Dream Machine Page 5

  What do you think? says Alice, standing back so the dude can shove his camera up my nose to get a close-up on my reaction. I force my lips into a big smile, like I’m totally wowed by this new me looking back from the mirror. Far as I can tell Alice has basically wiped off my tart face and then reapplied it only in different colours. She’s also taken my weave out of its ponytail and back brushed it, Tyra Banks style. Twenty minutes, this image turnaround’s taken her. Sort of thing I’d have to do in five at the club.

  Cor, I breathe through my teeth, can’t believe it’s really me.

  Alice grins like she’s gone and worked a miracle. Off you go to see the stylist then, she says all proud, giving this quick glance at my mini-skirt and boob tube. They’ll fit you out with something a bit more . . . different.

  The camera dude follows me over to the clothing racks, where I’m met by this dwarf of a woman dressed all in black, which cos of her bright red hairdo and orange lipstick makes it look like her head’s caught fire. This is s’posed to be my style guru. She looks up and down at me.

  Oh my, she cackles, we’ve got our work cut out for us with you, haven’t we?

  Ten minutes later and I come out for the after shot. I’m wearing fitted black jeans and a black top, which is all right actually and which I’m planning to have a go at nicking, though the cut’s a bit high for my liking. But the gold tassels over the bust make up for that, wiggling every time you breathe and drawing the attention right back to the boobs. Amount these puppies cost me, I don’t want nobody forgetting they’re there.

  The face of the sound geezer from before now looks totally blank and sick of all the pretty girls around him. He gives me this real tired smile and asks me to do another turn. Then the unhappy-looking woman from last week with the face like she thinks death would be a mercy appears, this time in a lemon all-in-one that makes her look like a manically depressed Big Bird.

  The panel are just getting ready, so if you want to use the bathroom and anything else now is the time to do it, she tells me in a voice that could cut glass, I’m not joking. I gush out an over-the-top thank you, grabbing her hand and giving it a good yank like I owe her my life. She looks repulsed and snatches it away like I’ve gone and infected her. Grinning to myself, I head for the loo.

  There’s a whole scrum of girls in here, all fighting for mirror space so they can go over their make-up, several of them singing away at the top of their voices like they’re competing to see who can drown out the others. Plenty of noise and distraction. The end cubicle is free so I lock myself in and drop the lid. Quickly, but not too quickly, cos the last thing I want right now is a spillage situation, I take out my blow and shake out a little mound. Carefully I divvy it into two lines. Outside some girl’s burst into tears, and another one’s saying Never mind – just say you’ve got your period! I take out my lucky pink straw and reach out and flush the loo to cover the sound while I hoover up my lines in two fast snorts. It sears nicely. I lick my fingers for residue and take a long and sweet breath of oxygen and wait for the effects to kick in. As I stand there, leaning against the cubicle wall, the words of Emily from the club come floating back to me. Emily’s the oldest, thirty-something (she won’t tell us what), and she’s been stripping since before she was legal. She’s kind of annoying, a real drama queen, always moaning on about how she’s going to be past it pretty soon and forced to flip burgers for a living. If she does get the boot it’s more likely to be cos she gets plastered every night before she goes out on the podium. She tries to act like a mother to the rest of us, telling girls off when they do something stupid like going home with a punter, and comforting them when their hearts get broken, which happens pretty much every fucking week. You make a go of it, Riana, she said to me all stern and serious when I told her about this call-back. You get out of this racket while you still can. And even though it was just Emily being all dramatic, looking at her then, eight o’clock and already smashed, I couldn’t help thinking to myself maybe there was a bit of wisdom tucked away somewhere inside that pickled old brain of hers. I don’t want to be like Emily come ten years. Drinking myself through the nights and telling people how to run their lives cos I never bothered to see what I could do with my own. I don’t want to end up a nobody.

  Right. One more good long breath and then I’m ready.

  ‘It’s like, the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me. I’m just beside meself. Totally [bleep]ing stoked – oops, sorry . . . But I’m just so happy – I could kiss everyone in the whole [bleep]ing world!’

  It’s Mum who comes with me to the call-back. Once I got home on the day of the audition she started mouthing on about how work had called and said for me not to bother coming in tomorrow and what the fuck had I been doing with meself, not the littlest bit interested in what the answer might be. But when I finally got a word in, told her about the audition and them saying I was through, she changed her tune right smart. Suddenly she was going all girly, grabbing me and practically squeezing the life out of me, screaming on about how she knew I could do it and why the fuck didn’t I say something cos she’d have come along too, if only she’d of known. Now here she is, hopping from one foot to the other and moaning on about how she needs a fag and why’s it taking these judges so long to get themselves organised if all they have to do is sit behind a fucking table?

  Do you think Baby’s all right? I says to her, trying to distract meself from how painful these pointy shoes are that stylist gave me to wear – they’re proper Jimmy Choos, so the pain’s worth it, just about. We got one of Mum’s mates, Fat Carol, to sit Baby. Fat Carol’s so big she can hardly get through the door to our kitchen. Left Baby sleeping up in his room, but now I’m wondering if he starts crying whether she ain’t gonna have a fucking heart attack trying to get up the stairs to reach him.

  Oh, he’ll be fine! goes Mum. Sent her a text five minutes ago and she says she ain’t heard a peep. Now where’s that geezer with the camera gone?

  She caused a right scene earlier, insisting that this guy film her against the blue screen after he’d done me, acting all flirty like this contest was about her. Making a right exhibition of herself. I looked round and saw how all the other mums was stood in line with their daughters, all proper and respectable-looking, and meanwhile there’s mine, no bra with her tits drooping out of her too-tight T-shirt and wearing a skirt no woman past forty ought to be seen dead in, trying her best to steal the show.

  Here, says Mum, you don’t half look funny the way she done you in there. Don’t you wanna borrow some lippy?

  Right pissed herself when I came out of the pop whatsit. I thought I looked all right when I went in there, but this make-up woman just rubbed it all off and started over. Took her fucking ages. And when she was done I looked at meself in the mirror and there was hardly even any make-up on me. The natural look, she said it was, though if you ask me it’s more like the non-existent one. We’re not trying to make you look like you’re in Purrfect, she said, just trying to bring out your character. Fucking delete it more like.

  Look, Mum, it could be ages yet. Just go and have another fag, I tell her.

  She don’t need no more persuasion. Off she goes, swearing she’ll be back in two ticks, and not to do anything without her. I call after her to take her time. Embarrassment with a fanny, that’s what she is.

  I was hoping Wend’d come to the call-back with me, but she ain’t been speaking to me all week. After I got through she didn’t congratulate me or nothing, just went all silent and said she was going to get a later train back to Reading cos she wanted to go to Top Shop and look at the new Kate Moss stuff. Off she went without even asking if I wanted to tag along. She was s’posed to be keeping an eye on Baby Wednesday night so me and Mum could have a night out, but she didn’t fucking turn up. I texted her with me last bit of credit and didn’t get no reply either. Fine, I figured, give her the benefit of the doubt – she’s probably in hospital or has got some illness that’s made all her fingers fall off. T
hen yesterday morning I see her in the park while I’m taking Baby for a walk with the stroller, talking to Davy, the two-faced bitch, who she knows perfectly fucking well we’re meant to be ignoring cos of the way he treated me. Just standing there, smoking a fag and playing with her hair, all flirty, pretending she don’t see me even when I go up to her.

  All right? I go. What’s up with you then?

  Oh, hi Joni, she goes back, all casual and not taking her eyes off Davy, like I’m not even worth the effort of noticing. I was practically ready to fucking deck her right there and then, but I got Baby with me and even though he’s only two I ain’t committing violence in front of him.

  All right, Joni, Davy went, smirking away. Heard you got through in that contest. You gonna be on the telly then?

  I pretended like I hadn’t heard him. Three whole months I went out with the bastard, and only to find he’s been shagging that beast from the Shadwell estate, the type who’s nothing but a walking bunch of welcome holes. Lucky I didn’t catch fucking AIDS off him.

  Listen, Wend, I went, deciding to lay it on the line, I know what your problem is and you can drop the act, all right? Just cos they chose me and not you it don’t mean you got to act all high and mighty and not even answer me texts. It’s life, that’s all.

  The ho still ain’t looking at me though. Just goes, I don’t know what you’re talking about, Joni. I been busy, that’s all, and bats her eyes at Davy enough times to cause a fucking wind.

  She has all right! he went, winking.

  At this point I lost it a bit, what with Davy with his winking and smirking and Wend pushing her tits out at him and treating me like I was some piece of talking dog shit. Couldn’t help meself. Didn’t do nothing violent though, I still remembered I got Baby with me, just reached up and grabbed Wend’s fag, threw it on the ground and stamped it out. That got her attention.

  Oi! she screamed, that’s me last one!

  You know something, I said to her, I never thought of you as a loser but now I see it. Just cos you can’t sing and ain’t as pretty as me. Pathetic!

  And I never seen Wend’s face look like it did after I said that. All white and bloated like she didn’t believe her ears. Like she was gonna try and have a go at murdering me right there and then. But before she could do nothing I just turned and walked off with the stroller, me head held high.

  I felt good at the time but afterwards I didn’t. Wend has been there for me through some tough shit. I’ve known her since we was at school and she’s been a good mate. Why’d she have to go and start acting arsey, ignoring me and talking to that shithead Davy? Don’t get me wrong, cos I am sorry she didn’t get asked to the call-back. I don’t know what went wrong in her audition, but it would of been real nice to both be here, getting ready to impress them. Maybe they’d even of let us do ‘Tied Up For You’, that one we always sing together. But the way Wend’s been carrying on it’s like she’s got no integrity or something. I mean, can’t she be happy for me?

  Hello? goes this whiny voice from behind me, making me jump about a whole storey into the air. I turn round with me hand on me heart and fuck me if it ain’t that nervous little mouse from last time, all pale and smiling up at me.

  Jesus fucking Christ! I go. Don’t sneak up on me like that!

  I’m really sorry! she cries, going all frightened like she thinks I’m going to give her a slap for it. I didn’t mean to startle you! I just wanted to come over and say hello!

  All right, all right, no harm done, I tell her, and give her a grin to let her know I ain’t really annoyed. That’s the thing about these fragile types – you say one angry word and they think the whole fucking world is going to start shitting on them. I look her up and down. She’s got this floaty pink scrap of a dress on that shows off her skinny frame. She looks beautiful actually, with her blonde hair all piled up and this silver band round her forehead, like a fairy princess from a kids’ book or something.

  Not bad, I say.

  She gets these spots of pink in each cheek, which makes her look even more beautiful. Some girls get all the luck.

  I couldn’t believe what that woman was asking me to wear! she goes. There’s hardly anything to it! But I didn’t have the guts to refuse, and now I feel like I’m naked!

  She lets out this giggle, a squeaky sound that’s so high-pitched it makes it seem like everything’s not completely right upstairs. I give her a look, since if she thinks that’s skimpy she ought to see what me and Wend wear down to Utopia on your average Friday night.

  You look great too, she goes quickly, I almost didn’t recognise you at first! I . . . I don’t actually know . . . what your name is.

  Joni, I say, holding out me hand.

  I’m Ella, she says. And I’m so glad to see you again. I’m . . . I’m not supposed to be here, you see. I ran away!

  She gives another giggle, the sort of noise someone who’s on the verge of having a fit might make. Fuck knows how she made it through to the call-back with a laugh like that. Must be cos she’s so pretty.

  Good for you, I says.

  Are you here on your own too?

  Nah, me mum’s off somewhere, sucking on a fag.

  Oh, goes this Ella, looking all downcast like she was hoping it’d be different, me on me own like she is. Looking at her I get this sudden protective feeling, a bit like what I felt when I met her in the toilets at the audition. Some people are like that, make you feel like you got to take care of them. Must be genetic or something.

  Attention everyone! goes this voice.

  Me and Ella look round to see that miserable bitch from the other week, this time all dressed in yellow like a banana, holding her clipboard and waving at people. The whole room goes quiet as people listen like she’s the queen.

  The panel are ready for the second round of auditions, she goes. The girls who are in the contest please form a queue at this door behind me and you’ll be told your order. Family and friends may sit in the audience and should go to the double doors to the auditorium over at the other end. We’ll be starting in a few minutes, so please make sure you’ve got your songs prepared.

  She turns and the room bursts into action, like this explosion of movement, girls hugging the people that came with them, mums and dads and friends shouting advice as they head off for the doors to the theatre, cameras being shoved in people’s noses right, left and centre. It’s like a fucking riot, but that’s not what’s got me ready to practically puke. I turn to Ella.

  Songs?

  Yes, you know, she goes, this time you’ve got to go the whole way through a song. There’s a band who’re going to play it while you sing. Didn’t you get the email? You were supposed to let them know in advance.

  You’re shitting me! I go, but I can tell from her face that she ain’t.

  I know what’s happened. Me and Wend have the same email address, which we both gave on our forms, but I don’t check it that often cos our connection’s been down since they cut off our phone the other month after Mum didn’t pay the bill. Can’t believe Wend didn’t tell me, the cunt. I’m gonna have her when I get back, simple as that.

  Next to me Ella starts to go on about how nervous she is, like it’s not fucking noticeable already from the way her knees are knocking together all the time. Meanwhile I’m panicking big time. What the fuck am I s’posed to do?

  Just then I see the woman with the clipboard passing us and so I throw meself in her path shouting Excuse me, miss! She seems to not hear me, just looks at her clipboard like it’s the only thing important round here and tries to go round me like I’m not stood there waving right in front of her nose.

  EXCUSE ME, MISS! I scream in her face and grab her arm so she can’t just ignore me. She gives me this glare like she can’t believe it. A real angel, this one. It’s sad to see someone so bitter, especially considering she’s probably only a few years older than I am.

  What is it? she goes, yanking her arm away.

  I start telling her about not know
ing about the song cos I didn’t get the email. It comes out all desperate and I find meself trying to explain about Wend and how she didn’t tell me about it cos she’s jealous, but it just sounds stupid, like I’m making it up. The woman stares at me with this look like she’s listening to a nut job. She shakes her head.

  Well, it’s too late to check your song with them now.

  I stare at her with me mouth open. So that’s it. Me whole chance is messed up, just like that. Suddenly these tears are coming out of me eyes. All this effort and now fucked just cos of a stupid email. It don’t seem fair, like Jesus hates me or something. So much for being a pop star.

  Oh, for goodness sake, goes the woman with this massive sigh like she can’t believe what an idiot I’m being. Just wait and see what songs the other girls are doing, and pick one of them. This isn’t Auschwitz!