The Monster of Fame (The Price of Fame Series)

by Duffy, Aimée

  “Miles!” The thick Brazilian accent made his hackles rise. “I wondered where you’d got to.” Slurring her words, Safri plonked down on the grass far too close to him. He shifted away, bringing himself closer to Annabelle. She looked up at Safri, and he struggled to understand her expression. Was it envy?

  “Aren’t you coming back to the party?” Safri leaned closer and he could smell the whiskey on her breath. Every year she got drunk, and every year she tried to get him to spend the night with her. Honestly, even if he was one hundred percent certain that he would be able to perform, he’d still say no. Mixing business and pleasure was a mistake. Sober, Safri would agree with him.

  “Annabelle and I were just having a chat. I won’t be long.” He hoped she would take the hint and leave them alone.

  “It’s all right. I was just leaving anyway.” Annabelle rose, brushing her hands against the back of her tight jeans. The spark of arousal was back, warming his blood.

  “See,” Safri said, drawing his attention away from Annabelle. He turned to look at Safri. She was already fully sloshed and he dreaded the conversation that was sure to come.

  Every year it was the same damn thing.

  “Come on, Safri,” he said. Miles rose and pulled her up with one arm. Annabelle was already walking ahead of them back to the house. He rushed Safri along, hoping she would play nice.

  “Are you dating Anna now? Why don’t you dump her and come home with me?” The suggestion made him flinch.

  “No, I’m not. I’m sorry, Safri, but like I said last year, I don’t think a…one-night stand would be the best idea.”

  Safri scowled ahead and didn’t give him any more trouble. When he reached the house, Annabelle was nowhere to be found among the thrall of intoxicated contestants.

  * * * *

  The moment the first words of the song left Annabelle’s mouth, Miles knew she was in trouble. What on earth was Safri playing at giving Annabelle a heavy metal song to sing? Was she insane?

  He turned accusing eyes on the woman in question and noted the smug smile on her face. Safri knew exactly what she was doing. This was no doubt retaliation for the brush-off he’d given her last Saturday.

  A year ago she insulted all of his acts for weeks, this year she was hurting Annabelle. His temper brimmed over, and he looked back to Annabelle. Her expression was that of someone who’d given up hope.

  Her shoulders hunched with defeat, yet her eyes remained firmly closed. A part of him wanted to stop this madness now, but that was not within his control. Frustrated, he curled his hands into fists on the table. He didn’t bother to hide them this time. Let Safri see how pissed off he was with her stunt.

  Her anticipation would make his revenge that much sweeter.

  The song finished and Annabelle stood on the stage before them, waiting on their verdict. This was the part that was for entertainment purposes. It was the viewer’s vote that decided who went through to next week’s live show.

  “I have to ask, Annabelle, what happened? Last week you blew us all away, this week was awful.” Sander’s look was sympathetic and his voice was gentle. Miles hoped it softened the blow of his words.

  As he saw the tears well up in Annabelle’s eyes, he knew it hadn’t.

  “Miles, up the sly remarks, kid. It’s what I pay you for.” Dave’s voice sounded fuzzy in his earpiece and made him jump. His chest felt heavy with dread.

  Shit.

  “Miles?” Mhairi asked, nodding for him to begin.

  This was it. He could shatter her dreams with a few choice words, effectively making sure that she wouldn’t be here next week. That’s what Dave seemed to want now. It would make great television, after all. Anguish churned his insides and he felt sweat bead on his brow.

  He couldn’t do it.

  “I’m not going to lie to you, Annabelle. It was the wrong song choice for you. Safri should never have considered it as an option. We all know how great you are. If you get another chance at this, go with your heart, not with what your delusional mentor insists upon.” Dave hadn’t said who Miles should insult and the subtle revenge against Safri tasted sweeter than chocolate.

  Annabelle’s mouth dropped open and shock widened her eyes. The sharp intake of breath from his right pulled his attention away from her. Safri was fuming at him, her dark eyes narrowed into a death glare and her postbox red lips pulled into a scowl.

  “Thank you, Anna,” Mhairi interceded. It would take an imbecile not to sense the tension between himself and Safri. “We’ll see you again in an hour for the results. Get voting, guys. You only have half an hour!”

  Miles ignored Safri’s whispered insults. Instead, he watched Annabelle leave with her shoulders hunched and her head down. A part of him hoped the public would vote her out so he wouldn’t be the one to have to convince her to leave. Then there was that other, slightly insane, part of him which wanted her to stay.

  * * * *

  “I’m sorry, guys. I can’t imagine how you three are feeling tonight.” Mhairi hugged two of the boys in the bottom three acts. Annabelle still looked too pale, like she was going into shock.

  They’d all received the lowest number of votes and all had sang one last time to try to convince the judges that they should stay. Miles was torn. On one hand, both Sam and Jenkins were his acts and he wanted to win this. If he didn’t pick one, they’d both be gone and he’d be left with a mere three acts in the competition.

  But then there was Annabelle. If he voted against her, she’d leave and he’d never see her again. His insides twisted in agony and his eyes flicked back to her pale face. There was a sheen of moisture shimmering in her eyes.

  “Okay, judges. You know the drill. Vote on the act you want to go through and the other two will be sent home. In the event you can’t agree, we’ll put this to the public to decide and the two acts with the least votes go home.” Mhairi repeated the same words every damn year.

  He rapped his fingers against the table, his impatience cracking through his collected facade.

  “I’m going to send Annabelle through. Sorry, guys,” Sander started. Miles’s shoulders were so tense he thought they might crack with the pressure.

  “Annabelle, you know I think you have a good voice,” Safri began, and he knew from her sly tone that she was planning to send Annabelle home. Possibly counting on Miles to help her.

  He clenched his jaw and his heart picked up pace.

  “But I’m going to have to go with who I think can make it to the finals. You’re not versatile, as tonight proved. I don’t think you’ll make it far when you can only sing one type of genre. I’m putting Sam through. Sorry.”

  She didn’t sound sorry at all. Rage burned through him, white-hot and deadly. It took all of his effort to bite his tongue, to not lash out at the Brazilian and tell her exactly what he thought of her sarcastic apology in front of the whole of the UK.

  A choked sob came from Annabelle and his attention flew to her. All the rage washed away as he took in her damp eyes and pale face. Her expression was that of defeat, and it looked like she was hanging onto composure by the skin of her teeth.

  He wanted her out. There’s no way she would survive what came after the competition. She wasn’t strong enough. He could see it as clearly now as he could the first day. But could he be the one to do it, especially since this would destroy her in a whole other way? Miles closed his eyes and thought long and hard.

  “Miles, we need your decision,” Mhairi pressed after a minute.

  Miles opened his eyes and fixed them on Annabelle’s trembling frame.

  * * * *

  Try as she might, Anna couldn’t take her eyes off Miles. His were closed and he looked wound so tight she wondered if he might snap. His brows were creased and his face was twisted into a grimace. If she didn’t know better she’d think he was in physical pain.

  Did he understand how much this meant to her? Would he give her another chance? Sure, he’d kissed her, but that didn’t necessarily m
ean he cared. Did it? Even after all their conversations she was convinced he wanted her to leave for some reason, but other than asking why she didn’t go to university, he hadn’t asked her to leave again since that first audition back in Glasgow.

  But she couldn’t leave. Not now, not when her family relied on the money she made, and the possibility of winning the competition. The bank had called her mobile that morning. They were now two months in arrears and the interest being added was crazy. She could lose the house. Her mum and gran would be homeless. Her gran was weak and deteriorating slowly. Would the stress of it all kill her?

  Anna held herself together and clenched her hands into fists. This was it. Her life, all their fates, came down to him. The man who’d asked her if she was on drugs. The man who’d sought her out so many times in the last two weeks to make sure she was okay. The man who looked like something had died inside of him when he’d kissed her. The man who’d been on her mind every second of every day since.

  “Miles, we need your decision,” Mhairi prompted after what seemed like an eternity.

  His eyes snapped open and he stared right at Anna. His intense gaze made her even more nervous than she’d ever felt. After a moment, she almost forgot that her life was in his hands. There was an underlying pain beneath the leafy green depths of his eyes she didn’t understand.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  Despair rocketed through Anna, knocking the breath right out of her as quick as a hard punch to the gut. Before she composed herself, he spoke again.

  “Sam, Jenkins, Annabelle. The competition this year is fierce, but it is a competition and I have to put the person through who has the best recording voice. After all, that’s mostly what this show is about.”

  Anna closed her eyes and felt the moisture spill over and roll down her cheeks. He was going to send her home. She had no doubt about it. Why would anyone in their right mind put her through when she hadn’t the balls to so much as face the audience when she was singing?

  Not to mention, this was a competition and the winning judge not only got the chance to offer the winner a record deal, but they got half a million pounds. What idiot would throw that away?

  “So, I’ve made my decision. I’m going to have to send Annabelle through. I’m sorry, guys.”

  Idiot indeed.

  What on earth was he doing? Anna’s eyes flew open and she stared at him for a moment in utter shock. She barely noticed Safri glaring at him, or the cheers from the audience.

  Suddenly, the whole day’s events seemed too much to tolerate. The bank demanding money, hearing muffled boos as she sang a song she knew didn’t suit her, being in the bottom three of the night, and her mentor backing someone else. A crushing despair overwhelmed her and she burst into tears on stage in front of Miles, the audience, and probably the whole of the UK. Not silent tears either, but the full, sobbing and sniffing kind that would embarrass her later when she didn’t feel so overpowered by emotion.

  She was ushered off the stage by Mhairi, but couldn’t hear the words over the sobs ripping from her chest. What if Miles was right that first day? she thought as she tried to pull herself together. What if she wouldn’t be able to cut it? What would her family do then?

  * * * *

  “Ugh,” Anna groaned at her tear-stained face and red, puffy eyes in the mirror. She couldn’t go out in public like this. Mascara blackened her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. She pulled out a few face wipes and got to work removing the mess.

  It took ten minutes to pull herself together, but she managed to do it. What was important was that she had another chance to stay in and she’d make sure she did better next week. One breakdown wasn’t going to break her.

  Once she finished with her face, she slipped on the jeans and t-shirt she’d worn at rehearsals. Unable to face going to the house to celebrate, she went back to the table in her dressing room and pulled out her phone.

  Maybe all those people who followed her on EconEkt would give her the encouragement she needed. She felt hollow from the close call and could barely summon the energy to get up from the chair. The thought of facing a house full of strangers she didn’t like was bad enough, never mind now, after getting through over Sam and Jenkins who were friends with everyone else.

  A knock at the door interrupted her worrying. She put her phone on the dresser and went to answer it. Before she reached the door, Miles walked into the room, closing the door behind him. His face was blank, but the torture still hadn’t left his eyes.

  “Thank you,” she told him sincerely. “I really appreciate you giving me another chance.”

  Something flashed in his eyes then, something that looked like anger. Anna backed up a step. “Don’t thank me.” His voice was hard and flat, only an undercurrent of anger leaked through. “Have you even thought about what will happen if you win?”

  “No.” She thought it would all be over then, all the worry, the anxiety attacks, the constant fear of homelessness. Everything would be okay if she won. Wouldn’t it?

  “If you win this, the whole country will know who you are. Your life will be free pickings for the papers and magazines. You won’t ever have privacy. You will be constantly criticized and you won’t be able to stop it. Being famous isn’t all glitz and glamour, and the weak can’t survive it. Fame comes at a price. It can hurt and destroy people.”

  His angry torrent of words ended and the sparkle in his eyes died, just like it did after he kissed her.

  “How do you know?” she asked. His life didn’t seem all that bad. He was famous and appeared to be doing okay. Or was that for show?

  “Because it happened to my wife.”

  He looked away and Anna was glad. Pain laced through her for his loss and she was sure it showed in her expression. She tried to pull herself together.

  “What happened to her?” Anna knew he’d been married at one point, but years and years ago. The papers didn’t write much about it now.

  He met her gaze and her breath caught at his grief-stricken expression. “Cassie was famous, a singer too, but she couldn’t handle the pressure fame put on her. She turned to drugs to help her through, and one day…she took too much.” His voice cracked and his eyes squeezed shut. She could see the sheen of tears just below and her heart hurt so much for him she thought she might break down again.

  But she didn’t. Instead, Anna walked over to him and placed a hand on his bare forearm. The heat from his skin made her heart race, but she ignored it. Miles opened his eyes and stared down at her, looking more lost than she felt.

  “I’m sorry, Miles,” she told him, her voice thick with emotion. “I’m truly sorry for your loss.”

  After gazing at her for a moment longer, he nodded and left.

  Anna stared at the closed door and understanding dawned. He didn’t want her to go through in the competition because he was worried about her. Not because he didn’t think she was good enough. He genuinely believed she wasn’t strong enough to handle it…just like his wife.

  Although Anna knew nothing about his wife, she knew that she wouldn’t end up the same way. She would never take drugs and would find some other way to cope with the stress and pressure if she did win. Now all she had to do was show him that she would be strong enough to survive.

  She had to be.

  Chapter 6

  Betrayal

  Anna felt like throwing the damn CD out the window. It was Tuesday and she still had no idea what song she was going to sing on Saturday. Most of the other acts were already rehearsing theirs.

  Safri hadn’t returned any of her calls all week, so she came to the studio today to see what kind of songs they had. This week they were to sing a song by someone from their own country. Anna couldn’t find any Scottish songs which suited her voice, and she was getting more frustrated by the second.

  The CD one of the guys in the studio had given her with suggested tracks was terrible. She didn’t know half them, and the other half were in thick, heavy Scottish acc
ents and even she couldn’t understand the words.

  The studio was quiet today. Most of the others already had their music mixed the way they wanted and were spending the day shopping for new outfits to reinvent themselves. They hadn’t invited her. Not that she really expected them to.

  Then there was the other, increasingly alarming distraction making it harder and harder to concentrate on anything at all.

  Miles.

  She hadn’t seen or heard from him since he’d left her dressing room on Saturday night. She’d even logged into EconEkt hoping that he’d contacted her. Nothing. His face—so full of grief and torture—stuck in her mind and she’d driven herself crazy wondering if he was okay.

  Anna hit play and another song on the CD she didn’t recognize played with a snappy, Highland Fling-like beat. She cringed at the unattractiveness of the singer’s thickly accented voice. Only three songs left on the disc and she wasn’t holding out hope that they were any better.

  The door to the studio opened and Anna’s eyes widened as she saw Miles laughing at something Kev Jones, one of his mentees, was saying. She’d never seen him laugh before. The way his whole face lit up made him look like a different man. He looked years younger and his emerald eyes held a sparkle that she never knew they could.

  She froze for a second at the computer before ejecting the CD and headed for the exit.

  “Where are you off to?” Miles asked lightly.

  “I didn’t know you were using the studio today. Sorry, I’ll get out of your way.”

  He frowned at her for a moment and turned to the other three. “Kev, Orson, go set up. Jonny, you can check to see if the version of your song is in the archives. I’ll just be a minute.”

  Miles followed her into the hall and walked her outside. “What’s up?” he asked as they neared the exit.

  “I can’t find a Scottish song. All the songs in the archive don’t suit me. I don’t know a lot of Scottish singers and the choice in there isn’t exactly limitless.”