at one of coaches for part of her doughnut, had made her way through so many boys in her short little life.

It was kind of horrifying, actually. She acted so innocent.

Which just meant that everything she said and did was fake, a carefully crafted façade to sell the most records, concert tickets, and posters.

And Camila was good at it. Ally loved her as much as Dinah did now, and it had only been four days.

Of course, Camila brought Ally a lot of snacks, so her affection was practically guaranteed. But even Normani seemed to be warming to the kid.

Lauren ignored Camila's sleepy murmurings, instead focusing on the bridge of one of their more complicated songs.

"I need tea," Camila announced, uncurling herself from her seat.

Raising an eyebrow, Lauren glanced over. It was just the five of them in the rehearsal room; no interns, no PAs, not even the coaches. Did Camila expect one of them to volunteer to do her beverage run?