by Jade Winters
Chapter Seven
‘I told you we didn’t need much money to paint the town red,’ Izzy said as she burst into the spacious, brightly coloured, twin-bedded hotel room like a firework exploding across the sky. ‘Look what I found on the display downstairs.’
Izzy threw a leaflet onto the bed where Skye sat.
‘What’s this?’ Skye asked, giving it a cursory glance before going back to writing in her notebook. She hadn’t written any new song material in some time.
‘Something that’s right up your alley.’ Izzy punctuated every word with a full stop to add gravitas.
‘Oh yeah, like what?’
‘We can do karaoke at Harrington’s nightclub. It’ll be just like Star Maker.’ She gave an exaggerated shudder. ‘For the life of me, I can’t understand why you love that program so much.’
‘There’s not much to understand. I just think it’s nice to see other people realising their dreams.’
Izzy stood with her forehead pressed against the windowpane. ‘You got that right: other people. Dreams don’t come true for our sort.’
‘You can’t really believe that. Of course they do,’ Skye said, following Izzy’s gaze to the slate-grey clouds hovering above Soho’s skyline. ‘Who d’you think auditions for shows like Star Maker if not ordinary people like us?’
Izzy snapped her head around.
‘Talentless people?’ she said with a raised eyebrow. She paused for a moment, then bounced away from the window and jumped onto the bed next to Skye. ‘So do you wanna go or not. The woman at reception said the club’s within walking distance.’
Skye scanned the leaflet. ‘Admission’s free with happy hour from seven to midnight. Sounds perfect,’ Skye said with less enthusiasm than she’d intended.
‘At least sound like you mean it,’ Izzy barked. ‘You’ve had a face on since we left home this morning.’
Skye squashed the nagging guilt inside her.
‘You’re right,’ she said, injecting excitement into her voice. ‘It’ll be fantastic. Cheap booze and free entertainment. What more could a girl want?’
‘That’s the spirit,’ Izzy said with a look of triumph. Jumping off the bed, Izzy grabbed Skye’s hands and pulled her up. Without warning, she swung Skye against her and dragged her around the room in a madcap waltz.
If anyone knew how to shake off Skye’s melancholy, it was Izzy. Not that Skye wasn’t excited to be in the city; she was, more than anything. London was far busier, far brighter, far bigger than she had ever thought possible. She had a pain in her neck from walking around looking up at all the old buildings. Everywhere they went, there was something interesting to see: Buckingham Palace, Tower Bridge, the Houses of Parliament, the London Eye. As well as all that, the city was full of people with accents from around the world. London was so cosmopolitan that Skye had fallen in love with it immediately.
Despite all the wonders the city had to offer, she couldn’t get her dad out of her head. Had he eaten? Was he lying in a pool of his own vomit, choking to death? Was he— STOP! She mentally put a clamp on any more thoughts regarding her dad before she drove herself crazy. She was seventy miles away, and there was nothing she could do if he did need her help.
So why the hell did you leave him then? How could she convince herself to loosen the reins a little? She had barely experienced anything in life, such was her need to babysit her dad. She had always cancelled weekends away, as well as day trips. As much as she would have liked to put her needs first, she always found a reason not to.
Skye caught sight of herself in the wall mirror as she dragged her suitcase to her bed. Her verdant eyes were filled with so much sorrow, more than someone her age should have.
Yes, she felt guilty. Of course she did, but who wouldn’t, leaving their dependant dad behind? She knew that feeling of abandonment very well and had lived through it when her mum had taken off without a backwards glance.
I’m not abandoning him. I’m taking a well-earned and desperately needed break.
Izzy’s voice broke through her thoughts. ‘Come on, let’s show London what small-town women are really about.’
Izzy sucked in her stomach as she turned side to side to admire herself in the full-length mirror. The soft fabric of her dress clung to her hips, accentuating her pear-shaped figure. Her red curls bounced as she swung.
Skye began unpacking her suitcase. A small girl, from a small town, with a small suitcase and big dreams that she had squashed into a small box and locked. What an accurate description. She shook her head, determined not to let her sour mood spoil the evening.
‘And tomorrow we can hit the galleries,’ Skye said. ‘I’ve always wanted to go to the Tate.’
Izzy made a face. ‘Sod tomorrow. Who knows what state we’ll be in when we get up?’
Pulling her dress over her head, Izzy sauntered unashamedly towards the bathroom in her knickers and bra. ‘I’m gonna hit the shower. Do you wanna grab something at McDonald’s before we go out?’
‘Sure, why not? I might even treat myself to a Big Mac.’ Skye grinned at Izzy.
Izzy chuckled. ‘Ooh, look at us, the last of the big spenders.’
Izzy wiggled her bum at Skye before disappearing behind the bathroom door. Though she had promised herself not to do it, Skye switched on her phone. Her breathing quickened as the seconds ticked by. To her relief, the only sound was Izzy singing a Katy Perry song at the top of her lungs. She had no message notifications.
Thank God! Five minutes later, she switched off her phone again and threw it into her suitcase. No news is good news, right?
If anything had happened to her dad, as his next of kin, the authorities would have notified her.
Selecting a pair of dark denim jeans and a black off-the-shoulder top, Skye listened to the shower lurch into life as she took out her make-up bag and rummaged through it. Guilt-free moments were rare. Seven blissful days lay ahead, and she would make the most of them.
God only knows when I’ll get another chance.
Chapter Eight
Morgan sat in her usual seat at the far end of the bar. The position gave her a bird’s eye view of the ‘talent’ on stage. Chanel had tried to warn her against hosting a karaoke weekend, insisting it would lower the tone of the club, but Morgan had followed her instincts, and it had proven to be the right decision. The weekly sing-along night was one of the most popular and busiest.
A smile played on her lips as a woman with a loud, lugubrious, untrained voice belted out Celine Dion’s ‘Better Think Twice.’ Okay, so she wouldn’t win any prizes with her talent, but Morgan gave her ten out of ten for trying.
That was the beauty of karaoke. People who would never normally sing got a chance to have some lyrical fun. Morgan found that the ones who couldn’t sing usually got the most applause and catcalls.
‘Someone should shoot her and put her out of her misery.’ Chanel groaned, walking to the end of the bar, and leant against the counter. ‘It should be a criminal offence to make your staff work under these conditions.’
Morgan laughed. ‘Admit it. You love bitching about these wannabe singers. In fact, I’ve never seen you happier than on karaoke night.’
Chanel leant back and held up her hands in mock surrender. ‘Okay, okay, you’ve got me there. They do provide a laugh or two, but Jesus, pick a song that doesn’t involve so much screeching.’
Two women walked up to the bar, casting Chanel impatient stares.
‘Be right back. Got customers to water.’
Morgan turned in her seat as two women leant over the bar, shouting their cocktail orders above the noise. She smiled to herself on her snap judgement about the woman with red hair, wearing a lime-coloured glittery dress: Out of towners, no doubt. No city woman would put an outfit like that together.
Morgan craned her neck to see the woman’s partly obscured companion. It took a few seconds for the woman’s profile to come into view. She turned her head left then to the right as if she sensed Morg
an’s meaningful gaze but couldn’t quite pinpoint it. Then she looked beyond the redhead’s shoulder and straight at Morgan.
As their gazes met, it was as if they were suspended in time. The woman was very cute, no argument there. Wholesome-looking even, with the blonde hair and green eyes used in adverts to portray the innocent girl next door. All white smiles and sun-kissed skin. Definitely not the sort of woman Morgan expected to see in her club. She looked like she should have been tucked in bed with a hot cup of Horlicks.
For some unknown reason, the woman’s stare captivated her. She tried to break her gaze but found herself unable to. A jolt of desire sprung in the pit of her stomach when her eyes focused on the woman’s full, sensual mouth. Her lips were perfect and turned up at the ends as if she always had a smile ready to offer.
Morgan squirmed in her seat as the woman’s stare prolonged, wanting to turn back towards the stage as the next singer took the microphone, but she couldn’t. She was stuck. Transfixed. The woman finally broke eye contact when her friend turned and walked away from the bar. She followed her acquaintance down to the seating area in front of the stage, glancing back at Morgan once more before disappearing out of view.
‘Hello! Can you hear me?’ Chanel tugged on Morgan’s arm.
It took a second for Morgan to register Chanel’s voice. ‘Yeah, I can hear you. I’m not deaf.’
‘Could have fooled me. What’s got you all dazed and disoriented?’
‘What? Me? Nothing. I was just looking. There’s no harm in looking, is there?’
‘Who are we talking about here?’ Chanel raised her eyebrows and laughed. ‘Please, not the fashion-conscious bird in the green dress?’
Morgan shook her head, not wanting to defile the moment that had just taken place by sharing with Chanel the gut-wrenching attraction she had felt for the blonde woman. Maybe it was the woman’s air of innocence that pulled at her heartstrings, or the way she had so confidently held her gaze. Morgan couldn’t get the connection out of her mind as Chanel waited impatiently for a response.
Morgan pulled a face. ‘Do you have to be so rude about the customers?’
Chanel threw her head back and laughed. ‘Hell yes. You don’t pay me enough to serve drinks and be nice. I have to entertain myself somehow, dahling.’
Chapter Nine
‘What the hell was all that about?’ Izzy asked, leading the way to a small table a few feet from the stage.
Skye frowned as they settled onto black velvet seats. ‘What was what all about?’
‘Don’t play innocent with me. I saw the way you were looking at that woman at the bar.’
Drink in hand, Skye shook her head.
‘Was not,’ she said. The truth was that Skye didn’t know what’d happened. In some strange and mysterious way, she had felt drawn to where the woman sat. She hadn’t expected to see someone so gorgeous merely feet away. More importantly, she hadn’t expected her legs to feel like jelly upon meeting her gaze.
‘Was too. I’m not stupid, Skye. You were seriously checking her out,’ Izzy said, wiggling her eyebrows. Then, in an off-key and very loud voice, she sang, ‘Girls just wanna have fu-un!’
Skye laughed and clamped her hand over her friend’s mouth to shut her up.
‘Okay, okay! She was looking at me, so I looked back,’ Skye said matter-of-factly. ‘It’s what people normally do, isn’t it?’
She put on her butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-my-mouth face that she once used at school to get out of trouble.
‘Don’t try the angel face on me, girl. It ain’t gonna work.’ Izzy laughed and took a long sip of her cocktail. ‘So you fancied her, huh?’
‘I did not fancy her, Isabella,’ Skye protested, her face flushing.
‘Oooh, my whole name. Apo-lo-gies, sunshine.’ She flicked her hair back. ‘It’s irrelevant anyway. She looked way to classy for the likes of you.’
Skye folded her arms across her chest. ‘Remind me again why I’m friends with you.’
‘’Cause I tell it as it is.’
‘I’ve got an idea. Starting from like, now’—Skye emphasised the word ‘now’ with a slightly raised voice—‘how about you keep your thoughts about me to yourself?’
Izzy burst out laughing. ‘Touched a raw nerve did I?’
‘No, I just don’t like you putting me down,’ Skye muttered, her brow creasing.
Izzy leant over and pulled her into a quick hug. ‘Ah, no, darling. I wasn’t. I just don’t think someone like that would look twice at someone like you—or me for that matter. For starters, she looks like she’s got money, which you don’t—’
‘Why are we even discussing this? Jesus, all I did was look at the woman, not ask for her number’—she snatched the straw out of her glass and threw it onto the table—‘or ask her to marry me, for heaven’s sake!’
Izzy rested her hand on Skye’s knee. ‘Stop getting your knickers in a twist. All I’m saying is don’t go punching above your weight. You’ll only be disappointed.’
‘God forbid I want to better myself. Let’s all just stay in our godforsaken little town until we become incontinent and start peeing in the street like Mrs Walls,’ Skye mumbled, reminded exactly why she had never shared her life’s ambition with Izzy.
Izzy’s eyes widened and her jaw dropped. Skye thought Izzy understood that she’d overstepped the mark, but it wasn’t until she followed Izzy’s startled gaze that she realized Izzy probably hadn’t even heard her. Her eyes landed on a man in his early twenties across the room, looking like he’d just stepped out of a fashion magazine.
Izzy let out a low whistle. ‘Oh, my holy cow. Just look at the thighs on him.’
Skye dropped her gaze to the lower part of the man’s body. His muscular legs were plain to see in his tight, fitted jeans.
‘It’s alright, if you like that sort of thing,’ Skye said, completely disinterested.
Izzy ran the tip of her tongue along her lower lip. ‘Oh, I do. I do, very much.’
Skye took a sip of her drink as Izzy rose from her chair.
‘Do you mind if I disappear for ten minutes?’ Izzy asked, her eyes firmly fixed on her target.
‘Are you joking?’ Was Izzy really going to just walk over and say, ‘Hey, saw your thighs, think they’re fab, wanna shag?’ She looked up at Izzy to voice her dissent but saw there was no getting through to her. The woman was hypnotised.
‘Nope. You know I’m not one to let an opportunity pass, and boy is he an opportunity.’
‘Just don’t leave me alone all night.’
Izzy squeezed her shoulder affectionately. ‘I’ll be back before you know it.’
She blew Skye a kiss, wiggled her very short, very bright dress down and sauntered off.
Skye shook her head and slouched deeper into her seat. She watched in amusement as Izzy weaved a path through the tables towards her target, her hips swaying seductively as she neared him. Skye took a sip of her drink and felt the strong kick of alcohol run through her veins.
Shit! She tried not to cough her lungs out from the intensity of the cocktail and self-consciously looked around the bar to make sure no one was watching her put a neon light above her head that said: ‘Small town bird. In London for the first time.’
Feeling settled again, she searched for Izzy and caught sight of her flirting outrageously with the man across the room. The poor guy didn’t stand a chance. Skye smiled. That girl really is too much.
The tap of a microphone drew Skye’s attention to the stage. A young woman in skinny jeans, a black glittery top and red stilettos stood in front of the mike. Bright lights cascaded above her head, and even from the short distance, Skye saw the nervousness in the woman’s features. Her mouth, painted a shiny red to match her patent leather shoes, opened and formed into a shape the way Adele did in ‘It’s Life.’ She started to pour out smooth, silky tones, and Skye propped her head on her hand, closing her eyes as she let the melody wash over her. She exhaled and imagined herself on stage instead of t
he woman. She saw herself standing in front of the crowd, singing her heart out and giving each word everything she had until there was nothing more to give.
Far too quickly, it was over, the haunting notes of the last few words lingering in the air long after the woman had stopped singing. Skye opened her eyes. Music and songs had always been her escape pod. When alone, she would sing her heartache away, singing a lament for the life she wished to have, for the future she wanted but doubted she would get. Music was her release, and she knew she had just seen a kindred spirit on stage.
Skye watched the woman walk down from the stage towards a table full of cheering friends—a joyous scene Skye could only dream about.
Imagine having all of that support. But she couldn’t see it happening to her, not in a million years.
A man at the table beside hers leant over and tapped her hand. ‘Down a few more of those cocktails, sweetheart, and give it a go yourself.’
The unexpected contact startled her, and she snatched her hand away as if scalded. ‘Pardon?’
‘Singing, love, singing.’ He pronounced the g’s in the word very distinctly. ‘I saw the glaze across your eyes. You were lost in the song. Stage fright, is it? I wouldn’t worry. Get up there, love. Everyone’s so pissed they won’t remember a thing in the morning. Go on, give it a bash.’
As if to prove his point, he reached for his pint and drank greedily. To think her raw desire to be on stage was evident to a stranger and that he knew exactly how she was feeling scared her. Good God! Am I that transparent?
She was damned if she would give this stranger the satisfaction of a confession. Skye laughed self-consciously. ‘Oh, no, it’s nothing like that. It’s—’
The man gave her a solemn look. ‘Take it from me, love. You’re a long-time dead. Don’t be afraid to do what you want. Fear never did anyone any favours.’
