by Sue Watson
“Oh, it sounds great,” I enthused, trying hard to tap my foot in time with the music and rub his back at the same time.
“I’m glad you like it, Tanya. It means such a lot to me.”
My heart melted. “I’m glad, Nathan. How could anyone not love your music?” I looked up to see Astrid passing to go into the kitchen.
“It’s big shite,” she mouthed. I averted my eyes.
He leaned back, his long legs stretched out, his whole body relaxed, losing himself to the music. I studied him, drinking him in, wanting to kiss every part of him starting with his face, which was beautiful and unshaven. I leaned in and kissed his prickly cheek, inhaling the warm, manly smell of aftershave and sweat. I reached up running my hand through his squiggly fair hair, staring into those blue eyes and feeling like a very lucky lady.
“Yeah...I’m pleased with it. It’s even better than the track I laid down last week.”
“Oh definitely,” I nodded, not able to tell the difference.
“It’s the new kit. I got a new Mesa rectifier head and a better guitar amp.”
“Oh. That sounds good. Really makes a difference,” I gently nodded my head to the music and all I could think was, ‘what is it and how much did it cost?’
He smiled, staring ahead, tapping his fingers on his thigh. “The sound quality is just amazing.”
“Yeah. Did you buy it... at the usual place?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you... Er, did you use the credit card?”
“Yes, is that a problem? I didn’t think you’d mind. You know I’ll pay you back.”
“Yes, of course. No, I don’t mind ...it’s just that I’m not sure how much credit is left on it...”
“Oh there you go again!” he said, sitting up and pushing my hand away. “Money, money, money. It doesn’t matter that a few quid here and there turns my music into something special, something moving and ground breaking. All you’re bothered about is ‘How much, Nathan?’ He said this last bit in a whiney voice; I suppose he was mimicking me, which stung. I felt my chin tremble.
“Nathan, please don’t take it the wrong way. I’m so pleased you’re happy and it’s just a fabulous sound. I just worry about money sometimes, that’s all. Stupid I know, because it’s the music that matters.”
“Yes, it is. Now come here,” he said, his voice suddenly husky with lust as he leaned towards me, pushing his hand under my skirt. We began kissing and within 40 seconds his shirt was off and I was burying my head in his furry chest, licking the salty skin, longing for him to take me there and then.
“If this... is going... to continue,” he whispered; “I will need to go to the bathroom first.” I smiled and emerged from his chest and he clambered up to go to the bathroom.
“Don’t go anywhere,” he joked, pointing at me as he left the room.
I sat back, feeling relaxed and happy and on hearing the toilet flush, I arranged myself on the sofa in a more flattering pose for his return. The bathroom door closed and I waited, hearing his eager feet almost running up the hall to me. I sucked my stomach in and lay back slightly so my face would defy gravity – or look like it had.
“Have you seen this?” he yelled.
I gasped.
He was standing in the doorway brandishing the copy of Hello! I’d hidden in the toilet.
His face was white with anger and shock. “I don’t believe it, Tanya,” he opened the magazine at a random page. “Have you seen what they’ve written? It’s all bullshit, you’re gonna have to get lawyers involved this time.”
I sat up, my stomach twisting. “Nathan, I know it’s not what we expected.” I said, looking up at him. “But...it’s not really their fault.”
He looked at me, open-mouthed.
“What the hell do you mean, it’s not really their fault? Whose fault is it, then?”
My heart was hammering in my chest. I took a deep breath. “Nathan, I did actually say some of those things.” I blurted. “Well, all of them. I didn’t actually say that we were engaged – but I did tell them my plans for our wedding. One day,” I offered, hopefully.
“Our wedding? You told them we are getting married? I am fucking speechless, Tanya. I can’t believe this!” he shouted.
“Nathan, I’m so sorry,” I said, trying not to cry. “It wasn’t fair of me to say all that without talking to you first – but it’s what I want most in the world, and once I started, I couldn’t stop.”
“Yeah, I can see that! You even told them you’ve been going for dress fittings with bloody Vera Wang, whoever she is!”
I burst into tears and looked away from him, staring resolutely at the floor.
“Tanya, is that true too?” he asked incredulously. “Tell me it isn’t. Have you been going for bloody fantasy wedding-dress fittings, like some demented spinster?”
“The... the dress is in the wardrobe in one of the spare rooms Nathan...” I choked. “I met Vera at a party, and one thing led to another... It’s beautiful Nathan. If you saw it, you might just...”
He was shaking his head and pacing the room.
“Might just what? Propose? What’s the point? The world already thinks we are engaged, thanks to this!” he said. “I have no say in my own life any more – I’m just your accessory. You don’t need a groom, you just need a ‘yes’ man!” he yelled and hurled the magazine at the sofa.
“You’re too much, Tanya.” He went on. “You rule my life, you’re so controlling about money ... and now this. I can’t take it anymore. I won’t.” he looked up, spittle on his chin from the shouting.
“Nathan, no. Please don’t say that. I don’t want to control you, I’ll call Hello! and tell them it was all a big mistake...I love you.”
But it was too late. Nathan was walking out of the front door. And slamming it.
How could we go from candles and kisses to door-slamming so quickly? Why did being in love have to be so fucking hard? I fell from the sofa, crumpling down onto the floor, huge sobs heaving in my chest, my heart in pieces around me. I sobbed and banged my fists on the floor until I heard Astrid’s voice and looked up to see her standing over me, holding two steaming cups.
“Tanya, you will drink lingonberry tea and stop the floor-banging. We will watch the Embarrassed Bodies on Channel 4 – don’t cry for Nathan, he is shit-head.” She sat down and pointed the remote control at the TV with great precision and a very serious face.
I wiped my eyes and joined her on the sofa, as Dr Christian welcomed another patient into the Embarrassing Bodies clinic.
“Now Nathan has gone – you lucky lady – you are free to marry Doctor Christian Embarrassed Body man,” she said, gasping with admiration as Dr Christian opened a patient’s bottom cheeks to reveal a large, protruding cluster of pus-filled boils.
Once Astrid had gone to bed, I sat up waiting in vain for Nathan to return home to me. I tried his mobile, texted him and left messages apologising, asking him to call me and let me know he was OK, but nothing.
By 11.37pm, I realised there was nothing I could do and I had a show in the morning. I was already two hours and 37 minutes late for sleep so I reluctantly went upstairs, not before taking one last look out of the windows and checking my phone for a message. Climbing into the shower, I spotted my naked body in the mirror, a horrifying glimpse of orange-peel skin and rice-pudding thighs, which depressed me even further.
When I’d asked Donna about ‘Lipo Len’, she’d said he offered his celebrity clients the utmost discretion and so as to avoid a pap-fest outside his clinic, he liked to keep visits down to a minimum. Therefore, in the first instance, to save a visit and any press intrusion regarding my thighs, I had to email a close-up shot of my cellulite directly to him so he could ‘evaluate’ my ‘persistent subcutaneous fat.’ I didn’t have his email address so after a boiling shower and another phone check to see if Nathan had called, I tried Donna, but there was no answer; she was probably asleep – or pissed. I couldn’t wait for her to wake up or sober up, t
his was now an emergency, so I did the only thing I could do and called the divine Georgina for help.
“No problem, Tanya,” she said, sounding as bright and breezy at ten past midnight as she always did. “If you send the photos to my email address, I’ll find Dr Len’s details from somewhere and I’ll make sure he gets the pictures before start of play tomorrow.”
Making a mental note to give Georgina the new Prada Spazzolato Colorblock Bucket Bag I’d just been sent by a PR company, I went to the bathroom, took candid shots of my vile cellulite and tried not to cry over Nathan.
I called Georgina back in less than five minutes; “OK sweetie, I’m sending the pictures over now.”
“Great Tan... Hey, were you ever going to tell me?”
“What about?”
“The wedding? I was checking the social-media sites earlier and I read that Hello! have revealed your wedding plans! I didn’t even realise you were engaged!”
“Oh... yes... well, it’s...”
“Fabulous. That’s what it is. Oh Tanya I’m so happy for you!”
“Thank you, but...”
“So I wrote a short post on your blog.”
“Oh no...”
“Don’t worry, I haven’t give away too much. I just wrote something along the lines of: ‘we’re excited, delighted and in love – watch this space, Tanya and Nathan.’ Oh, yes, and I tweeted some ‘engagement announcements’ on Twitter – hashtag excited.”
“Ah...Great! Goodnight,” I whispered, putting down the phone... hashtag horrified.
TWEET: @TanyaTruth Can’t believe I’m going 2 be a bride! Thnx 4 all your good wishes. Nathan + I r so happy! #Excited #Vera Wang #TheCakeFairy
7
Rising Gizmos and Big Burritos
I woke up the next morning with a space in my bed and a rock in my stomach. I checked my mobile as soon as my eyes opened – Nathan hadn’t called. I pounded out my frustrations with my ritual run, but it just wasn’t doing it for me that morning. Being at work didn’t help either – everyone at the bloody studio was congratulating me about the engagement all morning. I went through my show on autopilot, not even flinching when a vicious fist fight erupted between a gypsy bride and a jealous drag queen. They were fighting over a man and it had all the ingredients; sex, betrayal, outrageous frocks – but it meant nothing to me. Nathan was all I could think of, and how stupid I’d been to fuck it all up.
After the show I fled the studio and shut my dressing room door behind me, leaning on it so no-one would come in. Longing to nurse my bruised heart and check my Blackberry, I turned it on. There were two voicemails. Oh God, I thought, he’s trying to get hold of me and I haven’t responded. Just as I was accessing the voice message, there was a knock on the door.
“Tanya, it’s Judith. Great show…are you OK?”
“Yes... Yes, Judith,” I reluctantly opened the door, leaning on it as I did so, my body barring the way if she should even contemplate coming in.
“Thanks for this morning, Judith. It’s always good to have you in my ear, talking me through. Sorry if I was a little out of it today, I just have a lot on my mind.”
“Oh I’m sorry to hear that, Tanya. I thought you’d be happy ...with the engagement and everything?”
“Well, it’s not quite... I mean Nathan isn’t sure any more about getting married,” I said, with a lump in my throat.
“Oh dear. Well... perhaps it’s a good time to focus on work, then. The...the fourth floor are talking about making changes to the show and it would be good if you’re across them.”
I opened the door. “What?”
“Well, I think some things are changing and we...”
“Come in, Judith,” I ushered her through. What was she trying to tell me? “I’ve always put my career first, Judith. The show’s doing so well, I actually thought that perhaps it was time I put Nathan and my personal life first.” I said with a fixed smile. I wandered over to the sink and began to wash my hands.
Judith smiled at me awkwardly and started twisting her rings round her fingers.
“Yes of course, I understand that Tanya. We should always put our loved ones first. I suppose I just worry about getting older, really, and when the fourth floor start talking about changes it makes me nervous. Do you know what I mean?”
“Judith, Judith, Judith,” I sighed, stopping at the fourth hand wash, taking a seat and gesturing for her to sit on the sofa. She’d obviously come for a Tanya counselling session. Poor old Judith was as paranoid as ever about losing her job. After her last lover left, her self-esteem had hit an all-time low and she was still finding it hard to cope, with all those younger wannabe producers snapping at her heels.
“Now, I want you to stop worrying, Judith. You go home, relax, forget about it for a while and have a bit of ‘Judith time’,” I smiled. I made a mental note to buy her a floral remedy next time I was shopping at Bach: Aspen from their Fear remedy collection might be the answer. I’d read on the website that it promised to ‘help those with an apprehension of some unknown future event.’ It might do something for those split ends too.
She hugged me gratefully and left the dressing room. Still smiling serenely, I picked up my phone again, desperate to hear Nathan’s voice... but just as I was dialling voicemail again, another knock.
“Tanya, are you decent?” It was bloody Ray.
“Come in, Raymondo,” I sighed, placing the phone back on the dressing table.
“Great show today, Tanya. Just thought we could have a bit of a chin-wag... Shoot the breeze, skim a few stones over the water.”
“Absolutely,” I said, gesturing for him to sit. I didn’t relish another encounter with Ray but I’d wanted to talk to him for some time about how we would move the show forward and he was never available. I was a grown-up -not some love-struck teenager – and I tried to be professional, placing thoughts of Nathan firmly to one side for the moment to put my work head on.
He sat down heavily on the sofa.
“Are you happy with the show, Ray?” I asked, waiting for the oily compliments and gushing platitudes about my brilliance.
“Ah yes...We’re getting it right, the recipe is coming together, all those ingredients are turning into a perfect sponge cake every morning.”
“That’s good to hear. And guess what, Ray? I have some ideas to make it even better.” I offered, joining him on the sofa.
“Definitely, definitely – all thoughts welcome on board, Tanya T. But you won’t get better than yesterday’s show... Chantal and her boyfriend: a perfect recipe. And, an example of how a couple of troubled teens who are easy on the eye” he gave a nudge and a wink at this, “can cause the ratings to zoom. The fourth floor are loving young people and sex.”
“I’m sure they are, Ray, but let’s admit it, you didn’t want the mother-in-law from hell, did you? But it was she, the woman over forty, who had them tuning in...”
“Come, come Tanya... Yes, the mother made good telly, I’ll give you that, but Chantal -well, she is a lovely young girl. Such flawless skin, such slender young...”
“Yes Ray, but it’s not just about the guests, is it?” I interrupted, before he got too carried away. “You have said it yourself; it’s Tanya who is the catalyst. Without me wringing all that emotion from them, the show would be nothing.” I reminded him, with a sickly-sweet smile.
“Yes. Yes. Yes. Of course. And our guests are the filling in your big, daytime burrito, Tanya.”
“Look, Ray” I interrupted, before he could take his revolting analogy further and include the guacamole and sour cream. “I think we both know that The Truth with Tanya Travis is a cutting-edge talk show. It’s about feelings, about real people with a story to tell. But we need to commit to our guests and continue to help them when the show’s over.”
“But we have the aftercare team.” Ray shrugged.
“Look, forget aftercare, whoever, whatever and – more pertinently – wherever they are,” I snapped; “we’re in serious danger of t
urning into a freak show that provides merely spectacle – not solutions – and none of us ever wanted that did we Ray?”
He pulled an ‘I’m-not-sure’ face, pulling his mouth down and turning his head on one side.
“Ray, indulge me; I’d like some guests who can actually speak without swearing, people who understand words of more than one syllable. Go on, really spoil me Ray; give me some guests with teeth? I suppose what I’m asking you for is more talk and less low-life sex...”
“Ha... I bet you say that to all the boys,” he said, relieved to find a loophole out of this uncomfortable conversation.
“Judith mentioned the other day that there’s been talk on the fourth floor about show merchandise, mugs and T-shirts and – well, I don’t want to seem ungrateful, or not ‘current’ but moving forward, I was hoping for more... gravitas?” I said.
“Gravitas? Ah...yes, you have that in spades, love. But I’m not sure it translates very well with the 19-to-27-year olds.”
“If you really think mugs or T-shirts with my name or face on them would translate better with the youth then I will have to move with the times I suppose, but I can’t help feeling it’s tacky. And before we know it, the programme will be turned into some heavily merchandised, sleazy sex-circus.”
“Stop right there!” he said, holding up his hand. “Sleazy will not be on the Daytime agenda. Not on my watch, Captain, no sir. Though hearing you say it out loud, I am rather fond of the alliteration... sleazy sex circus has a certain ring to it... Perhaps we could work it up as a late-night format?”
He stopped talking when he saw that I was neither amused nor interested.
“Ray, forget late night sex circus formats – I’d like to develop my Daytime format into something better... more useful.” I tried again. ”We talked once about a book club, didn’t we? An Oprah-style book club.”
The hand was up again, in the stop sign; I was sorely tempted to push it up his bloody nose.
“I have a gizmo, Tanya, in my office, which tells me when the ratings rise. It shows a sharp increase when an interesting item comes up on the TV and gets viewers twitching – and let me tell you, NOTHING is twitching OR rising at the mention of ‘Book Club.’ Throw in a pretty young girl, a rough, hunky guy and get them talking about their sexual problems, sexual proclivities, sexual diseases, sexual...”