by Will Davis
Riana gasps. You can tell she didn’t see that coming. Neither did I. Me legs are trembling so much I’m probably burning off any last cells of flab I’ve got left on them after all them hardcore dance sessions with Patty. Everything’s unreal, a bit twisted, like anything could happen. It’s a bit like being on acid, only there’s all this adrenalin pumping through me too, like maybe at any second a bomb is gonna explode.
Tess? goes Stina.
Tess lets out this long breath and cocks her head to one side. She don’t say anything at first, and I realise that she’s loving this. The audience are fucking hating her and so am I, but she’s milking it and in a way we’re all enjoying that she is. Enjoying wanting to kick her fat face in. Cos being hated is what she’s really good at.
I have to push you, please Tess, goes Stina.
Tess ignores her and carries on looking at each of us, all slow like she’s still making up her mind.
Well, you’ve all done your best, she goes suddenly, and I can see problems with all of you.
There’s booing like you never heard before. One corner of Tess’s big gob goes up in this smart-alecky smirk, like this is just the reaction she was hoping for.
But I can also see the plus sides and you should probably know that you’re all good. To have got this far you’ve got to be good.
This gets lots of clapping and cheering. The thing about people like Tess is no matter how much you hate them, you really end up believing what they say in a way you don’t with people who are just nice all the time. So it seems like the smallest positive thing they tell you is the best compliment you could possibly ever get.
Tess’s paused again, like this is all she’s got to say. Next to her you can tell Joe’s fuming, totally jealous cos of the way she’s working it and getting away with it.
Tess? goes Stina, now all whiny. Could you pick someone?
Tess leans forward.
The girl I’m choosing is purely because she hasn’t conducted herself as properly as the other two, and one of the most important lessons I’ve ever learned in this business is that you have to conduct yourself professionally. Otherwise, it’ll all come down around you in tatters. So, Joni, I’m afraid it’s you.
It’s like I’ve been stabbed or something. She was looking at Louise when she said that last part and I really thought I was in the clear. Me hand in Louise’s is like a vice, and I know that her hand on Riana’s must be the same way too. It’s almost too much and I could do with a bucket so I can have a good old puke. There’s a lot of woo-ing and ahh-ing and whispering going on out in front of us, like no one can believe how tense it is.
Wow, goes Stina, looks like each one of our finalists has a vote, everybody! That means it’s all down to our guest judges, Purrfect. Girls, thanks for coming on the show—
She gets drowned out by cheers. When we met them briefly before the show I nearly wet meself. Being kissed on the cheek by the girls in one of the biggest bands in the UK, the one we’re trying to be a part of and have dreamed of getting into for the last few weeks, it was like something magical. And to have them sit there listening to us – it’s like something out of a fantasy. But then it just brings home what we’re doing here, cos at the end of this one of us is really gonna be in Purrfect. Pretty soon, this ain’t gonna be some fantasy no more.
Stina laughs and waves at the audience like they’re all cheering for her. They quieten down and she carries on. Could you now confer among yourselves and give me the name of the girl you would like to send home?
Saffron, Monique, Fina and Kharris all huddle up together in this kind of formation I seen them do in the docu of their success which was on TV the other month. It’s what they always do right before they go out onstage, all cluster together and have a quick group rally. You can tell they really understand and support one another, these girls. To be in this band, to have these other girls who really are your best friends and who ain’t just bitches that only care about their sodding selves, that’d be the best thing ever.
Girls, goes Stina, I need an answer from you, please.
The girls stop whispering with each other and sit back. They all look fab tonight, but totally different and individual. Fina’s in this white suit with a black tie that makes her red hair look punky and cool. Monique and Saffron are both wearing proper evening dresses all the way down to their ankles. Monique’s is fiery red and off her shoulders whereas Saffron’s is dark green with a slit down the middle that cuts right between her tits and has silver stars at the waist. And Kharris is wearing this genie-style number, all blue and silvery, with lots of sequins and a strip missing around the hips that shows off her super- flat tummy. Course their make-up is flawless, defined and all subtle too so you can only tell they’re wearing it by looking real close. Over the last few weeks I’ve learned a lot from all the make-up people, and it makes me fucking cringe when I think about the slop I used to go out in. As for Mum, first thing I got to do with her is chuck out all that shit from the market and treat ourselves to some proper products, like that miracle concealer from Glossy X that makes even warts disappear. It’s true that the good stuff is pricey. But it’s like the difference between chocolate and shit, and like that Shelly said to me, beauty’s one of them things you only get to play with once.
Monique’s nodding at the other girls, who all nod back at her and look down like this whole process is killing them. She often ends up doing the talking for the girls, which don’t seem fair on her really, specially when it comes to hard stuff like this. When I’m a Purrfect girl I’ll be sure to pipe up whenever I get the chance.
We’ve reached a decision, goes Monique, and it was the hardest decision any of us has ever had to make. You’ve all been just great and we would feel privileged to have any one of you in the band.
There’s more cheering and Monique looks at us each in turn. It ain’t like when Tess looked at us, which was this pitying stare like she was looking at deformed children in Africa or something. Monique’s look is full of emotion. You can tell she really understands how much this means, that she’s probably remembering when she had to go through it herself two years ago. There’re actual tears in her eyes, and I’ve got tears in me own eyes too just from looking back at her.
However, she goes, we had to choose someone, and we all feel that although this girl is a fabulous performer and a real character, she’s wrong for Purrfect. Coming into this competition, this girl made a bad decision early on. Although we all know how much she regrets it, we feel that lying about your family isn’t something to be taken lightly.
I realise she’s looking at me and me only. Me heart stops.
Joni, you sang that last song for your little boy and I thought it was really moving. But it’s a shame you didn’t want the world to know he was yours in the first place.
There’s noise and stuff going on, but this numb feeling comes over me and I can’t seem to get a grip on any of it. I know Mum’s standing on her chair again and shouting out that if Monique had ever had to squeeze out a fucking baby and then look after it she’d know it ain’t that fucking easy, and that Stina’s announcing to the world that I ain’t gonna be in Purrfect. But I don’t feel nothing about it. Not angry or sad. Just numb. Even the clapping sounds like it’s coming from far away.
Next thing I’m being hugged by Louise and then by Riana. For some reason I don’t want to claw their faces off or nothing like that. Instead I hear meself wailing at them Good luck! and I hug them back like they’re me best mates in the world. It’s only when I get to Stina and have to hug her too and she tells me God bless that I realise I’m crying away. It’s like this automatic thing I’m doing without having any control over it. And before I’ve even got me head around it, Stina’s pointing me off the stage and off I’m going, out of the spotlight, down the steps and into the darkness. Behind me I hear her telling the audience what a great contestant I’ve been, and it’s only then, as I go down the steps, that it hits me. It’s over. I ain’t never going b
ack on this stage again.
Okay, everyone, Stina’s going all excitedly, we’re sooo close to finding out who our winner is! We’re going for a quick ad break now, but don’t anyone dare go away! In just a few minutes the judges will reveal who is the most perfect potential Purrfect girl!
I stand like a dummy on the bottom step, staring off into space all gormless. These two techies are both concentrating super-hard on their headsets like they’re receiving very important instructions, but you can tell it’s only cos they can’t bring themselves to catch me eye. There’s a cameraman opposite who’s filming me, and I know I must look like the biggest loser on the planet just standing and staring off like this, but I can’t seem to snap out of it.
Come on, says Michelle gently, stepping forward from the corner. She takes me arm and leads me over to the door. Let’s take you back to the dressing room.
I let her guide me down the corridor like a fucking mental patient. As we go I notice that for once the cameraman ain’t bothering to follow, and I realise it’s cos he ain’t got no reason to anymore. Cos I ain’t worth wasting the tape on, not now that I’m officially out of the running.
Here, goes Michelle.
She opens the door and stands back to let me go in. Like a zombie I enter and stop in the middle, looking right at meself in the big mirror there. What I see there is this stupid tarted-up wannabe with no job and no prospects or nothing. Makes me want to fucking smash that mirror into pieces.
After a minute I realise Michelle’s still there at the door, watching.
It’s for the best you know, she goes.
Fuck off, I say.
You should count yourself lucky, she carries on like I ain’t just swore at her. This show, this business, it can wreck your life. It can even kill you.
Then she gives me that same dappy smile what she had on when I mashed into her the other week after I lost me cool with Ella in the studio. She’s wearing all black tonight, head to foot, like she’s going to a posh person’s funeral. Cos of how thin and white she is she looks sort of frightening, a bit like a dead person and not at all trendy like she’s s’posed to. And with that freaky smile of hers she don’t look right in the head neither. One person I ain’t gonna miss.
Could I be on me own? I say, trying me best not to fucking snap.
She nods, still smiling like she’s this fucking clairvoyant that knows all this mystical shit about what a good thing this is for me, and then closes the door.
I’m about to sit down and have a good cry, or maybe even just drop down dead from how shit I feel, when there’s this rustling from the clothes rack in the corner. Before I can stop meself I let out a scream. It’s the psycho, I think. He’s been here all along and now he’s gonna knife me while the others do their songs, right under everybody’s stupid noses.
Then two of the dresses slide apart and this little face I know all too well appears between them.
Hi Joni, goes Ella, all bright and cheerful. How’s it going?
For a minute I ain’t got a clue what to say. I just stand there gawping at her. Seeing her here, randomly like this, is just plain fucking off, like I’ve somehow slipped into another dimension or something. She’s wearing this dress from off the rack, only she ain’t got it on properly, and it’s too big for her, too, and the straps are hanging off her dainty little shoulders. She’s had a go at putting on some make-up, only it looks like she’s done it with her eyes shut cos it’s all over the place. Her hair is tangled and it looks like she’s used the tongs and has gone and fried a whole chunk of it. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen her looking rough.
I came back, Ella goes, like everything’s just completely fucking normal. I realised I was stupid to have left. Do you think they’ll let me still do my song? I’ve been thinking I could sing ‘My Heart Is Not Your Toy’. I know I haven’t practised, but I know it off by heart anyway and I’m really good. I don’t even need the music!
She gives me this hopeful look, and if ever there was an expression of somebody what’d lost it, Ella’s got it down. If you thought that Michelle looked daft in the head, well she ain’t got nothing on Ella. I mean, the girl looks positively raving.
How’d you get in the building? I go, calm as I can.
Oh, it was easy. I still had my security pass so I just showed the men at the desk and they let me right on in. I don’t think they realised I was supposed to have left.
She giggles, like this is too funny.
Ella, I go, slowly but firmly too cos that’s the only way to deal with someone who’s lost it big time, they ain’t gonna let you perform. You left the show. They’re down to Riana and Louise now and any minute they’re gonna decide which one of them’s in the band.
Ella looks at me smiling, still totally not getting it.
I’ve just been voted off! I go.
From the TV over on the side you can see they’ve started up again on stage, and Stina is introducing Louise. Ella shakes her head like I’m just messing with her and she’s not having any of it.
My plan is that I’ll surprise them, she goes. I’ll go onstage and sing and they’ll just be so blown away they’ll forget about everything that’s happened and want me for the band. I’m good, Joni, I really am. I’m really good enough!
But her voice is cracking, and next thing you know those famous old tears are pouring out of her like a fucking flash flood. I’m good enough! she keeps wailing, and even though it’s me who ought to be all upset and miserable cos of not getting the gig, I find meself going over to her and giving her a squeeze, and telling her I know she is.
I didn’t mean to give up! she keeps on wailing, I’m not a quitter, Joni! And I’m not worthless either!
Shhhh, I go, pushing her head into me shoulder and letting her start soaking the sleeve of the minidress. All gentle I explain to her how she don’t need to cry cos it don’t matter, of course she ain’t worthless, she’s got her whole life ahead of her and anyway, it’s just a silly fucking singing contest. On the TV Louise is starting her song and is singing out the words It’s been so long and I feel so old, but still got hope inside me, and there’s this big fucking close-up of her looking all sincere and ridiculous as she stares out into space. And suddenly I find meself figuring out that it’s true what I’m saying, and it’s true what that Michelle was saying as well, and out of nowhere I get this amazing revelation, like everything’s just become lit up by a bright light. Who I am at the end of the day is Joni, and all I need to be happy is me little boy. I just want to hold Baby in me arms again. Nothing else matters in the whole world, not this contest, not its stupid cameras, not any of these crazy fucking girls, none of them people out there and not even them bitch judges. Not even those cunts Wendy and Davy. Nothing matters, cept for me and him.
‘So psyched now . . . never known anything like it! All I can say is how much I’ve loved doing this, the whole thing, and how much I’m going to miss it all. I’m not the same person as I was when I started. I really have the competition to thank for that!’
Up ahead’s Louise, standing at the centre of the stage bathed in rose-coloured light. Little stars of white appear and swirl about her before fading away again. Her long silver gown with the slit all the way almost to her fanny makes her look curvier than she really is, and the way it folds out loose over her tits makes her look almost a whole cup size bigger.
It’s been so long and I feel so old, she sings softly with her eyes shut, lots of tiny purple specks glittering on her eyelids, But still got hope inside me . . .
Listening to the beautiful lyrics to Martha Sole’s song, that Louise didn’t even know when they first chose it for her, I can’t help thinking how much she looks like a woman. Grown up and independent, almost like a real diva. She’s going to be properly devastated if she doesn’t get this – I wonder if she’ll ever be able to get over it. The other day after we touched each other up in the toilet right under the nose of that stupid camera dude, I whispered to her what would she do if s
he didn’t get picked? She looked at me with these eyes all narrowed and suspicious like she thought it was a trick question. Then she whispered back that she was going to get picked, and before I could say anything else she broke away and stalked off out the bathroom, which was a surprise seeing as up till then I’d always been the one to leave first. I couldn’t help laughing. Let’s just wait and see, shall we, little madam? I thought, since I was just as positive it was going to be me. But now, for the first time, I realise Louise is good. Real good. She’s just not my style, that’s all, but I can see how she’s worked really hard for this and that she wants it so bad it hurts. What’s more, I can see that maybe, just maybe, she might even get it.
Gotta take a moment . . . never thought I’d feel this way . . .
So I guess I should be hating her. I should be willing her to trip up, to do a Valerie, or have a coughing fit, or suddenly have to puke, or something else that’ll swing this my way. But for some reason, watching her from here in the wings, I don’t feel jealous or spiteful at all, just sad. Not quite sure why.
I peer over to where Purrfect’re sat. Four pretty white faces with designer-plucked eyebrows all creased up in concentration. Was wrong to think that it’s just like stripping, what they do. Sure, there’s an element of sexuality in performing, but it’s so much more. That’s what I’ve come to understand. It’s about properly engaging the audience, getting on the same wavelength as them and then leading them through the emotions of a song, whether it’s slow and sad or fast and sexy. It’s about connecting with people. And it’s not something just anyone can do either.
Life’s been so full of heartache, can’t handle it no more, sings out Louise, suddenly all loud and wavering. As normal she’s faultless, perfectly in tune and not a note out of place. Only her voice sounds the same as how it’s always sounded to me. Empty. Like maybe she doesn’t really feel what she’s singing about – probably cos she doesn’t.