Chapter Twenty-Four
“Steve can you pop round to my room? I really need to speak to you.” I said urgently having just woken up late in the afternoon after the more then eventful previous night.
He agreed and almost immediately he there was a knock on my hotel door, “hey,” he said casually as I opened the door.
“Hey, right listen -,”
“Cheryl, if this is about last night then yes, I felt something,” he smirked.
“What?” I asked in disbelief.
“I felt the way you were kissing me, it’s just a shame that Kimberley had to ruin it, we’d be good together me and you Chez,”
“You’ve got it all wrong!” I protested, “I need to speak to you about something else,”
“Oh?” He asked raising his eyebrows clearly disappointed, “what is it then?”
“You’re not going to like this, but I’ve thought about it all night and I have to do it,” I started, “but I’m not going to sign the contract, I don’t want this anymore,”
“What?!” He asked, seemingly bemused.
“I don’t want the album, I don’t want the fame or any of it anymore, I’ve had it for a few months and that’s been long enough,”
“Cheryl,” he laughed slightly, “do you realise what you’re doing? I’ve got the contract copy right here with me,” he pulled a folded piece of a paper out of his pocket, thrust it in my face and placed it on the bed. “Why wouldn’t you want to sign this, this is your dream,”
I shook my head, “it’s not my dream, it’s a dream, but it’s not mine, I thought it was, but I realise now that it’s the complete opposite of what I want,” I said simply, hoping that would be the end of it, my hopes were ignored.
“What the hell are you talking about Cheryl?” He boomed raising his voice, “what else could you possibly want? You’d be sorted financially for life, you could get your own place, move out of this hotel – go on tours, it’s what dreams are made of, be a good girl, go to the signing tomorrow and protect yourself for life,”
“I don’t want that, how many times do I have to say it to get that in your head?” I said, raising my voice to match his own.
“This is because of her isn’t it?”
“Excuse me? Who’s ‘her’?”
“Kimberley, she’s made you choose hasn’t she her or this,” he said, folding his arms and staring intently at me.
“She’s done no such thing, I’ve worked it out for myself, she’s what I want – not that” I spat, gesturing towards the contract copy.
He laughed cruelly, “so then what? You move back in and become a pretty little dancer again? Having no stability, not knowing where your be next? Earning the minimum,”
“I earnt enough thanks very much – and I loved my job then, I loved my life then, since this whole ‘singing’ thing started happening I’ve been miserable, there are some people in the world who would kill for what I’m doing, I’m not one of them, so I don’t think I should be doing it,” I said, glad I remembered the speech I had planned in my head earlier this morning.
He scoffed loudly, “you need to get that girl off the pedestal you clearly have her on Cheryl, she’s ruining your life and you don’t even realise it – you think the media will leave you alone just like that?”
“No of course I don’t, but if I’m with her I can do anything,”
“Oh please,” he scoffed, “this ain’t some fairytale Cheryl, I mean you weren’t exactly quick to reveal your relationship with her to me were you? If I remember correctly you introduced her as your ‘flatmate,’” he shouted, coming closer to me.
I squirmed at the memory, I was so ashamed, “I was a twat then, I was caught up in everything – why do you care so much anyway!?”
“Because, I like you, I’m looking out for you – me and you together, we’d be amazing, media’s dream,”
“You’re *Ducking* deluded, I don’t want the ‘medias dream – get off me,” I struggled as he gripped my wrists.
“Not until you get some sense in you,” he spat, shaking me.
“And you wonder why I want to get out of this fame thing when there’s people like you involved!” I smirked, quickly realising this was a mistake and he looked even more angry and pinned me up against the wall holding my wrists either side of my head.
“I wouldn’t push me if I were you Chez,” he sneered into my face. “You led me on for all these weeks,”
“No I haven’t,” I cried.
“All those times I let you wail to me about her and this is how your repay me? You’re pathetic,” he said, squeezing hard.
“You didn’t have to listen,” I whimpered.
“Well I wouldn’t of if I didn’t think it would get me anywhere,” he sneered.
By now I was more then scared, “just get off me – please, I’m not going to do the album or anything, I want out of it all and no matter what you do to me, I won’t change my mind,” I struggled out, really frightened at what he might do.
He forced me harder against the wall, “fine, go back to your girl, I just hope you don’t regret it one day,” with that he released me and bounded towards the door, “little *Not Allowed*.”
I sank to the floor against the wall and cried harder then I ever had before. What had I done? How had my life become so unravelled in the space of a few short months?
With no more thought, I stood up, grabbed the contract copy and left the room and headed to where I knew I belonged.
