Confessions Of A Karaoke Queen (33 page)

BOOK: Confessions Of A Karaoke Queen
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‘That’s what drew you to Evan? Because he’s older?’

‘The age thing doesn’t matter,’ she says. ‘It sounds like a cliché, but I honestly don’t mind the gap. He’s sorted, he’s focused, he’s successful. That’s how
I
want to be.’

I nod. ‘That’s how we all want to be.’

There’s a short silence while we both consider this.

‘I just hope his wife doesn’t find out.’

My mouth falls open. ‘His
wife
?’

Alison looks sheepish. ‘Yeah.’

‘He’s
married
?’

She wriggles. ‘Um …’


Alison!

‘I know! I couldn’t help it.’

‘What? Evan overpowered you with his irresistible charm and good looks?’ That was bitchy – Alison clearly finds him
attractive, but then some people like scotch eggs: the world is a confusing place. ‘Sorry, that was mean.’

‘I really like him, Maddie,’ she confesses. ‘I think … well, I think I love him.’

Shit.

‘When it first started it felt sordid—’

‘It
is
sordid, isn’t it? He’s married!’

‘They’re estranged, apparently … He’s going to leave her!’

‘I bet.’

‘Anyway it was never
meant
to happen. It’s not like I got hired and then straight away I realised I fancied him. It was gradual … I helped him out with some projects, we ended up staying behind in the office after everyone else had gone home … And he paid me attention, you know? He seemed really
interested
in me, and my views, and what I had to say.’

‘So he should – you’re his employee. And that’s why he’s done an irresponsible thing. Forgetting for a second that he’s married, what about you? I’ve heard the way he speaks to you.’

‘He’s not always like that,’ she prickles.

‘That’s good.’

Alison grinds her fag out on the side of the chair and tosses it on to the grass. ‘Do you think any less of me?’

‘Of course not.’

‘It’s why I don’t want to tell anyone. All the fucking backlash.’

I tuck my leg up under my bum. ‘You can’t care what everyone else thinks. However much you might try to control it, people are always going to draw their own conclusions.’

Alison smiles uncertainly. ‘Thanks for not judging. I know
it’s a bit unconventional … I guess things don’t always go the way you think they’re going to.’

‘You can say that again.’ I rub my eyes, suddenly tired. There have been enough revelations over the past week to last me a lifetime.

‘I’ll talk to him,’ she says.

I look up at her. Hope springs. ‘You will?’

‘Yeah.’ She chews her lip. ‘I can’t promise anything, but I’ll try.’

Let’s Call the Whole Thing Off
 

It’s Monday morning.

Jaz, Simon, Rob, Alex and I are at the table in my parents’ flat. I’m reminded of the last time we were all here together – except it was Archie, then, not Alex; and Ruby, not Rob – and everyone was in a decidedly better mood. Looking round now, I can hardly believe it’s the same lot. Jaz is sitting opposite Simon, gloomily doodling on a bit of paper, but they’re refusing to look at each other (I can’t work out who’s more miserable, her or him); Rob has barely said a word to me since the night I blew up at him and Davinia; and I dread to think what’s become of me – I feel like I haven’t slept in a month.
Lou still hasn’t called and I miss her like crazy: she’s the only person I want to talk to. Even the sight of Andre in widow’s weeds doesn’t prove enough of a distraction. (Jaz has taken to dressing in funereal attire.)

‘I’m pulling the plug on Tooth & Nail,’ I tell them. ‘I wanted you guys to know first.’

They exchange a few glances but no one seems surprised.

‘Can you do that?’ asks Alex. I didn’t really want him here but he’s been attached to Jaz’s side like glue and I didn’t know how to separate them without it seeming pointed.

‘Of course I can,’ I say. ‘Why wouldn’t I be able to?’

‘Maybe we should just play it out till the end of the run,’ suggests Rob, leaning back against a framed original Boney M album cover. It’s a stunner: the foursome is rolling about on the floor, wrapped in chains and practically nude, and Rob’s head slips neatly between the only standing member of the group, right beneath his glittery codpiece. ‘Won’t this be more hassle than it’s worth?’

‘Absolutely not. What’s Evan going to do? At the end of the day it’s my club – our club – and I’m taking back control.’

‘But what about the contract?’ mumbles Jaz. ‘You can’t just back out of it.’

‘Look,’ I say, ‘Evan tricked me into signing in the first place … him and Nick Craven.’ Everyone looks at me and I concentrate on not blushing, which of course makes me blush like a fool. ‘But the ambiguity of those clauses plays both ways: he could argue his case based on the wording, but by the same token I can argue mine.’

‘And you think you’d win in a fight against Evan Bergman?’ Simon chips in grimly. ‘I’m not sure I’d like to try.’

‘You could always rip his wig off,’ suggests Rob with a yawn.

‘He doesn’t wear a wig!’ objects Jaz. ‘Does he?’

Rob raises an eyebrow. ‘Trust me – I know a wig when I see one.’

‘Forget about the wig,’ I say. ‘
I’m
going to try. It’s my responsibility.’

Jaz throws her arms up. ‘He’ll only talk you out of it – that’s his way! He’s a snake. As long as it’s going to get him what he wants, he’ll tell you just about anything.’ She glances swiftly at Simon and looks away.

I decide to voice what’s been on my mind. ‘Does anyone else feel like he’s had it in for us from the start?’

A sea of blank expressions.

‘Maybe I’m paranoid,’ I chew my bottom lip, ‘but since that first day I went to Tooth & Nail, Evan knew exactly who I was, who Mum and Dad were – it was as if he
planned
it.’

Simon frowns. ‘But how could he? He placed the ad in the paper, didn’t he? Anyone could have responded.’

‘Yeah,’ I admit, ‘but that almost makes it more suspicious. Like he really struck gold with that, didn’t he? What are the chances?’

Rob raises an eyebrow. ‘You
are
being paranoid. Forget about it, for your own good.’

I notice Alex hasn’t said anything in a while. His eyes are on the table and he’s absent-mindedly picking the skin around his thumb.

‘And you turned up pretty suddenly, didn’t you, Alex?’

He lifts his head. ‘Sorry?’

‘That day Archie left. You turned up quick.’

‘What are you saying?’ demands Jaz. ‘There’s nothing wrong with Alex.’

‘Hmm.’ I narrow my eyes.

‘Right place, right time, I guess,’ Alex mutters, shifting in his seat. Then he elaborates in the manner of someone over-talking to reiterate a prepared story. ‘I was looking for bar work, I saw your place, I walked in and that was it … Evan hired me on the spot. The rest is history.’

‘But you weren’t experienced,’ I challenge. ‘Not when you first came to us. In fact it looked to me like you’d never even worked in a bar, never mind headed one up.’

‘Leave him alone!’ cries Jaz, leaping to Alex’s defence. ‘Everyone lies on their CV. So what if he needed a bit of practice?’

‘A lot of practice,’ mutters Simon under his breath.

I watch Alex for a minute, knowing there’s more to his story but unsure what it is. It occurs to me that I’ve become too suspicious recently.

‘Sorry,’ I say wearily, ‘I’m being unfair.’

There’s an awkward pause, which to my relief Jaz fills with one of her typical non-sequiturs. And to my greater relief, it has nothing to do with the club or wretched Evan Bergman.

‘If you put Alex’s first name with my surname,’ she announces, holding up her bit of scribble-littered paper, ‘you can make Axle Rose.’

‘Except Axl doesn’t have an E,’ snaps Simon irritably.

‘It doesn’t?’

‘Of course it doesn’t.’

Jaz bites her lip. ‘Never mind, I’m only being stupid. Sorry.’

There’s an uncomfortable silence, before Simon says, ‘If it did, you wouldn’t get the Axl Rose anagram, would you?’

Jaz looks hopeful. ‘What’s the Axl Rose anagram?’

‘Everyone knows what Axl Rose is an anagram of …’ Simon looks round the table. ‘Don’t they?’

‘I don’t,’ supplies Alex. Jaz shakes her head.

‘What is it?’ demands Rob.

But Simon chickens out. ‘If you don’t already know,’ he says, flushing pink, ‘then I’m not telling.’

At least this has got people talking. And I can tell Simon doesn’t hate Jaz, not really – he’s way too fond of her and they know each other too well. I suspect if Lou gave him the time of day then all would be forgiven, but of course that’s looking highly unlikely for any of us. Especially since the infamous kiss went out on Sunday – Alison texted me to apologise; she couldn’t get it past the boss, said he’d gone ballistic at her. I hope she’s OK. I know she tried and I also know Evan Bergman is unlikely to conduct a favour for anyone, particularly if there’s a bottom line involved.

Thinking about Lou watching it (though I’m certain she’s been avoiding the show like the plague) breaks my heart. She’s never disappeared like this before and I don’t know how to handle it. She worked up to Simon for so long: I know she doesn’t trust people easily, doesn’t want to rely on anyone else (for a Psychology student she’s remarkably adept at discounting her own abandonment issues) and so when they let her down it cuts deep. The frustrating thing is that the very person who wants to be there for her is also the last person she wants to see. I expect she’s upset that I’m still hanging out with Jaz, and I can understand that, but what am I meant
to do? We work together – and besides, she’s my friend and you can’t just call off a friendship the instant someone messes up.

Simon and Jaz are still bickering. Knowing Jaz she won’t go to sleep tonight till she’s either worked the Axl thing out or badgered Simon into submission.

Rob leans in, his voice gentle. ‘Do you want one of us to come with you?’ he asks. His eyes are concerned but relieved, and I understand then that it’s what all of us want.

‘No.’ I shake my head. ‘I’ll do it myself.’

 

I turn up at Tooth & Nail around lunch time, unannounced. I’m not expecting Evan to be there (and the coward in me half hopes he won’t be), so it’s a surprise when his receptionist tells me to wait on the leather banquettes and that Mr Bergman will be with me in a minute.

Perching on the edge of the sofa, with Evan’s new receptionist (a pretty black girl with lots of silver jewellery) tap-tap-tapping away, I rehearse one more time exactly what I’m going to say. Not for the first time, I channel my inner Christina Applegate in
Don’t Tell Mom the Babysitter’s Dead
. She was just a regular girl like me, wasn’t she? And when she got herself in too deep and the shit hit, she sorted it out and everything worked out fine. Yes. That’s going to be me. Especially because at the end everyone forgives and forgets, she’s praised for her entrepreneurial spirit
and
she bags the guy from Clown Dog who teaches her about grunions. Hmm. Apart from the bagging the guy part, then. But whatever, by the time I’m done Evan’s going to wish he’d never messed
with Maddie Mulhern – because while I may not be some hotshot telly producer, I
am
an intellectual being and I
won’t
be taken for a fool.

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