| NIC-FICS (The strange and warped world of Nicki fanfiction!) This is the part of the website where you're really going to have to humour me. For as long as I can remember i've written fictional stories about real live public figures. And now, in what I believe to be a unique move, i've started work on a 'Nic-fic', set backstage at the show once the cameras stop rolling... kind of a Pop Idol Extra Extra if you like. Obviously its totally fictional and i'm not implying the characters herein actually act like this... I have to stress that otherwise a certain Mr Cowell will be sueing me for implying he has a heart... its just a bit of fun to while away a few hours! |
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| GO TO PART 2 - CLICK HERE |
| Wembley Arena 16 March 2002 " They may take you from me. I'll miss your fond caress. But though they take you from me I'll still possess... The way you wear your hat. The way you sip your tea. The memory of all that Oh, no. They can't take that away from me." Nicki Chapman, Pop Idol Judge and music industry professional was close to tears. Laura Docherty, one of 'her' final 10 (as she now thought of the 10 finalists from Pop Idol) was onstage at Wembley Arena knocking out a sensational version the 'You Can't Take That Away From Me' from the musical 'Crazy For You'. She was being backed by 'The Big Blue', a fantastic Big Band that Nicki herself was responsible for hiring. She knew she ought to feel proud of what she'd achieved, since professionally speaking she was definitely at an all time high. Personally though, her life was falling apart and with every word that the stunning Irish girl sang that fact became all the more obvious. She glanced around, checked no one was looking and then made a dash for her dressing room. When she got there she grabbed her mobile phone from her dressing table and hastily tapped in a number she could have dialled in her sleep. She knew she was doing the wrong thing, but at that precise second in time she didn't care. It rang. It rang several times infact. Then the voicemail cut in. "Hi, you're through to Simon's voice mail. I can't get to the phone at the minute but leave a message and I'll get back to you." Bastard. She stared down at the phone, tears in her eyes. A million questions coursed through her brain. Was he ignoring her? Was he busy? If so what was he busy doing? Was he with someone else? Another woman? Each question led to more questions and each of them to a dozen more. She sunk down onto the sofa, and as she did so the phone fell from her hands and landing on the floor with a crash, breaking down into 3 separate pieces - cover, battery and phone. Without any further warning she burst into tears. How had this happened? How had it got to this? Why had she let herself get into this mess? The answer, she knew, lay in a row with Shacky and a bottle of Jack Daniels. Glasgow Hilton Several Months Earlier "Oh fuck you Shacky." Nicki slammed down the hotel room phone and glared at it furiously. Men were bastards. Total bastards. Especially the one she was trying her damndest to be married to. She threw another black look in the phone's direction, tried to remain angry but then burst into tears. She'd been bawling into her pillow for all of twenty seconds where there was a knock at the door. In no mood or state to answer it she leaned in its general direction from her comfortable position on the bed and yelled out, "Who is it?" "Answer the door and you'll find out." Came a familiar voice from beyond the door. Nicki sighed. "What the hell do you want Simon? It's nearly midnight." "Like half the corridor I overheard your row with Mr Shack." He called back, "I thought you could probably do with a friendly face and enough alcohol to sink a ship." Alcohol. Now there was an idea. Nicki stood up and went over to the rooms' minibar and peered inside before reaching for a bottle of gin just as Simon 'persistence' Cowell was trying again to get her attention. "Nicki. Let me in." Nicki threw herself back on to the bed and unscrewed the bottle. "If I wanted a friendly face." she snapped, "I'd call Hitler before I'd call you. And I've got alcohol of my own. So fuck off." Not to be put off Simon knocked on the door incredibly loudly, "Chapman you miserable cow, open the door or else I tell the whole corridor what you did on that Thailand trip when you were still at RCA." Furiously Nicki got up from the bed, stormed to the other side of the room and yanked open the door by an inch and stared through the gap at Simon with a face like thunder, "You're a bastard Cowell." "And you are far from the little bundle of sweetness and light that people think you are." He reached his hand through the gap and wiped a tear from her cheek, "And you have mascara all over your face." Embarrassed Nicki went to wipe her eyes, and as she did so Simon took advantage of the fact she was distracted to barge his way into the room. He walked over to the bedside table and picked up the gin bottle. He gave her a pitying look, "Gin? Oh Nicki, are you a walking clich� or what? What were you going to do? Spend the entire night drinking 'sad old cow' drink and crying over Shacky. Thank Christ I turned up." He disappeared into the bathroom and reappeared seconds later with two glass tumblers, which he quickly filled from a bottle of Jack Daniels he'd bought in with him. He lit a cigarette and then offered the packet to Nicki, who realising that she'd got no chance of getting rid of him had settled herself back down on the bed. "Smoke?" She raised her eyes, "You know I don't. And this is a non-smoking room." "Whatever." He sat beside her and handed her one of the drinks he'd poured, watching with some amusement as she downed it in one. He let out a low whistle of surprise. "That must have been some row you had with Shacky." Nicki took the bottle from him and poured herself another glass, "You know it was. You heard." "This is true." Simon confessed, "But I didn't really know what was going on, just that you were upset. The only thing I really learnt was that I never ever want to get on the wrong side of you." He smiled at her and expected her to smile back but to his shock and discomfort she burst into tears. While 'women' generally were Simon's specialist subject, 'crying women' were something else entirely. Hesitantly he reached out and put his arm around her, "Nic? You ok?" She gave him a withering look, "Of course I'm bloody not." She snatched his cigarette from his hand and took a long drag on it, noting his bemused look as she did so, "Shacky hates me smoking ok. A bit of rebellion never hurt anyone." She added by way of an explanation and then started to laugh bitterly, "God that's immature." Simon squeezed her leg comfortingly, "Nothing wrong with acting like a child occasionally. I'd be interested to know what Shacky did to cause an outbreak of such appalling behaviour though." |