Free Confessions Of A Karaoke Queen by Ella Kingsley

are you
doing
here? I mean, what’s all this?’ I gesture round at the equipment. ‘You can’t be filming already – we haven’t even signed the contract yet.’
    ‘Evan told us it was a done deal.’
    My mouth falls open. ‘Well, I guess,’ I splutter, ‘but nothing’s been … formalised.’
    ‘What needs formalising?’
    I struggle. ‘I’m not sure … Forms?’
    ‘Forms.’
    ‘I don’t know!’ I look to the other faces. ‘Who are they?’
    Alison rests the camera on her shoulder. ‘This is Toby,’ she says, ‘first assistant director.’
    A ginger guy with thick black-rimmed glasses and a nice smile leans in to shake my hand. Dazed, I accept it.
    ‘This is Freddie, he’s a runner.’ Freddie can’t be more than twenty. He’s got an innocent look about him and floppy brown hair a bit like Lawrence’s.
    ‘And Nathan,’ she finishes, nodding at a skinny guy with a lank ponytail and shifty eyes, ‘our sound guy.’
    ‘Hi,’ grunts Nathan, chewing gum loudly.
    ‘Did you just put your boom through my letterbox?’
    ‘Beg yer pardon?’
    ‘And I’m one of your camera ops,’ says Alison.
    I frown. ‘I thought you were a receptionist.’
    She rolls her eyes. ‘I’m whatever Evan wants me to be …’
    There’s an awkward silence, during which Freddie looks at Nathan, Nathan looks at Toby, Toby looks at Alison – a touch dejectedly, I think – and Alison looks at the floor.
    ‘Anyway,’ says Toby, ‘Evan wanted to move things forward. All right if we come in?’
    ‘Er …’ I check behind me. Davinia’s still at the top of the stairs, excitedly mouthing something I can’t make out. ‘I’m not too happy about this, to be honest. I’d rather talk to Evan.’
    ‘Aw, we’ve been waiting ages,’ moans Nathan.
    ‘That’s not my fault,’ I say. ‘I didn’t ask you to come.’
    ‘Yeah, but we’re here now …’ God, he’s sulky. If I didn’t know better I’d say I had a bunch of moody teenagers at my door, not a cutting-edge fly-on-the-wall documentary crew.
    ‘There he is!’ cries Alison, pointing down the street, and it’s the first time I’ve seen her even remotely enthusiastic.
    I peer round the door. Sure enough, the big producer himself is strutting like a cockerel in our direction. He’s wearing jeans and an open-necked coral shirt, exposing a triangle of tan-leather peppered with sparse chest hairs. The shirt is loosely tucked in and there’s an impressive crocodile-skin belt on show. His hair is as bizarre as I remember.
    Evan’s arrival has an instant effect. Toby, clearly the authority figure in this motley crew, shoves his hands in his pockets and patiently awaits direction. Nathan removes the gum from his mouth and flicks it to the ground. Freddie keeps clearing his throat, as if he’s too nervous to speak but, in the unlikely event that he is required to speak, he doesn’t want to fluff his lines. Alison is the only one who doesn’t appear uneasy – instead she looks positively … elated. That’s strange – she was hardly his number one fan yesterday.
    But Evan’s all business.
    ‘Maddie,’ he pronounces, storming past the others and seizing my hand. ‘It begins here.’
    ‘Um, Evan,’ I lower my voice, noticing Alison’s miffed expression, ‘could we have a word? You’ve caught me a little off-guard. I wasn’t expecting you so soon.’
    Evan gives a winning smile. ‘Fear not, my little star. We’re not filming anything today.’
    ‘We’re not?’ Toby looks confused.
    Evan doesn’t bother turning round. ‘Absolutely not – we wouldn’t dream of putting you out. We just want to come and have a look around, get a feel for the place. OK with you?’
    I suddenly remember I’m wearing my pyjamas. And shit, it’s Tuesday: I’m due at Simply Voices in half an hour.
    ‘Fine,’ I say reluctantly, standing back to let them in. I hear Davinia rush back inside her flat and slam the door, the naughty child listening at the top of the