Idol

‘Well he’d better be quick …’

‘Fuck,’ swore Sadie, as there was a clattering of chairs and the women gathered their handbags. The group stood up and the man walked off without so much as a backwards glance. ‘Bastard,’ she hissed, as she watched his retreating form. His shoulders were broad, his back toned and defined through the white cotton shirt. She imagined his strong, muscular chest pressed against her, his breath hot on her neck. She wanted him badly.

‘There’ll be another one along in a minute,’ Carla reassured her. ‘What about that guy over there?’ she suggested, indicating a young City slicker with over-styled blond hair who was talking loudly into his BlackBerry.

Sadie merely raised an eyebrow. She pushed her food aside; suddenly she had no appetite. She took a large gulp of wine, hoping it would dull the nagging sensation of humiliation. She felt like a loser and she didn’t like it. ‘Shall we get the bill?’

‘Sure,’ agreed Carla, who was toying with a leaf of rocket.

Sadie signalled for the waiter, who came rushing over. ‘No, there is no charge, madam. The gentleman who was sitting over there paid for your meal.’

It took Sadie a moment to comprehend what he was saying, but then a satisfied smile slowly spread across her face. ‘Did he now?’ she purred, feeling the familiar rush of excitement in her stomach.

‘Yes madam. And he asked me to give you this.’ The waiter handed over a neat, elegantly printed business card. Sadie took it, brushing her fingers thoughtfully over the raised print. Paul Austin. Senior Investment Manager. Willis & Bourne. It was thick, creamy card, expertly embossed. Very expensive. Very tasteful.

‘He’s bound to be a bastard,’ Carla warned her.

Sadie smiled triumphantly. ‘Let the game commence.’

Jenna’s emotive voice rang out powerfully in the cramped recording booth. Lost in the sound of the music, she swayed her hips slightly, causing Nick to miss a beat as his concentration was broken by the sight of her gyrating crotch.

‘Okay, let’s do that line again,’ sighed Don from behind the glass wall of the production box. It was the second day of recording for the Jenna/Phoenix collaboration, and only four weeks since the press conference, but already the optimism and excitement of that day felt like months ago. Don had a sneaking suspicion that this wasn’t going to be the easiest job of his career.

At 55 years old, Lancashire-born Don had been in the business a long time. Physically, he was a huge, hairy guy with a ZZ Top beard and a cut-the-crap attitude that endeared him to the artists he worked with. Don had collaborated with some of the biggest names in the music industry, and partied with some of the world’s most stunning women, but had stayed resolutely faithful to Patty, his wife of twenty-eight years. All the same, he was a guy and couldn’t fail to admire that high, round butt and those pert tits.

Yet, whilst his was what he liked to describe as a healthy appreciation, he felt Nick’s appreciation was a little too healthy. Hell, it was so healthy it was practically doing cartwheels round the room. His timing on the drums was awful, and it wouldn’t have surprised Don to find him dribbling on his snare.

‘Excellent, we’re getting there,’ Don yelled, as Jenna belted out the line and Nick managed to complete the riff.

Zac looked up and adjusted his headphones. ‘I think we should do it again,’ he suggested quietly.

‘What’s the problem, Zac?’

They were working on a track called ‘Without You’. Penned by Zac, it had been intended for Phoenix before Josh quit, but Jenna had insisted on having creative input and a writing credit.

‘I don’t think the vocal was quite right,’ Zac replied firmly, not meeting Jenna’s gaze.

‘I thought Jenna got it down just fine. Take a break and we can always run through it again later,’ Don suggested.

‘Since when have we settled for just fine?’ Zac pressed, his voice taking on a harder edge. ‘It wasn’t right, so we should do it again. I don’t know how other artists work, but we’ve always had our success through hard work. Our music speaks for itself, and we don’t rely on any other … assets … to sell records.’

Don was taken aback. Where the hell had that come from? Zac had always seemed like such an easy-going guy, yet he seemed to have taken a strong dislike to this cute chick and Don felt clueless as to why that should be. Sure, she could overdo it with the pampered princess act, but that was something they could easily get past if they were going to get this music out.

‘How about we take a break and go back to it in a while. Everyone’s starting to flag.’

But it was Jenna’s voice that replied. ‘No Don, it’s fine,’ she said curtly, stunned by what Zac had said. She’d always been a huge fan of his, but maybe it was true when they said you shouldn’t meet your idols. ‘I’ll do it again. I haven’t come this far by taking it easy on myself,’ she added pointedly, glaring defiantly at Zac. She didn’t know what his problem was, but if he thought she was going to roll over and die, he had another thing coming.

They reset the backing and Jenna launched into the song, feeling the power of the music build up through her body as Nick thrashed on the drums and Ryan hammered out the bass line. Unconsciously she began to move to the rhythm, feeling the relentless beat of the drums pulse through her, the squealing of the guitar electrify her veins. Many of her rivals wrote her off as simply another identikit pop act, but anyone who underestimated her was making a big mistake. She’d worked her arse off over the years to get where she was now, and she knew she was damn talented.

Screw him and his criticism, thought Jenna, fixing her gaze on Zac, who remained hunched over his guitar like an animal with its prey. His well-defined muscles rippled under his grey T-shirt, and Jenna felt a burst of injured pride followed by the shot of adrenaline she needed as she ripped into the song.

When the track finished, a deafening silence rang out in the studio. A single word came from the production box. ‘Perfection.’

Slowly, Jenna brought her focus back to the room. The rest of the band was gazing at her, awestruck.

‘You were fantastic, you totally nailed it,’ gushed Nick.

‘That was pretty amazing,’ admitted Ryan. ‘The feeling you put in there – it was so connected.’

Jenna grinned with pleasure as she realized the effect she’d had on them. Unable to help herself, she sneaked a glance at Zac.

This time, he met her gaze. ‘That was good,’ he agreed grudgingly. ‘I guess that wraps us up for the night. See you guys tomorrow.’ He grabbed his battered old jacket and walked out of the studio before anyone had a chance to reply.

‘Zac, wait,’ Jenna called out impulsively. She was sick of the way he was acting towards her, and wanted to find out exactly what his problem was. His attitude was making the situation awkward for everyone, and after her success in the studio she was on a high, geared up for an argument.

Slamming through the door after him, she ran out into the corridor to find Zac being embraced by Amber, immaculate in a simple black dress and sky-high ankle boots.

‘Oh, I didn’t realize …’ Jenna faltered, trailing off.

‘Hi Jenna.’ Amber greeted her coldly, her eyes not matching the friendliness of her words. She kept her arms firmly around Zac, a possessive gesture deliberately designed to exclude.

‘Hi Amber,’ Jenna replied smoothly, trying to sound composed even though her mind was racing. ‘I just … wanted a quick word with Zac. But it’s not important. It’ll wait until tomorrow.’

‘It must have been pretty important if you ran out here to tell me,’ Zac challenged her. There was an amused glint in his dark eyes. ‘What did you want to say?’

You bastard, Jenna swore to herself. It was all she could do not to spit the remark out at him. ‘I said it could wait until tomorrow,’ she told him coldly, turning on her heel and walking back into the studio.

‘Fine.’ Zac gave a small shrug and threw his arm across Amber’s shoulders, steering her towards the exit.

Jenna stood alone in the corridor, her breath coming fast. She’d show that arrogant prick. Jenna Jonsson was not to be underestimated – and Zac was going to find out he’d made a big mistake.

5

Despite her protestations to the contrary, Jenna did care what Zac thought. She couldn’t help it. In spite of his arrogance and his dismissive attitude towards her, she wanted his approval. More than that, she was determined that this collaboration with Phoenix would blow everyone away, and she knew that for that to happen she needed to start working hard and get the band on side.

Ryan was a lovely, sweet guy – quiet, but from a natural shyness, not hostility. Nick was eating out of her hand, she thought with a grin. Now he was a lot of fun. There had been a lot of flirting, a lot of teasing and giggling, but nothing more. Yet. Don was a sweetie, and the best in the business – he worked them mercilessly, but got fantastic results, and Jenna had the utmost respect for him. But Zac … Jenna couldn’t work him out. He was behaving like a total bastard towards her, but that wasn’t what she’d heard about him from everyone else. They all seemed to think he was a great guy. Yeah, so he could be a little absorbed in his work at times, but that was something you accepted when you were working with a genius. So what was his problem with her?

Jenna was mulling the situation over as she lay alone in her super-king-size bed, unable to sleep. Zac’s criticism had hit her harder than she had expected. All of his comments seemed to centre on her work and her attitude. She knew that he could only respect anyone who took their work as seriously as he did, and when she turned up day after day in her little outfits, looking to flirt with Nick and have a laugh with the production staff …

Jenna cringed as she thought of it. Okay, so maybe she could be a little childish at times.

Right, Jenna resolved firmly, tomorrow sees the start of the new, mature me.

And the first thing to change would be her clothes, she decided, jumping out of bed and heading over to her walk-in wardrobe with a growing sense of excitement at the thought of a reinvention. Other artists did it all the time, thought Jenna, picturing herself at high-brow events wearing Audrey Hepburn-style shift dresses, or fitted shirts and tailored trousers. Elegant – but still sexy, of course. Or maybe she could go for grown-up rock chick – thick black opaques and biker boots, teamed with a low-cut vest and fierce blazer.

As Jenna pulled aside the rows of skimpy, bare-all tops, the micro-miniskirts and the tiny hot pants, she felt she could perhaps see the problem. Resolving to throw away all items of clothing she owned in baby pink, Jenna rummaged through rail upon rail of designer labels and located a pair of white, flared Ralph Lauren trousers, a demure, high-necked shift dress from last season’s Victoria Beckham collection, and the bold floral print skirt she’d finally decided on. Just because I want to be refined doesn’t mean I have to look like a Tory wife, she concluded, finding a pair of ultra-feminine Chanel ballet pumps, which lacked the spiked heel and fetishistic appeal of most of her other footwear.

Just you wait Zac Knight, thought Jenna fiercely, climbing back between the luxurious Egyptian cotton sheets and flicking off the light.