Star struck, p.1
Star Struck, page 1
Copyright © 2013 JS Taylor.
All rights reserved.
Devoted Books
35 Cambridge Road, Hove
www.devoted-ebooks.com
First Edition December 2013
The characters in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
ISBN 10: 1482084007
ISBN 13: 9781482084009
Printed in the United Kingdom
Chapter 1
The bus swerves dangerously, and I wince as Georgina slams into me.
‘Sorry, Summer.’ George holds up a hand in apology, smoothing her blonde hair with the other. ‘I’m not used to public transport.’
‘Don’t worry about it,’ I say with a smile. ‘After today’s audition, we’ll be taking limos, right?’
I wink at Tammy, and she rolls her eyes and grins.
‘Absolutely,’ says George. Her upper-class accent rises over the general noise of the bus. ‘We’re the perfect threesome,’ she adds. ‘Summer has the voice, Tammy has the harmonies, and I have the class.’
Even Tammy laughs at this.
The Houses of Parliament speed past the double decker window, and I feel a spark of excitement.
An audition for Sing-Win. Not bad for a country girl from Wales.
Only a few months ago, my backdrop was valleys and sheep. Now, after months of hard slog, the big break could finally be here. And I plan to grab it with both hands.
Compared to my bandmates, I’m an outsider. Tammy grew up in an East London council estate. Wearing sweats and with her hoody lowered over her pretty Asian face, she blends in with the other bus passengers. And although George is from the opposite social background, her confidence means she belongs anywhere in the capital.
In contrast, I arrived a few months ago with a dream of making it as a singer, and a Welsh accent, which meant I had to repeat myself. Often.
But I’m used to making the outcast tag work for me. Growing up in a little valley town, I had to defend my rock star style daily. At least in London, no one bats an eye at my clothing.
Today I’m in my singing-audition-staple — a leopard print jumper-dress, black spike-heeled ankle boots, and my favourite battered leather jacket.
My hair is naturally a dirty blonde, but I’ve been perfecting rock star bleaching since forever. I’ve gathered it into a mussed ponytail for the audition and darkened my brown eyes with Debbie Harry style make-up.
‘It’s only a shame you didn’t take my advice about us dressing the same,’ George sighs loudly. A few passengers have turned to stare at us now.
‘Keep your voice down,’ I mutter.
George attracts attention wherever she goes. But on a Camden bus, her loud voice and model physique attract open stares. She’s wearing designer ballet flats and a baby-doll dress which stops far short of her long honey-coloured limbs.
‘You should get used to it, Summer,’ says George, unapologetic. ‘Soon everyone will know who we are.’
‘We have to pass the audition first,’ sighs Tammy. ‘I’ve never passed anything in my life.’
I put my arm around her shoulder.
‘Think if we get through, eh?’ I coax. ‘No more sharing a tiny bedsit. No more baked beans on toast.’
Tammy grins. ‘I like baked beans on toast.’
‘Well, I don’t,’ announces George. ‘It’s easier for you girls. I’m not used to bedsit living. Thank God my brother got us this audition. It’s like…’
‘Better than the X Factor,’ say Tammy and I in unison.
‘We know, George,’ I add. ‘You’ve only told us about twenty times. We’re very grateful to your brother. Sing-Win could be our big break.’
The show we’re auditioning for is called Sing Like You’re Winning. But it’s had so much publicity that it’s already nicknamed Sing-Win.
Tammy shakes her head. ‘I can’t believe you talked us into this, George,’ she says. ‘It’s a total sell-out. Everyone knows this show rips off X Factor.’
I mentally prepare for fireworks. They’ve had this row three times already this morning.
The truth is, we’d all rather be trying out for something with more integrity. But after weeks of auditions, we’re running out of cash. So allowing George’s producer brother to pull some strings was a reluctant necessity.
‘It’s a completely different concept,’ retorts George angrily. ‘First, the entrants write their own music.’ She begins counting off on her long fingers. ‘Second, they don’t let just anyone audition. You have to be selected.’
‘Third, it’s a TV singing contest,’ says Tammy. ‘Wake up, George. They’ll do whatever it takes to make good television. Especially if that means making us look like idiots.’
‘We’ll be amazing,’ says George, totally unfazed by Tammy’s doubts. ‘Summer has been writing songs since she was six. Our music is really good.’
I smile. In this business, it’s nice to have someone as self-assured as George around.
Tammy is chewing her fingernails. ‘We’ve been a band for less than five weeks,’ she mutters to George. ‘And we only got the audition because your brother used his contacts.’
Tammy doesn’t have George’s unshakable self-confidence. She’s used to life being tough. Tammy came to singing through rap battles in a London estate. Her harmonising is incredible. But with her background and mixed-race heritage, she still has a hard time seeing herself as a mainstream singer.
‘It’ll be great, Tams,’ I say, trying to sound more confident than I feel. ‘If they don’t love us, it’s their loss.’
The truth is, I think we could use some more practice. Only a few weeks ago, we were all solo singers ‘discovered’ by a dodgy producer and crammed into a tiny bedsit between sordid gigs.
Tammy sighs. ‘I guess anything is better than gigs arranged by Benny,’ she says with a little shudder at the thought of our pervy ex-manager.
For once, George nods in agreement with Tammy.
‘Benny was the worst manager ever. He wanted me to do a sing-strip for a stag night,’ she says, the outrage still thick in her voice. ‘He was total low-grade.’
I stay silent, and Tammy catches my eye.
‘Sorry, Summer,’ she whispers. Benny was a good friend of Dez — my shady ex-boyfriend. Though I’m relieved we’re no longer together, I hate how it ended.
‘That’s ok,’ I say, keeping my voice steady. ‘We’re well shot of Benny. And we’re much better as a team than as solo singers.’
I put my arms around them both.
‘We made the right decision, girls. You’ll see. Ditching our manager and pooling our budget. It will work out for us.’
‘It had better,’ says George airily. ‘Because we’re down to our last fifty quid.’
‘Thanks for the reminder,’ mutters Tammy.
‘I’ve got a good feeling about today,’ says George, ignoring her. ‘Ok, so after all our hard work, nothing has come through for us. We’ve gone to God knows how many auditions. And we’ve no alternative income in sight.’
‘Seriously, George,’ complains Tammy. ‘You’re not helping.’
‘But today could turn it all around,’ finishes George.
We’re all silent, hoping she’s right. Because things really are about to get desperate. We’ve been living on starvation rations for weeks, and we’re so behind with the rent, we could be evicted any minute.
Even George, who comes from money, is out of options. Her parents have cut her off until she decides on a reasonable career.
The bus makes a sudden screeching turn, and we’re hurled hard against the side wall. Then, before we know what’s happened, we’re thrown sharply forward.
George loses her grip on the ceiling bar and falls to her knees on the bus floor. From behind, a surge of passengers smash into Tammy and then me, sending me hurtling over George’s prone figure.
‘Shit!’ says George as I land in a painful heap on the other side of her. ‘What happened?’
‘I think there was an accident,’ I say, using the seat to wrench back to my feet against the thick of other passengers. I glance around to see if anyone’s hurt.
I reach down a hand to help George, and she grasps it and rights herself.
‘Thanks.’ She starts brushing down her Miu Miu baby-doll dress.
The bus is in chaos, with everyone talking and shouting. My eyes search for Tammy. Then I see her, wedged up against the side of the window.
‘You ok, Tams?’ I shout. She’s so tiny, she’s been mashed into the scrum of people.
‘Yeah,’ she manages.
George reaches a long hand over the crowd and pulls Tammy free.
‘Phew,’ she says. ‘Thanks, George. I think one of those little wankers was trying to cop a feel.’ She glowers back at a huddle of teenage boys.
The bus doors hiss open, and the packed bus begins to spill out onto the street.
I turn to the others.
‘Let’s get out of here.’
Chapter 2
Outside the bus is even more chaotic than inside.
The bus driver has gotten off the bus, shouting about a stray dog on the road. Several car owners are furiously demanding compensation. And the busy London road is in total gridlock. Horns begin to sound in an endless symphony.
‘What we gonna do?’ asks Tammy, her brown eyes wide. ‘We’ll never make it now.’
‘Yes, we will,’ I say determinedly, scoping the nearest street sign. ‘We’re only a few blocks aw
There’s a strange yelping sound, and I pause, trying to make it out.
‘Did you hear that?’ I ask uncertainly. ‘It sounds like an animal is trapped.’
‘Hear what?’ says George. ‘We have to go. Come on, Summer.’
‘Wait,’ I say. ‘I think it’s a dog.’
I duck down and scan beneath the bus where the sound seems to be coming from.
‘Summer,’ hisses George. ‘We need to go. Now. We’ll miss the audition.’
I make out a tiny shape shaking.
‘I think there’s a dog trapped under here,’ I shout back.
Tammy crouches down beside me.
‘She’s right, George,’ she says. ‘It’s stuck under the bus.’
‘So we’ll tell the driver, and the fire brigade will get it out,’ says George exasperatedly. ‘We’re going to be late for the most important audition of our lives.’
‘We can’t leave it,’ I say, eyeing the poor shaking creature. ‘It’s terrified. It might panic and bolt into traffic.’
I slide down onto my stomach, eyeing the dog. I can make out the frightened eyes of a little terrier staring back.
‘I can get it,’ I decide, sliding carefully forward under the bus.
The dog whimpers and moves a little towards me.
‘Summer, wait!’ cries Tammy.
‘I’ll just be a moment,’ I promise, pulling myself over the tarmac road. I feel my dress dragging over the grit and dirt.
Goodbye audition outfit, I sigh to myself.
The dog is almost within reach now, and I put out a comforting hand for it to sniff.
‘It’s all right, doggie,’ I say. ‘It’s ok. You can come out now.’
The dog ducks its head and sniffs my hand.
I inch a little forward, and it moves its head up uncertainly, but doesn’t retreat.
‘Come on, little doggie,’ I whisper, stroking it under the chin.
The dog gives a little whine, then moves slightly towards me.
I can see a name collar which reads ‘Max’.
‘Come on, Max,’ I say encouragingly. ‘Let’s get out of here.’
Then there’s a loud rumble above. The bus engines have started up.
Oh shit.
There’s a startled yelp from the dog.
‘Come on, Max,’ I plead, trying to beckon it. ‘Good doggie.’
He’s completely rooted to the spot now.
I plunge forward, grabbing his collar and feeling my dress rip. The dog yelps again and struggles. But I’ve got him firmly now. I shuffle back commando style, holding Max tightly in the crook of my arm.
I feel hands dragging me out, and then I’m out in the sunlight again.
‘Shit, Summer.’ Tammy is helping me to my feet. ‘The fucking bus started up.’
‘I know,’ I say. ‘I was underneath, remember?’
‘George is over there now, shouting at the driver,’ she adds. ‘We should get going.’
We both look at the dog in my arms.
Tammy leans forward to scratch behind its ears.
‘So you’re the little mutt who’s been causing so much trouble,’ she says.
The dog cocks its head to one side.
‘Max!’ A male voice breaks over us. ‘Thank God!’
We look up to see a dark-haired man in designer jeans and a band T-shirt.
The man is easing the dog out of my arms, and I find myself staring up into his handsome face.
Tammy looks at me meaningfully. He is cute.
‘Thank you so much for finding him,’ he says. ‘He saw a cat and bolted into the road. I didn’t see where he went.’
‘No problem,’ I say.
The man cocks his head to one side. ‘You’re from Wales,’ he says, picking up on my accent.
‘Ah. Yes,’ I say, uncertain of how to respond. Tammy is grinning away beside me.
‘I love your accent.’ He says it so easily that I’m not sure how to respond.
‘You must let me repay you,’ he adds.
For some reason, I feel my face getting hot. He’s much too clean-cut to be my usual bad boy type. But he’s certainly charming.
‘Summer!’ It’s George. She throws her arms around me in relief.
‘Shit,’ she adds. ‘You are a total mess.’
I look down at my dress. It’s half-shredded with tarmac and dirt.
‘We have to go,’ says George, totally ignoring the handsome dog owner. ‘If we run, we can still make this.’
Tammy and I exchange glances.
Let’s get to this audition.
‘Bye,’ I say to the man. ‘Thanks for the offer. I have to be somewhere.’
We turn and start heading away.
‘Wait,’ he says. ‘I have to thank you somehow.’
‘If you want to thank her,’ calls George over her shoulder, ‘look us up online. We’re a girl band. She’s All That. Give us a five star rating.’
‘I’ll do that,’ he calls.
But we’re already breaking into a jog.
Chapter 3
The auditions are being held in Chelsea Town Hall, and we charge through the doors, breathless and red-faced, with minutes to spare.
‘Shit! Where do we go now?’ pants Tammy, scanning the lofty interior. Clusters of people styled as singers and bands are everywhere. But it’s not jammed like X Factor auditions. George was right about one thing. It’s a select event.
‘There!’ I point to a laminated sign. ‘Sing Like You’re Winning. Come on!’
I grab Tammy and George, setting off into a fast sprint.
‘We can make it,’ I insist as we race along a corridor with a large ‘Audition’ sign branded with the Sing-Win star.
There’s a set of large doors with three girls outside, and I breathe a sigh of relief. If they’re still there, we’re not the last ones.
‘I think we made it,’ I sigh as we approach the doors.
A woman with a clipboard appears from nowhere.
‘She’s All That?’ she asks, looking at her form.
I nod, still out of breath. ‘That’s us.’
The woman looks meaningfully at the clock.
‘You were supposed to arrive fifteen minutes early,’ she says. ‘The judges don’t have time for latecomers.’
Her eyes drop to my dress. I follow her gaze.
My perfect audition outfit is a car crash. My leopard print dress is covered in grit and part shredded. And I’m dirty from head to toe.
Shit.
The woman’s face says it all. There’s no way she’s letting us in.
‘We were in an accident,’ says George.
‘It’s true,’ says Tammy as the woman raises an eyebrow. ‘Summer saved a dog.’
The woman shakes her head as though she doesn’t believe a word of it.
‘I’m sorry, girls,’ says the woman, looking meaningfully at her clipboard. ‘Better luck next time.’
No!
‘Wait!’ I say desperately. ‘There’s a band waiting outside.’ I point to the three girls. ‘Surely that means it’s not too late.’
I fix her with my most pleading stare.
‘Please,’ I say. ‘This means so much to us.’
The woman sighs and pulls out a walkie-talkie. For a moment, I think she’s just making a point that she has better things to do. Then she starts speaking.
‘I’ve got one more. Just arrived.’ She pauses, listening. ‘That’s what I told them.’
She waits a moment, tight-lipped and tapping her foot. Then she drops the walkie-talkie. We all stare at her.
‘Your luck is in, girls,’ she says with a sigh. ‘One of the judges had to step out to make a business call. They’ll see you last. After those girls.’
She gestures to the huddle of three girls who are styled like strippers. They’re clad in identical corsets, fishnets and six-inch heels.
It’s hard to say for sure, but I think they might be sisters. Their faces have the same features. But their identical make-up and hair extensions could also be the reason they look so similar.
‘Do you have your forms?’ adds the clipboard woman.
There’s a moment of confusion as we all stare at one another.
‘Your personality profiles,’ she clarifies. The narrowing of her eyes suggests she’s not going to give us any more leeway if we don’t have them.
