Fiery Talent: Starting Over Novels

By T M Goble

In the captivating novel "Fiery Talent," Amber's dreams of stardom go up in smoke when the West End show she was headlining closes prematurely, leaving her frustrated and despondent. The leading role that could have propelled her to fame slips through her fingers, and she's left grappling with the bitter taste of missed opportunities.

As Amber struggles to come to terms with the show's failure, those closest to her point fingers and lay blame on her fiery temper and egotistical outbursts. The whispers of her role in the show's demise only deepen her frustration and isolation.

With no theatres in London willing to offer her a second chance, Amber's desperation pushes her to the brink. Her personal life becomes entangled in her histrionics, further complicating her quest for redemption.

As financial pressures mount, Amber is forced to make a difficult decision—accept any role offered, no matter how far it falls from her once-glorious aspirations.

"Fiery Talent" is a gripping story of resilience, redemption, and the unwavering pursuit of one's dreams. Join Amber as she confronts the harsh reality of her choices, navigates the complexities of starting over, and strives to rise from the ashes of her own fiery temperament. Will she find a path to success and redemption, or will her tumultuous journey lead to further despair?

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Creative Peak
• Release date: Feb 18, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224554782

Book preview

02

Flashing lights and strobing neons festooned Shaftesbury Avenue as I stood on the pavement. The traffic headlights swept across the street and the sickly smell of fried onions from the mobile burger bar wafted in the air. The chatter and laughter of the passers-by mixed with the roar of the car engines and the horn blasts from irritated drivers.

Will I ever become a Hollywood star? I ached for success and to taste the glamour of the high life. If only a producer would give me the break I deserve. The dark silhouettes of the buildings against the clear night sky stretched up like the crenulated outlines of a medieval castle. A slight breeze ruffled my hair and a shiver crept down my spine. I pushed back my hair and pursed my lips. This opportunity has ended but when’s the next one?

A few drunken revellers from London’s theatre land wandered past singing, but my focus stayed on the lights above the theatre entrance. In the distance a church clock chimed eleven. The theatregoers thinned as they departed in taxis or stepped down to the tube network.

My name stood above them in bright red six foot high letters. That’s what I’d always wanted, my name in lights in the West End of London. Swallowing the lump in my throat I remained frozen to the spot as my name fizzled away into the darkness. One moment it dazzled in red and then it had vanished into oblivion and blackness. As I gazed at the dark expanse where moments ago my name had been emblazoned, the enormity of what had happened hit me.

As my shoulders slumped and my eyes closed, I remained rooted to the spot. Why me? And why now? My first extended role as the leading lady in the West End had ended. At the beginning we’d anticipated a long run in London, a tour of Australia and then to Broadway. The management had failed us.

The lacklustre performance from the leading man had also exacerbated the situation. What had been the matter with him? With his immense talent he could have made such a difference to the whole performance. But now it had ended. The cast had been so deflated when they pulled the plug that we didn’t have the heart to organise an end-of-run party.

The chill night air seeping through my thin jacket forced me to move. With my jaw clenched and my mouth set into a grim hard line I strode down the short dark alleyway to the stage door.

Before I had a chance to enter, a group of bit part actors came barging out pushing the door open with such force it bounced back with a resounding thud against the wall. Standing to one side the noisy ebullient crowd tumbled through.

‘We’re off to a club! Are you coming Amber?’

‘I’d love to,’ their enthusiasm brought a small grin, ‘but I want to say goodbye to Benjamin.’ As they left tears welled up and I leaned against the door to regain my composure. The early closure of the show had been a shame. Benjamin, a renowned actor, had given a spiritless and uninspiring performance. The press hadn’t been supportive, and the reviews had been poor. They’d pulled us to shreds about every small detail. In the end I’d given up reading their comments as each criticism chipped away at my confidence.

It had been a difficult period as I came to terms with the death of my aunt who had been my only surviving relative apart from my disinterested cousin. Nobody cared whether I became a successful actress or sank into obscurity. With a huff I pushed my self-pitying thoughts away and searched for positive ideas. What show would I appear in next?

Pushing myself from the door I strode along the narrow corridor towards the dressing rooms. Apart from the click of my heeled shoes on the cheap plastic flooring, the backstage area had reverted into silence. I headed towards Benjamin’s room intending to say a quick goodbye and then leave him to reflect about his performances. It had been the same routine every evening, I’d had a quick word with him before leaving the theatre.

With a soft tap on his dressing room door, I didn’t wait for a response but stepped inside. He stood tall and erect, with his back to me. ‘I will never work with her again!’ His voice loud and emphatic as he flung his arm wide in a dramatic gesture.

Unsure of the other person in the conversation, I hesitated in the doorway clutching the door handle, ‘I hope you don’t mean me, darling!’

He spun round and glared, ‘Oh, it’s you! I thought you’d left!’

‘We’ll talk later. It’s been a difficult run.’ I recognised Jenny’s voice, why had she come here? Still holding the door handle I peered into the corner where she sprawled in a battered old armchair.

The dressing room was in its usual state of disarray with clothes strewn on every surface of the small dark room. The bright bare bulbs around the mirror provided the focus for makeup but pushed objects and people into a shadowy space of flickering light as soon as anyone moved. Benjamin had made no effort to pack up so the dressing table remained covered with pots of makeup some without lids while the wastebasket overflowed with discarded tissues. A strong sweaty smell hung in the unventilated room and the only sound came from the distant hum of the traffic.

Why had Jenny visited Benjamin’s room? She’s not his agent, so has no reason to be here. All conversation had ceased as I entered, and a heavy silence hung over the room. Who had he been referring to? My eyebrows tightened as did the knot in my stomach.

Benjamin’s face remained as impassive as usual, but the sides of his mouth drooped, and his eyes reflected ill humour. With a scowl he turned to the dressing table, flopped down into the chair and picked up a pack of tissues as though preparing to remove his stage makeup. He made no attempt to talk to me and hadn’t answered my question.

Jenny rubbed her hand across her forehead as she pushed herself from the chair, ‘The men are irritable tonight. Let’s go for a drink.’ Before I could respond, she caught my arm and steering me by the elbow ushered me out of the dressing room. Although I wriggled to dissuade her, as I wanted to speak with Benjamin, it made no difference and she closed the door behind us with a firm click and in silence guided me along the narrow corridor towards the exit. ‘We need a drink.’

03

No convivial chatter passed between us. Jenny always talked but not tonight. Is the silence my fault? She linked her arm in mine and we marched along the wide pavement weaving our way in and out of the late-night revellers.

Climbing up the wide stone steps flanked on each side by a low balustrade we pushed open the polished oak door and entered the reception area of an exclusive club off St Giles Circus. The club members had adjourned to the plush casino in the basement. We headed across the deep blue carpet and settled ourselves in large cream leather armchairs in the bar. The plant screens formed intimate tables for two, we chose a secluded corner.

With cool and efficient expertise, the waiter uncorked a bottle of claret, and poured a small amount into each goblet before drifting away.

Jenny ran her fingers through her long black hair and drew in a deep breath. With a tight smile she fiddled with her rings but made no attempt to speak. The silence extended. The chatter of other groups drifted through the bar.

What’s the matter with her this evening? Is she annoyed because I’d barged into Benjamin’s dressing room and disturbed their conversation? Is something happening between them? Is she troubled? Her pale face and quiet manner are out of character.

Not wanting the silence to stretch any longer I launched into my usual idle chatter. ‘I spotted a pair of wonderful Choo shoes in Bond Street.’

‘How much?’

‘Only £400, but they would be for special occasions.’

A small tentative smile appeared, and she gazed at me in silence. The adrenalin from the evening’s performance had drained away and I’d relaxed.

Although I didn’t want to know the answer, I had to ask the question that had been niggling me, ‘Did Benjamin refer to me when he blurted out, he wouldn’t work with her again?’

Jenny took a deep breath as the question had caught her unawares. Would she tell the truth? ‘No,’ but a faint tell-tale flush coloured her cheek. ‘Well, yes, he did mean you, but he’s tired and irritable after performing both the matinee and evening performances today.’

‘That’s not an excuse.’ My voice sounded sharp, and I rolled my eyes with irritation.

Jenny grimaced and picked up her glass. It hovered near her lips, but she didn’t drink and replaced on the table. ‘Also, you have rubbed him up the wrong way.’

With a dismissive wave of my hand I brushed her criticism aside, ‘His heart wasn’t in the play. From his comments it became obvious he didn’t want a long run. So, he didn’t try and spoilt it for everyone else.’ The dream of having my name in lights on Broadway had vanished. A wave of emotion swept through me and I blinked away the tears.

Jenny studied me, but didn’t have the familiar sparkle in her eyes, ‘We need a long and serious chat. But not now.’

‘Why! What’s wrong! Let’s hear what’s on your mind.’ My voice had risen so Jenny glanced around the others in the bar.

‘Relax Amber! Quieten down.’

‘Out with it.’ I grabbed my glass for a long swig of wine. Jenny didn’t answer, and I gathered from her expression she mulled over her approach. ‘Stop racking your brains for diplomatic words.’ I tapped the arm of the chair with my bright red nails and glared with frustration. ‘Tell me!’

Jenny puffed out her cheeks as she let out a long slow breath, ‘That’s the third leading actor within the last year, who has declared they wouldn’t act with you again.’

‘I don’t care!’ I pouted in a moue of displeasure, ‘It’s their fault not mine.’ I inspected my manicured fingernails, but the truth hit home, and I lowered my head as a flush of angry embarrassment stole across my cheeks.

Jenny wouldn’t argue with me but the wince which flashed across her face spoke volumes. ‘Amber. They are experienced actors popular with directors and actresses.’ Pushing my hair away from my face, I gulped in a deep breath to quell the rising irritation. Now wouldn’t be the time for a temper tantrum so I gritted my teeth and remained silent. ‘I’ve been your agent for a year.’ Her voice sounded strained, ‘If you remember no one else would take you on because of your volatile reputation.’

The truth became hard to swallow, but I needed to defend myself. ‘I’ve improved this year.’ Jenny pursed her lips and didn’t comment. ‘Okay! Okay! Point taken.’ I attempted to control my anger by taking a deep breath.

Before speaking again, I sipped my wine and allowed the warm flavours to slide across my tongue. ‘What’s next?’ I endeavoured to sound calm and bright to deflect her from further criticism of my explosive behaviour, ‘What are the arrangements for my next role? We’ve known for weeks we were closing.’

‘It’s a quiet period, Amber,’ Jenny picked up her drink and absorbed herself with several sips from her almost empty glass. My shoulders drooped and I ran my tongue over my dry lips. All the cast, except Benjamin, had arranged their next role. He’d told everyone he intended resting for a few months. It wasn’t a lie as I’d heard him refuse at least two firm offers. An embarrassed silence ensued as we had nothing left to discuss. No wine remained, so Jenny departed without any further comment about my next role. No one wanted me.

04

Matt would be home and I needed sympathy. Although reluctant to leave the cosy atmosphere of the bar, I strolled into the clear night air and hailed a cab. Lounging in the taxi my mind drifted back to the morning. A chilling shiver swept through me.

It hadn’t been pleasant as I’d argued with Matt before he’d left for work. The memory of the acrimonious scene made my shoulders slump. It required a fulsome apology. I’ll give him a dazzling smile then he’ll forgive me, he always does.

An idea had been circling in my mind for several weeks that he might pop the question soon, so I must make a positive effort to control my temper. He’s a gorgeous man, one in a million, but I don’t always treat him well.

Despite my best efforts I am impatient and moody, but I love him, and I can’t wait to be enveloped in his welcoming arms. Opening the front door of the flat I stepped into the lounge and came to an abrupt halt.

A blonde woman sat with her arms wrapped round Matt’s neck on the large cream sofa, the lights were dimmed, and soft music played in the background. ‘What the bloody hell is this?’ I slammed the door and gritted my teeth. ‘And who is that whore?’

I pointed an accusing finger as they leapt to their feet. In two large steps I advanced on Matt, took an almighty swing and slapped him hard across the face causing him to collapse back onto the sofa from the impact. The woman managed to scuttle away, otherwise I would have hit her.

Turmoil swirled within me and I focused my anger on Matt intending to beat the living daylights out of him for the blatant deceit.

‘What a bloody nutcase!’ The woman screamed with the hint of an Australian accent.

Boiling with fury I wanted revenge and had no interest in her. How could he deceive me? Once again, I lunged towards him, but he scrabbled along the couch. His leg stretched out in front of me, a perfect target for my high heel, but I missed.

Struggling to his feet he stepped sideways and flapped his hands in a placatory manner, ‘Amber! Amber! What the hell’s wrong with you?’

As he spoke, he moved in front of the blonde woman in a protective gesture which heightened my temper. Heat burned my cheeks, my eyes narrowed, and I could hear the blood rushing through my head. I prepared myself for battle and grabbed a cup of coffee from the table and in a sweeping movement I threw the contents at them. An inner glow of satisfaction glimmered as the cold coffee dripped from their hair and ran across their faces.

‘She’s lost it! She’s a crazy bitch!’ shouted the blonde. Rage consumed me and I lunged towards him again but this time he anticipated my movement and pushed me hard. Tottering in my heeled shoes, I overbalanced and fell back onto the couch.

Grabbing the blonde’s hand, he pulled her towards the door, ‘Come on, we’ll leave her to calm, I’ll stay with you.’

As they reached the door, I recovered my balance. In one fluid movement I grabbed the china coffee pot and swung my arm back. With a low growl I took aim, but my reactions were too slow, and the pot crashed against the closed door at head height and shattered into pieces with the coffee spraying over the wall and carpet.

I leapt across the room intending to give chase but as I reached the door, the impetus left me. Kicking off my shoes, I grabbed a bottle of vodka and slumped on the sofa with tears streaming down my cheeks.

05

As my eyelids flicked open, I groaned as the bright daylight streamed into the room. Squinting, I rubbed the sleep from my eyes. The throbbing in my head and the waves of nausea that swirled through my stomach added to the distress. Pushed by necessity I staggered to the bathroom with my hand clasped across my mouth. The retching stopped after ten minutes but with my brain struggling for normality I slouched to the lounge and collapsed onto the couch.

When I resurfaced, the late afternoon sun had disappeared. Vague memories kept flooding into my befuddled head. After a shower and several glasses of water to relieve my dry parched mouth, I fell into bed.

The bright lights of dawn woke me. Forcing my eyelids open, I inched my head away from the pillow. Apart from feeling hungry my stomach had settled and the headache had dulled to a mild throb. My consciousness returned to focus on the argument.

Matt had walked out clutching the blonde’s hand in a protective and caring manner. That hurt. Why two-time me? Had he stayed at her flat enjoying her company as the other side of the bed remained empty? Then my mind flooded with the conversation I’d had with Jenny. Rejection settled over me in a dark gloomy cloud. No man and no job.

Pulling my dressing gown tight, I sat at the small kitchen table where the bright red cupboard glared under the halogen down lighting. All alone, the only noise came from the hum of the American style fridge which dominated the small space. In stark contrast to my bleak mood, bright sunlight streamed through the kitchen window. The bowls of apples in the middle of the table gave off a sweet smell but my stomach yearned for substantial food.

Apart from trivia, there were no phone messages. No one wants to know me. Matt would no doubt return to his flat. Does his two-timing approach mean he no longer loves me? No, we’re a couple, but his explanation had better be convincing otherwise he’ll receive the full force of my anger.

The next problem hit me. I needed to set the ball in motion to find a new assignment. The conversation with Jenny returned in fits and starts. An apology had become essential as I’d pressurised her, but Matt kept coming back to mind. Tidying the flat I cleared up the coffee pot mess as I thought through the recent events.

Why had he been so obvious? Our relationship hadn’t been that special recently, but surely a