Authors: JS Taylor
“You’re supposed to be on my side,” George retorts.
“I’ll be on your side, when you stop being a snobby idiot,” says Tammy.
I wince. This was always a bone of contention between George and Tammy. Their different backgrounds. But Tammy has never openly called George a snob before.
“Those boys are working really hard,” continues Tammy, “they’re talented. But you don’t see it, because you’re too busy judging them for wearing white trainers and hooded tops.”
“They’re trouble,” protests George. “Anyone can see it. You’re just bias cause you come from that…” she waves her hand vaguely, “council house upbringing.”
Ouch…
That does it. Tammy looks about ready to rip George’s head off.
“Oh, and you think we’re all the same?” Tammy screams, “you think everyone brought up on a council estate is a dumb criminal?”
Uh oh. This is getting out of hand.
I’m used to Tammy and George having spats, but they never got personal like this.
“Of course George isn’t saying that,” I interject soothingly – even though I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what she thinks. “Listen Tams, George was just riled up about the vote rigging. She jumped to the wrong conclusion. And, as we all know,” I add, shooting George a rueful glance, “George has a hard time admitting she’s wrong.”
George examines her fingernails sulkily at this, but doesn’t contradict me. I guess even she’s realised this has got too heated.
“It’s just typical,” sighs Tammy, “That George would assume Dev.as.station are to blame for any wrongdoing.”
This starts George up again.
“They were the only ones who could have left that note!” she yells.
“Wait,” I hold my hands up to both of them. “Actually I have something to tell you about that.”
Suddenly I’ve got the floor. Tammy and George are both looking at me intently, their argument with one another suspended.
“Listen,” I say, “If there is some vote rigging going on, I think I know who’s behind it.”
I swallow, thinking how best to phrase the words.
“I was talking to Deven this morning,” I say slowly. “He let slip that he knows we’ll be voted out next. How could he know that? Unless he was something to do with vote rigging?”
Tammy and George digest this in stunned silence. George seems particularly incredulous. For the moment at least, their row is forgotten.
“Deven?” says George, after a moment, in a shocked voice. “I don’t believe it.”
“He’s such a cute little guy,” breathes Tammy. “Are you absolutely sure Summer? I mean. I just can’t see him breaking the rules.”
Their reaction is so strong I’m starting to doubt it myself.
“Well,” I say slowly. “Maybe
Deven’s not directly involved, but he knows something. For sure. I mean,” I add, “how could he be so sure we’ll be voted off? We had to win double the vote last round, to get through. By my calculations, that means we’re one of the least likely to go out.”
Tammy and George are both assessing this.
“What did he say?” asks Tammy eventually, “to make you so sure he knows?”
I feel myself colouring slightly.
“Um,” I admit, “he said him and I could date, when our group gets voted off. And he suggested next week.”
George’s eyes widen.
“Maybe it’s Scandelous,” she says. “Deven is collaborating with them, isn’t he? I wouldn’t put it past those bitches to cheat.”
“We don’t even know for sure that anyone’s cheating,” I point out. “All we have is a scrap of handwritten paper. That doesn’t prove anything. It could be someone trying to cause arguments,” I add, looking meaningfully at both of them. “Maybe even the TV company did it.”
“But then,” says George, “why would Deven be so sure?”
“There’s a way to find out,” says Tammy, her eyes glittering. “We’ve got an advantage, after all.”
“What advantage?” snaps George. “Last time I looked, you’re no Nancy Drew.”
I sigh inwardly.
Looks like George is still mad with Tammy.
Tammy ignores the remark.
“We’ve got Summer,” she says, with a hint of pride. “And Deven likes Summer, doesn’t he? I’ll bet she could get information out of him.”
“Oh no,” I raise my hands. “No more drama for me. I am not playing double agent, or whatever you call it.”
With Adam, I already have enough subterfuge to last me a lifetime.
George’s face is opening in understanding.
“Tammy’s right,” she says. “I’ll bet Deven would spill everything to you.”
“No,” I shake my head. “Absolutely not.”
Tammy frowns.
“What were you doing alone with
Deven anyway?” she asks.
I debate trying for a lie, but it was never my strong point. Besides, Tammy knows me too well.
“I was meeting Adam,” I mumble.
“For breakfast?” asks George. “You guys have got it bad.”
“Actually,” I admit, “Adam wanted to sort out the situation with Dez. He kind of… Resolved things.”
Tammy’s eyes widen.
“Adam beat up Dez?” she breathes.
“No, no,” I reply hastily. “Nothing like that. He just warned him off. Dez paid attention for once. So that’s all cool now.”
“Wow,” says Tammy. “I didn’t think there was a man alive who could talk Dez out of anything. Adam certainly has hidden talents.”
You don’t know the half of it.
“Yeah,” I concede. “And that’s all over now.”
“Good,” says George. “I knew all that stupid stuff with Dez would blow over. But listen Summer. You need to talk to
Deven.”
“Not happening,” I say. “I’m not some flirty secret agent.”
And I wouldn’t like to see Adam’s reaction, if he finds out I’ve been cosying up to Deven.
“Besides,” I add, angling to change the subject, “we need to get ready for your party George. We’re already tight for time.”
George’s expression transforms into a wide smile.
“Yes,” she breathes, her face lighting up at the thought. “It’s going to be
great.
I’ve got Cachaca booked. And my girls from school are coming.”
Tammy rolls her eyes at this. I catch her gaze, and glower.
Behave Tammy. No more arguments in the group.
Still, I secretly agree with Tammy. We’ve met George’s old college friends, and they are a combined unit of tedium.
All they talk about is snaring rich men we’ve never heard of, and which London postcode is the most stylish.
George has already turned to her closet, and is rummaging for clothes. She pulls out a stunning cocktail dress. It’s elegant and simple, with a bias cut.
“What do you think?” she asks, holding it up. “Too much?”
“Nah,” says Tammy. “You’re the birthday girl. You should stand out.”
She’s being nice to George again. That’s a relief.
As a close-knit group, we have spats, the same as all friends do. But this recent fall out between Tammy and George seems more serious. Something tells me I should be keep
ing a closer eye on the pair of them.
“You need stand out dresses too,” insists George. “I don’t want to be the only one.”
She eyes the dress in my hand.
“Boring,” she decides, stalking towards my wardrobe. “Let’s find you something more…”
Her words become muffled as she disappears into the depths of my wardrobe. I catch Tammy’s expression, and we both smile.
Classic George. But you gotta love her
.
We’ll both be dressed to the nines if she gets her way. And she always gets her way.
“This is good,” announces George, emerging with a very short skin tight dress. “What do you think?”
I look at the dress uncertainly. “That’s an audition dress,” I say. “It’s not really for…”
“It’ll be perfect,” interrupts George. “Might as well show off your figure. Who knows? There might even be some paps around.”
“You look great in that dress,” says Tammy, ignoring my glower. “George is right. You’ve got a great little bod. Show it off.”
“See?” George throws the dress, and I catch it.
“Less of the little,” I shoot back at Tammy. “I’m taller than you. Remember?”
“I only meant your dinky little waist,” replies Tammy grinning.
I hold the dress up. And then I remember.
My promise to Adam.
But this dress… I just
can’t
wear it with no panties. And that’s the end of it. The skirt is much too short to risk commando.
I run the possibilities in my head. Right now I’m caught between the wrath of George, and whatever consequences Adam means to deliver.
I assess my options.
Adam will never know
, I decide.
He won’t even be at the party. And it’s George’s birthday after all.
Holding the dress, I walk to my drawers and search for panties which match the deep blue colour of the fabric.
We all dress in a hurry, and I get my own back on Tammy, by insisting she wear George’s choice of hot pants, high heels, and a halter neck. She looks stunning, with her curvy little legs and butt. And it’s nice to force Tammy out of her sweats and hoody.
After we’re dressed, we turn our attention to make-up. In the Sing
-Win house, our en-suite bathroom is enormous, with a mirror each.
But we’re so used to sharing the tiny bedsit mirror, that we’ve got used to huddling in close, swapping make-up. So we pile together, pouting and leaning over
to grab the eyeliner, or proffer lipsticks we think would suit one another.
Nice to see we’re all friends again.
When She’s All That are getting along, we really do have a great camaraderie.
“Will your parents be there?” I ask George, as we put the finishing touches to our make-up. I’ve never managed to meet George’s parents, and I’ve always been intrigued. In my mind her mum is an older version of George, with perfectly coiffed hair, and elegant clothes. I imagine her dad as distinguished and beautifully spoken.
“No,” says George casually, adjusting a false eyelash. “They’re picking up the tab for the bar instead.”
This has always surprised me about George. For a girl who grew up on a family country estate, she doesn’t seem too close to her parents.
At my twenty-first, my whole family was there – along with family friends and all the staff of the pub where I worked. I couldn’t imagine turning twenty-one without my mum and dad there. But I guess George is a different class.
We head out of our room, just in time to bump into Deven. He does a flattering double take, his mouth wide open.
“Wow!” he says, grinning. “I mean wow! You girls look stunning.”
His eyes don’t leave my face.
“You certainly look like famous singers,” he says. “Where are you going?”
I turn uncertainly to George, wondering what lie to tell. Since I know she wants her party Sing-Win free.
“It’s my birthday tomorrow,” says George, with a flick of her hair. “I’m twenty one. So I’m having a little party in Cachaca.”
Oh no. Looks like she doesn’t plan on keeping it secret from Deven…
She pauses for a moment, and flicks a quick glance at me.
“Would you like to come?” she asks.
George! No!
I can hardly voice my objections in front of Deven, so I keep my mouth shut. It is her party after all. But I know why she’s doing this. George will try and make me grill Deven for information on vote rigging.
“Sure!”
Deven looks utterly delighted. “I’d love to come.”
George gives him a lip-glossed smile.
“We’re heading out now,” she says, “the birthday girl can’t be late. Why don’t you join us later?”
“I’ll be there,” promises
Deven.
“Oh,” adds George, as an afterthought. “And keep it to yourself
Deven. I don’t want Scandelous or Dev.as.station showing up. Or Seventh Heaven. Ok?”
“No problem,” says
Deven, looking even more pleased by the minute. I guess the idea of being picked from the bunch appeals to him.
“Ok girls,” says George, enjoying her status of queen for the evening. “Let’s get to my party.”
Chapter
19
Cachaca is a glittering Chelsea bar, with long dark tables, and slick waiters shaking cocktails.
As we move inside, I feel grateful that George made us dress up. It’s even fancier than I expected.
Clusters of well-groomed people sipping cocktails are arranged around tables, or standing in small groups.
My eyes drift to a small stage at the back, with screens and a microphone.
“Will there be a band?” I ask George hopefully. I love live music.
She shakes her head. “No band. Karaoke –
of course!” George grins. “What else did you expect for my birthday? I have to have my moment in the spotlight.”
Tammy and I smile at her. We should have guessed George would choose a spot where she could show off.
“Why is no-one up there?” asks Tammy, eyeing the dark stage.
“They won’t start it up til
l later,” affirms George. “I’ve reserved a section of the bar, and they agreed to keep karaoke for just us. And,” she adds smugly, “it’s not like the usual disco karaoke. This one has instruments and stuff. It only attracts good singers.”
My eyes drift to the edge of the stage, where a few guitars and a keyboard have been left.
“I’ve got a section reserved,” explains George, gesturing to the back of the bar. “It cost my parents an arm and a leg. But it’s worth it for some privacy. This bar gets super busy later.”
We head over to a roped off section with a discreet sign announcing “Georgina Tully’s birthday.”
“Here we are,” says George, guiding us into her reserved area. “I can already see Taggie and Alexa.”
I glance ahead to see George’s two school
-friends are already waiting for us. As George rushes towards them, a combined girlish squeal fills the bar.
“Ouch,” says Tammy covering her ears. I squash a smile and tug her hands away.
“Be nice,” I warn her. “This is George’s big night.”
“Those girls are the stupidest pair I’ve ever met,” mutters Tammy. But she drops her scowl. “You think they’ll actually talk to us this evening?” she adds.
“Maybe,” I reply. “Let’s get a drink.”
I glance at George’s friends. We have met them previously, but they barely gave us the time of day. There’s Alexa, who dresses in the posh girl uniform of ‘Ten Years Older Than My Age’
– today it’s an unflattering camel coloured sweater, knee length skirt, and a plain Alice-band stuck in her mousy hair.
Then there’s Taggie who looks like she could be George’s less glamorous older sister. She has the same blonde highlights, but Taggie’s hair is worn tucked behind her ears, rather than slickly styled. And though her slim frame is clad in the latest fashion, she opts for ‘in’ rather than sexy. Taggies’s wearing a floral dress with exaggerated shoulders and bouffant bottom, along with navy flats.
George’s female friends wear a lot of flats. They’re all about a foot taller than the average girl.
We move to the bar, and order a drink from the eye-wateringly expensive cocktail menu.
“Lucky George’s parents are picking up the tab,” I murmur, as my eyes follow the waiter shaking up a Belvedere vodka orange, “or I’d be drinking water.”
“Yeah,” agrees Tammy. “And on the subject of money. Did you manage to get George a gift yet?” Her eyes flit to where George is treating her friends to a loud catch-up of her famous week.
I nod, smiling at the memory of the jewellery shop trip.
“Adam helped me out,” I admit. “I got her some earrings which are way too expensive. But I think she’ll love them. They’re Tiffany.”
Tammy’s eyebrows raise.
“No shit?
Tiffany?
”
“Yeah,” I’m feeling embarrassed now. Adam’s generosity was overwhelming when we were alone together. Now I’m explaining it to Tammy, it seems totally over the top.
But Tammy seems to take this as perfectly reasonable.
“Adam’s a good guy,” she says, nodding her head approvingly. “It’s really kind of him to help you out with a gift for George. That is above and beyond. Perks of having a rich boyfriend eh?”
“I know,” I sigh, making a mental note to thank Adam again. “I’m really lucky.”
“I didn’t get George anything yet,” admits Tammy. “No cash in the bank. I was hoping for a miracle.”
“Share my gift,” I urge. “Seriously. It’s much too generous for one person. We’ll say we both chipped in.”
“No,” Tammy shakes her head. “I couldn’t. Besides, it’s from you and Adam – isn’t it?”
She looks at me slyly, with a little wink.
“I think it’s a bit too early for joint gifts,” I say with certainty. “Besides, no
-one is supposed to know about us. I can’t start giving presents as a couple.”
Tammy shrugs.
“Look, I insist we both give the earrings,” I say, as George turns and starts waving us to come closer. “I won’t take no for an answer Tams. It’s much too elaborate for me to give on my own. You’d be helping me out.”
“Well, if you insist,” smiles Tammy gratefully, as we move over to George’s huddle. “That Adam Morgan is just a regular white knight, isn’t he?” she adds with a wink.
“Oh Tammy,” I say, guiding her towards George’s friends. “You have
no
idea.”
We approach the group, and George’s school
-friends air-kiss us both elaborately, and coo over our new found fame.
Last time we met them, these girls hardly threw a glance our way. But I guess now we’re part of a TV girl band, they find us a little more interesting.
“So tell us all the gossip,” gushes Alexa, pushing her Alice band deeper into her mousy hair. I notice her thin lips have been teased out with ill-judged pink lipstick. “Who is Deven dating?” she adds.
George’s other friend Taggie, gives an ear-splitting squeal.
I wince, and beside me, I feel Tammy start.
“Oh my goodness! Is he single?” Taggie demands, her icy blue eyes widening beneath perfect frosted make-up. “
Tell me
Deven’s single! Can you introduce me?”
“He’s coming later,” says George proudly. “But I think he likes Summer,” she adds, with a conspiratorial whisper.
“Really?” Taggie eyes me unkindly. “I thought Deven’s family were from Hampstead Heath.”
She doesn’t elaborate on why this might preclude me from
Deven’s favour. But I feel Tammy bristle beside me. I rest my hand on her arm. The last thing we need is more fireworks.
“Would you like to open your present George?” I ask, by way of distraction. “Or do you want to save it for your actual birthday tomorrow?”
“You got me a present?” George claps her hands to her face as if this was totally unexpected – when she’s been hinting about a gift for weeks. “Now! I’ll open it now!”
“It’s from me and Tammy,” I say, handing her over the discreet little wrapped box.
Of course George recognises the wrapping paper instantly. Her eyes grow wide, taking it in.
“You didn’t?” she breathes, looking incredulously to me, and then pulling the soft green paper away with her long fingers. “Tiffany?”
I glance at Tammy, who’s looking a little uncomfortable, and give her a reassuring smile.
George’s friends lean in close as the jewellery box is eased open, and the pearl earrings glitter into view.
“Oh my God!” gasps George, peering closer at the earrings. “They are
beautiful
.”
She’s looking at me and Tammy again.
“Seriously,” she says, “thank you soooo much. They’re perfect.”
Slowly she lifts them out, as Alexa and Taggie coo approvingly. George slips out her studs, and carefully hangs the pearls.
“How do they look?” she asks, twisting her head so the pearls catch the light.
“They look great on you,” I say. “Really elegant.”
Tammy nods in agreement.
“Summer chose them,” she says, obviously feeling too guilty to take credit. “She did a great job.”
George pulls out a make-up mirror and examines the earrings in the tiny glass.
“I
love
them,” she says, snapping the mirror shut, and leaning forward to kiss Tammy and me enthusiastically on each cheek. “I’ll wear them for our next performance,” she promises. “They’ll always remind me of what a great band we are.”
Tammy and I are grinning. It’s great to see George so happy with her gift.
“When is your next performance?” asks Alexa.
“Oh,” says George, rolling her eyes. “They’ve introduced this stupid new concept. A quick
-fire video round. It airs tomorrow night.”
“That hardly matters does it?” asks Taggie. “Your band got double the votes of anyone else last round. There’s no
way
you’re going out.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” admits George. “We had the
worst
luck with our collaboration band.”
George catches Tammy’s glower, and deftly changes her next remark.
“We’re not sure the video came out as well as it might have done,” George decides.
Even Tammy can’t disagree with this. We all left the shoot very despondent. With the argument that took place, there was a definite lack of connection between the groups.
“Still,” says Taggie confidently, “even if the video’s bad,
you
won’t go out. It will be that garage band.”
“Let’s hope so,” says George, taking a long sip of her cocktail. “Although,” she observes, swallowing a large mouthful of gin martini, “if we stay in, that’s another stress. Because we’ll only have two days to prepare for our performance.”
Taggie looks outraged.
“That’s
awful
,” she says. “They shouldn’t be able to treat you that way.”
George gives an airy kind of shrug. As though she’s used to hardship – even though she’s been the most vocal about the unfairness of the Sing
-Win format.
“I guess that’s showbiz,” she says, with a light little laugh.
Taggie and Alexa look impressed. Tammy snorts rudely into her cocktail.
George has done the most complaining since the start.
“You should quit,” says Alexa, waving her glass of white wine. “Don’t you get your trust fund at twenty-one? You don’t need a band any more. Wasn’t it just a hobby?”
What?
Tammy and I exchange amazed glances.
George gets a trust fund at twenty-one? This is news to us.
Taggie raises her eyebrows, noticing our faces. Even George has the grace to look embarrassed.
But Alexa keeps talking, oblivious.
“Didn’t you say, you’d leave the band and find a husband when you got your trust fund?” Alexa says sipping her white wine, “You’ve got the money now. Use it while you’re still young. Travel around and find a rich handsome man. Before all the good ones are snapped up.”
Alexa nods at the wisdom of her own statement, and takes another dainty sip of wine.
Tammy and I are standing in a state of shock.
George has gone rigid with embarrassment, and a slow blush is creeping up her face. Taggie is watching the three of us with interest.
“You were planning to leave the band?” says Tammy finally, breaking the silence.
George blushes even deeper.
“I didn’t say that exactly,” she mutters, “I mean, that was before Sing-Win.”
George shoots an admonishing glance at Alexa.
“I didn’t say I’d leave the group Alexa,” she snaps, “I said if I didn’t make it as a singer, my trust fund would come in handy.”
Alexa looks unmoved. “I’m sure you said…” she begins.
But George cuts her off.
“Things have changed now,” she says, casting her attention back to Tammy and I. “You remember how bad it was. We were living on baked beans, for God’s sake.”
She gives a little laugh, but Tammy looks furious.
“I
never
considered leaving the group,” Tammy says, her voice angry and hurt, “not for an instant. Even if I’d won the lottery I would have stuck it out. But I guess loyalty isn’t part of your
class
,” she concludes.
“Tammy I…” George’s hand clutches anxiously at her neck, where the red of her embarrassment is still evident. “It wasn’t like that,” she says finally.
“Let’s just enjoy George’s birthday,” I say, in a falsely bright voice. “We can talk about this singing stuff later. It’s boring for Alexa and Taggie.”
Taggie raises an eyebrow as if she’s about to disagree.
But luckily, she’s suddenly distracted by something on the other side of the bar.
I follow her gaze. A collective hush has fanned out over the bar.
Deven has just walked in. And though he’s not my type, I can’t deny he has a real charisma about him.
Every girl seems to turn and watch
Deven, as he saunters casually over to George. He air-kisses her cheek, apparently dropping instantly into the protocol of a Chelsea bar, and then hands her a card.