Dream On Page 14

  "Sounds great."

  Glynis beamed at her again. "Oh, you'll love it, you'll, like, so identify with it! It's about women like you and me, the sort who say, yeah, okay, I'm a bit crazy sometimes, I can be real goofy, maybe even a little random, but if you can't take the worst of me then you sure as hell ain't having the best, y'know?"

  Somewhere in the middle of the last speech she had developed some sort of faux American accent, Ariel noticed.

  "Well, best of luck, then!" she said, swallowing hard.

  "You too, honey!" The US accent was still in place, though it had changed now, from New England to Deep South. "Have you come down on your own? Maybe we could hook up later - I sure ain't planning on getting sent home today, I don't know 'bout you!"

  "Well - no, I'm with some friends, actually, but you're more than welcome to join us - for a drink, or something to eat, tonight." Oh dear. Ariel didn't want her to feel excluded; that, she realised as she issued the invitation, was a hangover from her travelling days, when everyone was free and easy and treated you like an old friend straight away, and no-one was left out. Happy times.

  "Oh? Who are you with?" English accent returned, Glynis looked over her shoulder to see if she could see anyone she recognised; her face fell, and Ariel realised she'd spotted Dave and Ritchie.

  "Just my friend Melodie, and some others - a rock band called Thor." She bit her lip. "Um, you probably remember Ritchie."

  Glynis's eyes glazed over and her face broke into its bright smile again, as if she'd just pressed a switch. "Yes! I remember your friend, from the pub. They came to the workshop. Well, it's lovely to see you anyway, April, and perhaps I'll see you inside - unless you're in the under twenty-fives, of course!" She raised her arms above her head and waggled her hands around. "Yay! Let's hear it for the top eighty!"

  Ariel forced a smile. "Yes! Well, I'd, er, better get back. I need to, er, go over my lyrics."

  Glynis beamed at her. "You go girl! Catch you later!" She bounced back off to where she'd been standing, the red flimsy scarf tied around her messy dark topknot flowing in her wake.

  Ariel re-joined the rest of them.

  "Don't say anything. Just don't," she said.

  "Bands to the room on the left, under twenty-fives to the right, over twenty-fives come with me, please!" said a girl with pink spiky hair, dressed all in black, wearing a headset that she kept adjusting.

  "That's us over there, then," Dave said, looking down at Ariel. He kissed her, briefly, on the lips. "I thought we'd all be together while we were waiting for the first auditions."

  "Yeah, so did I, like on The X Factor, with people doing backflips and street dancing and practising their singing in groups," said Melodie, peering into one of the rather bare rooms in which they were to wait, disappointment all over her face.

  "I reckon that's probably just staged for the show, pet," said Boz, and gave her a quick hug. He kissed her, too, but on the cheek.

  "Oy!" said Shane.

  "We'll see you girls later then," said Ritchie, a little sadly, too. "Best of luck."

  Melodie stretched her arms out. "Group hug?"

  To Ariel's surprise, each member of Thor complied without complaint - and then, disentangling themselves and calling out final farewell good wishes, they went off to their separate rooms, to await their fate.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Raw Talent ~ Day One

  Ariel's chance to impress the judges came within the first half hour.

  Two of the people wearing fleecy jackets with the Inspire TV logo on the back, headsets constantly in use, showed her into a smaller room down a corridor. When she walked in, two faces looked up from behind a desk and smiled at her; obviously the A&R man from the record company, and the programme researcher. Glenn Hunter and Rachel Mackie, their name badges told her.

  "Ariel Swan," said Rachel Mackie, consulting a sheet of paper. She smiled at her again.

  I'm terrified, Ariel thought. Rachel was probably about five years younger than her, with a sharp, impish face and a black crew cut. Glenn Hunter was a big man, unsmiling.

  "Hello," Ariel said. Should she shake their hands? Perhaps not. Did she look as if she'd made enough effort, standing there in her jeans, boots and sleeveless black polo neck? Melodie had said the outfit was really 'sixties sexy', like Brigitte Bardot; oh well, if anyone knew about these things, Melodie did. She looked around her. "Oh - cameras. I didn't expect there to be cameras for this bit."

  "It's to help us make our decisions later, because otherwise we won't remember you all - and also to see what you look like through the lens," said Rachel. "Some people adapt well to the camera, some don't."

  Ariel tried to stop herself but she couldn't help asking. "But if it's all about the music, why does it matter what we look like on camera?" As soon as she'd said it she realised how naïve she sounded.

  "The music business is visual, too," said Glenn Hunter. "Yes, we're looking for musical ability primarily, but how you come across to the viewer is important, as well."

  "Of course. Yes. Sorry, I didn't mean to seem argumentative."

  "That's okay," said Rachel, "you won't be the first person to ask that today, I can assure you. Don't forget, we're making a television programme. We don't want to end up with fifteen great musicians who look as dull as ditch water when they're playing to an audience." She glanced at her watch. "Now, Ariel, tell us a bit about yourself."

  Ariel told them about her career, such as it had been, in London, and about the songs she wrote. She kept it as brief as possible, struck with nerves as she was; why would they be interested in some little gig a nobody like her had played, in a back street pub?

  "Will you be playing one of your own compositions today?" Rachel asked.

  "Yes - is that okay?"

  "Sure," said Glenn, "it's how we get to see if you're everything your application says you are. Some people will do cover versions, but we welcome own material. Don't forget, we're looking for undiscovered talent."

  Feeling more confident now, Ariel sat down on the stool provided and launched into "Look At Me", her newly renamed song about trying to get the attention of someone who didn't know she existed. After just two minutes, Glenn and Rachel looked at each other, nodded, and made a couple of marks on a piece of paper. Rachel held her hand up, indicating that she should stop singing.

  Oh, dear.

  "Thanks, Ariel." Rachel smiled at her.

  One of the assistants who'd shown her in stepped forward. "You can go back to the holding room and wait, now," she said. "We'll let you know - oh probably about six o'clock. Maybe a bit later. We ask you not to leave the premises, though, unless you really have to."

  "Oh - so that's it?"

  "Yes," she said.

  Ariel looked back at Glenn and Rachel, who were deep in hushed conversation; she thanked them, and left, feeling a bit deflated.

  Why had they cut her off so soon? Was she that bad?

  She thought about her reception at the Creative Workshop, and felt like crying.

  When she got back to where Melodie was sitting, she saw that they'd been joined by Glynis Tooke. Both women lurched forward, eagerly.

  "What was it like? Did you get through?" Melodie asked, immediately.

  "I don't know," Ariel said, sitting down. "They stopped me half way through and said they'd let me know later this afternoon. I need to go out for a fag, I know that."

  "Was it just amazing?" asked Glynis, clutching her bodhrán onto her knees. "I bet it was such a trip to perform your art in front of professionals, wasn't it?"

  Ariel smiled. "Not really; it was pretty terrifying, actually." She fished in her bag for her cigarettes. "I wonder how the boys are doing."

  "Didn't they tell you if you were any good, or not?" Melodie asked.

  "No." Ariel laughed. "As we keep saying, this isn't The X Factor. They're not there to give you feedback, just to see if they want you on their show or not."

  "I'm surprised," said Glynis. "We artistes th
rive on feedback from our audience; it's what makes us shine!"

  "Whatever," said Ariel, and sighed. "Okay, see you chaps in a minute."

  When she got back half an hour later, after smoking three cigarettes, phoning her father and pacing round and round the car park in an effort to release some of her pent up energy, Melodie had just gone in. Glynis was listening with great concentration to two women singing Whitney Houston's 'I want to dance with somebody', and attempting to play her bodhrán in accompaniment. Ariel had to stop herself from laughing; both women kept glancing at each other, nervously.

  Melodie returned, looking flushed and pleased with herself. "That Glenn Hunter bloke, I know he fancied me!" she said. "That should get me through, if nothing else does!"

  The morning wore on and Glynis became increasingly petulant, waiting for her turn and listening to all sorts of theories from others who hadn't been seen yet, either: they'd already made their minds up who was going through and the auditions were just a formality; they were saving the most promising until last. Then Ariel began to notice something that hadn't registered with her earlier. Some people were coming back from the audition room, picking up their bags and leaving, quietly, straight away; in the last hour or so a couple had been in tears.

  "Weird," said Ariel to Melodie. "I thought they were letting us all know later."

  She got up and wandered over to one of the runners, a young guy in an Inspire TV t-shirt with a name badge that told the world he was called Zack, and asked him what was happening.

  Zack grinned. "Oh, they're the definite no-nos," he said. He looked around to make sure no-one was listening. "The hilarious and the hopeless - the ones they know straight away haven't got a chance. Some of them, they tell them to stop after about thirty seconds, and just say no. If they think you're okay, you get the nod and your video gets saved and edited together with all the rest. They'll scan through all the possibles at about four o'clock, and make their decision about the final eighty, for the actual show, once they've watched you all again."

  "Oh - thanks!" Ariel felt cheered by this; she went over and imparted the information to Melodie, out of earshot of Glynis. "Looks like we've overcome the first hurdle, then!"

  Melodie surprised her by giving her a big hug and kissing her cheek. They looked at each other and laughed.

  "We're on our way, babe!" shrieked Melodie.

  More people left; the room began to empty. Ariel tried to read, but it was impossible to do so against the backdrop of Melodie's chatter and Glynis's vocal exercises. At about two o'clock, Melodie went off in search of sandwiches, and came back grinning all over her face.

  "I've just seen Boz!" she said. "They've already been in, and they're still here!"

  Ariel's face broke into a smile almost as wide as the one Glynis had been sporting for the early part of the day, though sadly no more, and clapped her hands.

  "Excellent!" she said. "That's all of us! Mel, isn't this great? Hey, three cheers to you for finding out about this thing!"

  Glynis said nothing, but moved to examine the packets of sandwiches.

  "Does anyone mind if I have the smoked salmon and cream cheese?" she asked, grabbing it and breaking open the cellophane.

  "Cheeky cow!" Melodie whispered. "I bought that one for myself!"

  They sat down, and were just opening bottles of sparkling water to go with their lunch when their ears were alerted.

  "Do we have a Glynis Cook?" called the girl who'd shown Ariel out. She frowned and held the earpiece of her headset closer again. "Sorry - Glynis Tooke to the audition room, please!"

  Glynis gulped down her mouthful of sandwich, shrugged off her turquoise mohair jacket to reveal a sea green, sequinned vest, and grabbed her bodhrán.

  "Wish me luck, fellow music makers!" she cried to the room, and, with a final beat of her drum, she disappeared down the corridor.

  ***

  While Dave Bentley was sitting in the holding room at the studio watching a four piece girl band from Birmingham getting into fisticuffs about who was going to do the lead vocal (after which they were disqualified and thrown out), Janice Brown was clearing up tables in the Sunrise café, looking out of the window at the falling snow, and wondering if it was going to settle.

  "That'll be me skidding all the way home, then," said Lisa, as she folded paper napkins around knives and forks and put them in the tray on the dresser in the corner. "Max, can I go home early? I've got me stiletto heeled boots on!"

  Max laughed. "I'd say yes, but I thought it was your turn to clean the loos," he said.

  "Oh, I'll do them," Janice said. "Mum said she'd keep Harley 'til six anyway, in case I need to go shopping after I've finished here."

  "Really?" Lisa whipped off her apron. "Mwah, Jan - that's me outta here!"

  She was gone within minutes.

  "Are you going shopping, then?" Max asked. "D'you want me to give you a lift?"

  Janice screwed up her nose. "I don't think I can be bothered," she said. "We can always have spaghetti hoops and oven chips for tea; Harley would probably prefer that, anyway!"

  Max laughed again. "Not very nutritious, though is it? No, no, I'm not criticising you, don't worry; I can imagine what it's like. I know how picky I was when I was a kid." He patted his stomach. "You wouldn't think so, now, though, would you?"

  Janice smiled. "No, I'm not the sylph I was at eighteen, either; few of us are."

  Max put down the cloth he was using to wipe down the counter. "Does Harley like dogs?"

  "Yes. He loves them. Prefers spaghetti hoops, though." She smiled. "Why?"

  He shrugged. "Just thought you and he might like to come round for dinner at mine tonight. Just you, me, Harley and Sam. I put a stew in the slow cooker this morning, to last me a couple of days; I have a large appetite so it'll easily stretch to three." He grinned. "Or four. It's got dumplings in, and everything. Sam loves dumplings!"

  Janice felt herself go pink. "Yes. That'd be lovely. Thank you."

  "Great." Max clapped his hands. "Right, well, let's get this place cleared up sharpish, shall we, and we'll go and pick the lad up. Oh - I'll do the toilets in the morning!"

  Janice smiled to herself as she picked up her cloth and bottle of Mr Muscle so she could finish cleaning the tables, and kept on smiling until they were all sparkling clean.

  ***

  The door to the corridor leading to the audition room burst open, and out flounced Glynis Tooke.

  She'd been gone for some time, so Melodie and Ariel presumed that the musical Sassy Monologue had been well received, which, they agreed, didn't bode well for more mainstream singers like themselves.

  Glynis said nothing as she walked over to where they sat, and carefully placed her drum back into her bag.

  "How did you do?" Ariel asked.

  Silence.

  "Well?" said Ariel.

  Silence.

  Melodie laughed. "I know! She's doing that kidding around thing they do on The X Factor - you know, when they look all sad and say "I'm really sorry to have to say this, but I'm afraid you're ... going to have to come back tomorrow and do it all again!" Come on, aren't you?"

  Glynis looked at her, with pure hatred. "They laughed at me," she said.

  "What?" Ariel and Melodie said, in unison.

  Glynis sat down. Gone was the ear to ear smile, the bouncing optimism. She didn't look upset, though. She looked furious.

  "I introduced myself, told them all about the Workshop, explained how the performing arts are my passion, how my life's journey is to foster creativity and self-expression in myself and others. I described to them my plan to growth the aims of the Workshop to include a course in Shamanic drumming, and they hardly seemed interested," she said. "In fact, that burly misogynistic oaf of a man actually cut me short and asked me to get on with it!"

  Melodie gave a little snort and gripped Ariel's wrist, so hard it hurt.

  "So how did it go?" she asked.

  "Thirty seconds, if that, that's how it went!"
Glynis said, then tore her red scarf from her hair and stuffed that in her bag, too. "They stopped me after only about thirty seconds! I gave it my all, I gifted them 'Killer Heels', I was speaking to them, expressing my story through not only my voice, but also the medium of contemporary dance - it was a complete performance, using my words, my body, my instrument, my whole self - and they cut me off half way through!"

  "Oh dear," said Ariel, "I am sorry."

  "And then," she continued, "then I looked at that little bitch Rachel - a woman, she should have been supportive! - and she was actually laughing! I've never been so insulted in my life!" She did up the straps on her bag, with great ferocity of movement. "Then they said they'd heard enough and that I wasn't really what they were looking for, so I challenged them! Oh yes, sir, I challenged them! I most certainly did!"

  Ariel clutched Melodie's wrist, this time. "What did you say?"

  Glynis turned to look at them, then threw her head back and laughed. "Ha! I tasked them to take off their blinkers, that they might be able to employ their tiny minds to acknowledge true individuality, the liberation of the goddess within the woman, when it stared them in the face. I walked up to that Glenn fellow and drummed my bodhrán in his face, and I sang to him, "wake up, wake up, little man, get off your self imposed pedestal and see the beauty in front of your ignorant, closed eyes!" She closed her eyes, trance-like. "I will cherish that moment forever! It was so empowering!"

  Ariel gulped. "What happened then?"

  Glynis shrugged her arms into her turquoise mohair jacket. "Oh, they got two apes to show me the way out," she said, and stood up. "This isn't the place for me. I'm just not lowest common denominator material! I can't expect people with minds wrapped in cotton wool to understand a true artiste." She fixed Ariel and Melodie with a steely gaze. "I won't say good luck, because you probably won't need it." She hoisted her khaki knapsack over her shoulder, threw back her head in a theatrical fashion and laughed again. "Yes, you two are probably exactly the sort of females they're looking for - colourless little girls - I won't call you women - with soppy little songs, who use their tits and cunts to get what they want. Just like every silly little chickadee has to do in this male ruled world we live in. God help us all!"