‘And who would you be, my little darling?’ I always use the word ‘darling’ if I’m feeling out of kilter. It’s got a lovely echo of superiority that might just give me an edge, seeing as I’m so desperate not to slur. And I am hoping against hope that this beauty has come to audition. But when she looks back at me, there’s no deference there, which is odd. I’m used to deference. I get it all the time, but with her, there’s none of that. Instead, she lifts her chin and meets my gaze straight on.
‘I’m not your darling, sweetheart,’ she says.
Seriously, she called me sweetheart! Which, I have to admit, tops it hands down on the patronising scale.
‘I’m Clara.’
I like the name. It’s got that clean, fresh ring to it. It suits her.
‘And I’m here to make sure your auditions run on schedule.’
I have to fight really hard not to smile. Part of me just wants to burst out laughing. This pint-sized – okay, so she’s attractive – but this pint-sized, attractive ball of energy has just slam-dunked me with a hardcore dose of my own slice of good old-fashioned passive-aggressiveness. Suddenly, I realise there’s a pause going on. People are watching. I’m no longer in control.
‘You…’ I say, managing not to slur, pointing towards her chest. ‘You…’ And what I’d like to say is, you can just run away with me. Take that hard-boiled attitude, drop it in the bin on the way out, and fly off with me to some place with bucketloads of sunshine-infused paradise. The thought of that blonde vision in blue, in a bikini, with her soft skin under a warm sun starts circulating around my brain. Suddenly, I realise I’ve been standing there swaying, with the full attention of all those star-struck hopefuls who didn’t make it out of the studio last night. Oh dear. This has all gone badly wrong. It feels like I’m way down deep in a black hole and have no idea how to pull myself out. ‘You do as you like.’ I say – which seems like the safest bet. ‘Just,’ again there’s a pause, everybody hanging off my every word, ‘make sure I have talent in front of me within the hour, or…’ I squint. Why are there two of them? ‘Or you’ll both be out of a job.’
With that, she claps her hands sharply for attention.
It was that easy. That easy for this, whoever she is, to lick them all into shape. I sink back onto the red couch, grabbing a handful of nuts and a bottle of water. It’s been a tough night. Why did the auditions carry on right through the clock? Hmm, was that a case of me being an arsehole? Maybe. Thank Christ, the fireball with the clapping hands has finally got it under control. The goblin woman, I mutter to myself as I fall asleep, tugging at the edges of my brain. Of course! I laugh. She’s a goblin. Then everything goes velvet-black.
CHAPTER 6
CLARA
It’s such a relief when Marco flops backwards on the sofa, closes his eyes, and snores. This is a mess. I’m not even one hundred per cent sure that I can clear the clutter, but I need to make a start. First things first, I need to dismiss the hangers-on, the ones still milling about the studio from yesterday. They haven’t found their way home, despite the fact they’re not wanted, so they’re taking up space and distracting from the actual work. Not to mention they’re beginning to smell! Party animals have an eight-hour shelf life.
I can see, from what must be Amy’s clipboard on the glossy white reception desk, who auditioned yesterday. Thankfully, Amy stuck badges on them as well as the lanyards, so I can tally the names up with what I’m guessing must be Amy’s notes on their audition. She’s clearly working to a code. CB must mean call-back. LG, let go? And I’m guessing NW is probably something like no way. I can make this work. I check I have all the audition tracks for the artists I’m about to send home and that their contact details match up, just in case, before pressing a bottle of water into each clammy, dismissed, sleep-deprived hand and showing them the lift.
With the space cleared, I can focus on setting up for the day’s auditions. Today’s cohort is already streaming in and looking as confused as I feel. I need to pull this process around. It’s a disaster.
A long, skinny woman with an aquiline nose gives Marco’s sleeping foot a stroke. ‘You’ll have to wake him when I do my slot,’ she says, without taking her eyes from him.
I gaze down at the snoring Marco; there is no way I’m going to poke that beast. If he’s asleep, he’s staying that way. ‘I’m so sorry,’ I say, ‘but he’s not feeling too good.’
This is not a lie. The man was most definitely unsteady, slurring, and most likely seeing double. In short, useless. ‘He won’t be awake for any of the auditions,’ I say gently, keen to get the disappointment over with as quickly as possible. There are murmurs of frustration.
A woman with a tattooed face and a diamond nose ring frowns. ‘But I shine when I sing.’
It must be through some kind of halo accessory because there’s no way any sort of natural flush is getting through that skin. But that’s not my business.
‘I’m sure,’ I say, sympathetically. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll set up cameras. We have all the best kit.’
I have no idea if that’s true or not, but the last thing I need is a mutiny on my hands.
‘Is it 4K?’ asks a blonde who looks like Marilyn.
‘Six,’ I say neatly, hoping that the technology I’m alluding to has been invented and is suitably impressive. From the girl’s reaction, it seems I’ve hit at least one of my marks, possibly both.
‘Just don’t grade me blue,’ Marilyn preens.
I press one hand to my chest in an attitude that says absolute sincerity. ‘I wouldn’t do that, ever.’
She nods.
I’m getting carried away now and have no idea what I’m on about or if I’m even making sense. Luckily, someone claps at this point. I make a mental note to find out what the hell ‘grade’ means.
‘Okay,’ I say brightly, with as much energy as I can muster. ‘If you can just give me some space. Help yourself to refreshments, and we’ll be rolling soon.’
The crowd disperses. People start stretching their bodies into artistic shapes, contorted postures that I didn’t even know were possible. Personally, I just uncross my fingers. Whatever I did seems to have worked.
