A Dreamers Dream

Another day, another interview. London, England

"Are you sure I look ok?" I ask Sammy for what is possibly the tenth time since I got back to the hotel an hour ago, as I nervously glance at my reflection in the mirror above the vanity.

My whole plan of getting a good nights sleep in my own bed entirely went to hell last night. Hence, the bags under my eyes are back in full force, although I'm pretty sure I've managed to mostly disguise them with the half bottle of concealer I slapped on before I left home.

I spent most of the time tossing and turning, fretting over the interview today. What if I make a complete twat out of myself? What if I've picked the wrong song to sing? The wrong outfit to wear? What if I walk through the office door, fall flat on my face and break some priceless award from some ceremony I've never even heard of?

When I finally gave up and got up at around seven, I figured I might as well make the most of my morning and bring my freshly packed suitcase back to the hotel.

Everyone's heading out tonight after takedown, so I won't be going back to my flat again before we leave London tomorrow to fly up to Glasgow for the show on Saturday night. I don't have any idea how long this interview will last or if I'll have time to come back here before I head to the venue. It also seemed fairly unprofessional to turn up with my bright pink suitcase in tow, might not quite give the impression I am going for.

As tonight's show is in the exact same arena as last nights, we don't actually have a lot of work to do today before the show starts. However, Paul has decreed that we all still need to be in the venue by at least three, and the interview isn't till one on the other side of town. I really hope I can make it back... I don't fancy having to explain to Paul, or worse still, Jeff, why I'm late.

"Yes I'm sure, Jesus woman, anyone, would think you were going on a hot date with the man of your dreams, not a bloody job interview." Sammy teases me.

"Urgh, you don't understand," I say flopping down on the bed next to her and carefully laying my head back against the wall so as to not flatten my hair. "Screw men. This 'job' as you call it, IS my dream. I've been working towards an opportunity like this since I was six years old! Shit, it's the main reason I came out on tour in the first place, in the hope of landing myself an audition like this, but I guess... I just didn't expect it to happen so fast."

"Maddie listen to me. Harry set you up to sing at that bar the other night after hearing you belt out a couple of lines because he KNEW you had talent and wanted to hear more of it. That boy had me forward him the video I took, which by the way, means you aren't the only member of the crew with his number now" She says wiggling her eyebrows. "And as if that wasn't already enough, he then sent it on to his contact at this label and arranged a meeting for you in a matter of days. If THAT doesn't convince you that you clearly have talent.. then I don't know what fucking will" She finishes matter of factly.

"I'm sorry, I'm just nervous! Imagine how you'd feel if you were suddenly sent off to interview for a job as a beautician for some fancy band!" I say pointedly and watch the colour drain out of Sammy's usually peachy coloured face "Exactly!" I state triumphantly pointing an accusing finger towards her.

"Yeah yeah ok, I get it. I'd be puking my guts up in that bathroom right now if I were you. But like you said, you've been preparing for this your whole life, so you walk your arse in there with your head held high and show them what you're made of! Time to stop dreaming and starting living."

I have a scary hour alone in the hotel room after that, as Sammy has a 'not-a-date brunch' with Freddie, seems she's still in denial about that one. I tried in vain to nibble at a sandwich that I picked up in M&S on the way here, but my stomach is doing somersaults, and I can't manage more than a few bites before I abandon it.