by Alison Bond
She was so caught up in a love scene from one of Fabien’s independent films that she didn’t see Melanie until she felt a sharp poke in her shoulder.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Just watching this. You see I don’t even have a VCR at home and I thought I’d take advantage of the time while you were –’
‘Why?’
‘Why what?’ Lynsey was genuinely confused.
‘Why are you watching tapes of Fabien Stewart?’
‘He’s a client.’
Melanie looked as if she didn’t believe her. Lynsey turned round and saw that a few people were watching and trying to pretend that they weren’t. There was a weird atmosphere and Lynsey tried to diffuse it. ‘He’s gorgeous.’
‘He’s a prick.’
‘Melanie, are you okay? Have you had a bad day? Max’ll want to leave soon but maybe we could get a drink or something.’
‘I’m fine,’ said Melanie. A drink sounded like a great idea but she was too proud to sit with a girl she hardly knew and admit that she wasn’t coping that well and that she had a feeling she might have made a huge mistake.
Lynsey caught a cab back to her motel. Two cabs in one day. An expensive habit. Like smoking. Her fingers twitched for a cigarette even though she hadn’t smoked for a good couple of years.
Her door caught on the tiled floor as she pushed it open and the screech it made echoed around the empty courtyard. She shushed the door reprovingly as if it was a rowdy flatmate and felt lonely.
Her room, which had looked so cosy and inviting when she first saw it, now looked cold and impersonal. The few personal touches she had made to the room seemed to mock her, their cheery familiarity stark against this strange place.
This was no different to London, she rationalized. Her friends and family were only a phone call away and a whole city was there to distract her if she needed to escape. She could go out, she could get dinner, she could go dancing, see a movie. She could do anything.
After a minute or two sitting on the bed and trying to summon the energy to turn on the television she had to leave. Her breath was coming in short gasps and the walls of the room crawled inward like the scene from Brazil She threw open her door and looked down on the deserted swimming pool that was silver in the diffused moonlight. She remembered something someone said to her once, that when you feel down you must look up to lift your spirits higher, so she climbed the fire escape to the roof.
Immediately she felt differently up here. There was so much space and the promise of an unseen ocean in the air. The neon sign flashed the sky around her flamingo pink and she felt her energy rise like bubbling water in a drinking fountain.
‘Okay,’ she said out loud. ‘Everything’s okay.’ But her voice sounded small in the big space, unsteady, and she didn’t convince herself.
‘Everything’s going to be fantastic,’ she said, a little louder. She put her arms above her head and felt the satisfying stretch of muscle as the tension of the day loosened its grip on her shoulders.
‘Excuse me, miss?’
Lynsey span round and saw an old man in a checked shirt with a bottle of Coors in his hand. She must have looked scared because he said, ‘I’m sorry, ma’am, I didn’t mean to frighten you. We was just wondering would you care for a beer?’
He motioned across the roof to a pair of deckchairs, one of which was occupied by a man of similar age who tipped the peak of his baseball cap like a salute. In between the chairs was a cooler and a card table.
‘I’m Jack Bishop from five-oh-two and that there’s Lou from three-one-six. You came yesterday. I think we’re neighbours.’
Instinctively Lynsey stuck out her hand; the unusual circumstances didn’t mean she shouldn’t be polite. ‘Lynsey Dixon.’
‘It’s just you look like you could use a beer.’
‘I’d love one.’
‘Bad day?’ said Lou as they approached, and he miraculously produced a camping stool from beneath his seat.
‘Just different,’ said Lynsey.
She popped the lid on her beer and they sipped in silence.
‘Do you play cards?’ she asked, spotting the deck.
Jack lifted his forefinger and shook his head. ‘Too windy right now, but you never know, she might settle.’
And so she sank a couple of beers with Jack and Lou on the pink roof of the motel.
They sat there most nights, they said. They went south in Jack’s RV for the winter if it got too cold to sit out. They didn’t talk of anything much and the short bursts of conversation were punctuated by long comfortable silences. If they noticed her accent then they didn’t say anything. They just accepted her.
It was going to be hard living here and working here. Not quite the California dream that she had envisaged. A different kind of challenge. She had always thought she was quite a competitive person but the cut-throat atmosphere of CMG left her breathless and gasping for some kind of comfort. For the first time in a long while she wished she had someone to come home to. Not a flatmate or a roof-top stranger but a lover who would soothe her worries without having to be asked and curl up with her in the warmth of a shared bed to take her mind off her anxieties for a while. She couldn’t stand the thought of going back downstairs to her empty room. She would sit here and watch the stars until she could face it or until she saw Superman streak across the sky. Because Lynsey had high standards and only Superman would do.
Lynsey went to bed a couple of hours later thinking how nice the neighbours were and how tomorrow she would try to be more serious.
15
‘What’s the best word in the English language?’
‘I don’t know, Riley. Halibut?’
‘What?’
‘It has a certain ring to it, don’t you think?’
‘You need help, Lynsey, that’s what I think. No, the best word in the English language is “exclusive”. Exclusive club, exclusive resort, exclusive clientele; and a front-page exclusive on our little blonde friend.’
‘Serena?’
‘Yep, check it out. Hunter Philip’s wild ways strike again. It looks great. My phone’s going crazy. They all want to know who she is.’
‘Exclusive’s a horrible word,’ said Lynsey. ‘It stands for privilege and segregation.’
‘So you wouldn’t be interested in a ticket for a very exclusive rock concert tonight?’
‘What time and where?’ she said.
Serena was running in the park when she saw a woman reading a magazine and looking at her picture. She stopped immediately.
‘Hi.’
The woman looked up, and then back down at the magazine, making the connection and feeling momentarily confused.
Serena took advantage. ‘Can I have a look at that?’
Wordlessly the woman handed over the magazine. Serena turned round and carried on running.
Back at the hostel she looked over the pages and there she was. Famous. Funny, she thought it would feel more satisfying. It was so easy that it was almost a disappointment. Good picture, fantastic really given that she didn’t know it was being taken. Had she known she may have angled her chin ever so slightly upwards to make a nicer line and stuck out her chest a bit more. But it was good.
She was a bit scared that someone in Wheeler might see this and she’d be kicked back home before she had a chance to capitalize on the exposure. But she’d heard of Junket and knew it was a mainly local magazine that gained its reputation only because most of Hollywood honestly believed that they were at the centre of the known universe. It was inevitable. The attention focused on this small piece of the world was bound to go to their heads. It was forgivable. Hollywood was like an actress who failed to keep her feet on the ground and ended up in rehab looking for her soul. When everyone around you is telling you how fabulous you are how do you know when you’re truly screwed up?
It was Xander’s promo shoot tonight. Perfect timing. She was the girl on the cover of Junket magazine, there would be a few
important people there and she was certain that someone would approach her.
Serena dressed carefully, teaming a wide white belt with one of her cheap dresses, a flounce of yellow polka dots the colour of buttered popcorn, which suited her subtly curvy frame. Her hair was tied back with a piece of yellow ribbon and pinned loosely so that waves fell about her face. Her make-up was barely there save for a flash of scarlet lipstick, which drew the attention to her plump lower lip. A pair of white pumps completed the look. She knew it wasn’t an appropriate outfit for a hard-rock crowd but she had no intention of fading into the background.
When she arrived at the warehouse off Brea where the shoot was taking place she knew she’d made the right choice. Her yellow dress made her stand out like a daffodil in a garden of skinny black reeds. Women in the line sneered as she walked past, but she slowed her walk right down and placed one foot directly in front of the other, giving an overstated sway to her hips. The men came through with their usual reaction and undressed her with their eyes. She took strength from it.
Waiting in line and tugging on the hem of her very short skirt, Lynsey turned around to see what all the fuss was about. She saw Serena waltzing up towards the front of the line and called out to her.
Serena didn’t respond so Lynsey shouted louder. It would be lovely to be able to present Riley with his mystery girl this evening. She liked helping people get what they wanted and, besides, he’d be so grateful he’d be sure to invite her to plenty of other juicy events. Serena must have heard her but still she didn’t respond. Lynsey sacrificed her place in line to run after her.
‘Hi,’ she said. ‘It’s me, Lynsey! From the bus?’ she added when Serena’s smile looked insincere.
‘Oh right, sure,’ said Serena and a genuine grin replaced her fake smile. ‘Hey, how’re you doing?’ She was grateful for a familiar face in the intimidating crowd. She liked the way it made her look connected.
‘Not as well as you. I take it you’ve seen this week’s Junket?’
‘Of course.’
‘Riley, the writer, he’s sort of a friend of mine,’ said Lynsey. ‘He’s been trying to find you.’
‘Well, here I am. I’m not exactly hiding.’
‘What are you doing here?’
‘I know the band,’ said Serena, loving the way that sounded.
Lynsey was impressed.
They continued to walk together to the front of the line. Lynsey tried to ignore the hostile reception this got from the rest of the patient crowd. Serena seemed unconcerned. Maybe Serena thought that lines were a suggestion rather than an order, perhaps queuing really was an English thing.
At the gate Lynsey pulled her VIP pass out from beneath her long-sleeved T-shirt. The security guards dissolved only to reform abruptly in front of Serena. She looked at them helplessly. Her cool poise crumpled in the face of an obstacle and she was embarrassed. Behind her she could see the line starting to smirk and enjoy the show.
‘She’s with me,’ said Lynsey.
‘Where’s her laminate?’
‘Take a look at her, guys, she’s front of camera. Come on, we can’t start without her, they’re waiting for us.’
Serena gave the security guards her most seductive look, the one where she dipped her head ever so slightly so that her eyes were half hidden by long thick lashes and with a smile that looked like a promise. There was just something about her. The security guards let her pass.
Inside it was chaos. The only source of light was the brightly illuminated, and empty, stage, leaving the rest of the huge space in darkness. Men wearing headsets hurried past, deftly stepping over the cables that snaked across the floor in their dozens. Lynsey felt thoroughly insignificant amid the activity. Thrash metal was pumping out of the PA system and she had to shout to make herself heard.
‘Let’s go and find Riley. He’s dying to meet you.’
‘I need to get backstage. Xander invited me.’
‘But he didn’t give you a pass?’
‘I guess I don’t need one.’
Grabbing Serena’s hand and pulling her along Lynsey aimed for a gap in the heavy black curtain that shielded the stage from the usual chaos behind the scenes. They were met by a second set of security guards who stopped them both.
‘You’re not on my list,’ said one of the guards. Six foot two of ex-military muscle. ‘I don’t care if you give her your own laminate, it’s not all-area. You’re not getting any further.’
Serena smiled but the security guard refused to meet her eye.
‘She’s talent,’ said Lynsey.
‘Then she should have a laminate.’
‘For Christ’s sake!’ said Lynsey in her most authoritative voice. ‘Can someone please get me a laminate for this girl? What kind of operation is this?’
‘I might be able to help with that,’ said a voice behind them. ‘Hey, Serena, how you doing?’
It was Xander Mason.
Serena waved and relief crept across her face.
‘She’s with you?’ asked the security guard.
‘This one? Sure,’ said Xander. ‘Why not?’
He looped his arm around her belted waist and the security guard moved aside to let him through. Just as Lynsey was about to follow Xander turned around and waved.
‘She’ll catch up with you later,’ he said.
At that the security guard stepped back into place.
Serena looked around and shrugged. Without a word of gratitude for getting her in through the front doors she walked off with the rock star.
Charming.
Lynsey found a vantage point in the empty warehouse just as the main doors opened and the official Scar fan club surged through, racing for a position in the front row, not caring who they had to push out of the way to get there. This was the small army who would always boast about buying the first album, no matter how many copies of the second were sold. They owned Sear before the rest of the world claimed them. They had noticed the sheer brilliance of the sound before Sony. Perversely, the imminent rise of the band to the top was off-putting to many of their original following. Scar were currently hip, but a number one album would rocket them into a different league where those who called themselves true rock music fans feared to tread. The Mainstream. Lynsey found that strange. She always thought the true fan was the one who was pleased when the rest of the world finally caught on to the allure of their secret passion.
A long bar opened at the far side of the room and did brisk trade. The producers were obviously trying to recreate a realistic gig for the purposes of the video but the heavy equipment and miles of cable made it impossible to forget it was all for show and the band wouldn’t even play live.
She looked around for Riley but couldn’t see him. It didn’t matter. She was capable of having a good time on her own. She decided to stay put and let him look for her instead. In time, he found her.
‘Hey, Disco. Or should we change your name to rock chick?’
‘I don’t think so,’ said Lynsey. ‘But thanks for inviting me, this is crazy.’
‘Isn’t it, though. There’s something about a rock crowd. So committed.’
‘Wanna hear something else crazy?’
‘Always.’
‘She’s here.’
Backstage Serena was enchanted by the energy around her and couldn’t help but be infected by the mood.
‘You should stick around, babe,’ said Xander, casually throwing his arm around her as if they were old friends. ‘I sing on this one.’
Serena watched the preparations with growing amazement. The sight of so many cameras excited her. She smelt an opportunity. By the amount of attention people were paying Xander she could tell he was something special. People approached him with deference and caution and seemed to accept Serena without a word.
They think I’m his girl!
‘The women will go crazy for you,’ she said, deciding that a little flattery was in order. ‘I can’t wait to hear you sing. Are you nervou
s?’
‘Who’d be nervous? Listen to them, we can do no wrong.’
Serena listened to the muffled sounds of the crowd chanting the names of the band and singing some of the tracks in perfect unison. At least Serena assumed it must be their tracks, she had never heard one – something she wasn’t about to admit to Xander. It suited him to have a beautiful girl on his arm. She was beginning to sense that he just didn’t like being alone. She wondered how she could use him to her advantage.
‘I couldn’t wait to see you again,’ she lied. ‘We had a good time, didn’t we?’
‘Yeah, babe, the best.’ He went back to studying the floor plan which had been handed to him by one of the dozens of girls stalking around with clipboards.
‘I wore this dress especially so you can pick me out,’ she said.
‘What do you mean?’
‘When you pull a girl up onto the stage.’
‘This is all choreographed, babe.’
‘They’d love it if you got carried away with the music.’
Xander finally looked up from the floor plan, which he was trying to commit to memory to make sure he got all the right camera angles. He looked her up and down, taking in everything from her long hair that shimmered like white sandy beaches, her smooth skin, rich and honeyed against the shocking neckline of her dress. A narrow waist that flared into luscious hips tapering down to long and perfectly proportioned legs. She looked good enough to eat. A girl like Serena could do wonders for a man’s sex appeal. He was finally getting a chance at lead vocals and his days of slipping into the background pounding out a perfect rhythm on his bass were almost behind him. This shoot was his first opportunity to really shine, to show the rest of the band that with him leading the way they had a better chance of the world domination they craved.
‘Okay.’
‘Really?’ said Serena. She hadn’t truly expected him to go for it.