Image : Pixabay

‘It’s the … Ultimate Prize.‘

Sound exploded – clapping, feet stamping, cheers so loud the noise weaved and warped in Stevie’s ears, turning to yelps, howls, animal voices from human throats.

The studio lights were too bright for him to see the audience, but he’d felt them througout the competition, heat pouring from them, an energy verging on hysteria.

‘We welcome back Stevie, our winner from the last round.’ The host, Louis, placed a manicured hand on Stevie’s shoulder.

Louis smelt of old sweat, of grease overlaid with aftershave so strong it hooked in the back of Stevie’s throat. Louis’ shiny suit was darker under the arms, the shirt damp beneath the flapping jacket. When he released Stevie’s shoulder there was a patch of cold left behind as the sweat evaporated.

‘Now, Stevie.’ Louis’s face was in his, false sympathy oozing from under the melting pan stick. ‘You’ve been a marvellous…