Disrespectful Diva (DJ #2)

by Helen J. Barnes

  Disrespectful Diva

  Copyright

  Disrespectful Diva

  Copyright © 2015 Helen J Barnes

  First Electronic publication May 2015

  eBooks are none transferable. All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission.

  This work is a book of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not construed as real. Any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Published in the United Kingdom by Helen J Barnes 2015

  Maturity Warning

  This novel contains scene of a sexual nature, bad language and topics of a sensitive nature.

  It is advised this book is for 18+ readers only.

  Dedication

  For my parents, my amazing Mar & Pops.

  I’m everything thing I am because of you.

  One of my oldest memories is sitting with my Dad and learning the alphabet.

  My love of words started with you.

  I’m a firm believer the best gift you can give is an education and you taught me well. You made me the person I am by bringing me up lavished with love, praise and fuelling me with self-belief.

  I can’t put into words how grateful I am for everything you do for me and the family.

  You’re simply the best. I love you both eternally xXx

  Chapter 1

  “Put that in your pipe and fucking smoke it!” Shaz declares. She is obviously full of pride as she hangs up her headphones.

  I burst into a giggle, blowing my mouthful of Dr Pepper out of my nose in a very unladylike fashion. I grab a jacket that’s handily been thrown across the recording desk where I’m sat and wipe my face free of the sticky fluid. I look up with tears of mirth in my eyes at my best friend, Shazza, who has just recorded the vocals for our latest track and totally nailed it.

  “Credit where it’s due, babe, you blew me away. This track is going to be immense.” I grin and Shaz nods her agreement.

  “I can’t wait for Pops to hear it.”

  Pops is Shazza’s god father and owner of Xtreem Recordings, the record label I’m contracted to. We all lovingly refer to Donald as Pops. He’s in his mid-sixties and has been on the club scene since Happy Hardcore was at its peak and the gay scene had yet to birth the genre that I passionately love now, Hard House.

  Right on cue Pops comes into the studio, laughing at something his new fiancé, Valerie, has said. We greet them with a smile before saving our progress on the track so far.

  “Girls, how are we doing? Did you manage to get much done?” Pops wise old eyes smile and I nod.

  “Plenty, thanks, Pops. You look very jovial. Do you have some more good news to share?” I wink at Val. Only last weekend did Pops propose to her. They had been in a relationship for almost two years and it was apparent to everyone that from the first day Valerie started working the reception area of the Xtreem’s recording studios they were smitten with each other. They are a match made in heaven. She keeps Pops grounded and more importantly – organised and his young at heart attitude infects her.

  “Actually, I do, Tara. You’re obviously aware we have been looking for someone to take over running the Xtreem radio station? Well, Val has come up with the perfect solution that is going to free up more of my time and ensure the station is in capable hands.” Pops smiles at Val who nods and looks at me and Shaz with a little apprehension in her vivid green eyes.

  “Okay, spill,” Shazza encourages and Pops takes a deep breath before looking from Shaz to me.

  “Dominic is moving from Birmingham to London and is looking for work. I’ve offered him the job of radio station manager.”

  I can’t help the furrow to my brow. Dominic? Valerie’s son? We all know the reputation Dom has. He’s been to prison for allegedly dealing drugs, he’s stripped in clubs and is meant to have had more women than Hugh Hefner. Everyone knows he is an arrogant bastard. I momentarily wonder if Pops really has lost the plot. I’m just about to ask that very question but Shaz beats me to it.

  “Pops, what the fuck have you been smoking? No offence, Val, but we all know what Dominic is like. I know I’ve never met the guy, but Valerie has even said herself that he was living in Birmingham with his Dad because he was out of control.” Shaz’s eyebrows are in the fringe of her black, short, boy cut hair.

  Pops looks at Valerie, who I can see is a little hurt, but I can’t help agreeing with Shazza on this one. Pops himself told us Dominic was nothing but trouble. I get a stab of guilt when Pops looks to me for support and I can offer none. The question stands. What have Pops and Val been smoking?!

  “Look, girls, everyone deserves a chance to redeem themselves. Dominic has been in Birmingham for two years and been in no trouble. Valerie assures me he has turned over a new leaf and I believe he is trying. I mean, come on, Tara, you of all people know how circumstances can screw you over and sometimes. All it takes is someone to give you a break. I made enough allowances for you.” He reminds me and I look at the floor, this is true. “Shaz, you’ve always had a very privileged life, you should count yourself lucky.” Pops rolls his eyes and I bite my lip, predicting this all turning ugly pretty quickly.

  I can’t comment. Pops did give me a chance when nobody else would. He took me under his wing when I was a lost seventeen year old who was cocooned in a hardened shell, refusing to let anyone close. I was ignorant, angry at the world and downright rude at times. Yet Pops got through to me and nurtured the arrogant little music student, living in a mouldy flat with a coke addict, into the well paid, highly demanded headline DJ and producer I am today. It’s fair to say I owe a big fat part of career to Pops.

  “Listen, Pops, I’m not gonna sit here and congratulate you on a decision well made because I honestly think your age may be catching up with you a little.” I wink. “But I trust your judgement and when all is said and done Xtreem is your label, who am I to judge?”

  “Well he won’t be handling any of my work affairs, I’ll tell you that for nothing!” Shaz declares with a snarl and I turn from her to Pops and nod. “I’ll second that.”

  Valerie steps away from Pops with her hands up in surrender. “Ladies, please, just slow your horses for a nanosecond and listen. We know full well Dominic is no angel…”

  “You can say that again,” Shaz grumbles and rolls her eyes. Her arms are crossed defensively across her perky chest.

  “If you’ll let me finish?” Val sighs in exasperation. “Dom will not be working in the production or DJ management department. He is merely going to be working alongside Donald, sorry, Pops, in the running of the radio station. The changes will not affect you or your work in any way, shape or form. It’s purely on a trial basis. So, please, don’t get your knickers in a fizz.” Val plants her hands on her motherly hips and looks to Pops for support who just smiles weakly before the studio door is thrown open.

  “Whose knickers are fizzing?”

  I almost get whiplash, my head spins so fast to source the face to the Brummy accent. I’m greeted by a full megawatt smile that lights up, what can only be described as, the face of a god. His shining emerald eyes clash with my blues and the room seems to drop into a deathly silence. I’m totally muted and transfixed with his gaze. Jesus Christ on a bike, this guy is hot!

 
And he is looking at me like he knows me?

  I lick my dry lips, rendered speechless and only capable of taking in the hotness in front of me. His dark hair is a mussed up mess on top and shaven on the sides. He’s got to be over six feet tall and his well built frame seems to dominate the recording studio and dwarf Pops and Valerie. I can feel my heart pounding suddenly. I force myself to close my gaping mouth.

  “It would seem Tara’s knickers are.” I hear Shazza grumble and I throw her a warning look but she rolls her eyes before continuing to glare disapprovingly at the gorgeous bastard.

  “Shazza, Tara, this would be Dominic,” Val declares and I risk another glimpse at the tower of trouble who just hijacked our recording session.

  He looks smoking in a pair of faded denim jeans and a knitted roll neck jumper. He carries himself with pride and has a roughish grin. He just exuberates arrogance.

  Oh, yes, he has definitely got some rough edges to him.

  His build on the other hand is all rounded, sculpted in all the right places. He has wide, broad shoulders but a slim, narrow waist which just screams that there is going to be that sexy ‘V’ to his hips. Shit! I think my knickers may well be fizzing!

  “Of course, Dominic, it’s just fan-fizzin-tastic to meet you. Now, if you’ve done with the introductions Valerie we were in the middle of recording a track, as the red light above the door would indicate,” Shaz snaps and I stare at her in total shock. What the hell is her problem? For crying out loud, there was no need to speak to Val like that. She hardly spawned Satan. It’s not her fault Dominic is known for being a live wire.

  “Shaz, there is no need for your attitude. None whatsoever. I can see you’re both busy so we’ll leave you to it and we will talk, later.” Pops turns a very uncomfortable Val towards the door.

  “I’m playing in Clerkenwell tonight, Pops, so I’ll check in with you tomorrow.” I remind him and he chuckles with a shake to his head.

  “Tara, you’ll be nursing a hangover tomorrow. I’ll see you on Monday.”

  I grin to myself, he knows me so well. A wink later he is gone and Shaz has stormed back into the vocal booth, point blank refusing to make polite conversation with the mountain of hot sex still stood before me, waiting for me to say something. I look around the room before meeting his piercing gaze again and offer him a polite smile. He grins back, a real roguish grin that seems to make my pulse race and my mouth arid.

  Well, say something then, Tara, you damn idiot.

  “Hey, Dominic.” I smile before looking down at the jacket still in my lap as I fiddle with the sleeve button. Dominic’s eyes seem to follow mine and he lowers his head, trying to maintain eye contact.

  “Please, call me Dom. So you’re the infamous, Tara Powers?” His inquisitive green pools dance with amusement.

  “Infamous for all the right reasons I hope?”

  Dom seems to find this amusing and gives a hearty laugh that makes my insides stir for some reason. “Yeah, I’m sure they call you DJ Dis-Diva because you’re a lovely young lass and not some stuck up little princess. Of course you’re not the disrespectful diva that the name implies?”

  “Oh, let’s not compare reputations for being trouble, shall we, Dominic?” I dare.

  The arrogance of him! So people know me for being demanding from time to time, but I’ve worked my fucking arse off getting on top in this fickle and dirty industry! I won’t have some random nobody from Birmingham tell me what’s what. He doesn’t even know me. What’s that saying…?

  Watch who you stand on when climbing to the top, because they’ll be the ones to kick you on your fall back to earth.

  Well, if that’s the case then I owe plenty of people a good kick in the teeth. Getting as far as I have hasn’t been easy. I played the dumps and dives for nothing more than a couple of pints of watered down lager to make my start in the music industry. Now I’m being paid hundreds for just an hour of work and you know what? I deserve it! I’ve paid my dues.

  “I think you’re right, Tara. Let’s not go there. It’s pretty apparent the reception here is frosty to say the least.” His eyes flick to Shazza who is glaring at him from the vocal booth, making it pretty obvious she isn’t going to make time to entertain him. “So if you’ll just hand over my jacket I’ll be out of here and not take up another minute of your precious production time.” Dom points at the jacket in my hand.

  Oh, shit. The jacket I nasally exploded all over?

  I grimace and pass him the jacket and swiftly turn my back to him, meeting Shazza’s amused grin. I bite my lip to stop myself smiling, even though he can’t see my face I’m trying so hard not to laugh I must look constipated.

  “Jesus, what the hell is all over this?” Dom’s voice innocently asks and I squeeze my eyes closed to block out Shaz. I swallow my laughter and take a deep breath, trying to straighten my face and normalise my voice.

  “Oh, yeah, sorry about that. I spilt some of my drink on it,” I squeak with my eyes still squinted shut tight. I hear the door open and dare to crack open one eye. Shaz is in a fit of giggles in the vocal booth, clutching the headphones to her bosom and barely holding up.

  “What exactly were you drinking? Snot? Fuck, it’s all over it for God’s sake!” I hear Dom exclaim in disgust as the door closes behind him. I can hold it no longer. I fall forward onto the desk and clutch my midriff in hysterics.

  Welcome to Xtreem Recordings, Dominic Clayton.

  Chapter 2

  Shaz is sullen in the car on the way back to our house, well, my house. Shaz just rents a room to help me out with the mortgage. I turn up the car stereo, blasting Inspiration by Wizard up loud. Nothing gets me in the mood for a night out at work more than a few drinks and my favourite hard house tunes on full whack.

  “Come on, Shaz, don’t let that numb nuts get under your skin. You heard Val, it’s a trial period. You know as well as I do that it is just a matter of time before Dominic drops a monumental bollock and Pops tells him it’s not working out,” I snigger and flick a glance at my closest and oldest friend, my only real friend in the world. I have more ‘mates’ than Facebook will allow me to accept; I’m invited to all the after parties, all the pre-parties and am almost mugged in the clubs by fans asking for a selfie with me or a signature. Oh, yeah, I have thousands of ‘mates’ but real friends, I only have Shaz and Pops. The fact that Shaz is really pissed with Pops at the minute doesn’t sit well with me. I hate being in the middle.

  “Well, I won’t be there for the fall out when it all blows up in Pops and Val’s face. It’s their beef. But that idiot needs to do himself a favour and stay out of my way. I haven’t got time for muppets.”

  I turn onto our quiet little street and put the Audi in park before turning to Shazza. “Look, babe, shake it off and get your ass in the shower. We are going to rock Sphinx tonight. Epic Records need to see Team Xtreem mean business. Now, go get your war paint on, Miss Duncan.”

  I hit the shower and am raiding my wardrobe when Shaz blazes into my bedroom sporting cut off denim shorts over fishnet tights and a baggy long top with biker boots. I wolf whistle with a grin. “Looking hot, bitch. Now help me,” I demand before picking up the vodka shot she has slipped onto my dresser.

  “These for sure.” Shaz throws ripped black skinny jeans and roll top timberland boots onto my bed. “Tara, you have too many clothes, and why are most of them in the bottom of the wardrobe?”

  I grimace as the vodka hits my throat and burns its way down to my stomach. “Because I’m a lazy cow and I hate coat hangers,” I explain before pulling on the jeans. Shazza tosses a black strappy top at me and a purple baggy top with rips in the back in the shape of angel wings. I ask no questions and put the layered tops on. I leave my long blonde hair to dry messily before applying heavy headliner and blood red lipstick. I use gothic looking dress jewellery to finish the look. “Baz will be here soon.” I check my watch. “Just enough time to grab a pot noodle, I shouldn’t drink on an empty stomach.”

  Fif
teen minutes, a pot noodle and three vodkas later, Baz pulls up outside the house. Barry is my driver and security at events. He’s well over six feet tall, bold as brass and a tank of muscle with gold teeth and some very grim looking tattoos. My thin and tiny five feet four inches next to him must make me look fragile and vulnerable. I make up for that shortly after arriving at events though, when I drop my tunes. You better believe my sets are as hard as nails and get the crowds stomping. I smirk to myself. Little goth girl plays a mighty set. Who ever knew I would be able to feel so achieved?

  We greet him with a kiss to his shiny bonce, Shaz leaving a loving blood red kiss mark on his snake tattoo. “Cheers, Shaz. You know how big of a twat I look trying to act all intimidating with lipstick all over my head?” Baz whines, rubbing away the lippy.

  “Yeah but you look like you get all the birds, Baz,” I chuckle, climbing into the Range Rover.

  “Yeah, well, Janet would have my balls if she saw it,” he laughs before pulling away from the house.

  Barry may look like a freakin’ giant on steroids but he is a total sweetheart, with the people he loves anyway. Everyone else are lucky if they get a grunt out of him and many guys have asked me if it’s true he’s actually my dad. It’s a little known fact that my parents died in a car crash when I was just fifteen. I was placed with my uncle, rather than put into foster care, although sometimes I think foster care would have probably been the better option. Stan, my Dad’s brother, lives alone and drinks himself into oblivion every night. It’s fair to say he didn’t give a flying monkey’s spunk when I took what little belongings I had at seventeen years old and tried to take on the big wide world, alone, with nothing but a head full of dreams of making a living from mixing music. That’s where the angel that is Pops swept into my life.

  “I hear you’re doing a live performance tonight, Shazza?” Baz flicks her a questioning look in the rear view mirror.