Page 4 of Musical Games
Sam squeezed her arm. ‘You deserve it, Loz. You’re going to be amazing. I’ll be glued to my telly every Saturday night and have your voting number on speed dial.’
Lorraine teared up. ‘You’re the best, Sam. The older sister I never had.’
Sam smiled back, her throat tightening. The door opened and Shelley bustled in, followed by a photographer, an assistant and two of the wardrobe and make-up team fromElm Tree Lane.
‘Sorry we’re late, ladies, there was a snarl up on the drive in.’
‘No worries, Shelley,’ replied Sam. ‘Can we give you a hand?’
Shelley dismissed her with a wave. ‘You two stay put. I’m going to sort your outfits, then you can get changed. Ian here yet?’ They shook their heads. Shelley glanced at the word ‘Dickhead’ written on the third coffee cup and grinned. ‘Any later and that’ll be cold.’ She gave them both a wink and turned away.
‘Sam,’ Lorraine whispered. ‘Can I tell you something else?’
Sam leaned in. ‘Of course, sweetie. I presume it’s something good?’
Lorraine was jiggling again, her eyes darting about to make sure they weren’t overheard. ‘Yes! It’s almost as exciting asStrictlyand I want you to be the first to know.’
Sam hadn’t seen such excitement outside of a child on Christmas morning. ‘Come on then, out with it, or you might have an accident and improve the colour of this sofa.’
Lorraine snorted and moved closer. ‘I’m second on the shortlist to do the ad for Mopeoke!’ She held her finger and thumb a millimetre apart. ‘I’m this close to promoting the product of my dreams!’
Sam swallowed. ‘That’s amazing, Loz.’
Lorraine’s eyes glazed over and she sighed. ‘I love cleaning. I know it sounds sad, but I do. I get so excited when the Lakeland catalogue arrives in the post. Do you know what I mean?’
Sam grinned. ‘I’m afraid the only way I’d get excited about a mop would be if it had a ten-speed vibrator attached.’
Lorraine laughed as the door to the studio was flung open with a bang.
‘Speaking of giant dildos.’
Lorraine’s laugh turned into a snort as a man strode in. The last point of their love triangle had arrived.
Ian Berresford had gone from stage school to a moderately successful boy band to being cast as the ‘bad boy’ onElm Tree Lane. It was a role he was born to play and the only difference between his onscreen and offscreen persona was that ‘market trader Wayne’ wasn’t sponsored by a condom company.
‘Ladies!’ he announced to the room. He shucked his leather jacket, ran his hands through his slicked-back hair and stood in front of Sam and Lorraine with his legs too far apart. ‘The king has arrived.’
‘Have you disinterred Elvis?’ Sam asked.
‘The king is dead, long live the king,’ he replied with a wink at Lorraine.
Sam passed him his coffee cup.
He screwed up his nose as he read ‘Dickhead’ on the side. ‘Have you spat in this?’
‘No, but if you put your tongue in my mouth again during a scene, I will. If you’re that desperate to taste my saliva I can spit in all your drinks for you.’ Sam stood. ‘I’m just going to make a quick call.’ She pushed past Ian, who sat with a flop next to Lorraine, his free arm already along the back of the sofa behind her, and walked out into the corridor.
When she returned a couple of minutes later, Ian was showing Lorraine his phone. He glanced at Sam. ‘I’ve got one hundred sixty-four thousand Instagram followers. You’ll never catch up now, Adams.’
‘I wasn’t aware we were in a race, Berresford.’
He grinned. ‘Yeah, yeah, keep telling yourself that when you’re watching me accept “best bad boy” at the soap awards for the third year in a row. Remind me, you’ve yet to be nominated for anything, right?’
Sam willed her hands not to clench into fists.
Lorraine slapped Ian on the arm. ‘Don’t be such a twat.’
He flexed his muscles in response. ‘Do that again, Loz, you almost gave me a semi.’
