‘Oh, I know you have,’ he interrupts me.
‘What do you mean?’
‘I can’t believe you’ve done this to me, and so soon after agreeing to be my girlfriend. It’s disgusting.’
‘Charles, what are you talking about?’ I ask, entirely confused now.
‘Are you seriously pretending you have no idea what I’m talking about?’
‘I seriously have no idea what you are talking about,’ I tell him honestly. Why is he shouting at me?
‘Then I suggest you have a look on Facebook and call me back.’ He slams the phone down.
I’m a little taken aback by his aggressive tone, but I do as he says and start up my computer. I haven’t been on Facebook for a few days what with everything that has gone on – what could be so bad? I don’t immediately see anything that might upset him, but then I click on my notifications. I have been tagged in an album called ‘TFTR TOUR’. My heart sinks. Carla and her bloody camera! I get the feeling that big blank gap from Saturday night is about to be filled in. Taking a deep breath, I click on the first photo and flick through. There are a few backstage ones from before the gig and an awful lot of me at the gig looking a bit drunk, and, despite a few unflattering angles, I don’t see anything that would immediately put Charles off. I’m beginning to wonder what the hell his problem is, but as I carry on clicking I finally learn how the night progressed. There are a few of me playing the drinking game – I remember that – and then suddenly, there it is, the moment I took off my skirt, or rather, the moment Luke pulled it off for me. I carry on flicking through the photos and I feel sick. There’s one of me wearing nothing but my underwear and my borrowed hoodie, champagne bottle in one hand and giving the camera the finger with the other. Another of me pouring champagne into Luke’s mouth. Another of me taking off Luke’s wet T-shirt. Another of me sitting on his knee. I’m sure I told Carla that I had a boyfriend, why would she upload these? I know that I’m not really doing anything wrong, but I can see how they might look from Charles’ point of view. I have to call him and explain, so I relocate the pink Post-it and dial his number.
‘Charles Pace.’
‘Charles, the photos are not what they look like.’
‘What else could they be, Nicole? You tell me.’
‘You work in music PR, you must have been on a tour or to a wrap-party?’
‘Never. You may be surprised to hear this, but proper jobs don’t involve getting drunk with bands.’
‘There were at least thirty people in that room, you can tell from the other photos.’
‘Oh, very classy,’ he snaps.
‘Please let me finish.’
He doesn’t say anything and I take this as my cue to carry on.
‘We were just having a laugh, nothing happened. I took my clothes off because Eddie sprayed me with champagne by accident. I’ll admit I was very drunk, but we were celebrating.’ I sigh. I don’t know what I can say to make him believe me. ‘This is just what happens. I wouldn’t cheat on you.’
‘You think getting drunk, taking off your clothes and sitting on some other guy’s knee is just what happens?’
On tour it is.
‘What kind of world do you live in? Seriously. Normal girls don’t behave like that, having their photo taken all over other boys.’
‘Whoa! Hang on a sec,’ I say, suddenly relocating the confidence to stand up for myself. ‘Don’t make out like I’ve done something worse than I actually have. Those guys are my friends and I can sit on them if I like. I will admit that, in those photos, we do look a bit close, but nothing happened. Are there any photos of me cheating on you? No. Because I didn’t. So you can believe me, or—’
‘Nicole, calm down. I believe you. But you have to stop acting like this with other guys. It’s just not acceptable.’
And, just like that, he’s calm again. He’s like the Incredible Sulk. I don’t want to agree with him because I don’t believe that I did anything wrong, but the last thing I want is to fall out with him.
‘You didn’t even tell me you were in London. Why didn’t you tell me that?’
‘It was really last minute, and I knew you had a work thing. I was going to call you last night, but then I fell asleep.’
‘I need to know that I can trust you.’
‘You can trust me.’
‘Promise me that I can trust you?’
‘I promise, Charles.’
‘I like you a lot, Nicole, I’d hate for a bit of silly behaviour to get in the way of what could be something special. I’ve got work to do, but I’ll call you tonight, OK?’
‘Sure. I’m sorry, Charles. Speak soon.’
He puts the phone down.
Bloody hell, I wasn’t expecting this today. I have another flick through the photos. I look so happy in them, the happiest I have looked in a long time. I can see why Charles is upset and I do feel a bit bad now. I guess I would have reacted in the same way if it had been the other way round. I flick back to the photo of me sitting on Luke’s knee and notice that there is a comment from him and one from Carla. Luke’s says: ‘I love this one’ and Carla’s says: ‘Me too! You guys make a great couple’ – shit, I really hope Charles didn’t notice that.
Maybe I do need to sort out my behaviour. I may not remember what it’s like to have a boyfriend, but Charles is probably in the right. I make enough jokes about my world vs. the ‘real world’, but they have never seemed more different. I’m going to have to do everything I can to fit back into the ‘real world’ or I’m going to lose Charles. No more touring and no more after-parties, not until I know how to behave at them without getting overly familiar with the bands. I’ve been hanging out with these people for the whole of my adult life so I suppose their behaviour was bound to rub off on me eventually. I guess I’m going to have to make a big decision: I can carry on having fun and messing around with my silly band boys or I can change my life entirely and try and be more like the kind of girl Charles expects me to be. Decisions, decisions.
Chapter Forty-Three
The Ghost
‘But they don’t have a drummer, and yet I can hear drums in their music,’ Vicky protests. Her voice is way louder than she realises because she’s wearing headphones.
I’m having a bit of trouble reviewing an album so I’ve got everyone in the office having a listen to see what they think of it.
‘Yes, there are drums, but they have a session player record them. It doesn’t matter. What do you think of—’
‘But it doesn’t make any sense,’ Vicky cuts me off mid-sentence. ‘How can they have drums in their music, but not play them?’
‘Who’s your favourite musician?’ I run my hands through my hair and sigh. We’ve been having this conversation for way too long already. At first Emily was acting as the middle-woman, but even she has given up now. And Jake, well he’s just sat behind his computer (on his fence) trying not to laugh.
‘I like Pink.’ She folds her arms and smiles smugly.
‘Of course you do, and do you hear drums in Pink’s music?’
‘Yes.’
‘Right, and is Pink a drummer?’
‘No. She has someone play them for her.’
‘Exactly.’ I nod my head as she processes the thought, any minute now she’s going to crack on to what I’m saying.
‘Yeah, but she’s just a singer. This band play instruments, so why don’t they have a member play the drums?’
Jake cracks up, unable to control his laughter a second longer. ‘Give it up, Nic, it’s impossible.’
Vicky shoots Jake a dirty look and then turns back to me, waiting for an explanation. She thinks she’s got me beat and I can’t help but laugh too because I don’t have an answer for her.
‘This isn’t helping at all.’
‘Play it out loud, maybe if we all listen together...’ Emily suggests, ever the diplomat.
I watch the three of them for a moment. Emily and Vicky messing with the CD player, Jake sat
back watching them and chuckling to himself. It’s good to have things back to normal. It’s only been a few days since the drama with Charles and the Facebook photos, but we’ve talked a lot and I’ve made him some fairly big promises. I think we’re going to be OK, and I’m so pleased because I like him a lot. I spent years without a boyfriend, thinking that I was happier with casual encounters, but the idea of having someone always there for me and always on my side is one that I could really get used to.
We’re all rather enjoying the quiet days at work, the ones we always have just after we put an issue online. Everyone is always in a much better mood and even Vicky has been known to smile and say nice things on these quiet days.
As the album plays – for the fifth time – I ignore the music and chat with the gang.
‘I am so looking forward to tonight!’ I say excitedly. ‘A night out that doesn’t involve bands – I don’t remember the last time that happened. It’s been a bloody long time though.’
‘About that,’ Vicky says, spinning around on her desk chair so that she is facing me, ‘I’m thinking maybe we should give it a miss. Do something else.’
‘Do something else!’ I echo. ‘Like what? I’ve been looking forward to this for ages!’
Tonight is Halloween and to celebrate we are going to a foam party. I have my outfit ready and waiting for me at home. Rather originally, I have opted for a whorey devil costume which, if I am being honest, is just my own red clothes with a clip-on tail and horns. I love Halloween and I love foam parties, so I’m not too impressed with Vicky’s sudden change of heart. If she doesn’t like it, she can always stay at home.
‘The foam really irritates my skin!’ she protests, clearly appalled that I had dared to suggest she go near foam.
‘But we planned this ages ago, and you knew about the foam – it’s a foam party!’
‘It’s just not worth it. You really should take better care of your skin, Nicole.’
Looking over at Emily, I give her my best please-deal-with-her face. You can always count on your best friend to side with you in situations like this.
‘Maybe we could do something else,’ Emily suggests.
Or not.
‘What?’ I look over at Jake and, surprise, surprise, he gives me his best I’m-not-getting-involved face.
‘We could watch scary DVDs at my place.’ There is a look of desperation in Emily’s eyes as she says this, like she is willing me to agree. I am fighting a losing battle here because if Vicky doesn’t want to go, then Vicky won’t go, and Emily won’t go if her new roommate doesn’t want to.
‘Yeah, fine,’ I mutter, walking into my office and slamming the door behind me.
It is 6 p.m. and I’m still at work. Emily and Vicky have gone home and Jake has gone to his place to get changed. I am here all alone finishing off this damn album review. To be honest, I don’t have to do it right now but I’m a bit pissed off and I don’t want to go over to Emily’s just yet. I just can’t face a whole night of Vicky.
So here I am, pretending to write a review. I don’t know if it’s because it is Halloween or because I am here alone, but I feel really freaked out. It’s dark out, nature’s little reminder that winter is nearly here, and the lights in the main office are dimmed so I think I’ll stay here in my office until Jake comes back to pick me up. I am cursing myself for telling him it would be at least 7 p.m. before I would be finished, but it seemed like a great idea at the time when I just wanted everyone to piss off.
The office has never seemed so creepy and I actually find myself fully opening the blinds and looking out of my window, just to see people. This settles my nerves for a few minutes before I start feeling vulnerable again – in my well-lit office anyone in the dark street, or the dark rooms in the office across the road, could be watching me... Oh God! I swiftly fiddle with the cord that closes the blinds, letting out a bit of a whimper – pathetic.
Sitting back down in my desk chair, I let out a sigh. It’s no use, I’m going to have to call Jake and get him to come for me now because I’ll drive myself crazy sitting here. I grab my mobile and begin to search for Jake’s name when I hear a loud clatter in the main office. My eyes dart up from my phone and focus on the door. I stay absolutely still and listen to the silence for a few seconds – did I imagine that? I really do know how to freak myself out. I am snapped from my reassuring thoughts by a second loud noise and it is definitely coming from the office. Panic sets in. I can’t just sit here and wait for it to come and get me. What am I thinking? It’s not an it, it’s a person. Was my first thought really that it might be a ghost? No, it’s a person, and I’m going to go out there and defend myself. I am far too cool to die like this! Just imagine what people would say: ‘Oh, she died working late.’ Oh no, if I’m going down, I’m going down fighting.
I laugh to myself (very quietly, of course) at the idea of me going out there to face whoever it is, because I am the girl who once spent a night at Emily’s house just because there was a moth in my bathroom – a big, hairy moth with designs on flying into my mouth, I’m sure of it.
Another clatter. Right, that’s it. I grab something from my desk to arm myself with and walk slowly towards the door, gently placing my free hand on the door handle. I look at my weapon of choice – a can of hairspray. What the fuck am I going to do with that? Spray the person to death? Glancing back at my desk, I spy a heavy-duty hole-punch (I’m not even sure why we have a hole-punch because I don’t think we’ve ever used it), why didn’t I grab that? I’ve come too far to go back for it now though.
I can definitely hear someone moving around and they sound much closer to the door now. Flinging open my office door with such force I almost rip the handle off, I charge through with my hairspray in one hand, frantically searching for the light switch with the other. Seeing the dark, shadowy figure of a man walking towards me, I close my eyes and scream as I fumble for the switch. Finally clicking it on, I open my eyes and prepare to spray my opponent.
‘Whoa! Whoa! Don’t spray me!’ he cries out, shielding his eyes.
They say that most victims know their attacker, well I certainly know mine – although I’m not entirely sure he’s here to attack me.
‘Is that pepper spray?’ he asks with a relieved yet still slightly cautious look on his face, walking towards me but still holding his hands up in the air.
‘Extra-hold.’ I hold up the hairspray can for him to see and we both laugh before hugging one another.
‘Dylan, what are you doing here?’
His smile drops as I ask this. I sit down on the sofa, ready to listen.
‘It’s just everything,’ he says as he sits next to me. ‘I’m sick of everything. Married life is shit, people tell you it’s going to be shit and you think they’re just having you on, but it’s shit, Nicole. A huge pile of shit.’
As he drops his head into his hands, I place a comforting arm around him.
‘And do you know what the worst part is?’ he asks. ‘You tried to tell me this was a dick thing to do, and I didn’t listen. I was so caught up in doing the right thing.’
He says the ‘the right thing’ in a silly voice.
‘No one can tell you what the right thing is, Dill.’ I rub his shoulder sympathetically.
‘I spoke to Charles today, he told me about you two.’
‘I was hoping to tell you myself, but you haven’t been answering my calls.’
‘It’s her.’
Oh, I know it’s her all right. I’m just hoping it’s her hormones that are making her a total bitch.
Standing up, Dylan puts his hands behind his head and stares at the ceiling, exhaling loudly.
‘I don’t want this, Nic. I don’t want any of it. I don’t want her, I don’t want kids. How did I get into this mess?’
‘Look, calm down. It might seem bad now, but once the babies are born—’
‘No!’ he cuts me off. ‘This isn’t me, and you know it. You know it, Nicole.’
‘Have
you been drinking?’ I ask.
‘No.’
‘Would you like one?’ I rummage around in the little office fridge, trying to find something to mix with the vodka that I keep in my office – for emergencies, and this is most definitely an emergency.
‘There we are.’ I push the glass into his hand and he takes a big drink without giving the contents a second glance.
‘What’s this crap in my vodka?’ he asks, his face scrunched-up in disgust.
‘It’s orange juice,’ I tell him with a giggle. ‘It’s a fruit.’
‘Give me the bottle.’ He knocks back the rest of his drink reluctantly and pours himself a large vodka.
‘What are you doing in Leeds?’ I ask, cutting to the chase.
‘I ran away.’ He laughs like a maniac.
‘You ran away? How old are you again?’
‘I couldn’t take another second of her, Nic.’
‘You mean your wife?’
‘Don’t rub it in, please.’ He pours himself another drink, and tops up what I have left with even more vodka. I sip it politely, but it’s strong enough to remove my nail polish.
‘I was supposed to be going out tonight. Mikey was throwing a big Halloween party, but Crystal said she couldn’t go, so I couldn’t go.’
‘Well it is Halloween, she probably has to work. Actually, she’s on maternity leave, isn’t she?’
‘Oi, that’s my wife you’re talking about,’ he laughs. ‘Anyway, what are you still doing at work, loser?’
‘My plans were ruined too. I’m going over to Emily’s to watch scary movies, probably nothing scarier than Hocus Pocus. Want to come?’ Imagine Vicky’s face if I turn up with Dylan, a proper celebrity.
‘You make it sound so appealing,’ he says sarcastically, ‘but I think I’ll pass, not really my scene.’
‘Well let’s go to the party I was supposed to go to then,’ I suggest, because that is definitely his scene and it’s mine too.
‘Can you imagine the headlines if I am papped on a night out in Leeds with another girl, while my cow of a wife is stuck at home, pregnant and alone? Man, I wanna quit the business so bad right now.’
How Not to Be Starstruck Page 19