The Monster of Fame (The Price of Fame Series)

by Duffy, Aimée

  Between the media and the pressure to ‘look’ the part, fame had destroyed his wife, making her turn to drugs and alcohol for weight loss and confidence. Both had killed her in the end. Miles couldn’t cope with the guilt if Annabelle fell into the same murky pit of despair. He was barely struggling with the blame for Cassie.

  Panic clawed its way up his throat as the song neared its end.

  There was no doubt in his mind Safri and Sander would put her through to the next round. He would have to get in first and persuade them not to vote her through. After all, they usually listened to him.

  The song finished and Annabelle’s gaze went straight to the floor as she stood there trembling, waiting on their verdict. A quick glance at his colleagues confirmed his suspicions; both sat there—wide-eyed and open-mouthed. Safri even had tears in her eyes, which was surprising in itself. Safri never, ever cried.

  “Thank you, Annabelle,” Miles said, aware that this audition was being filmed. “I have to say you have a beautiful voice. It flows smoothly and you are able to hold a tune spectacularly well.”

  The smile which spread across her pale face lit up her shiny eyes. She was dazzling. For a moment he forgot what he was trying to do.

  Clearing his throat, he got to the hard part. “However, this contest is not just about singing. It’s also about finding stars and selling albums. Do I think you can sing? Yes. Very well. Do I think you can make it as a star?” He paused as her smile faltered and her eyes filled with moisture.

  Just looking into those eyes made him want to promise her the world. An image flashed in his mind of his wife’s pale, lifeless face the evening he returned from work and found her dead. The guilt lay so thick in his stomach he thought he might throw up.

  There was no way he would do that to Annabelle. “I’m sorry, but I don’t. Where your voice is amazing, you don’t have star quality nor confidence. You were only able to sing once you’d closed your eyes, which is unprofessional. It’s a no from me.”

  His voice came out harsher than he intended with the painful memories of guilt and heart-wrenching anguish resurrected. He was aware of his fellow judges’ gazes on him, although he couldn’t drag his attention from Annabelle. Her face crumpled in an expression which he could only describe as agony. The pain in her eyes mirrored that and a single tear rolled down her cheek.

  He felt like the biggest arse in the history of the world. If only he could take the words back and see her smile her bright, breathtaking smile again.

  But if he did, how long would that smile last?

  Chapter 2

  Eliminations

  “It’s a no from me.”

  The words rang again and again in Anna’s head, each time cutting her a little deeper. She straightened her spine and locked her knees to avoid falling to the floor and tried very hard to hold back the sobs bubbling up in her chest.

  Anna tore her gaze away from Miles’s penetrating emerald eyes and returned her attention to an irregular floorboard in front of the judges’ table.

  “Miles!” the female judge, Safri, chided. “You can’t be serious?” The incredulous note in Safri’s thick accent was obvious.

  Anna looked up at Safri. Hope sparked anew. All she needed was two votes to go through. Maybe there was still a chance…

  “I’m dead serious. She doesn’t have what it takes,” his deep voice rumbled.

  Pain slashed across her like the lash of a whip. What did he mean? Wasn’t she pretty enough? He said she could sing!

  “I disagree,” Safri said, turning to face Anna and squaring her broad, tanned shoulders. “I think you do and only an idiot would not take you through to the next round. I think you have winning potential and the star quality we’re looking for. It’s a yes from me.”

  Anna managed to pull her lips into what she hoped was a grateful smile. Words still beyond her, she dragged in deep breaths through her nose to stop the tears from spilling over. From the corner of her eye she saw Miles’s brows pull down and his lips twist into a scowl as he glared at Safri.

  What on earth had she done to goad such a response from him?

  “I have to say, I agree with Safri,” Sander Chase said, breaking Anna out of her reverie. Still, the sorrow of Miles’s rejection almost swallowed her whole. “You’re through to the next round, Annabelle. Congratulations.”

  Again, Anna forced herself to smile even though she felt like crying. This was what she wanted, right? Just the majority vote. It was enough, yet it didn’t feel like enough. She glanced at Miles again who was now pinching the bridge of his nose between a long forefinger and thumb, his eyes shut tight.

  What she really wanted was his approval. The other two were talented recording artists, sure. But it was his opinion that mattered most. His company represented every ounce of talent in the UK and he didn’t think she had what it would take to be one of them. Was he right?

  “Thank you,” Anna choked past the rising lump in her throat. Tremors continued to rake through her, and she used every ounce of strength she had to hold back the tears burning her eyes. Safri and Sander smiled encouragement, and she turned to leave the room. She felt unsteady on the cheap high heels she’d borrowed from her mum. She draped her arms beside her hips to try and steady herself.

  Just as she made the exit and put her hand out to reach for the door a warm set of fingers wrapped around her wrist. Jolts of heat snaked through her arm. The spicy smell of aftershave made her stomach quiver.

  Startled, she turned her head, tilting her chin slightly to look into Miles’s eyes. His pupils were fully dilated in the dim light and a tingle of heat skittered down her spine.

  “I’m sorry for hurting your feelings,” Miles whispered huskily. The sound made her shiver. “I just don’t think you have what it takes. Wouldn’t it be better to walk away now than have your dreams blown to pieces later?”

  The strange shaky feeling blossoming in her stomach froze in its tracks at his words. With her eyes narrowing in anger—both at his assumption and her body’s infuriating reaction—she frowned at him.

  “I’ll deal with it if it happens,” Anna ground out through clenched teeth.

  He dropped her wrist like her words burned him. After staring her down for a moment, he turned and strode back to the judging table. She pushed the doors wide and kept a death grip on her irritation with Miles, terrified that if she let it go she would burst into tears.

  “Well? How’d it go?” Jess asked, jumping up from a seat to greet her.

  “I got through.”

  “Anna, that’s fab!” Jess threw her arms around Anna, and she felt some of her despair leak out to be replaced with a shred of Jess’s joy.

  It was fab. It was exactly what she needed. Why couldn’t she just be happy about it?

  Bleedin’ green-eyed know-it-all! Anna would show him she had what it takes…

  * * * *

  “Are you on drugs? What the hell were you thinking?” Dave yelled at Miles.

  Great, back to hostility for the next few weeks.

  “I don’t think she’ll cut it,” Miles replied, shrugging his shoulders to emphasize the nonchalance in his tone. He knew exactly why Dave called him into his office at Studio Four today. Dave had seen the tape of the Glasgow auditions.

  His—sometimes—friend’s face turned scarlet with rage, making his hair appear whiter and the deep set wrinkles around his narrowed eyes more pronounced. Dave was pissed all right.

  “Cut it? She has a better voice than anyone we’ve heard so far. Given the right style, public image, and exercise regime she’ll have more than enough to cut it!”

  Miles could handle Dave’s fury; he dealt with it every year the show aired. Miles wasn’t one for sticking to his ‘ruthless arsehole’ stereotype, nor was he one for wasting time and effort training circus acts. Both were required for his contract and Dave insisted on both every bloody year.

  But he couldn’t handle putting Annabelle MacIntosh through the stress and strains of fame, whi
ch he knew would eventually ruin her. Her angelic voice was exquisite, he couldn’t deny that. Having her alive with a broken dream was better than watching this business kill her off, piece by beautiful piece. Dave was already starting his crap with the contestants.

  “Exercise?” Miles fumed, his hands fisted against Dave’s mahogany desk. He leaned forward. Didn’t Dave notice that the era of the stick insect was long gone? If it hadn’t been for the pressure to resemble a bag of bones in this industry, he had no doubt Cassie would have survived a little longer.

  “Yes. Exercise. She’s too heavy on the hips for the camera. Ten or twenty pounds should cut it.” Sunlight shone through the expansive window. The beams made the various awards in Dave’s trophy cabinet sparkle and shine.

  Twenty pounds and she’d be a thin waif like the rest of the girls he’d put through this week. Annabelle’s figure was full and curvaceous in all the right places. There was no way in hell he would encourage any weight loss.

  “Shit, Dave. Her body’s fine.” It was more than fine. It stirred his blood and made him want things that he couldn’t have. “It’s not that I’m worried about.” He had to get the ridiculous notion out of Dave’s head before he started hand feeding Annabelle carrot sticks. “She’s not strong enough for the pressure fame puts on you. I doubt she’s even strong enough for this competition.”

  Understanding softened Dave’s expression, but when he spoke his voice was firm. “She’s not Cassie, Miles. She stays in.”

  Hell. Dave knew about Cassie, he’d been Miles’s dad’s best friend for years and gave him the part of a judge on Do You Have What It Takes?. Anger meant Dave could be swayed once he’d vented it all out. This calm voice was firmer than he’d ever heard from Dave.

  But Miles wouldn’t be swayed. If he had to keep her in the show in front of the camera, he’d find another way to persuade her to leave behind the scenes.

  He knew Annabelle wasn’t Cassie. They were completely different people. Still, Anna’s extreme nerves suggested she wasn’t strong enough to fight the fame monster and win.

  * * * *

  Rehearsing for eight hours, seven days in a row was enough to exhaust even the strongest of souls. Anna had barely slept since she left her crowded, two bedroom house a week ago before arriving in London.

  Nerves, anticipation, hope, and a blinding fear had her body clock knocked out of sync.

  “I’m so scared I think I might wet my knickers,” Joanne, a dark-haired girl about the same age, whispered at Anna’s side as they lined up at the side of the stage.

  Anna tried to laugh, but it sounded like she was being strangled. Must be the tension tightening every muscle in her body to the breaking point.

  Backstage was a flurry of machinery and a far cry from glamorous. The cheap linoleum floor was well past its renewal date and the dull gray walls looked like they could use several coats of paint. It reminded Anna of the run-down primary school she’d attended as a child. Behind the scenes was nowhere near as fancy as she imagined.

  “It will be fine. Same as your first time, just give it your all and hope for the best,” Anna tried to assure her new friend.

  Most of the other contestants rarely spoke to unattractive girls like Anna. Luckily, Joanne wasn’t so shallow. She’d been Anna’s lifeline since she’d set foot in London and been ushered to a swanky hotel.

  “I know. I just can’t believe everything relies on this. Then, if we do get through today and our mentors keep us on after tomorrow, next week it’s straight to performing in front of a live audience and the whole of Britain.” Joanne’s observation turned the heads of the others in line behind them.

  Anna swallowed—hard. This was the part she might fail at. She could walk on stage in front of three people and pretend they weren’t there—even if she had to close her eyes to do it. But a full audience coupled with the whole of the UK watching from their living rooms? Already, her palms held a thin coat of sweat and shook impossibly.

  You’re strong, remember? You can do this. Anna closed her eyes as she sent herself silent encouragement. Why couldn’t she be a better liar? Maybe then she’d be able to convince herself.

  “Let’s worry about it nearer the time.” No need to give herself premature heart failure worrying about how far she’d go. Deal with the live shows if and when they came. Her mum’s face flashed in front of her eyes and she remembered again why she couldn’t fail.

  Mum needs me to get through. Failure is not an option.

  “Next.” The stage director motioned his hand toward Anna. Her gut clenched as adrenalin pumped into her veins. This is it, now or never.

  Today, she’d opted for flats. They looked a bit daft with her leggings and floaty top, but she wouldn’t risk falling on her face like she almost did at the first audition. As she shuffled to the center of the stage, she made a determined effort not to look in the direction of Miles Oliver.

  She’d promised herself that she would not acknowledge his presence, knowing perfectly well if she did irritation would make her lose all focus. Or worse, the skittery feelings when he looked at her with his intense eyes would make her dissolve into a puddle of emotion.

  “Annabelle, it’s good to see you. What are you singing for us today?” Miles’s deep grumble shredded her resolve. Her eyes locked on his and she saw no antagonism or hostility there. A scattering of stubble darkened his jaw and highlighted a full mouth, curved into a smile.

  Unable to look away, she answered him in a throaty voice unrecognizable to her own ears. “Living on a Prayer.”

  His eyes widened, causing his eyebrows to move far up his forehead. She couldn’t stop from smiling then, liking that she’d surprised him.

  “Begin when you’re ready,” Sander said, and she tore her attention from Miles to focus on the others. She nodded toward a member of the crew to her right and the music began. She’d spent all week turning the rock song into a power ballad and prayed they would like the risk she’d taken.

  As Anna started singing, she closed her eyes and let the whole world fall away around her. The long forgotten dream of singing came back as she remembered why she enjoyed this as a child.

  When she sang, all that mattered were the words of the song. She could relate to every one in some shape or form. All her anger at her selfish dad, all her money worries, and all her passion made her stronger.

  A smile tugged at her lips as she realized that this was what had been missing all along. She was born to sing. That undeniable fact left no question in Anna’s mind. She’d do what it took to succeed. The world came back into focus on the last chorus and she put more power into her voice than before.

  The song finished and she opened her eyes, then lowered the mic to her side. Her attention focused on Miles, who looked like he didn’t know whether to praise her or drag her off to a safe house somewhere. She frowned as she tried to make sense of his reaction.

  “Annabelle, that was spectacular! Well done.”

  Her attention turned to Safri whose dark eyes sparkled and her lips curved with enthusiasm.

  “You definitely have star quality, and I have no doubt that you will be the one others have to beat in this competition,” Sander added. He too looked very emotional with his pale blue eyes wide and shiny.

  Her heart swelled in her chest at their praise, but Miles still sat silent.

  An urge to flee from the stage almost had her skittering away like a startled lamb, but she waited—impatiently—for his input.

  “You took one of my favorite rock songs of all time and made it your own. It was a truly spectacular performance.”

  Her eyes widened at Miles’s words and she stared at him with parted lips, waiting on the ‘but’ that was sure to follow.

  A slow smile spread across his face and he nodded, as if to say ‘Yes, I really mean it’. Stunned, she turned and walked off the stage feeling numb.

  Surreal wasn’t even the word for what just passed. Had Miles got over his dislike of her or was he merely to
ying with her hopes?

  * * * *

  Decision time.

  This was Miles’s least favorite part of the show. All the hopefuls were split up into three rooms while the judges spent hours arguing, debating, and acting like children while trying to push their favorites through.

  This year, however, there were a few who stood out from the others the way a star shines from an empty black sky. Annabelle was one, possibly the brightest of them all. He knew the other judges saw it. Putting her through was one of the things he knew there would be no arguing about. Unless he went against Dave’s orders, that is.

  He walked down the long corridor of Studio Four with Sander and Safri on his flanks. They were headed to the last room on the right, the one where Annabelle waited for the news that would inevitably destroy her. Sweat beaded on his brow as he reached for the handle and pushed the door open.

  Thirty people stood in the room, with almost everyone crowded close to the front. Miles barely noticed any of them or their anxious expressions. His eyes sought the woman he hadn’t figured out how to save yet.

  He spotted Annabelle waiting with another girl near the back, but her face was turned away from him so he couldn’t read her soulful eyes. His gaze swept over her rigid frame, and he saw her hands tremble slightly.

  Sander stepped forward. “Hey, guys. What we’re gonna do now is split you up into two groups. I’ll call out some names and I want those people to stand at the right hand side of the room.” Everyone fixed their attention on the blond judge, everyone except Miles.

  Annabelle griped the girl’s hand and closed her eyes—disappearing into her own world seemed to be Annabelle’s way of coping. The other girl stared anxiously at Sander. Neither moved from the back of the room where they stood next to the only window. The sunlight shined through, beaming on her hair. He noticed with a start that her hair wasn’t mousey brown after all. It was a light golden brown with faint red highlights.