Rising Star

by JS Taylor

And unfortunately the stress makes her even more haughty and aloof with everyone present. Particularly since Dushane takes every opportunity to point out her wooden miming.

  Dev.as.station put an enormous amount of energy into their dance. But the look on the film crew’s face tells us it’s not coming off.

  With the quick-fire round demanding the video is released tomorrow, it’s dawning on all of us, that this is our only chance to get the film in the can.

  The only good thing that comes out of the filming, is that Tammy is working extra hard to get along with Dev.as.station. She’s so obviously close to Cher, that I find myself wondering for the second time, if Tammy wouldn’t be a better fit in their band.

  George is obviously thinking the same thing, because I notice her shooting accusing glances at Tammy. As if to imply Tammy is being a traitor for getting along so well with the other group.

  We break after eight straight hours of hard work. But the mood is despondent. And this time no-one offers to go to the pub together.

  This suits me fine, however. I want to get the girls alone to share my suspicions.

  We break away from Dev.as.station as we arrive back at the Sing-Win house to get ready for George’s birthday. But just as soon as I’m about to explain my suspicions about Deven and vote rigging, George lets fly at Tammy.

  “What the fuck was all that about?” she accuses, pointing a long finger at Tammy. “Who’s side are you on?”

  Tammy blinks at her, genuinely stunned.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she says, her voice defensive.

  “Oh, you don’t?” fumes George. “Except you’re best friends with Dev.as.station now, and your old band-mates don’t get a look in.”

  Tammy’s mouth drops open.

  “You’re fucking kidding me, right?” she says. “You mess up everything with Dev.as.station, and now you’re yelling at me for trying to fix things?”

  “You’re supposed to be on my side,” George retorts.

  “I’ll be on your side, when you stop being a snobby idiot,” says Tammy.

  I wince. This was always a bone of contention between George and Tammy. Their different backgrounds. But Tammy has never openly called George a snob before.

  “Those boys are working really hard,” continues Tammy, “they’re talented. But you don’t see it, because you’re too busy judging them for wearing white trainers and hooded tops.”

  “They’re trouble,” protests George. “Anyone can see it. You’re just bias cause you come from that…” she waves her hand vaguely, “council house upbringing.”

  Ouch…

  That does it. Tammy looks about ready to rip George’s head off.

  “Oh, and you think we’re all the same?” Tammy screams, “you think everyone brought up on a council estate is a dumb criminal?”

  Uh oh. This is getting out of hand. I’m used to Tammy and George having spats, but they never got personal like this.

  “Of course George isn’t saying that,” I interject soothingly – even though I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what she thinks. “Listen Tams, George was just riled up about the vote rigging. She jumped to the wrong conclusion. And, as we all know,” I add, shooting George a rueful glance, “George has a hard time admitting she’s wrong.”

  George examines her fingernails sulkily at this, but doesn’t contradict me. I guess even she’s realised this has got too heated.

  “It’s just typical,” sighs Tammy, “That George would assume Dev.as.station are to blame for any wrongdoing.”

  This starts George up again.

  “They were the only ones who could have left that note!” she yells.

  “Wait,” I hold my hands up to both of them. “Actually I have something to tell you about that.”

  Suddenly I’ve got the floor. Tammy and George are both looking at me intently, their argument with one another suspended.

  “Listen,” I say, “If there is some vote rigging going on, I think I know who’s behind it.”

  I swallow, thinking how best to phrase the words.

  “I was talking to Deven this morning,” I say slowly. “He let slip that he knows we’ll be voted out next. How could he know that? Unless he was something to do with vote rigging?”

  Tammy and George digest this in stunned silence. George seems particularly incredulous. For the moment at least, their row is forgotten.

  “Deven?” says George, after a moment, in a shocked voice. “I don’t believe it.”

  “He’s such a cute little guy,” breathes Tammy. “Are you absolutely sure Summer? I mean. I just can’t see him breaking the rules.”

  Their reaction is so strong I’m starting to doubt it myself.

  “Well,” I say slowly. “Maybe Deven’s not directly involved, but he knows something. For sure. I mean,” I add, “how could he be so sure we’ll be voted off? We had to win double the vote last round, to get through. By my calculations, that means we’re one of the least likely to go out.”

  Tammy and George are both assessing this.

  “What did he say?” asks Tammy eventually, “to make you so sure he knows?”

  I feel myself colouring slightly.

  “Um,” I admit, “he said him and I could date, when our group gets voted off. And he suggested next week.”

  George’s eyes widen.

  “Maybe it’s Scandelous,” she says. “Deven is collaborating with them, isn’t he? I wouldn’t put it past those bitches to cheat.”

  “We don’t even know for sure that anyone’s cheating,” I point out. “All we have is a scrap of handwritten paper. That doesn’t prove anything. It could be someone trying to cause arguments,” I add, looking meaningfully at both of them. “Maybe even the TV company did it.”

  “But then,” says George, “why would Deven be so sure?”

  “There’s a way to find out,” says Tammy, her eyes glittering. “We’ve got an advantage, after all.”

  “What advantage?” snaps George. “Last time I looked, you’re no Nancy Drew.”

  I sigh inwardly.

  Looks like George is still mad with Tammy.

  Tammy ignores the remark.

  “We’ve got Summer,” she says, with a hint of pride. “And Deven likes Summer, doesn’t he? I’ll bet she could get information out of him.”

  “Oh no,” I raise my hands. “No more drama for me. I am not playing double agent, or whatever you call it.”

  With Adam, I already have enough subterfuge to last me a lifetime.

  George’s face is opening in understanding.

  “Tammy’s right,” she says. “I’ll bet Deven would spill everything to you.”

  “No,” I shake my head. “Absolutely not.”

  Tammy frowns.

  “What were you doing alone with Deven anyway?” she asks.

  I debate trying for a lie, but it was never my strong point. Besides, Tammy knows me too well.

  “I was meeting Adam,” I mumble.

  “For breakfast?” asks George. “You guys have got it bad.”

  “Actually,” I admit, “Adam wanted to sort out the situation with Dez. He kind of… Resolved things.”

  Tammy’s eyes widen.

  “Adam beat up Dez?” she breathes.

  “No, no,” I reply hastily. “Nothing like that. He just warned him off. Dez paid attention for once. So that’s all cool now.”

  “Wow,” says Tammy. “I didn’t think there was a man alive who could talk Dez out of anything. Adam certainly has hidden talents.”

  You don’t know the half of it.

  “Yeah,” I concede. “And that’s all over now.”

  “Good,” says George. “I knew all that stupid stuff with Dez would blow over. But listen Summer. You need to talk to Deven.”

  “Not happening,” I say. “I’m not some flirty secret agent.”

  And I wouldn’t like to see Adam’s reaction, if he finds out I’ve been cosying up to Deven.

  “Besides,” I ad
d, angling to change the subject, “we need to get ready for your party George. We’re already tight for time.”

  George’s expression transforms into a wide smile.

  “Yes,” she breathes, her face lighting up at the thought. “It’s going to be great. I’ve got Cachaca booked. And my girls from school are coming.”

  Tammy rolls her eyes at this. I catch her gaze, and glower.

  Behave Tammy. No more arguments in the group.

  Still, I secretly agree with Tammy. We’ve met George’s old college friends, and they are a combined unit of tedium.

  All they talk about is snaring rich men we’ve never heard of, and which London postcode is the most stylish.

  George has already turned to her closet, and is rummaging for clothes. She pulls out a stunning cocktail dress. It’s elegant and simple, with a bias cut.

  “What do you think?” she asks, holding it up. “Too much?”

  “Nah,” says Tammy. “You’re the birthday girl. You should stand out.”

  She’s being nice to George again. That’s a relief.

  As a close-knit group, we have spats, the same as all friends do. But this recent fall out between Tammy and George seems more serious. Something tells me I should be keeping a closer eye on the pair of them.

  “You need stand out dresses too,” insists George. “I don’t want to be the only one.”

  She eyes the dress in my hand.

  “Boring,” she decides, stalking towards my wardrobe. “Let’s find you something more…”

  Her words become muffled as she disappears into the depths of my wardrobe. I catch Tammy’s expression, and we both smile.

  Classic George. But you gotta love her.

  We’ll both be dressed to the nines if she gets her way. And she always gets her way.

  “This is good,” announces George, emerging with a very short skin tight dress. “What do you think?”

  I look at the dress uncertainly. “That’s an audition dress,” I say. “It’s not really for…”

  “It’ll be perfect,” interrupts George. “Might as well show off your figure. Who knows? There might even be some paps around.”

  “You look great in that dress,” says Tammy, ignoring my glower. “George is right. You’ve got a great little bod. Show it off.”

  “See?” George throws the dress, and I catch it.

  “Less of the little,” I shoot back at Tammy. “I’m taller than you. Remember?”

  “I only meant your dinky little waist,” replies Tammy grinning.

  I hold the dress up. And then I remember.

  My promise to Adam.

  But this dress… I just can’t wear it with no panties. And that’s the end of it. The skirt is much too short to risk commando.

  I run the possibilities in my head. Right now I’m caught between the wrath of George, and whatever consequences Adam means to deliver.

  I assess my options. Adam will never know, I decide. He won’t even be at the party. And it’s George’s birthday after all.

  Holding the dress, I walk to my drawers and search for panties which match the deep blue colour of the fabric.

  We all dress in a hurry, and I get my own back on Tammy, by insisting she wear George’s choice of hot pants, high heels, and a halter neck. She looks stunning, with her curvy little legs and butt. And it’s nice to force Tammy out of her sweats and hoody.

  After we’re dressed, we turn our attention to make-up. In the Sing-Win house, our en-suite bathroom is enormous, with a mirror each.

  But we’re so used to sharing the tiny bedsit mirror, that we’ve got used to huddling in close, swapping make-up. So we pile together, pouting and leaning over to grab the eyeliner, or proffer lipsticks we think would suit one another.

  Nice to see we’re all friends again.

  When She’s All That are getting along, we really do have a great camaraderie.

  “Will your parents be there?” I ask George, as we put the finishing touches to our make-up. I’ve never managed to meet George’s parents, and I’ve always been intrigued. In my mind her mum is an older version of George, with perfectly coiffed hair, and elegant clothes. I imagine her dad as distinguished and beautifully spoken.

  “No,” says George casually, adjusting a false eyelash. “They’re picking up the tab for the bar instead.”

  This has always surprised me about George. For a girl who grew up on a family country estate, she doesn’t seem too close to her parents.

  At my twenty-first, my whole family was there – along with family friends and all the staff of the pub where I worked. I couldn’t imagine turning twenty-one without my mum and dad there. But I guess George is a different class.

  We head out of our room, just in time to bump into Deven. He does a flattering double take, his mouth wide open.

  “Wow!” he says, grinning. “I mean wow! You girls look stunning.”

  His eyes don’t leave my face.

  “You certainly look like famous singers,” he says. “Where are you going?”

  I turn uncertainly to George, wondering what lie to tell. Since I know she wants her party Sing-Win free.

  “It’s my birthday tomorrow,” says George, with a flick of her hair. “I’m twenty one. So I’m having a little party in Cachaca.”

  Oh no. Looks like she doesn’t plan on keeping it secret from Deven…

  She pauses for a moment, and flicks a quick glance at me.

  “Would you like to come?” she asks.

  George! No!

  I can hardly voice my objections in front of Deven, so I keep my mouth shut. It is her party after all. But I know why she’s doing this. George will try and make me grill Deven for information on vote rigging.

  “Sure!” Deven looks utterly delighted. “I’d love to come.”

  George gives him a lip-glossed smile.

  “We’re heading out now,” she says, “the birthday girl can’t be late. Why don’t you join us later?”

  “I’ll be there,” promises Deven.

  “Oh,” adds George, as an afterthought. “And keep it to yourself Deven. I don’t want Scandelous or Dev.as.station showing up. Or Seventh Heaven. Ok?”

  “No problem,” says Deven, looking even more pleased by the minute. I guess the idea of being picked from the bunch appeals to him.

  “Ok girls,” says George, enjoying her status of queen for the evening. “Let’s get to my party.”

  Chapter 19

  Cachaca is a glittering Chelsea bar, with long dark tables, and slick waiters shaking cocktails.

  As we move inside, I feel grateful that George made us dress up. It’s even fancier than I expected.

  Clusters of well-groomed people sipping cocktails are arranged around tables, or standing in small groups.

  My eyes drift to a small stage at the back, with screens and a microphone.

  “Will there be a band?” I ask George hopefully. I love live music.

  She shakes her head. “No band. Karaoke – of course!” George grins. “What else did you expect for my birthday? I have to have my moment in the spotlight.”

  Tammy and I smile at her. We should have guessed George would choose a spot where she could show off.

  “Why is no-one up there?” asks Tammy, eyeing the dark stage.

  “They won’t start it up till later,” affirms George. “I’ve reserved a section of the bar, and they agreed to keep karaoke for just us. And,” she adds smugly, “it’s not like the usual disco karaoke. This one has instruments and stuff. It only attracts good singers.”

  My eyes drift to the edge of the stage, where a few guitars and a keyboard have been left.

  “I’ve got a section reserved,” explains George, gesturing to the back of the bar. “It cost my parents an arm and a leg. But it’s worth it for some privacy. This bar gets super busy later.”

  We head over to a roped off section with a discreet sign announcing “Georgina Tully’s birthday.”

  “Here we are,” says George, gui
ding us into her reserved area. “I can already see Taggie and Alexa.”

  I glance ahead to see George’s two school-friends are already waiting for us. As George rushes towards them, a combined girlish squeal fills the bar.

  “Ouch,” says Tammy covering her ears. I squash a smile and tug her hands away.

  “Be nice,” I warn her. “This is George’s big night.”

  “Those girls are the stupidest pair I’ve ever met,” mutters Tammy. But she drops her scowl. “You think they’ll actually talk to us this evening?” she adds.

  “Maybe,” I reply. “Let’s get a drink.”

  I glance at George’s friends. We have met them previously, but they barely gave us the time of day. There’s Alexa, who dresses in the posh girl uniform of ‘Ten Years Older Than My Age’ – today it’s an unflattering camel coloured sweater, knee length skirt, and a plain Alice-band stuck in her mousy hair.

  Then there’s Taggie who looks like she could be George’s less glamorous older sister. She has the same blonde highlights, but Taggie’s hair is worn tucked behind her ears, rather than slickly styled. And though her slim frame is clad in the latest fashion, she opts for ‘in’ rather than sexy. Taggies’s wearing a floral dress with exaggerated shoulders and bouffant bottom, along with navy flats.

  George’s female friends wear a lot of flats. They’re all about a foot taller than the average girl.

  We move to the bar, and order a drink from the eye-wateringly expensive cocktail menu.

  “Lucky George’s parents are picking up the tab,” I murmur, as my eyes follow the waiter shaking up a Belvedere vodka orange, “or I’d be drinking water.”

  “Yeah,” agrees Tammy. “And on the subject of money. Did you manage to get George a gift yet?” Her eyes flit to where George is treating her friends to a loud catch-up of her famous week.

  I nod, smiling at the memory of the jewellery shop trip.

  “Adam helped me out,” I admit. “I got her some earrings which are way too expensive. But I think she’ll love them. They’re Tiffany.”

  Tammy’s eyebrows raise.

  “No shit? Tiffany?”

  “Yeah,” I’m feeling embarrassed now. Adam’s generosity was overwhelming when we were alone together. Now I’m explaining it to Tammy, it seems totally over the top.