Saskia was sitting cross-legged on our couch, with two steaming mugs on the coffee table. By now I was used to Amir and Saskia coming into the flat whenever they pleased, but I was still surprised by how comfortable they made themselves. She unfolded her long legs and I was instantly aware of how sweaty I was after my workout, and how short my limbs were.
‘I’ve made you a coffee,’ she said, motioning towards the second mug. ‘Black, no sugar, right?’
Gingerly, I took the seat opposite her: my abs were still aching and my arms felt like jelly. Sam ducked into the bathroom.
‘We’re not paying OJ to train two of you.’ Saskia sipped her herbal tea.
I ignored that: I’d be far less motivated to get up early for training without Sam, and she didn’t sound too annoyed. ‘Did you come here to talk about my workout regime?’
She held out her phone, open on the Full English clip. The girl on the screen was hiding behind a curtain of hair, her arms crossed over her rose-print lap.
‘Body language,’ she said. ‘Look at how you’re sitting, defensive and unsure of yourself.’ She glanced at me. ‘You’re doing it again now. Try sitting up straight.’ Saskia always had great posture, but now she flicked back her hair and wiggled her shoulders to demonstrate. She reached out and pushed my shoulders back, and I pretended not to notice that she wiped her hand on the couch afterwards.
‘Plant your feet flat on the floor. Legs together. Uncross your arms, hands in your lap, and pretend you’ve got a thread in the centre of your head, pulling you up straight. That’s much better. Now, make eye contact.’ My shoulders rolled forwards and she pushed them back again. ‘That’s it, now hold it steady.’ The bathroom door opened and Sam padded down the hall. She clicked her fingers in front of my face. ‘Lily! Eye contact.’
I looked at her again and we held each other’s gaze until I broke away.
‘It feels weird. Wrong. Like I’m staring.’
‘It might feel like that at the time, but television is a different world. People don’t act normal when there’s a camera on them – and it’s your job to have a camera on you.’
‘That’s not why I got into this. I thought being a singer would mean … you know, singing.’
‘Well, you can be a penniless singer and never do another interview or you can play this game with Beatnik and see where it takes you.’ She looked around the flat as if she needed to remind me the record company was the whole reason we were there. ‘The single’s doing great. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? A few interviews are a pretty small price to pay for a bit of Supernova buzz.’
‘There’s Supernova buzz?’
She smiled. ‘That’s got your attention, huh? Amir didn’t want me to say anything, but he’s got high hopes. So let’s get you ready.’
Carter stumbled into the kitchen dressed only in boxers, his hair sticking up at odd angles, and started messily assembling cereal. I blushed and looked back at Saskia. I didn’t mind him being so beautiful, but did he have to be so naked all the time?
‘I’d kill for a coffee,’ Sam called from his room, and I took a guilty sip from my rapidly cooling mug.
‘Why don’t you try focusing on the bridge of my nose?’ said Saskia. ‘It’ll look like you’re making eye contact, but it might feel more natural.’
‘And what am I meant to do about the questions?’ I asked, shifting my gaze to the crease between her eyes. ‘Amir said it himself. I just clammed up.’
She smiled. ‘I’ve an idea for that. You were fine when we prepped the night before and you did great when you played onstage. So what’s different about being on the interview couch?’
I shrugged. ‘I guess … I’m not singing?’
‘You’re not performing,’ she nodded. ‘When you’re onstage, you get to play Lily Donadi, rock star. But when you’re on the couch, you’re just Liliana. I think that’s what scares you, and that’s why you clam up. I think if we give you a persona you’ll have a lot more confidence.’
‘And let me guess,’ Carter called over the kitchen counter with his mouth full. ‘Liliana gets a persona, but Sammy, Rich and I just have to be ourselves.’
‘You three didn’t lose the power of speech on national television,’ Saskia reminded him tartly. ‘And anyway, the idea I have for Lily’s persona is based on something you said.’
Carter pushed down on the French press with both hands. ‘I should be getting a commission.’
I thought of my photo on the single cover, and how I’d liked the idea of hiding behind a mask. Maybe a fake persona would be a good thing – depending on what Saskia had in mind. ‘What’s your idea?’ I asked. ‘If Carter’s come up with it, I want veto power.’
Saskia smiled her close-lipped smile again. ‘It’s Lily Donadi: Perennial Single Girl.’
Carter laughed so hard he spat cornflakes onto the bench.
‘It’s basically a combination of the song – you know, “I’m with him, and he’s King Cutie” – and what Carter said yesterday about being more “fluid”.’ She seemed to be enjoying this.
‘Carter should learn to speak for himself,’ I said drily.
‘The Perennial Single Girl is a playful, flirtatious girl who secretly yearns for long-term love.’ Saskia had the same faraway look she’d had when she’d unveiled the Orange County babe thing. Sam came out of his room and poured his own coffee from the French press. Carter was still fighting the urge to laugh. ‘She is relatable and down-to-earth, perfect to appeal to the teenage girl cohort, but she also has an aspirational quality. And there’s room for it to evolve, if you ever get your happy ending.’
‘I don’t yearn for love,’ I said, hoping Carter wasn’t watching too closely.
‘Everyone yearns for love,’ said Saskia. ‘It’s why pop songs even exist.’
•
Dennis Chang had distractingly white teeth and very good hair and was famous for dating reality TV starlets half his age. His show on Wednesday mornings was compulsory viewing for anyone who was into new music, and Richie and Carter had been talking about the interview all week. So had Saskia and Amir, but for different reasons – this was my big chance to put all my new training into action, and save my reputation from the Full English interview.
We could play the single so smoothly now that we barely batted an eyelid, although today Sam looked slightly tense before we went on. He was still on at Amir to let us play a full-length gig instead of a one-song routine, and Amir was still dismissing him with a smile. When we put down our instruments, I stalked over to the couch in my heels with my head high, hearing Saskia’s voice in my head. My hair had been styled off my face this time, so there was nowhere to hide.
‘What a great track,’ Dennis said. I held my shoulders back and tried to imagine a string from my head to the ceiling. He was much better looking than he seemed on TV.
‘Thank you,’ I said – or rather, the Perennial Single Girl said, complete with a wide, flirtatious smile. ‘We like to think so.’
There was a flutter of laughter in the audience and I wanted to turn away, but forced myself to look out at them. Saskia had said I should focus on one person in the sea of faces, so I picked a teenage girl in a floral dress in the front row.
‘What was the inspiration behind that track?’ Dennis asked.
‘“King Cutie” is something my best friend, Phoenix, would call a guy who’s, like, always single but who’s never alone – if you get my drift.’ The Perennial Single Girl had a close group of friends and Saskia had said I should mention them. ‘I think we all know a guy like that,’ I added.
The audience answered with a few giggles. I clasped my sweaty hands in my lap so no-one would notice how much they were trembling. The boys were under strict instructions not to answer unless I needed saving, so I was on my own.
Dennis held up the single, showing my flash-washed face, bubblegum-pink milkshake dripping down my skin. ‘And this is you on the cover here, isn’t it?’
‘Yeah, that’s me,’ I said. I’d prepared for this. ‘I was just trying to bring the boys to the yard, but I guess I was going about it all the wrong way.’ There was another ripple of laughter and, off-stage, Amir was nodding along.
Dennis added, ‘That’s a question we’ve had from viewers, actually – are you single?’
‘I am,’ I told his nose. My whole persona was based on this question. ‘I mean, I’d like to find the right person, but I’m kind of fussy.’ I was suddenly struck with a brainwave and smiled directly at the girl in the floral dress as I added, ‘I guess I just haven’t found my own King Cutie yet.’
Beside me, Carter let out a startled laugh. ‘Oh, Jim,’ he murmured, too quiet for anyone else to hear. Amir looked ecstatic.
After Dennis Chang, the interviews became easier and I even started to warm to the persona. We fell into a routine: Sam was gracious, Richie monosyllabic, Carter sarcastic, and I was Perennial Single Girl. It didn’t feel like lying – more like a caricature of our own personalities, a safety blanket for when we were in the public eye. I was single. I wouldn’t have described that state as ‘perennial’, or part of my identity, but it was true.
At home, we also fell into a routine: arguing over who had eaten the last chocolate digestive or whose turn it was to do the washing up. I wrote music with Sam late at night, sometimes joining in when he Skyped Tish after her Subway shift, tried to keep up with my studies, and dodged Carter’s girls in the mornings. Every Sunday night, I checked in with Dad and Jack. Phoenix Skyped when they remembered, usually in the middle of the Australian night when they could be sure the time difference would work out.
‘So what’s happening with him?’ they asked one morning as I was waiting for my coffee order at the local Caffé Nero.
‘If you mean, what’s happening with me and Carter, absolutely nothing,’ I said. I watched as the barista skilfully poured milk into four KeepCups. ‘He’s still a massive player.’
They pulled a sympathetic face. ‘Must be a barrel of laughs to be living with the guy.’
‘He brings home a different girl every night, and then they turn up in the kitchen wearing his T-shirts.’ And he hadn’t tried to hit on me once, despite us sharing a flat. I was too proud to tell Phoenix that I still fancied him, but I knew my face betrayed me.
‘Oh, honey.’
‘It makes me not want to wear his T-shirts anymore,’ I said, trying to lighten the mood.
They snorted. ‘I did notice you’d changed your style. Much less tomboy.’
I tugged at the hem of the silk tea dress they’d let me keep after last night’s TV slot. I was wearing it with my trusty Sid Vicious jacket and Cons, so it wasn’t an entirely Beatnikified outfit, but still pretty different to anything I would’ve worn back in Australia.
‘You know, I’ve always liked your clothes,’ they said. ‘You always dressed like you just didn’t give a shit about fashion. It was very androgynous and cool.’
‘That’s what Sam said. He thinks I’m selling out.’
They peered at the screen over their glasses. ‘Are you?’
‘Are you saying you don’t like my new dress?’ I flicked the camera so they could see the whole ensemble, and they laughed.
‘I do like the dress. I’m just not sure it’s really you.’