Free Serve Cool by Lauren Davies

neck.’
    The next couple of hours continued along the same lines. It was only when our regulars left for a short break before their night shift that I finally had a chance to talk to my friend.
    ‘So come on then,’ I said, jumping up to sit on the bar. ‘How did it go?’
    ‘How d’you think?’
    ‘Well I don’t know. Did you get an audition? Tell me.’
    ‘Aye I got an audition alreet.’
    ‘Great!’
    ‘Na, shite. I got to say aboot three sentences before they interrupted us.’
    ‘What did they say?’
    ‘Exactly? Well the blowk in charge of production said nothin’ but his little gobshite of an assistant had plenty to say.’
    Maz broke into her best posh voice: ‘“I’m awfully sorry, sweetie, but that will be all for now. You aren’t raylay what we’re looking for.” ’
    ‘Well what were they looking for?’ I asked. I could tell that Maz was upset.
    She said, ‘Um, you know, somebody a little less …
regional
.’
    ‘
Regional?
What the hell is
that
supposed to mean?’
    ‘Exactly, bleedin’ cheek. In other words, I was too flippin’ Geordie to host the show. Well what do they expect if they do the bloody auditions in Newcastle? It’s a load of crap man!’
    ‘That can’t be it. They can’t possibly use that as a justification. What’s wrong with having an accent? Not every person on TV has to sound like Sue Lawley for us to understand them. That’s
shocking
.’
    ‘Aye. Well I went canny mental but she didn’t budge. She said I didn’t have the right
experience.
’
    ‘But you know those shows inside out.’
    ‘I kna. I tell’t her that. Jen, I know I’d be good at it. I’ve been through so many of the sorts of things that people need to discuss on these shows. Except, maybe, transgendering, sleeping with aliens or reincarnation, but anyhow, I’d be good. I know I would.’
    I could see how hurt Maz was feeling. She’d opened herself up to rejection and hated feeling the pride that had taken so long to build up be bashed away by a mid-twenties media bitch with little grasp of everyday life in the real world.
    ‘Don’t worry, mate.’ I put my arm around Maz’s shoulders and gave her a wink. ‘I like you common.’
    She smiled and punched me in the arm.
    ‘F’kin’ southerner,’ she laughed.
    We hugged then sat in silence for a minute. Maz gazed up at the framed autographed photo of Ricki Lake that hung above the last orders bell. She had sent off for it from the official fan club and it hung as a shrine to her ultimate goal.
    Finally I broke the silence. ‘So who did they pick in the end?’
    ‘Ah some auld tramp who looked like Judith bloody Chalmers on steroids. Apparently she had the experience but I reckon it was the accent she had. She spoke as if she had a gobful of royal plums. “Aybsobloodylootly Bloomin’ Marvellous Actuarly.” She was a reet cow, looked down her nose at us the whole time. Bitch.’
    I laughed at Maz’s Queen Mum voice and cracked open two beers. A medicinal Bud (or several) was required.
    ‘I might as well give up,’ Maz sighed after a couple of mouthfuls.
    ‘Shut up,’ I replied. ‘You don’t give up. What was it you told me last week? “If you give up on your ambition you aren’t going to go anywhere but down.” Well, you’re not going down and you’re certainly not going to go through life like a sad cow wondering “What if?” I’ll see to that, so pack it in and get that beer down your neck!’
    ‘Ooh, look out girlfriend,’ Maz chuckled in a mock-Texan accent. ‘Wooee, she’s got spunk. Lordee, that afternoon in the pub did her some good, she’s back to her old self again!’
    We laughed till we felt sick. It was a rare moment to savour. At that point we both realised that we were relyingon each other to keep our ambitions alive. To be honest, things couldn’t get much worse, so what did we possibly have to fear?

Chapter Six
    9th January, 9:30 p.m.
    Auld Vinny’s birthday party was really just an excuse for