Idol

by Carrie Duffy

  ‘You know what Tom’s like,’ Carla shrugged as though that explained everything. Tom was Carla’s boyfriend. He worked in IT, which as far as Sadie could tell meant he spent his time surfing the Internet and downloading porn. ‘He’s really into Asian women – Japanese, Filipino – and you know how skinny they are,’ Carla explained.

  ‘So are fourteen-year-old boys,’ Sadie lectured. She had never liked Tom. He and Carla had been together for years, and as far as Sadie could tell they only stayed together out of habit. Carla couldn’t seem to see how much better off she would be without him; as far as she was concerned, any guy was better than being alone. ‘Look, just because Tom has weird fetishes doesn’t mean you have to starve yourself.’

  ‘I just want him to love me,’ Carla whispered, her doe eyes filling with tears.

  ‘Hon, he’s a bastard,’ Sadie told her frankly.

  ‘Your area of expertise,’ shot back Carla, turning her anger on Sadie.

  ‘Touché.’ Sadie raised an eyebrow. She could tell Carla was upset, so she let the matter drop. ‘Anyway, I’m the one who needs to go on a diet,’ she continued, as she sipped the deliciously chilled Pinot Grigio. ‘I’ve barely worked out at all since 42nd Street was cancelled. Laziness and comfort eating are not a good combination.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous, you look fantastic,’ Carla re assured her. ‘Every man in here is practically drooling into his lunch.’

  ‘Well it’s nice to have these,’ Sadie smirked, indicating her breasts, ‘but I really need to get back down to my performance weight. I haven’t done anything for weeks. Thanks for dragging me out,’ she smiled gratefully. Despite her protests when Carla first invited her, Sadie felt a lot better after the Pilates class. She enjoyed the familiar buzz as her body was kick-started back to life. She knew that she needed to get back into some sort of routine – and soon. She planned to start auditioning again next week and she needed to be on top of her game. It would be steamed veg and dance classes all the way from now on, she vowed, wincing as the waitress brought a delicious-looking panna cotta over to the table next to them.

  ‘No, thanks for doing me the favour. It’s nice to see a friendly face among all those tight-arsed Botox freaks,’ Carla grinned, as she fished out the slice of lemon from her glass.

  ‘Too many calories?’ teased Sadie.

  ‘Fuck off,’ retorted Carla, good-naturedly. ‘You might be able to look amazing 24/7, but not all of us have that luxury. Speaking of which, I’m off to the Ladies to tidy myself up a little. All these rich bitches are giving me a complex,’ she asserted, grabbing her bag as she pushed her chair back and went inside.

  Idly, Sadie glanced over at the surrounding tables, settling back to watch the hustle and bustle as people hurried past on their way to Liverpool Street. Everyone seemed to be wearing freshly buffed shoes and expensive suits, their braying voices loudly discussing incomprehensible terms like derivative clearing and projected EPS. But she couldn’t deny that everyone looked fantastic. The women were impeccably dressed in chic designer outfits and sky-high heels, their hair professionally styled and their make-up immaculate. And the men …! Sadie allowed herself a small smile, and resolved to discuss the topic with Carla as soon as she got back. They’d have no problem finding Carla someone hotter than freaky Tom. The men here all looked sexy as hell, with their crisp, white shirts and light tans, no doubt cultivated at Christmas in St Barts and topped up on the ski slopes at Klosters.

  Her gaze landed on a guy a couple of tables away, and Sadie almost knocked over her wine glass. Christ, he was gorgeous! She felt as if she’d just received an electric shock, one thousand volts straight through her body. Thank God she was wearing dark glasses so he couldn’t see her staring. He looked directly at her and his gaze was so disconcerting that she dropped her eyes, feeling her cheeks flame.

  Cautiously, she glanced up from underneath her long, dark lashes. He was no longer looking at her, but some instinct told Sadie that he was still highly aware of her presence. He was chatting and joking with his colleagues; the women burst out laughing at something he’d said and Sadie felt an inexplicable pang of jealousy.

  Then he glanced over at her again, as if to check that she was watching. This time Sadie didn’t look away. Damn, he was attractive. He must have been almost twice her age – early forties, she would have guessed – but he had that complete confidence and authority that comes with maturity. Maturity, and a shit-load of cash, Sadie smiled to herself, as she noticed the Rolex on his wrist. His hair was dark, flecked with grey, and his features were exquisite – strong jaw line and a heavy, Roman nose which gave his face a distinction and gravity, offset by the way he was grinning now. He looked fun, she thought, feeling a delicious flutter in her stomach. He looked sexy.

  Sadie glanced up as Carla slid back into her seat, now perfectly made up with her glossy brown hair freshly brushed. ‘I feel better for that,’ she exclaimed. ‘It’s like I’m naked without lip gloss.’ She noticed Sadie’s agitated state, the spots of colour high on her cheeks. ‘What’s wrong with you?’

  ‘Hot man alert,’ Sadie hissed through pursed lips.

  ‘I know, they’re everywhere.’ Carla sat back languidly as the waiter placed their food in front of them.

  ‘Not like this one.’

  ‘So who’s your intended victim?’

  Sadie nodded discreetly to where the man was once again talking with his friends.

  Carla wrinkled her nose. ‘Not bad. Not really my taste, though. He’s been checking you out since we arrived so he’s definitely interested.’

  Sadie was pleased by the confirmation.

  ‘What about your vow to make it to the top?’ Carla asked, a teasing glint in her eye. ‘Won’t he be a distraction?’

  ‘A girl’s got to have some fun,’ Sadie pouted. ‘Let off a little steam, if you know what I’m saying.’

  ‘I know what you’re saying,’ Carla grinned. ‘So are you going over?’

  Sadie shook her head. ‘No way. He can come to me.’

  ‘Well he’d better be quick …’

  ‘Fuck,’ swore Sadie, as there was a clattering of chairs and the women gathered their handbags. The group stood up and the man walked off without so much as a backwards glance. ‘Bastard,’ she hissed, as she watched his retreating form. His shoulders were broad, his back toned and defined through the white cotton shirt. She imagined his strong, muscular chest pressed against her, his breath hot on her neck. She wanted him badly.

  ‘There’ll be another one along in a minute,’ Carla reassured her. ‘What about that guy over there?’ she suggested, indicating a young City slicker with over-styled blond hair who was talking loudly into his BlackBerry.

  Sadie merely raised an eyebrow. She pushed her food aside; suddenly she had no appetite. She took a large gulp of wine, hoping it would dull the nagging sensation of humiliation. She felt like a loser and she didn’t like it. ‘Shall we get the bill?’

  ‘Sure,’ agreed Carla, who was toying with a leaf of rocket.

  Sadie signalled for the waiter, who came rushing over. ‘No, there is no charge, madam. The gentleman who was sitting over there paid for your meal.’

  It took Sadie a moment to comprehend what he was saying, but then a satisfied smile slowly spread across her face. ‘Did he now?’ she purred, feeling the familiar rush of excitement in her stomach.

  ‘Yes madam. And he asked me to give you this.’ The waiter handed over a neat, elegantly printed business card. Sadie took it, brushing her fingers thoughtfully over the raised print. Paul Austin. Senior Investment Manager. Willis & Bourne. It was thick, creamy card, expertly embossed. Very expensive. Very tasteful.

  ‘He’s bound to be a bastard,’ Carla warned her.

  Sadie smiled triumphantly. ‘Let the game commence.’

  Jenna’s emotive voice rang out powerfully in the cramped recording booth. Lost in the sound of the music, she swayed her hips slightly, causing Nick to miss a beat as his concentration was
broken by the sight of her gyrating crotch.

  ‘Okay, let’s do that line again,’ sighed Don from behind the glass wall of the production box. It was the second day of recording for the Jenna/Phoenix collaboration, and only four weeks since the press conference, but already the optimism and excitement of that day felt like months ago. Don had a sneaking suspicion that this wasn’t going to be the easiest job of his career.

  At 55 years old, Lancashire-born Don had been in the business a long time. Physically, he was a huge, hairy guy with a ZZ Top beard and a cut-the-crap attitude that endeared him to the artists he worked with. Don had collaborated with some of the biggest names in the music industry, and partied with some of the world’s most stunning women, but had stayed resolutely faithful to Patty, his wife of twenty-eight years. All the same, he was a guy and couldn’t fail to admire that high, round butt and those pert tits.

  Yet, whilst his was what he liked to describe as a healthy appreciation, he felt Nick’s appreciation was a little too healthy. Hell, it was so healthy it was practically doing cartwheels round the room. His timing on the drums was awful, and it wouldn’t have surprised Don to find him dribbling on his snare.

  ‘Excellent, we’re getting there,’ Don yelled, as Jenna belted out the line and Nick managed to complete the riff.

  Zac looked up and adjusted his headphones. ‘I think we should do it again,’ he suggested quietly.

  ‘What’s the problem, Zac?’

  They were working on a track called ‘Without You’. Penned by Zac, it had been intended for Phoenix before Josh quit, but Jenna had insisted on having creative input and a writing credit.

  ‘I don’t think the vocal was quite right,’ Zac replied firmly, not meeting Jenna’s gaze.

  ‘I thought Jenna got it down just fine. Take a break and we can always run through it again later,’ Don suggested.

  ‘Since when have we settled for just fine?’ Zac pressed, his voice taking on a harder edge. ‘It wasn’t right, so we should do it again. I don’t know how other artists work, but we’ve always had our success through hard work. Our music speaks for itself, and we don’t rely on any other … assets … to sell records.’

  Don was taken aback. Where the hell had that come from? Zac had always seemed like such an easy-going guy, yet he seemed to have taken a strong dislike to this cute chick and Don felt clueless as to why that should be. Sure, she could overdo it with the pampered princess act, but that was something they could easily get past if they were going to get this music out.

  ‘How about we take a break and go back to it in a while. Everyone’s starting to flag.’

  But it was Jenna’s voice that replied. ‘No Don, it’s fine,’ she said curtly, stunned by what Zac had said. She’d always been a huge fan of his, but maybe it was true when they said you shouldn’t meet your idols. ‘I’ll do it again. I haven’t come this far by taking it easy on myself,’ she added pointedly, glaring defiantly at Zac. She didn’t know what his problem was, but if he thought she was going to roll over and die, he had another thing coming.

  They reset the backing and Jenna launched into the song, feeling the power of the music build up through her body as Nick thrashed on the drums and Ryan hammered out the bass line. Unconsciously she began to move to the rhythm, feeling the relentless beat of the drums pulse through her, the squealing of the guitar electrify her veins. Many of her rivals wrote her off as simply another identikit pop act, but anyone who underestimated her was making a big mistake. She’d worked her arse off over the years to get where she was now, and she knew she was damn talented.

  Screw him and his criticism, thought Jenna, fixing her gaze on Zac, who remained hunched over his guitar like an animal with its prey. His well-defined muscles rippled under his grey T-shirt, and Jenna felt a burst of injured pride followed by the shot of adrenaline she needed as she ripped into the song.

  When the track finished, a deafening silence rang out in the studio. A single word came from the production box. ‘Perfection.’

  Slowly, Jenna brought her focus back to the room. The rest of the band was gazing at her, awestruck.

  ‘You were fantastic, you totally nailed it,’ gushed Nick.

  ‘That was pretty amazing,’ admitted Ryan. ‘The feeling you put in there – it was so connected.’

  Jenna grinned with pleasure as she realized the effect she’d had on them. Unable to help herself, she sneaked a glance at Zac.

  This time, he met her gaze. ‘That was good,’ he agreed grudgingly. ‘I guess that wraps us up for the night. See you guys tomorrow.’ He grabbed his battered old jacket and walked out of the studio before anyone had a chance to reply.

  ‘Zac, wait,’ Jenna called out impulsively. She was sick of the way he was acting towards her, and wanted to find out exactly what his problem was. His attitude was making the situation awkward for everyone, and after her success in the studio she was on a high, geared up for an argument.

  Slamming through the door after him, she ran out into the corridor to find Zac being embraced by Amber, immaculate in a simple black dress and sky-high ankle boots.

  ‘Oh, I didn’t realize …’ Jenna faltered, trailing off.

  ‘Hi Jenna.’ Amber greeted her coldly, her eyes not matching the friendliness of her words. She kept her arms firmly around Zac, a possessive gesture deliberately designed to exclude.

  ‘Hi Amber,’ Jenna replied smoothly, trying to sound composed even though her mind was racing. ‘I just … wanted a quick word with Zac. But it’s not important. It’ll wait until tomorrow.’

  ‘It must have been pretty important if you ran out here to tell me,’ Zac challenged her. There was an amused glint in his dark eyes. ‘What did you want to say?’

  You bastard, Jenna swore to herself. It was all she could do not to spit the remark out at him. ‘I said it could wait until tomorrow,’ she told him coldly, turning on her heel and walking back into the studio.

  ‘Fine.’ Zac gave a small shrug and threw his arm across Amber’s shoulders, steering her towards the exit.

  Jenna stood alone in the corridor, her breath coming fast. She’d show that arrogant prick. Jenna Jonsson was not to be underestimated – and Zac was going to find out he’d made a big mistake.

  5

  Despite her protestations to the contrary, Jenna did care what Zac thought. She couldn’t help it. In spite of his arrogance and his dismissive attitude towards her, she wanted his approval. More than that, she was determined that this collaboration with Phoenix would blow everyone away, and she knew that for that to happen she needed to start working hard and get the band on side.

  Ryan was a lovely, sweet guy – quiet, but from a natural shyness, not hostility. Nick was eating out of her hand, she thought with a grin. Now he was a lot of fun. There had been a lot of flirting, a lot of teasing and giggling, but nothing more. Yet. Don was a sweetie, and the best in the business – he worked them mercilessly, but got fantastic results, and Jenna had the utmost respect for him. But Zac … Jenna couldn’t work him out. He was behaving like a total bastard towards her, but that wasn’t what she’d heard about him from everyone else. They all seemed to think he was a great guy. Yeah, so he could be a little absorbed in his work at times, but that was something you accepted when you were working with a genius. So what was his problem with her?

  Jenna was mulling the situation over as she lay alone in her super-king-size bed, unable to sleep. Zac’s criticism had hit her harder than she had expected. All of his comments seemed to centre on her work and her attitude. She knew that he could only respect anyone who took their work as seriously as he did, and when she turned up day after day in her little outfits, looking to flirt with Nick and have a laugh with the production staff …

  Jenna cringed as she thought of it. Okay, so maybe she could be a little childish at times.

  Right, Jenna resolved firmly, tomorrow sees the start of the new, mature me.

  And the first thing to change would be her clothes, she decided, jumpi
ng out of bed and heading over to her walk-in wardrobe with a growing sense of excitement at the thought of a reinvention. Other artists did it all the time, thought Jenna, picturing herself at high-brow events wearing Audrey Hepburn-style shift dresses, or fitted shirts and tailored trousers. Elegant – but still sexy, of course. Or maybe she could go for grown-up rock chick – thick black opaques and biker boots, teamed with a low-cut vest and fierce blazer.

  As Jenna pulled aside the rows of skimpy, bare-all tops, the micro-miniskirts and the tiny hot pants, she felt she could perhaps see the problem. Resolving to throw away all items of clothing she owned in baby pink, Jenna rummaged through rail upon rail of designer labels and located a pair of white, flared Ralph Lauren trousers, a demure, high-necked shift dress from last season’s Victoria Beckham collection, and the bold floral print skirt she’d finally decided on. Just because I want to be refined doesn’t mean I have to look like a Tory wife, she concluded, finding a pair of ultra-feminine Chanel ballet pumps, which lacked the spiked heel and fetishistic appeal of most of her other footwear.

  Just you wait Zac Knight, thought Jenna fiercely, climbing back between the luxurious Egyptian cotton sheets and flicking off the light.

  Sadie emerged from the grimy Tube, breathing in the fresh air of Green Park. She looked sensational in a deep red wrap dress that fitted perfectly, emphasizing the slim contours of her body, and she’d teamed it with a sleek pair of knee-high boots. Men were checking her out as she walked along, a spring in her step and a swing to her hips.

  As she reached the May Fair Hotel a few minutes later, the uniformed porter in his long coat and top hat opened the door, smiling at her as she stepped through. Sadie made a left and headed towards the bar. Her stomach was churning with excitement and nerves, but she knew she looked good.

  Paul Austin was already there, seated at the counter. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw him. He looked unbelievably handsome, just as she’d remembered him, and in the stylish bar he seemed completely at home, radiating power and confidence. His suit was expensive and well fitted, his face serious as he swirled his whisky on the rocks. Then he glanced up, his face creasing into a smile as he saw her. He stood up to meet her and his eyes slowly ran over every inch of her body, watching the way her hips rolled, the way her small breasts rose and fell as she walked towards him. Sadie felt a thrill of anticipation run down her spine.