by Will Davis
I look past Purrfect at the judges, sat in a line at the table right in front of Louise. Joe looks serious and is nodding along as if he’s discovering for the very first time how much he agrees with the lyrics, while Emma’s got this big smile like she’s watching a baby bird she’s nurtured all through the winter finally find its wings and fly. Only Tess’s face is blank and unreadable. But there’s something about the total lack of anything in those fat features that makes me think this troll’s really felt what Louise is singing about – that she really understands how much love can fucking hurt. After all, how else does a woman get to be so cold and bitter? Jesus, man, I don’t ever wanna be like that. Rather be a lost cause, like Emily from the club, who cries for all the babies she never had and tries to act like everyone’s mum while they all snigger behind her back and think of her as a loser. Least her heart’s still there.
I want to feel loved! croons Louise, raising a hand and pointing at the audience like she’s singling out someone that she just knows is going to demonstrate to her what it’s all about, Need to feel loved!
I follow the direction of her finger, pointing out towards the back row, thinking that I’ll never be able to just sit and listen to someone performing ever again without wishing it was me. There at the back I see a face that makes Louise’s song disappear as if someone had suddenly flicked an off button. For a few seconds all I can hear is the sound of blood pumping in my ears, and all I can see is her. Eddy. She’s got a black scarf wound round her neck and is wearing one of those military berets that I hate, which hides her whole forehead. But I’d know her face anywhere. Those cat’s eyes are staring towards the stage, all slitted with hate. And just like that I know for sure it was her that sent the threats, her that broke in and wrote on the mirror and shredded the costume and murdered that poor pigeon. What everyone’s been frightened of all along is nothing but Eddy and her stupid SCUM group. And tonight she’s got something new planned, something to really bring the house down.
Louise is going down the steps from the stage into the space right before the audience, still singing the chorus, reaching out to touch some of the waving hands in the front row. She’s smiling sweetly in this way that’s all wrong considering what she’s singing about. But I can’t focus on that right now cos suddenly Eddy is upsetting everyone in her row by pushing her way down it towards the aisle. In her arms she’s holding a yellow rucksack, the one she always takes on her little terrorist adventures, which I recognise cos it’s tatty and hideous and I’ve tried hundreds of times to throw it out. My heart pounds like it’s doing The Locomotive. As she reaches the aisle her right hand dips into the rucksack, yanking it open, and I catch a flash of something metallic inside. Behind her at the door there’s a security guard, but he’s off watching Louise along with everyone else, trying to work out what he thinks and totally oblivious to what’s about to happen right under his fucking nose. Eddy makes her way down the aisle, striding like nothing’s gonna stop her towards the stage and Louise. Still no one fucking notices. They’re all too busy going soppy over Louise’s naff performance. I watch as Eddy picks up pace. The hand in the rucksack comes out and it’s clutching a shiny blue cylinder, and suddenly I know exactly what Eddy is up to.
For a second I’m tempted to let her go through with it. After all, it’s not like she’s going to kill someone. Louise’ll scream and probably cry when the paint blast hits her, and it’ll bring the whole competition to a standstill for a while and cause a right sensation, but that’s all. One way or another Eddy’ll be caught and get carted off by security or the police or whatever in front of a whole army of snapping cameras, which is no doubt what she wants. Then there’ll be lots of publicity for her silly old SCUM group and she can go back to them feeling all proud of herself and that’ll be the end of it. No big deal.
I want to feel loved! Need to feel loved!
Cept that it’ll be a big deal for Louise. This is her last shot, her crowning moment, and even if she is the competition I can’t just stand by and let Eddy piss all over her dreams, not after feeling up her skinny body and making her frig me over and over in the upstairs toilets of the house while right outside some dumb camera dude waits for us with no idea about what we’re up to. Only a total irredeemable cunt would just watch and do nothing.
I turn to Michelle beside me.
Someone’s about to spray paint all over Louise! I cry.
Michelle nods slowly. I don’t have time to grab the useless bitch’s shoulders and shake her about while I spell it out for her. Eddy’s halfway down the aisle and rapidly getting closer. She’s shaking the spray paint canister up and down as she gets ready to take her shot. People are finally looking up at her as she passes them but no one’s making any move to stop her. Meanwhile Louise has closed her eyes again and is launching into the final lines of the song. She opens her arms and holds them out in the exact direction of Eddy. It almost looks like she’s planning to give her a welcome hug. No time to think about what I’m doing, I just hurl myself up the steps and onto the stage. Straight away I’m blinded by rose-coloured light. Behind me I hear Michelle yelling at me to get back but I don’t listen. I run in the direction of where I know Louise is standing.
Stop her! Somebody stop her! I shriek, loud as I can. I don’t have a mic, but all these weeks of being made to stand in a corner humming Ah while I play with my throat have done their job. I almost break the fucking sound barrier. As my eyes adjust I see the auditorium, hundreds of faces staring at me in amazement, the panel and Purrfect themselves all open-mouthed at the front in this one line of O shapes.
Louise’s voice fades as she turns to see what the commotion’s about. Her eyes crease up with rage when she realises it’s me and that I’m messing up her song. There’s someone onstage behind me now too, one of the techies shouting at me to get off. But I don’t stop. I stumble forward, pointing and shouting, focusing on that figure behind Louise.
It’s her, she’s the one who’s been sending the threats! I’m screaming, sounding like a maniac that needs to be sedated. She reckons it’s up to her to reshape the whole fucking world!
I feel these hands closing around my arms and shoulders, trying to pull me back and force down the hand that’s pointing at Eddy. I throw them off, only for them to come back again twice as strong. Everyone in the place seems to be on their feet shouting, but I can’t hear anything cept my own voice as I carry on shrieking for someone to do something.
Eddy’s eyes meet mine. I will her not to do it, but what I see there makes me realise there’s no going back. Suddenly, maybe for the first time, I have this feeling that I truly understand Eddy. It’s what I should have understood from the moment we met, when she first came to the club with her SCUM flyers trying to convert us all, insisting that what we did meant we were letting men rule our lives. Thought I’d got something on her when I managed to get her to sit down while I gave her a private, right in front of all those jeering dicks at the bar. Figured I’d proved she was just like the rest of us really, no matter what she might like to think. And all along I’ve believed it – that behind all the talk she’s the same, another hopeless human with dirty thoughts and desires, someone that’d watch a show just like this one and secretly enjoy it no matter what it stood for. What a twat I am! Cos what I’ve never got is that Eddy won’t ever come to terms with it. Here’s someone that hates the world for not living up to her expectations. Someone that’ll do anything to get revenge on it for not being as perfect as she wants it to be. Noble or pathetic, it doesn’t make a blind bit of difference, cos that’s who she is and she’s never going to change, not for me, not for anyone. And that’s why I know it’s over between us for good.
Still holding my eyes she smiles a nasty, bitter kind of smile, then breaks her gaze away and strides the remaining distance between her and Louise. She raises the spray can to Louise’s eye level. As she does Louise turns back round to look at her, offering up her face to the gleaming cylinder of doom.
Don’t— I shout, but it’s useless. My wonderful loud voice dissolves into nothing but this pathetic wail and I shut my eyes cos I can’t bear it. I feel those hands that were pulling me back fall off as the people they belong to finally cotton on to what’s happening, but it’s too late, I know it’s too late, and I wait for the sound of Louise screaming. With my eyes closed I suddenly notice that all along the music to the Martha Sole song has still been playing, just as it cuts out midway through the last chord. Then all I can hear is roaring as everyone shouts at once, till suddenly this familiar voice starts up, closer and louder than all the others.
You mean nothing to me, Riana! Nothing! You’re just a sad bimbo with no fucking self-respect and I should have known you’d end up whoring yourself out like this! You’ll get everything that’s coming to you, just you wait! You’ll be sorry when your pink and fluffy fucking world collapses—!
I open my eyes. Eddy is covered by so many security guards it’s like she’s wearing them as a human ball gown. Somehow she’s still putting up a fight but all her breath is now being used up from the effort. The can of spray paint rolls forward and backward on the carpet where she dropped it. One of the guards that’s struggling with her accidentally kicks it and sends it spinning off towards a member of the audience, this skinny guy with glasses who picks it up and cradles it in his arms as if it’s a holy relic or something. Louise is sobbing but looks okay and is being comforted by her dad, who’s appeared from nowhere and is hugging her like he’s protecting her from the rest of the world. Over at the judges’ table Joe and Emma are actually holding on to each other as if they’ve been driven into each other’s arms out of fright. Meanwhile Purrfect have been surrounded by another blanket of security guards, who’ve walled themselves around the girls, facing outwards, like any second now they’re expecting this follow-up army of activists to rush them. But there’re no more SCUM members with spray cans. They got her. It’s over.
You’ll never be happy, you stupid brainless fucking bitch!
Eddy’s last words. She spits them out for all she’s worth, somehow still managing to be heard over all the noise. Then she’s dragged through the double doors at the back and out of the room. The doors swing shut behind her. Still being comforted by her dad, Louise is led back up onstage and over to the wings by a security guard. She’s got her hand held to her face. I try to catch her eye as she goes past, but she looks away.
The audience is nothing but this one gigantic fucking body with hundreds and hundreds of arms and mouths, all waving and shouting. People struggle to get past each other, either back to their seats or out to the aisle. Everything is in chaos, and it’s the kind of chaos that looks like it’ll go on for ever and ever.
Then, to everyone’s amazement, Tess takes charge. She stands up and brings her hands together in a single clap right in front of the mic that’s pinned to the sheer silk shirt she’s draped over her massive wobbly chest. It creates a sound like a gunshot. Everyone instantly falls silent and stops moving.
Well, says Tess, totally calm, that was an unexpected little piece of drama!
There are chuckles from all over. Voices begin again, but this time it’s just a hum, nothing like the din it was before. Row after row of seats groan as people plant their butts back down again. Saffron and Monique from Purrfect push through the security guards that’re still walled up around them and wave at them to leave, like their presence is nothing but a big hassle they’re sick of having to put up with.
We all owe a big thank you to Riana for diverting that little catastrophe, Tess continues smoothly. I think we should give her a hand to show our appreciation.
You’d think I’d gone and saved someone’s life the way the room goes off. I swear it’s like fucking something else. Emma and Joe are clapping away as if they’re trying to make fire and the girls from Purrfect are all giving me standing ovations and showing off these brilliant white teeth. Even the bunch of security guards, now back in their places at the sides of the stage, are putting their hands together.
My skin turns to goose-flesh. I’m trembling like I’ve never trembled before. I look out over the rows of cheering faces and once again all I can see is one single expression, only this time it’s totally blank, like everyone’s wearing a mask, the same mask, one that spookily has nothing behind it. Freaked out, I force myself to put on a smile. Always been proud of the way I can deal with anything life throws at me by smiling, overcoming all fear and doubt just by parting my lips. It’s my secret weapon. But for once it’s not having the effect on me it’s s’posed to. The trembling in my arms and legs won’t stop, and neither will the weird sense that I’ve just done something that crosses a line, taking me into a place I can never come back from. Eddy’s last words echo in my head. You’ll never be happy. Sounds like a curse.
I let my eyes travel round the room until they come to rest on Tess. With a bit of a shock I realise she’s smiling too, this big grin you’d never have believed her able to make. But there’s something chilling about her grin. Something that lets me know she knows perfectly well I’m no hero in this situation, but that it doesn’t matter, cos what she also knows is that me and her are the same. Didn’t I just prove it by rushing out onstage like that? It’s written in her nasty fat face plain as fucking day. I’m gonna win this, I suddenly realise. I’m really gonna win it. It’s not some dream or fantasy no more. I’m the new Purrfect girl.
Take a bow, Riana! screams Joe, beside himself with excitement.
As I bow and the applause gets even crazier, I glance back into the wings. I can see Louise stood there watching me, her face pale and her eyes huge and full of emotion. It’s so sad, that look on her face, cos I know she’s seen it too – that she’s not going to get this. She knows that it’ll be me, and suddenly I find myself wondering what I’m doing here. If I really want this so badly? Enough to fuck the dreams of that silly spoilt fucked-up little madam over there? Enough to kiss that troll’s spotty fat arse, just so I can sing songs in a bikini about love to thousands of people? Badly enough to become empty and fake and heartless?
The noise finally starts to die down and I straighten up. As I do there’s this sound of crying from the other side of the stage. I turn to look. To my surprise I see that miserable old Michelle, her head held high and her eyes blazing like a demon’s. Her arm’s locked around Stina Ellis’s neck and pressed up against Stina’s throat she’s got a handgun.
‘Even before Purrfect existed, I was meant to be in the band. I’ve never felt this way about anything. I don’t just want to win, I need to. It’s the only thing that matters to me in the whole world.’
It happens so fast. One minute all I can focus on is Riana and how much I hate her. There she is at the centre of the stage, stupid boobs exploding out of her obscenely low-cut gold top as she does this grand bow in front of everyone, like she actually deserves their applause for doing nothing. Then she shoots a look my way. Her smile has never looked so big and fake, like it’s nothing but a jagged piece of plastic glued on above her chin. It seems like the only reason for that smile to be there is to taunt me, because she’s ruined my performance and ruined it in such a way that even if I get to perform it again no one will be interested because it’s beyond obvious that she’s going to be the new Purrfect girl. I’ve never wanted anyone to die so much. If only a bolt of lightning could strike her down, turning her into nothing but a heap of ash and a smoking pair of heels, I’d laugh out loud and not even care who heard.
Then there’s the most terrific bang that makes me and the technical crew all jump. It’s followed by the sound of tinkling glass and of someone screaming. I look up and see that one of the lights has exploded, and a cloud of tiny glass particles is gently drifting down over the stage, catching the other lights and sparkling like fairy dust. At first I think it’s just blown because it got too hot, like our garage lights at home sometimes do, but then I see Michelle and Stina and I know it has something to do with them. Oddly, they seem to be hugging.
Stina is hardly standing and Michelle has got one arm tightly around her neck which Stina is clutching at like she needs it for support. Then I realise that Michelle and Stina aren’t hugging but that Michelle has got Stina in a choke hold, and only then do I notice she’s got something which looks an awful lot like a gun pushed up under Stina’s chin.
What is going on here?
‘Good evening,’ says Michelle in a loud sarcastic-sounding voice. ‘How’s everyone doing tonight?’
She’s holding Stina’s microphone in her other hand and she sounds surprisingly clear given that she’s half doubled up dragging the weight of Stina’s body. She’d make a far better presenter, that’s for sure.
Over at their table at the front of the audience the judges are all panicking. Security guards from either side of the stage are starting up the steps, but Michelle just digs the gun a little deeper in under Stina’s throat, producing a little whimper from her. The guards stop dead.
‘No, thank you,’ Michelle says to them with mock politeness. Then her face turns grim. ‘However, you don’t need to worry, this isn’t going to take long.’
Stina whimpers again and I notice she’s got a patch of red on her forehead. Michelle must have smacked her before she dragged her out onstage. Despite all the times I’ve looked at the silly orange-skinned bee and imagined something horrible happening to her, I actually feel sorry for her as her eyes roll helplessly back and forth. Her make-up is smeared across her face as if someone just scraped half of it off, and her cheeks are bright red, rather like the cheeks of one of those homeless alcoholics who are always sitting outside banks begging for change. Of course this is all being caught on camera, and a choke hold is possibly the least attractive position in which to be filmed. Tomorrow, her bloated red features are going to be on the front page of every paper.