Free The Overnight Fame of Steffi McBride by A.J. Crofts

slipping one earphone into my ear and the other into his own. This guy was really into his music. I liked that. Lee Hazlewood’s voice wasn’t unlike Luke’s, although maybe a bit more gravelly. He was right, it was a beautiful song and I knew it was going to be well within my range, which was a relief. I was beginning to have the best time.
    A few of the other celebrities were there as well, although I didn’t recognise most of them. One was a newsreader. There was a rugby player, who was very sweet, and a woman who had a programme about gardening or something. Most of them were older. I only recognised about half of the singing mentors as well. Luke was by far the most famous as far as I was concerned.
    There was a cameraman circling around the crowd, recording us all getting to know one another. I was getting soused to having cameras around by then I hardly noticed. To be honest, I was too busy staring at Luke like some lovesick puppy to really notice anything else. Thinking back now, I suppose the cameraman did stick around us more than the others, so maybe they thought Luke was the most famous one there too, and I was the only person from
The Towers,
which was the top-rated show by miles at the time, so I guess we were the most likely to pull in the viewers. It’s so weird how easily I’d got used to things like that – like it was the natural place for me to be in life – forgetting that it was only a few months since I was working the hotel dishwashers.
    They took Luke and me into a separate studio to try the song out, just with a backing track, no musicians. The first run-through was a bit bumpy, only because I was so unfamiliar with the words, but even so it was obvious that it was going to work like a dream. The producers and other behind-the-scenes guys were all huddling in small groups, whispering among themselves and glancing over at us.
    ‘I think they might be changing their plans a bit,’ Luke said quietly.
    ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘I don’t think they realised quite how good you were going to be. It’s dawning on them they have a potential megastar on their hands and they’re just working out the best way to milk the most money from the situation.’
    It’s not often I’m completely lost for words, but that was definitely one of those rare occasions. He was so cool about everything and I was trying to be the same, but all I wanted to do was tear his clothes off.

Chapter Six
    P ete and I were just chilling at his squat the following Sunday afternoon when my mobile went off. It’s a number that hardly anyone has, so I hadn’t bothered to turn it off, even though we’d been having sex and hadn’t wanted to be disturbed. There were other people in there, as always, old school friends of ours, but they were more or less unconscious in the other room listening to music. When I say friends of ‘ours’, they were more Pete’s friends really, people who put up with me because I was with him but wouldn’t have given me the time of day otherwise. Someone had managed to get some regular electricity into the place, which made it much more civilised, and warm enough to be able to take your clothes off.
    I liked those quiet moments with Pete, partly because they’d become so rare, what with my filming schedules and Pete’s sleeping habits. When he was mellow he was lovely to be with. I’d had to disguise myself in the tatty tracksuit, with my hair scraped up inside an old woolly hat of Mum’s that looked like a tea cosy, in order to get to the flat without being noticed. It’s no good complaining all the time about not being able to go anywhere without being stalked by the paparazziand then waltzing out the front door in a little Versace number, a pair of Manolos and hair extensions. If you make yourself look ordinary enough, not many people will spot you; they’re all too busy getting on with their own lives, worrying about their own problems. Usually it’s the photographers who spot you