Little Do You Know - a Saula story

1 - The Beginning

    "Simon, I understand what you're saying, but I disagree with what you're saying."

    "I think you're patronizing him."

    "I'm not patronizing him!" I seethed, fighting to keep my features calm. Yelling and letting my anger out would only serve to amuse him further.

    A small, mocking half-smile appeared on his face. "Whatever you say, darling."

    I rose up from my chair, throwing my hands in the air. This was the hundredth time we'd had the same conversation today. He just couldn't put up with my style of judging and criticism. How was I supposed to do this job with such a nitwit? Every time I opened my mouth he was there, ready to counter whatever I said. It was like he tried to provoke me.

    Huffing angrily, I charged from the room, aiming for my chambers down the hall and to the right. I could hear Simon chuckling as I left and the contestant shuffling his feet on the ground, confused. I slammed the door as loud as I could and collapsed on the fluffy rolling chair in front of my mirror.

    Again! I'd lost count long ago on how many times I'd walked out of that judging room, yelled at Simon, or even threatened to quit. I was seriously considering that option now.

The American Idol job as a judge had been like a dream come true; the chance to revive my career and help aspiring singers succeed in theirs. I'd walked in on that first day full of foolish hope and excitement. The reunion with Randy had been sweet, as it is with old friends that you haven't seen in a long time. As for Ryan Seacrest - well, he was someone, alright. Overly bubbly and happy, super charismatic, probably able to charm his way out of a pair of handcuffs. In other words, the perfect host. I'd even liked the producers, which is rare for shows such as this.

And then he walked in. Thirty minutes late, strolling inside leisurely like he owned the place. My first thought had been comical - why were his pants so high? I, being naive and unsure, had decided to give this British guy the benefit of the doubt. First day on the job, right? Maybe he'd been in a traffic jam, or his mother had taken a bad fall down the stairs, or he'd spilled ketchup on his favorite white shirt.

I walked up to him after he'd shaken hands with the producers and gave him my signature bright smile.

"Hi, I'm Paula Abdul, one of your co-judges for American Idol." His hand was warm as he clasped mine and gave it a firm shake.

His mouth quirked to the side as I spoke. "I know, darling. And I'm Simon Cowell. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Simon's voice was smooth and filled with British charm, tinged with cockiness. I couldn't decide if I liked it or not. He was a rather handsome man, though. Objectively said, of course. His brown eyes had a wicked sparkle in them and I couldn't help but notice the strong arms that were crossed in front of his chest.

If I was honest with myself, I kind of liked him.

Until that first day.

I still remembered the first contestant that walked in. She was a sweet girl, eyes full of hope and smooth blonde locks tucked behind her ears. I believe her name was Mira? She had the prettiest blue eyes, along with a nice figure and a modest summer dress. My heart leaped as she walked in. She was the spitting image of the American Idol we all hoped to find.

Then she opened her mouth, and the illusion shattered. The sound was akin to a llama trying to cough a marble out of its throat. I allowed myself a tiny wince, then kept my face passive for the rest of the performance. She was only seventeen, after all. There was plenty of room for improvement. Just maybe not on this show.