Idol. Carrie Duffy

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      As she reached the judges’ room, she got them. The door was ajar and at first Sadie thought everyone had left. Then she caught a glimpse of Dickie Masters. He wasn’t alone. Pressed up against him, her hair flying wild and her skirt hitched up, was Georgia Jonsson.

      They looked so bizarre together that Sadie almost laughed out loud. Georgia towered above the diminutive Dickie – his nose barely reached her breasts; but that seemed to be just the way he liked it. His head was redder than ever, his face buried in Georgia’s cleavage as he made a noise that could only be described as snuffling. Georgia was stroking his smooth, bald head.

      ‘Oh yes, Dickie, that’s the way Mummy likes it,’ she purred.

      Dickie’s hands seemed to be everywhere, fighting to pull Georgia’s dress even higher. He squealed in delight as he encountered the top of her stockings, his chubby fingers running feverishly over the garter straps. Then his hands moved to his trousers, struggling to pull off his belt and unzip his fly as he released his white, flaccid cock. It hung, small and limp, from his Y-fronts. Georgia took it in her hand and squeezed. It instantly responded and Dickie shuddered.

      ‘That’s right,’ whispered Georgia, ‘Mummy will make it better.’

      Some instinct made her look up – right over Dickie’s head and straight at Sadie. Sadie expected her to cry out, to jump away in embarrassment. Instead Georgia had merely smiled, her expression triumphant. Then she had raised one stiletto heel and kicked the door shut in Sadie’s face.

      ‘Sadie, are you okay?’

      Sadie started, aware that Carla was looking at her worriedly. Even now, the memory of the anger and injustice she’d felt was overwhelming.

      ‘It’s just so unfair,’ Sadie burst out, startling Carla with her ferocity. ‘Life, I mean.’

      ‘I know, hon,’ Carla sympathized. But Sadie was on a roll.

      ‘Aren’t you sick of all this?’ She waved her hand around, indicating the messy room with the holes in the carpet and the furniture that was falling apart. ‘This is not the life I’m supposed to be living. Do you know what I mean?’ she asked desperately. ‘I don’t want the nine-to-five grind, watching every penny with never enough to spare. I want excitement and glamour and hot sex with a gorgeous man who showers me with diamonds …’

      ‘You’re drunk,’ Carla told her gently.

      ‘What if I am?’ Sadie shot back, all her pent-up frustration spilling out. ‘I’m sick of living like this.’

      ‘So change it,’ Carla said simply. ‘You’re the only one who can.’

      Sadie fell silent, thoughtful for a moment. On TV the cameras had gone to a wide shot, showing Jenna Jonsson in all her glory as she waved at the crowd, signing autographs and blowing kisses.

      ‘You know what? You’re right.’ Sadie sat bolt upright, her eyes fiery. ‘I’ll show Jenna bloody Jonsson. Anything she can do, I can do better. I’m going to make it, Carla – all the way to the fucking top. And I’m not going to stop till I do!’

      3

      ‘Absolutely no way.’

      Gerry King stood frowning before Jenna, an imposing figure with his arms crossed firmly over his chest. In his dark Savile Row suit, his sandy-coloured hair flopping boyishly across his brow to disguise the fact that it was thinning at the front, Jenna’s manager looked younger than his 44 years, and the expression on his face implied he was not to be argued with.

      Jenna, however, felt that this did not apply to her. They had worked together for so many years now that they both felt they could be disarmingly frank with each other, without the risk of upsetting or offending. Jenna knew just how far she could push her luck and still get away with it – it was a skill she had down to a fine art.

      ‘What?’ Jenna let out of a squeal of indignation. ‘Gerry, you have to be joking! Can’t you see what a fantastic opportunity this is?’

      Gerry sighed, knowing she wasn’t going to let this one drop.

      ‘Phoenix?’ he repeated doubtfully. ‘They’re a rock band, Jenna. You’re a pop star. It’s not going to work.’

      ‘But it will,’ Jenna insisted, unable to hide her enthusiasm. ‘Everyone’s doing it these days – collaborations with unexpected people. It’s the latest thing, and it’ll be totally hot.’

      ‘Speaking of hot,’ Gerry pronounced the word distastefully. ‘Would this sudden desperation to work with Phoenix have anything to do with Nick Taylor?’

      Jenna flushed bright red, annoyed with herself that she was so easy to read. ‘I really admire him as an artist,’ she stated earnestly, as Gerry roared with laughter.

      ‘Yeah, and I love Pam Anderson for her acting ability,’ he chuckled. ‘Seriously Jenna, Nick Taylor eats girls like you for breakfast. I’m not letting him anywhere near you.’

      ‘What the hell’s that supposed to mean?’ snapped Jenna. She hated being treated like a child, and was blissfully unaware that the more petulantly she behaved, the more she sounded like one. ‘I can handle myself, Gerry, and I want to do this. Anyway, I’ve already said yes so I can’t back out now,’ she finished triumphantly.

      ‘Jenna,’ Gerry began tiredly, wishing she could be just a little less argumentative sometimes and save them all some trouble. He looked at her with affection as she stood there, bubbling over with excitement and energy, just as she had been the first day she’d walked into his office.

      He could still remember the first time they’d met. She’d been totally overshadowed by her dominating mother, Georgia, who was fiercely ambitious and determined to live out her failed dreams through her daughter. She and Jenna’s father, Mikael, had divorced when Jenna was tiny. By anyone’s standards they were a pretty unlikely pairing – Mikael was a Swedish academic who had little in common with glamorous, party-girl Georgia, and the novelty of their odd-couple relationship had soon worn off. Georgia had never remarried – she devoted all her energies to pursuing her daughter’s career, and found being single worked to her advantage.

      Yet despite Georgia’s overbearing behaviour, Gerry couldn’t fail to notice Jenna’s amazing presence in the room. The story was that she’d been out in LA, working with some dance group, when an A&R guy had spotted her. Ultimate Management had taken one look at her and signed her on the spot. They didn’t care whether or not she could sing – Auto-Tune could take care of that. But boy, could she sing.

      Gerry, based in London, had been assigned to work with her on the European side. He’d known straight away she was going to be huge. And he was right – in less than two years Jenna was tottering on the brink of superstardom, her level of fame surpassing even her mother’s wildest expectations. She was in demand on every major continent, her life one exciting, hectic treadmill of recording, gigs, interviews and appearances. Until the accident in Munich.

      It had been during Jenna’s first major European tour. She and Georgia had argued – nothing serious, just the usual mother-and-daughter spats. But Jenna had announced she would be taking the tour bus with the rest of the crew, while Georgia boarded the VIP helicopter. It came down shortly after take-off, crash-landing in the Englischer Garten. Georgia and the СКАЧАТЬ