Chapter 12 #2
I’m guessing this is some kind of dig. Most people know I was pretty paralytic by the time the auditions were winding to a close. Adele could have come into the audition and I would have forgotten all about it. It was that bad.
‘Sorry, Betsy,’ I say, keeping my voice steady. Going for the moral high ground. ‘What are you trying to get at here?’
She sighs, moving into my office. ‘This company used to have a bit of a…’ She hesitates. ‘Reputation.’
‘The best label in the country. I know.’
‘Actually.’ She draws her arms up, folding them in front of her. ‘That’s not what I meant. I meant the other thing.’ She lowers her voice and leans in. ‘Your father.’
‘You do know he’s dead, right?’
She purses her lips, a hard look deepening her already granite features. ‘Don’t get clever with me, Marco. Women were offered… Let’s call it advancements or incentives. They were offered things in return for their…’ she lowers her voice and leans in towards me, ‘…favours.’
She has seriously lost me now. ‘You’re going to have to just spit it out.’
Betsy steps forward, leaning her upper body across my desk. The woman is built like a bulldog. I have no idea what she’s up to, but I sure as hell don’t like it.
‘How about if you carried out your own auditions? Snuck back up here with some young hopeful. Recorded it. Meant to get rid of the recording, but…’
‘Seriously?’ This is total utter BS. But I can’t help myself. I feel my face flush with anger. ‘I’m not my father,’ I say, my voice laced with irritation.
‘Well, that’s for sure.’ Betsy pulls back.
‘You can’t…’ I get to my feet.
‘Hi, guys.’ It’s Fitz. It’s about the first time in my life I’ve ever been overjoyed to see her. ‘Oh,’ she says cheekily. ‘This looks serious. Is it shareholder stuff? Should we be in the meeting room?’ She glances towards the room we normally use.
‘Hey, Fitz,’ I manage, with a lightness I am not feeling. ‘I didn’t know you were coming in.’
‘Just.’ She waves her hands in the air. ‘You know, passing by. I thought you might be out to lunch.’
‘Working,’ I say, holding up the remains of a sandwich.
‘Oh, poor you. No rest for the wicked.’ She laughs.
Betsy shoots me a hard look. I match her right back.
‘Any news on the missing voice?’ Fitz asks brightly.
‘No.’ I sigh. ‘King didn’t recognise the vocalist.’
‘Hmm.’ Fitz looks thoughtful. ‘Know what, there’s the charity ball tonight. She could be there. They have artists performing in all the different rooms. Maybe about thirty.’
‘That’s an idea,’ I say enthusiastically. Anything to get out of this place. ‘We could go?’
‘Well.’ Fitz lounges in the doorway, pulling her body one way, then the other. ‘Actually, I was going to see if you would go with someone else. I’m kind of busy.’
I have no idea what Fitz’s ‘busy’ would involve.
Most likely nail bars and yoga classes. It’s certainly not something most people would recognise as rushed off their feet.
Then again, she’s kind of letting me off the hook.
I like Fitz, maybe I even love her. Maybe, but we haven’t had a physical relationship for around twelve months.
She’s more like a sister to me now. She seems to feel the same way too.
What I can’t work out is why she’s still sticking close.
Fitz draws in a long, deep breath. ‘Maybe that new girl? Maybe you could take her to the gala. She knows that missing voice thing inside out.’ Suddenly, Fitz glances around, scanning the suite. ‘Where is the new girl?’
‘Lunch,’ I say.
Fitz’s lips narrow thoughtfully. ‘Oh right, that’s good. I mean, it’s good that you haven’t sacked her yet.’ She rolls her eyes. ‘That’s always so… so boring. So, yeah. I guess if the new girl hasn’t been sacked…’ Fitz shrugs her shoulders. ‘Why not take her?’
* * *
CLARA
‘How’s that letter going?’ Nelly puts a mug of tea in front of me. The tea is a work of art in itself – a china cup and saucer carrying the most detailed purple flourishes of flowers. There’s also a small daisy-shaped biscuit on the side and a silver teaspoon.
‘You always do everything so beautifully,’ I say.
‘Oh, stop.’ Nelly taps my shoulder in a flirtatiously light manner. ‘Or my head will swell and I’ll fall over my feet. A man has to be a balanced creature.’
I’m not sure what he’s talking about, but maybe all arty people shoot the breeze with a little more imagination than your average Joe.
‘And the letter?’ He stares down at the blank page. ‘Oh, well, that’s going well. It’ll be all done by the time you’re sixty-five. Perfect timing.’
I laugh. ‘It’s tough. It’s the job I’ve always wanted, but–’
He waves his hands. ‘Don’t tell me. I can’t do the split loyalty thing. You do what you think is best.’ With that, his phone starts ringing. ‘I’ll just take this call. Why don’t you see if you can think up a few more words while I’m at it.’
‘Hello,’ he says brightly into his handset. ‘Nelly here.’
I stare back at the blank paper. Then I begin.
‘Dear Mr Delagado,’ I start, but am immediately interrupted.
‘She’s actually right here,’ Nelly says to somebody at the end of the line.
I glance over at him, his eyes burning into mine as if this is a three-way conversation.
He taps the top of my letter and narrows his eyes.
Of course, it’s Marco. He’s either watched the footage and is about to give me a grilling, or he’s ringing to see if I can pick him up a BLT on my way back. The man has a lot to–
‘The gala?’ Nelly cuts into my thoughts. ‘Tonight?’
The gala at the Beaumont? I’ve wanted to go there for years.
It’s the biggest event of the year. Cinderella-style glamour.
Sometimes my brother and Tim do the valet parking, and they always come home with stories about just how wonderful it is.
Then I check myself, bringing myself back down to earth.
Knowing Mr Delagado, he probably needs me to pick up his suit from the dry cleaners.
‘Would Clara like to go?’ Nelly says slowly, clearly repeating the conversation he’s having with Marco with an exaggerated sense of diction so there is no way in the world that I’ll miss out one syllable.
‘Seriously?’ I hiss.
Nelly covers the phone. ‘Seriously.’
I finger the edges of my letter. I could go to the gala tonight and then hand in my resignation in the morning.
Marco clearly hasn’t looked at the footage yet.
It’s unlikely the shit is going to hit the fan today.
As all these thoughts whirl through my brain, Nelly continues his conversation with Marco.
‘I think it’s a brilliant idea,’ Nelly enthuses.
‘Truly, one of your best.’ He rolls his eyes and mouths the words ‘so needy’ with an accompanying wrist flick before seamlessly picking up where he left off with Marco.
‘There will be lots of artists. You might easily find your little lost songbird there.’
That’s not going to happen. Besides, Marco doesn’t need me to go to the gala with him. ‘What about Fitz?’ I hiss.
Nelly gives a quick nod of acknowledgement before talking into the phone again.
‘And Fitz? You could take her?’ He pauses for a moment, giving small sounds of agreement in the wake of Marco’s words.
‘Uh-huh. It was Fitz’s suggestion? And she said you should take the new girl? ’ Nelly’s eyes widen in triumph.
It would be a treat, wandering around those grand rooms, listening to all that fantastic music. But I can’t do it, this whole relationship is a mess, built on a lie. I shake my head emphatically.
Nelly’s eyes narrow, and he purses his lips in an irritated fashion. ‘She’s indisposed currently. Sorry, Marco.’
I lunge towards him and try to grab the phone from him. He raises it up in one of his silk-clad arms.
‘Sorry, bad connection,’ he shouts. ‘Call you back.’ With that, he clicks off the phone and shoots me a withering gaze. ‘You need to go to this gala.’
‘Ughh, Nelly.’ I bury my head in my hands. ‘I don’t. This whole thing with Marco is way too complicated.’
Nelly throws his hands up in the air. ‘Everything with that boy is complicated. But this will be fun. Go, Clara. You have to,’ he cajoles.
‘I can’t,’ I protest. ‘What would I even wear?’
With that he bursts into loud laughter, extending out his arms and twirling around like a fairy queen. ‘Honestly, girl?’
‘The trouser suit from last night.’
He smiles with a mischievous charm. ‘Oh, I think I can do better than that. Besides…’ He grabs both of my hands into his. ‘No one is wearing one of my dresses tonight. I need someone to do the honours, or all the socialites will forget me.’
I can’t believe anyone would ever forget Nelly.
‘Please,’ he implores, batting his long, dark eyelashes. ‘Just for me. You can hand in your resignation tomorrow. I’ll help you write it. I’ll even deliver the goddamn thing. Just this one favour.’
I hesitate. Nelly has nothing to do with the whole music industry mess-up, and I do owe him.
After all, he lent me that trouser suit and took over an hour dolling me up.
A treat I won’t forget in my entire lifetime.
Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to at least try the dress on.
‘Fine,’ I say at last. ‘But I’m making no promises about attending the gala.
You can slip the dress over my head, but if it doesn’t work… ’
‘That’s my girl,’ Nelly says warmly, taking me into his arms. ‘It is so going to work.’
‘I should get back to the office,’ I say, glancing at the door and already feeling guilty.
‘Oh no you don’t.’ He grabs my hands between his.
‘Somebody else can handle all of that office malarky.’ He waves one arm dismissively.
‘Whatever it is they do in that prison to sound. I need you here. We have…’ He glances at his watch.
‘Five hours.’ He looks me over. ‘For tonight’s gig, I need the full five hours.
You can meet your Prince Charmless there. ’
I laugh. ‘What would he say if he knew you called him that?’
Nelly smiles. ‘Deep down, he’s just a big softy who loves a joke. Now, no more energy on that. We have work to do. Come, come, come.’
I follow Nelly to the back room, where a dress is draped over a mannequin, a shimmering blast of floor-length tulle – the skirt has two layers, one in the palest powder blue, the other in a graduated deep green dropping towards the floor.
A bodice of shimmering silk looks like liquid illuminated by the bright lights in Nelly’s showroom.
The plunging neckline accentuates a narrow waist encrusted by a tiny pattern of seed pearls.
Despite myself, I gasp at the sight of it.
‘I was hoping someone would wear it this year, but I got no offers,’ Nelly says, leaning in the doorway, hand on the light switch. ‘What do you think?’
I move into the room as if drawn by a magnet, reaching out to touch the fabric. The bodice melts under my eager fingers. ‘It’s beautiful,’ I breathe.
‘I thought you might regret that resignation if you saw the dress.’ He smirks.
‘It’ll never fit,’ I say sadly. ‘That waist is tiny.’
He laughs. ‘An illusion, darling. That’s what couture is. We wrap you in promises and wishes. The dress holds so much of the shape.’
I gasp. ‘I would so love to wear that.’ I think I’m in love.
‘So, for goodness’ sake, go try the thing on!’