Lost In The Starlight

by Kiki Archer

  “Thierry DuBon.”

  Sofia nodded. “Then you’re good to go.”

  It was all Honey needed to know. The name of the designer. Liza would brief the photographers with each and every detail prior to the first picture being taken, and as long as she remembered the name of the designer she could get through the inevitable shouting from the press as she made her way from car to studio, an essential piece of judge showmanship required during the first round of auditions.

  Honey trusted her stylists and cringed whenever they brought out the mirrors, parading her with complimentary words that only made her feel uneasy. It was Honey’s belief that anyone could look great with a team of stylists and she’d always vowed to never let herself get drawn into the lie that she had some sort of naturally intrinsic beauty or instinctive flawless style. Yes, without make-up she was adequately pretty, but so were most women. She wasn’t anything special, yet she understood the role required of her.

  “I’m playing you my song, Liza” she said, holding on to her iPod.

  Liza shook her head. “No, you’re not.”

  “I am.”

  “We haven’t got time.”

  “I’ll play it in the car then.” She turned to her stylists. “Ladies, you’ll hear it on the album.”

  “They will not,” gasped Liza, ushering Honey towards the door.

  “You will, and thank you for today’s 1920s style, ensemble.”

  Caitlyn laughed. “See Honey, you do care.” She paused. “But we’ll see you again after auditions. Quick change for your Live Lounge performance.”

  “Can’t I wear this?”

  Cries of “don’t you dare!” chorused from all three with Liza simply saying: “Stop it.”

  Honey laughed. “I’m joking. I know the drill. You lot wore me down years ago. Right, Liza, where are we going to first?”

  “Haven’t you been listening at all?! The London round of the Britain Sings auditions, then...” She paused at the look on Honey’s face. “Very funny. Tease Liza day, is it? I’m so glad I bring light into all your dark little lives.”

  “Bye, Liza,” said the stylists, waving her out of the room with their giggles.

  Sofia kissed Honey on both cheeks. “Play her your song, dear. She’ll like it.”

  Liza marched towards the front door, shouting back towards the kitchen over her shoulder. “Not on the new album I won’t.”

  ****

  “Looking lovely today, Honey,” said Tammara, opening the car door as she appraised her employer. “Like a ginger-haired Greta Garbo.”

  Liza rushed forward and stepped into the vehicle first. “Auburn or flame-coloured are the words associated with Honey’s hair. Not ginger.”

  Tammara stood a little straighter. “Sorry.”

  Honey dismissed the chastisement with a smile. “How was the party?”

  “Great, thank you. Did you have a nice evening?”

  Honey studied Tammara’s smart outfit and tight bun. “I did thank you, very productive.” She smiled. “You should wear your hair down more often. You looked lovely yesterday.”

  Liza’s voice sounded from the back seat. “Not at work she shouldn’t and stop with the chit-chat; we’re on a schedule. I’ve spoken to you about this before, Tammara.”

  Honey spotted the anxious look in her driver’s eyes. This was the third time they’d changed car companies in two years with Liza sure the spate of leaks about Honey’s whereabouts could only have come from an indiscreet driver tipping off the paps in exchange for a fee. The fact that the paparazzi were always everywhere regardless of Honey’s mode of transportation wasn’t enough to appease Liza’s suspicions.

  “Sorry,” said Honey, “it’s always the schedule.” She stepped into the car and whispered over her shoulder. “But you should wear it down, and don’t worry, I know my hair’s ginger.” She saw the smile appear as the door was closed then reappear once more from the front of the car as the glass divider buzzed down. She handed over her iPod. “Can you put track one on, please, Tammara?”

  Liza snapped her seatbelt into place. “We haven’t got time for that. Put the divider back up so we can run through the day.”

  Honey waited until the music player had been taken before leaving the glass down. She had absolutely no interest in cars and would probably just describe the one she was travelling in as executive and black. Yes, it was nicely luxurious, but it wasn’t a limo. Such extravagance for two people making the short journey into central London seemed preposterous to Honey, if not rather pompous, and she’d always decline the suggestion of anything more showy. Liza often made a point of highlighting the other Britain Sings judges’ modes of arrival, which could include helicopter and Hummer, but Honey stood her ground and said she was happy. This sort of car was professional and appropriate. Its sound system was also top notch.

  She smiled at her strung out PA. “We’ve spent the whole morning running through the schedule. Sit back. Relax. Listen to my song. It’s only a short drive to the auditions.”

  Liza tapped into her PDA. “No, I still need to slot in three rehearsal sessions for the film score.”

  “I’ve not even seen the full script yet so I won’t be rehearsing anything anytime soon.”

  “You’re getting the songs and script at the meet and greet tonight… after the Live Lounge… after auditions.” She paused. “I’ve told you all this already, Honey.”

  “Okay, but we’re going to Apple Road afterwards.”

  Liza gasped. “Do you deliberately do this to me? We haven’t got the time or the space to fit a new song on the album. Picador would have an absolute fit.”

  Honey fastened her seatbelt and smiled. “It’s a good one. Just listen. Play it loud, Tam. Number one.”

  Honey ignored the nervous eyes in the rear view mirror and reinforced the instruction with an encouraging nod. Yes, Liza was sharp and direct, a somewhat powerful force to be reckoned with, but ultimately Honey was the boss, and Liza, through all her huffing and puffing, would always eventually succumb.

  The a capella track started to play as the car headed out of the estate with the lyrics singing loud and clear.

  What does it matter where I lay my head?

  Liza’s ears visibly pricked up. She wagged her finger. “Oh no.”

  Who cares if it’s in a boy or girl’s bed?

  “No.” The wagging got wider.

  There’s so much more to my personality.

  What’s the importance of my sexuality?

  Liza’s head joined in the dismissal. “No.”

  “Do you like it, Tam?” asked Honey.

  “Oh my goodness, I love it!” came the excited reply.

  Liza’s shaking was now in overdrive. “Just stop.”

  Honey harmonised with herself on the chorus. “Love who you love. Be true to your feelings. Who cares who’s tugging at your heartstrings? Just imagine the bass, Liza. Love who you love. Be brave with your choices. Those who matter will accept our true voices.”

  “Bass? Bass! You can’t!”

  “It’s fab, Honey,” said Tammara. “So different.”

  Honey smiled. “Turn it up!”

  Both driver and passenger lost themselves in the edgy song, ignoring Liza’s objections entirely.

  When silence finally returned, Liza made a point of pulling her jacket tighter around her body and clearing her throat. “No,” she said, with a final point of her finger.

  Honey turned to her PA. “You didn’t like it?”

  The voice was more forceful. “No.”

  “Look at me, Liza. You liked it.”

  The eyes stared forward. “I didn’t.”

  Honey smiled. “You did! I know you did. It’s exactly your type of song.”

  “It’s not.”

  “It is!”

  Liza gasped, finally spinning herself around. “It’s just so… so…”

  “So what? Yes, it’s not quite my normal ballad style, but who says Honey Diamond can’t be edgy or
sassy or—”

  “Not quite your normal style?! Honey, those lyrics are ridiculously controversial!” Looking away, Liza squeezed the edge of the leather seat before rubbing the corners of her mouth as she tried to find the words. “And it’s so… it’s so…”

  Honey lifted her shoulders. “It’s what?”

  Liza spoke loudly. “Tammara, put the divider up please.”

  “No, Tammara,” said Honey, shaking her head, “keep the divider down.”

  The eyes in the mirror looked torn, the voice hesitant. “I’ll...”

  “You’ll keep it down.” Honey was firm. “Liza’s been snappy all morning. It’s Sheila, isn’t it? That’s what this is about. You’re always worse when she’s—”

  “No, it’s not bloody Sheila!” Liza lowered her voice. “It’s the hypocrisy of it all.”

  Honey raised her eyebrows. “Excuse me?”

  “And you can’t even pass it on to someone more appropriate like Jessie or Nicki because your name would get writer’s credit.”

  “This is my song, Liza. I’ll be the one singing it.”

  “Oh, Honey.”

  “What?”

  “You really want to do this? Here? On the way to auditions in the back of the car dressed as a 1920s flapper girl with your driver listening to every word we say?”

  “Tammara’s my friend.”

  Liza almost snorted. “She’s not your friend!” Clapping her hands she signalled to the front of the car. “Tammara, tell Honey you’re not her friend.”

  The anxious eyes were back. “I’m… I’m…”

  “Oh just spit it out, Liza! Is it really that bad?”

  “You can’t release a song that’s all up front about sexuality.”

  The look was one of sheer confusion. “Why not?”

  Liza inhaled deeply, paused, then let rip like a little Jack Russell. “Because you’re well and truly in the closet at the back of the warehouse with the door shut, packaged up for some secure shipping container to shunt you out to the back of beyond.”

  Honey actually laughed. “I am not.”

  “It’s hypocritical. You’re so far in the closet Narnia’s your holiday home.”

  “Oh stop it.”

  “And you do care where you lay your head.”

  “No, I don’t.” Honey was the one now waving at her driver. “Tammara.”

  Tammara gripped the steering wheel even tighter. “Umm, yes?”

  “You know I… I… well what would you call it? I’m fluid?”

  Tammara’s response was shy. “Umm, I assumed with your chatter about Betty that…”

  “Exactly.” Honey turned her attention back to her PA. “And you Liza, of all people, know who and what I like.”

  “But you’re not out!”

  “I don’t need to come out. I live out.”

  “You don’t live out!”

  “Because I’m single?” Honey turned to the window and shrugged. “I’m just busy.” She stayed silent for a moment as the world passed her by. “But there have been some… some loves.”

  The Jack Russell was back. “As if! You’re like a lone penguin lost on an iceberg at the north bloody pole.”

  “I didn’t say I’d been in love. I said there had been loves. You know this. Mother knows this. There doesn’t need to be any official announcement. And everyone’s fluid nowadays anyway.”

  Liza snorted. “Your mother’s still hoping you’ll meet your James Dean! Listen to yourself. You can’t even say the words. Women. Lesbians. Gay.”

  “I don’t need to. It’s private. It’s personal. Labels aren’t necessary.”

  “So you see my point? Singing this song will open the closet door. You can’t go from your current white-wash to this sudden declaration of whole-hearted lesbianism.”

  “What white-wash? And it’s not a declaration of anything. It’s just a song saying so what, who cares, it’s not important.”

  Liza flung her hands into the air. “So not important that it’s written into every single interview screening sheet. Every single staff contract. Don’t ask Honey about her sexuality. Don’t engage in—”

  “What?”

  “Oh come on, Honey. Even you can’t be this naive.”

  “People can ask me what they like.”

  “Not if they want to secure the interview they can’t.”

  “I thought your whole confidentiality contract thing was a joke?!”

  Liza let out a huge exasperated breath. “Do you realise how many balls I’m juggling? Your record company, your talent agency, your PR group, your security men, your lawyers, your mother.”

  “I don’t have a PR group.”

  “No, in your eyes you have me, and I sort it. I sort everything, but I can’t be dealing with this backlash.”

  “What backlash?”

  “Oh Honey, there are so many vested interests in you. So many agencies involved. It takes a great deal of work to make it look as simple as little old me and my PDA. But that’s what your mother wanted.”

  “My mother can’t even remember your name.”

  Liza laughed. “We have weekly meetings! You were a child when I took on the job.”

  “I was seventeen!”

  “Still not able to take full legal responsibility. Honey, this industry’s brutal. Your mother wanted you shielded so you could focus on doing what you love. You know this.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Writing songs, singing songs, performing, appearing.”

  “And doing interviews with people who are essentially gagged?” Honey laughed at her own stupidity. “You know what? I always thought people were just really polite or maybe they didn’t really care. Like you, Tam. You rarely encourage me when I talk about Betty Big Boobs.”

  “I’m not meant to gossip.”

  “Says your contract? That’s ridiculous. We’re friends.”

  Tammara looked apologetically into the mirror. “I’m… I’m not meant to be too familiar.”

  “She’s new, of course she’s not.”

  Honey gasped. “She’s been with us six months!”

  Liza reached out and rubbed Honey’s knee. “You’re always so busy. You haven’t come up for breath once since I’ve known you. You don’t need the added stress of paperwork and politics.”

  “Maybe I do!” She shook her head. “Fine, this bubble protects me, but it also prohibits me. It stops me living a life.”

  Liza laughed. “You’re never going to live a life. Not a real one anyway. You’re Honey Diamond.”

  “Is it Picador? Or the agency?”

  “You’ve been managed from an early age. It’s just happened.”

  “My mother’s PR company then?”

  Liza shrugged. “It’s like you’re the Queen. No one asks the Queen about her private life. No one gets overly familiar with HRH.”

  “Actually it’s Her Majesty, not HRH, and I’m not the Queen and I bet the Queen’s actually got more going on than I have!” Honey shrank back into the seat, staring into nowhere. “You know what actually annoys me more? The fact you hated the song.”

  Liza sighed. “I didn’t hate the song. You just caught me off guard.” She tilted her head into Honey’s line of vision until their eyes connected. The smile was genuine. “At the end of the day I’m your PA, Honey. I’ll do whatever you need me to do.”

  “You will?”

  “You know I will. I play at being boss but that’s all I’m doing. Playing. You’re ultimately in charge. I can advise and recommend, but if you’re adamant about something then I have to take it on board.” The same smile was back. “You do know it was me who got the ‘don’t ask about drugs’ clause out of the interview screening contracts, don’t you? Fine when you were younger but it seemed silly as the years went by knowing you never had and never would do drugs.”

  Honey laughed. “And look where that got us! I assume the ‘I love Meth’ beat-box is still doing the rounds?”

  “Sure is.” Liza paused
before nodding. “If you really want to take hold of the reins maybe now’s the time to increase your online presence. There are some great…” She stopped at the frantic shaking of Honey’s head.

  “That’s always been me, not mother. I’m the one who hates the internet. Always have, always will.” She sighed. “In fact, it was those nasty online trolls who inspired that song.” She looked out of the window as the television studio loomed into sight. “Oh, this is so confusing, isn’t it? If it’s no big deal then I shouldn’t make it a big deal. But if people think I’m hiding my true self then I need to tell them I’m not.” Honey laughed. “But then there’s never been anyone serious so it’s not like I’ve got anything significant to say so I should stay quiet.”

  “There was Sheila’s friend, Mandy.”

  “Oh, don’t!” Honey cringed. “Take things back to how they were! I’m not ready to talk about that yet!”

  Liza nodded. “And yes, sociopath Sheila is back on the scene and probably the reason I’m ratty. So I’m sorry. Everyone, I’m sorry. Tammara, I’m sorry. Honey, I’m sorry.” She shouted upwards towards the gods. “Diana Diamond, I’m sorry!”

  “Why are you apologising to my mother?”

  “Because I’m encouraging this.”

  “Are you?”

  “You need to follow your heart.” She reached out and held Honey’s hand. “Right here, right now. What does your heart tell you to do?”

  “My heart tells me to sing.”

  “So sing. Sing your song. I’ll deal with the rest.”

  Honey smiled as the crowd outside the studio started to cheer. Raised banners were flapping and placards were bobbing up and down as the fans realised a judge was about to appear.

  Tammara stopped the car and twisted in the front seat. “Is now a good time to tell you that Betty Big Boobs has the hots for you too?”

  “No, it bloody isn’t,” snapped Liza, straight back in work mode. “Just open the door, Tammara, and keep your head bowed.”

  Honey laughed feeling the warmth of the cheers and the pop of the flashes as the crowd erupted into a frenzy of screams and whoops. She waved and smiled. Determined to do things her way. “Liza, I’ll be taking my time before I go in.”

  Liza joined her on the red carpet placing her hand at the base of her back, gently guiding her towards the entrance. “You’re needed inside.”