Chart Throb (44 page)

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Authors: Ben Elton

BOOK: Chart Throb
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Calvin opened the box full of disks and, having checked the time codes against the annotated script that Penny (Continuity) had pressed into his hand at the end of the day, he slipped a DVD into his computer.
‘Not interested in HRH then?’ he enquired as he typed in the code. ‘I thought he was the key to our relationship.’
‘I am interested in him but, I don’t know, having opted out I sort of want to
stay
out really. I don’t want to interfere, I don’t think it’s fair. After all, you do have a job to do and I’ve made it complicated enough as it is. But this girl, Shaiana, I don’t know why . . . It’s got nothing to do with the show or a professional interest, I genuinely worry about her.’
‘About her?’
‘Well, about her and, if I’m honest, about you.’
‘What, you think she’s going to do a John Lennon on me?’
There, it was said. The silent fear that all very famous people share.
‘It could happen.’
‘And don’t think it doesn’t occur to me. Particularly in America. Over
sixty million
votes were cast for the last winner over there. Even presuming each caller phoned ten times, that’s still
six million people
who give a very large fuck about a bloke who I have dissed utterly. Sometimes I wonder if among all those millions of psycho fans there won’t be one of them who thinks it’s time that nasty old Calvin faced his own judgement day . . .’
‘Or one of the contestants themselves.’
‘Yes. Absolutely. But what can you do? I’m still more likely to get randomly mugged in Knightsbridge or knocked over by a car or catch bird flu or contract a superbug while having my ingrown toenails done. Life’s too short, say I. Besides I don’t like the idea of allowing myself to be intimidated. Fuck ’em.’
‘Tough guy, huh?’
‘Oh yes, I hope so. Very tough. Here we are . . .’ A frozen image of Shaiana appeared on the screen. ‘This is her bit with Keely.’
Calvin pressed Play on the screen and Keely leaped into life with her usual energy.
‘And this is Shaiana!!’ Keely shouted. ‘She is
one hot babe
. Yay! Are you ready to rock, babes?’
‘Yes, Keely, I am ready to rock,’ Shaiana replied, steadily and clearly, as if testifying to a faith. ‘This is my one time. This is my one moment.’
‘Yay!’ shouted Keely. ‘You grab it, girl! You
own
it.’
‘I’m going to grab it, Keely. I’m going to own it. I’m going to
eat
it.’
Emma leaned forward and pressed the space bar, thus pausing the recording.
‘Eat it?’ she said. ‘
Eat it?
Never heard that one before. They’re all going to own it but they don’t usually want to eat it. That’s scary.’
‘Why?’ Calvin replied. ‘So she wants to eat it, sounds fair enough to me.’
Calvin pressed Play. Keely spoke again.
‘And you’ve come here on your own, babes,’ she said. ‘What’s that about? Focus? No distractions? Or is it that your family and mates aren’t down with what you’re about and just don’t get you?’
Emma smiled. Keely was good. Much underestimated in fact. People tended to think of her as just a chirpy lovely who gave good sympathy and knew how to squeal with delight, but actually she was so much better than that.
‘I remember noting the family thing down myself,’ Emma said, having once more pressed Pause. ‘How Shaiana seems to be very alone. But I remember Chelsie saying she wasn’t going to push it. Amazing how Keely’s picked up on it anyway.’
‘Yes. We love Keely,’ Calvin agreed, ‘although I think you could do her job even better. You’re prettier too.’
Emma blushed and pressed Play once more.
‘Yeah, Keely,’ said Shaiana, ‘that’s right. They’re not down with me at all. They don’t really understand what I want. What I
need.
What I can do. That’s one of the reasons I’m here. To show them. To
make
them understand. Them and everybody else who’s ever laughed at me.’
After a little further small talk Shaiana was ushered through the door. There was a tape stop and then once more she appeared, this time in the audition room facing the judges. The sequence had not yet been edited and all that could be seen was the single mid-close-up shot of Shaiana. However, the voices of the judges could easily be heard off camera.
‘Hello, hello. Who are you?’ Beryl could be heard saying.
‘I’m Shaiana, Beryl, and I’m here to rock your world.’
‘Right on! You go, girl. You look
gorgeous.’
‘Thank you, Beryl,’ Shaiana replied.
‘She doesn’t,’ Calvin interjected. ‘I’ve never
seen
so much make-up, like a mask. Some of these girls are their own worst enemies.’
‘Shhh,’ Emma said.
‘I’m really nervous,’ Shaiana was saying.
‘Don’t be, babes,’ Beryl cooed. ‘We’re all friends here and you look
hot.’
‘Before we start, Shaiana,’ Calvin chipped in, ‘tell us a little about how much you want this.’
‘Calvin, I want it so much.’
‘They all want it, Shaiana. How much is so much?’
‘Well,’ Shaiana replied, having paused for a moment’s thought, ‘I think I’d be prepared to die for it, Calvin. I really do. I think that if I could do a deal with God so that all my dreams came true and everybody believed in me as me and didn’t laugh at me any more and they all said, “Yes, Shaiana, you do have talent, your own talent, and you
can
sing,” then I wouldn’t mind if I died straight after.’
‘Wow,’ said Calvin and even though he was off camera anyone listening who had seen
Chart Throb
even once would know that he was nodding in his amusingly bemused way, astounded at the intensity of the people who seemed so randomly to appear before him. ‘You really do want it, don’t you?’
‘Like I said, Calvin. I want it so much I could die.’
Emma pressed Pause.
‘Or kill. That’s the flip side of her coin. She scares me.’
‘Oh, come on, Emma. The only person this woman is ever going to damage is herself. She’s a grade A, twenty-four-carat victim. Anyone can see that.’
‘Yes, well, worms do turn and who knows, one day when she’s thinking about how much she’d like to die because she never got to prove anything to anyone, she may suddenly think, hang on, why should it be
me
that has to die? How about that bastard who chucked me off
Chart Throb
?’
Calvin laughed. ‘Are you in league with this woman, Emma? What are you trying to persuade me to do, make her win? I thought you wanted the Prince of Wales to win?’
Emma shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I don’t know what would be best to do with her. Chuck her off, keep her on, either way the die’s cast. You’re stuck with her.’
The suite was lit only by a crimson-draped standard lamp that stood in a far corner, shedding a subdued light which before had seemed romantic but which had suddenly become rather gloomy.
Emma pressed Play once more.
‘All right, Shaiana,’ Calvin’s voice could be heard saying, ‘what would you like to sing for us?’
‘I’d like to sing “The Wind Beneath My Wings” by Bette Midler,’ Shaiana replied.
Now Rodney’s voice could be heard intruding for the first time.
‘Good choice. That is a great song and Bette is a fine artist. Well done, that is a very good song to choose.’
Then Shaiana took a deep breath and began her song. Had the judges been looking for pain and emotion alone she would assuredly already have won. Shaiana made Bloke’s tear-drenched, face-crunched, fist-punching rendition of ‘Stand By Me’ look perfunctory and dismissive. This was a woman who clearly believed that every single syllable of a lyric was a fresh opportunity to revisit a lifetime of pain and rejection. Her small breasts heaved, her knuckles turned white, her chin lifted ever higher as if (following Chelsie’s advice) she wanted to make absolutely sure that God was listening. Shaiana was clearly a woman who saw her voice as a sledgehammer whose job it was to deliver the notes blow by blow until the audience had been bludgeoned into submission. Like so many contestants before her, she had watched great singers and listened to them and had drawn the conclusion that the key lay in trying to emulate everything about her heroes all at once and at all times throughout the entire song.
She was, however, in tune.
When it was over, once more Emma pressed Pause.
‘She really isn’t too bad, is she? With a bit of help to calm down, she could certainly carry a song.’
‘Ah but so many people can,’ said Calvin. ‘And besides, as you know, it’s—’
‘Not about the singing,’ Emma completed his sentence. ‘Yes, I know, and one of the best things about not working for you any more is not having to listen to you say that every five minutes of the day.’
‘Well, I’m right, aren’t I?’ said Calvin. ‘Anyway, have you had enough or do you want to hear what we said?’
‘I want to hear. I hope you didn’t lay it on too thick.’
‘No, actually we didn’t,’ Calvin replied. ‘She’s a Challenge and Chuck, remember.’
Challenge and Chuck was the process, much favoured on
Chart Throb
, of suggesting to a contestant that they must go away and work harder and attempt to grow and when the contestant returned (claiming to have worked
so
hard and grown) informing them that they had failed to do so and chucking them out.
‘What will you do,’ Emma enquired, ‘if ever anyone asks you what you actually
mean
when you tell them to go away and work hard and learn and grow?’
‘Edit it out,’ Calvin replied, pressing Play once more.
‘Shaiana,’ Calvin’s voice could be heard off screen, ‘you confuse me.’
There was a pause while the camera crept in slowly towards Shaiana’s quivering, heavily caked face.
‘You have a voice,’ Calvin said, finally. ‘It’s not a
terrible
voice. I doubt it’s a very good one either but it isn’t terrible. The question is can it improve?’
Shaiana leaped at the bait like a starving fish.
‘Yes. Yes it can, Calvin. It can. You see I want this so much, I’ll do anything, I’ll work, I’ll work so hard. I’ll learn and I’ll grow . . .’
‘You really do want this, don’t you, darling?’ Beryl could be heard croaking in her little girl voice.
‘Yes! Yes, Beryl, I really, really do want it.’
‘I can see that it’s your dream, isn’t it, darling?’
‘Yes! Yes, it is!’
‘Well, it’s a good thing to have a dream. But for dreams to come true you have to really, really want them to. You have to believe so very much.’
‘I do, Beryl! I do! I swear I do! My dream is all I have.’
‘I know, darling, I know,’ Beryl said with the voice of a nurse comforting a terminally ill patient.
‘All right,’ Calvin could be heard saying in his businesslike voice. ‘Here’s what I think. You go away now, Shaiana, and you work, right? You work hard, you learn and you grow . . .’
‘And believe in your dream,’ Beryl could be heard interrupting.
‘And you come back and see us and we’ll see how you’ve got on, OK? Because right now you don’t have it, OK? That’s clear, but you might have it and whether you can find it is up to you. On that basis I’ll put you through. Beryl?’
‘If Shaiana can believe in herself and in her dream . . .’
‘I can. I
can. I can
,’ Shaiana pleaded.
‘Then yes. I say yes, darling. For your dream. I’ll put you through.’
‘In that case,’ Calvin could be heard saying, ‘you’re through to the next—’
Suddenly Rodney’s voice could be heard. ‘Yes, and me too, Shaiana. My vote is yes too.’
‘Oh yeah. Sorry, Rodney,’ Calvin said. ‘What was your vote?’
‘I say yes,’ Rodney said.
‘You’re through,’ said Calvin.
Shaiana wept. She leaped up and down. She mentioned God. She fell to her knees.
‘Thank you! Thank you, thank you,
thank you
!’ she screamed. ‘I won’t let you down, I promise. Yay! Yes! Yes! YAY!
THANK YOU!
I love you, Calvin! I love you, Beryl! I love you, Rodney! Yay! Thank you! I’m going to rock your world!’
‘Come on, darling.’ Beryl could be heard just before she walked into shot. ‘Lots of work for you to do.’
A shaking and almost hysterically happy Shaiana was then led from the room and into the arms of Keely, who was waiting to join in the tear-filled catharsis of celebration.
Emma pressed Pause.
‘If she’s that crazy when you challenge her, how crazy will she be when you chuck her?’
‘Very. They all are. What makes her so different?’
‘I’m telling you, Calvin,’ Emma said, looking very serious, ‘she
is
different, that one, there’s a different level of intensity. I’ve seen it before in real victims. People who have been damaged. They’re not right and their weakness makes them strong, in a vicious, hysterical kind of way. You know, like jilted wives who cut up their husband’s suits then set fire to the family home.’

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