Confessions Of A Karaoke Queen (11 page)

‘Ooh I can’t wait, I can’t wait!’ Jaz is dancing in circles and flapping her arms. She could actually be in danger of taking off,
given the number of feathers sticking out of her hair. ‘We’re all going to be
famous
!’

It’s early evening and I’ve called everyone over to Sing It Back to break the big news. Evan and his crew ended up staying for most of the day, drawing up targets, sketching out ideas, even calling up repair men, so I barely had time to order takeaway pizza before the others showed up.

‘Do you really think so?’ asks Ruby du Jour, her eyes glittering. Well, she’s
almost
Ruby du Jour – clearly the excitement had her rushing over here so quickly she forgot to put her wig on straight. Then, in a hushed voice, ‘We’re going to be celebrities?’

‘Hang on,’ I cut in, ‘it’s important we get this straight.’ I look at Simon and Lou when I say this, because they’ve been the ones who’ve barely uttered a word since arriving. ‘The impression I get from Evan is that we can make as much of our involvement as we like – the show’s emphasis is strictly the club.’

‘Fame never ’elped anyone,’ interjects Archie, ‘it’ll make mugs of us all. I just want t’see this place busy again.’

‘Which is exactly why we’re doing it,’ I say, pushing the rest of my pizza across the booth to Simon, who shakes his head.

‘Is it?’ he asks. ‘I mean, this is going to have a serious impact on everyone.’

‘Oh, lighten up, Si,’ says Jaz, leaning across the back of the booth and ruffling his mop of hair. ‘Take a risk for once. If you don’t like it, Maddie can fill your shoes in a second.’

‘Nobody’s quitting, surely!’ exclaims Ruby, hands flying to her face.

I raise my own hands. ‘That brings me to the most important thing,’ I say. I’ve thought long and hard about this, and it only seems fair. ‘If anyone’s uncomfortable with any aspect of the deal, there’s no shame whatsoever in ducking out. The show’s only on for two months and I guarantee you’ll have your job back at the end of it. My priority is that everyone’s happy.’

A short silence follows. Jaz reaches over Simon’s shoulder and takes a slice of Double Pepperoni. ‘Well, I’m happy,’ she declares. ‘And there’s no way
I’m
walking. This is the best thing that’s ever happened to us!’

‘Or the worst,’ says Lou. I shoot her a puzzled look and mouth, ‘What’s up?’ but she quickly looks away.

‘Neither am I,’ says Simon. ‘I like my job too much. And besides,’ he smiles at me, mustering confidence, ‘we’re a team, aren’t we? And every team has to put trust in its leader.’

‘Hear hear!’ Ruby adjusts her wig. ‘Now, this calls for a celebration.’

‘Yes!’ squeaks Jaz, hauling up a reluctant Simon and dragging him over to the bar. ‘Archie, why don’t you try out some of those new cocktails? I for one could do with a
very
alcoholic drink.’

Archie rolls his eyes, but he indulges in a private little smile and I can tell he’s secretly flattered. He shuffles up to join them.

‘God, wait till you see this,’ I say, scooting round to Lou’s side of the booth.

Lou’s playing with a pizza crust. ‘What?’

‘Archie’s cocktails – they’re mental.’

‘Hmm.’

I turn to her, concerned. ‘What’s the matter?’

She’s breaking the crust into tiny pieces. ‘Nothing,’ she says. She’s a terrible liar.

‘Come on, I’m going to get it out of you eventually.’

Lou makes a face and I see what’s coming. ‘I just don’t get why you’re doing this, Maddie,’ she says. ‘It seems really foolish. And not like you at all.’

I sit back, a tiny bit offended. ‘I already explained,’ I say. ‘What’s not to get?’

She shrugs.

‘Seriously, Lou, it’s our last option. I couldn’t turn it down.’

‘Hmm.’

‘Look,’ I snatch the crusts off her and chuck them in the box, ‘I know it’s the sort of thing I would have sniffed at a month ago. But that was a month ago, and this is now.’ I pause. ‘And maybe I’m sick of being the safe, reliable,
boring
daughter of my exciting, extrovert parents. It’s time I took my own risks, see what that feels like for once.’

‘You’re not boring,’ she says. ‘And there’s nothing wrong with being safe and reliable.’

‘Maybe not. But I can’t take the dreary road my whole life.’ I laugh drily. ‘Isn’t that why Lawrence dumped me?’

‘Lawrence is a wanker,’ she says, and she catches my eye and we share a smile. ‘Just as long as you know what you’re letting yourself in for. I don’t want to see you get shafted. This Evan guy sounds like a weirdo.’

‘Yeah.’ I rest my chin on my hands. ‘But I’m hoping it’s eccentric genius.’

‘Maybe.’ Lou glances over my shoulder to where Jaz and Simon are nattering at the bar.

‘Imagine what he’d say to all this,’ I muse.

She bites her lip, pulling her attention back to me. ‘Who?’

‘Lawrence.’

‘Forget him,’ she says, waving her hand. Then she grins at me wickedly. ‘Haven’t you got this other guy to think about?’ As soon as Lou showed up tonight I dragged her off to tell her the details of my encounter with Mystery Man. I’m kind of hoping I’ll run into him again. I mean, Evan’s got to invite me back to Tooth & Nail at some point, hasn’t he?

‘I think I well and truly blew my chance there,’ I say, and I only say it so that Lou can reassure me that’s not the case.

‘I’m sure that’s not the case.’ She peers over my shoulder once more. ‘Maybe he found you charming? You know, in a kooky sort of way?’

‘“Kooky”?’

‘You never know.’

‘What – after he’d lanced his third-degree burns and got “Moving On Up” out his head?’

She cringes. ‘When you put it like that …’

I laugh, deciding to see the funny side. I’ve got better things to occupy my time than stressing about some bloke I’ll probably never see again.

‘Come on.’ I grab Lou’s hand and tug her up to join the others, just in time for Archie to thrust an extreme-looking Singapore Sing into her hands. Simon catches Lou’s eye and smiles.

I look round the club. Jaz has put on The Human League and is trying to teach Andre the guinea pig to do the running man. Ruby du Jour is waving a cigarette around and lecturing a baffled-looking Archie about the bunions she’s contracted
from her stilettos. Simon’s pretending to read a book, but keeps stealing glances at my best friend.

I’m not going to let them down.

For the first time in absolutely ages, it feels like I’m on to something. It’s going to be brilliant. It has to be.

Two weeks later, I’m hurrying through Soho in paint-splashed dungarees and a battered pair of Converse. God, I just
had
to get out of there.

I’ve just abandoned the Sing It Back renovations. I did feel a little like a general deserting her troops – Simon, gasping under the weight of a lighting stand, gave me a particularly worried look as he spotted me slipping out the door – but honestly, I’ve had a whole fortnight of this. One more minute of Evan Bergman yapping orders in my ear and I’d have bottled myself with a watermelon Bacardi Breezer.

We’re days from live opening night and the past two
weeks have been a whirlwind. Everyone’s been doing their bit at the club. As well as the crew from Tooth & Nail and my own staff, we’ve had painters and decorators in, builders, plumbers, electricians, engineers, interior designers, stylists, event planners, organisers, on-site developers, journalists, local news reporters … By this stage I wouldn’t be surprised if a travelling circus had shown up, complete with bearded lady and human cannonball – maybe it could have caught Evan unawares while he was bent over tending lovingly to his mirror balls.

I turn into Berwick Street and pull out the list of items Evan thrust in my hand. There’s a whole bunch of stuff to get in place before Friday. He wanted Freddie to run out but I managed to win myself a brief reprieve by remembering the name of a local supplier Mum and Dad have used in the past – Evan’s been sourcing all sorts of fancy contractors for the new karaoke software, but there’s no reason why we can’t support small businesses for the accessories we need. Claiming I’d be only half an hour, I shot out the door before anyone could stop me. I feel like I haven’t seen the real world in years.

Mixer amps
– OK, I know what they are.
1000-watt moving head smoke machines
– Jaz suggested bubbles but according to Evan they’re too passé. Unlike smoke machines, obviously.
Multi-coloured LED siren strobes
– I thought they were the ones you get on top of police cars before Evan smugly corrected me, something he seems to be fond of these days.

Since his arrival at Sing It Back, Evan’s been on me like a rash – my own personal bout of psoriasis. He’s taken over the club as if he owns it, and while I’ve got to remember that this
is what I signed up for – that to a degree I must relinquish control – he’s just so … dictatorial. He’s been in my face for so many consecutive hours now that I see him when I close my eyes in bed (not ideal), and hear his officious bark in my sleep. I’m hoping he’ll back off once filming starts, but somehow I doubt that.

Peeling off into a side road, I spot the retailer I’m looking for. I’ve never set foot in this place before, but I’ve heard Mum and Dad talk about it loads. There’s a sign out front consisting of jaunty letters bobbing along the straight black lines of a musical stave. It reads:
ROCK AROUND THE CLOCK
. I hope it’s got the kit I need: if this turns out to be a failed mission it’ll totally look like I pulled a fast one.

There’s a faded
CLOSED
notice in the window.

I check the time. It’s midday – so much for rocking around the clock. Maybe the owner’s on an early lunch. I peer in the foggy glass and can just about make out the cash desk, behind which sits a figure of indeterminate sex. It appears to be reading a magazine.

Gently I tap on the door. The bulky outline doesn’t move, and for an awful moment I fear I’ve stumbled across a gruesome crime scene: some maniacal axe-murderer so desperate for a classic Gibson ES-335 that he nicked off with the goods and left a propped-up corpse slumped behind the till.

But then it moves, and even though I can’t see its face I feel sure it’s looking directly at me. Embarrassed, I back away.

Seconds later the door opens.

I can’t help my reaction. I’m genuinely surprised. It’s …

‘
Loaf?
’

The man looks at me blankly. ‘Sorry, what?’

I wonder if too much time at Sing It Back has started to play tricks on me. ‘You’re …’

He shakes his head. ‘I’m …?’

‘You own this place?’

‘And you own Sing It Back,’ he counters. ‘I know you – you’re Rick and Sapphy’s daughter.’

I nod. Much as I might dislike the fact, Loaf and I are chained together by an unbreakable bond: seeing now how dead his shop is, as dodgy old music establishments go we’ve got to have two of the very worst.

‘Can I help you?’ he asks. He’s wearing his customary attire of black leather slacks and a frilly white shirt, his wispy brown hair creeping over the collar. He appears entirely without shame, as though I’ve never witnessed his frenzied alter-ego performing ‘Bat Out of Hell’ on a Saturday evening. Come to think of it, he must have missed us this past fortnight.

‘I hope so.’ I pull myself together. ‘Are you open?’

He points to the
CLOSED
sign. The nail on his thumb is unsettlingly long, and there’s a heavy gold signet on his little finger. ‘What does it look like?’

I fold my arms. ‘But you’re here, aren’t you?’

‘I’m eating my lunch.’

‘You shouldn’t have let me in, then.’

‘You shouldn’t have been peering through the window.’

I sigh. ‘Look, do you want our custom or not?’

He seems to consider it. Judging by the level of activity in the place I can’t imagine he’s inundated with the same offer every day.

‘Come on then,’ he says, stepping back to let me pass.

Inside there’s a musty, though not unpleasant, smell, and it’s bigger than I first imagined. An impressive array of instruments – guitars, keyboards, saxophones – backs into another, wider room housing an assortment of drum kits. Once upon a time this must have been spectacular, but everything has the air of having been left untouched too long, like the stillness you get in an unoccupied house. It might be the light streaming through the window, but every surface appears to be covered in dust, the lids of once-gleaming pianos dotted with fingerprints.