The two big men walk me right outside the door.
‘This one isn’t allowed back in,’ one of them tells a third big bloke who is guarding the entrance.
I straighten up my dress. ‘I don’t want to come back in...but can I have my handbag please? It’s in the dressing room.’
‘I’ll send out a form, list the items you have left in the building and your address. We’ll send them on,’ one of the original big blokes tells me before heading back inside.
‘But my purse and my phone are in that bag! Please?’ I beg, but I am ignored.
If I’m being honest with myself, that probably could have gone better. I’m glad I stood my ground though. If that old bitch thinks she can call me a gold-digger on national TV...It’s hard enough being labelled a home-wrecker, I don’t need to give people another reason to hate me.
I plonk myself down on a bench. It’s only then I realise how blooding freezing it is, and that my coat is still inside. I try and imagine how things could possibly be any worse and, to be honest, I can’t. If my mum were here, she’d probably tell me that at least I had my health, and that there were people far worse off than me in the world – although I suppose after I walk across London in the freezing cold my health will take a hit too.
I put my head in my hands and try my hardest not to cry – if only because my tears will freeze on my face.
‘Nicole,’ I hear a female voice call out. Looking up, I see Kelly Parker with my bag and coat in her hands.
I’m speechless.
‘Here.’ She hands me my things, and I quickly slip my coat on. ‘I went to the dressing room to see you and they told me you’d been escorted straight out. I grabbed these for you, figured you’d need them,’ she says with a friendly smile.
‘I don’t know what to say. Thank you.’
‘No, thank you. Everything you said about that show was right. I only went on because I’ve got an album to promote, but I would have sat there and listened to her crap about affairs. You stood up to her, that’s pretty cool.’
My life is so weird, I wish I was keeping a diary. Dear Diary, today I swore on daytime TV, and then pop princess Kelly Parker told me I was pretty cool.
‘Well people already think I’m a home-wrecking bitch, it’s not like my reputation can get any worse,’ I laugh, but I know it’s true.
‘Not that it makes any difference, but I believe you. And I’m sure others out there do too.’
‘Really?’ I’m gobsmacked. Someone believes me, and that someone just happens to be a superstar.
‘Yes. Look, I have to go, but let’s swap numbers. Are you in London for a while?’
‘Indefinitely,’ I reply.
‘Wicked, well we’ll meet up. Go for coffee or something.’
‘Great,’ I say coolly. I never thought I’d be playing hard to get with a woman, but this is Kelly Parker! I so want to be her friend!
We swap numbers and she disappears back inside the studio. As I take my phone out to punch in her number – should I lose the piece of paper with it written on which, let’s be honest, is highly likely – I see that I have sixteen missed calls from Frank. Another call comes through as I attempt to add a new contact, and I accept the call straight away by mistake. It’s Frank again.
‘Nicole, where are you?’ he asks, without as much as a hello.
‘Outside the studio.’
‘Turn left, and walk down the road. There’s a coffee shop, I’ll meet you there. I’m on my way now.’ He hangs up.
Oh dear. I think I might be in some sort of trouble.
Chapter Sixty-One
The Result
I took the liberty of ordering Frank a drink. That’s the sign of a true bad girl, the instinct to try and sweeten the person you are in trouble with. When I was at school, my parents always knew when I had done something wrong because it was the only time I was helpful without being prompted. Like that time when I was eleven and old Mrs Atkins from down the road told me off for playing outside her house...so I called her a bastard, which was probably the worst word I knew at the time. My parents knew something was up the second they saw me doing the dishes. Of course, they would have found out anyway because Mrs Atkins came over to tell them – a conversation that was particularly hilarious to listen in on, I have to admit. Do you think maybe I swear too much?
Frank walks in and scans the room for me. He’s got a concerned look on his face. He spots me and hurries over to the table.
‘Have you spoken to anyone yet?’ he asks.
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean, have you spoken to anyone yet?’ he repeats the questions. ‘Since the interview.’
‘Only Kelly Parker, she came out to see me, said thank you for standing up for her. We’re going to meet up,’ I tell him excitedly, but my smile quickly fades as I remember I’m in bother.
‘You befriended Kelly Parker?’ he asks. I wish he just get on with bollocking me so I can go somewhere and cry.
‘Sort of.’
‘Nicole Wilde, you’re pure gold.’ He rubs his hands together and a huge grin spreads across his face.
‘Erm, what?’ Now I really am confused.
‘First of all, you have a go at a TV legend, and if we’re being honest you only said to her what thousands of others wanted to, you swear – you can’t buy the kind of publicity we’ll get from this. Oh, and the best bit, the icing on the cake, you make friends with Kelly Parker. The nation’s sweetheart. We all know how she feels about cheaters, so if you’re OK with her, you can’t be that bad. This is going to show you in a very good light, Nicole. Well done.’
Did I just get praised for swearing and cheeking my elders? I’ve come a long way since I was eleven. This is possibly the greatest day of my life.
‘Are you up for doing more interviews?’ he asks. Not only can I not really think of a reason to say no, but if people are coming around to the truth then I’ve got to stick with the plan. What choice do I have?
Chapter Sixty-Two
The Awkward Encounter
So, it’s official – I am a Z-list celebrity. After my little flip-out on national TV, I appear to have divided the nation – well, the nation of people who give a shit. It’s not exactly fifty-fifty, but there are people on my side now. The Scoop is still running crap about me, and they’ve managed to take a couple of the things I’ve said out of context and made up stories to go with them, but I expect no less of those bastards. I’ve spent the past week doing interviews, which is the strangest thing in the world. In all my years of being the one who asks the questions, I’m finally getting a taste of what it’s like for the other person. My verdict? It can be quite fun if the person likes me, or is on my side at least. Goss, one of the weekly showbiz mags, has started a little campaign on my behalf which is really nice of them – but when I get someone who has decided I am guilty before they have even walked into the room, then I know it’s going to be a bumpy ride. I’m toughening up, though. I don’t go to the toilets and cry half as much as I used to.
It’s amazing how quickly you can take to being a ‘celebrity’. For starters, being paid while someone takes up a tiny bit of my time to talk to me is probably the best thing to ever happen to me. Oh, and who knew photo shoots were so much fun? One magazine had me dressed up like Shania Twain, surrounded by half-naked musicians, ‘Man! I Feel Like a Woman’-style.
Frank is working really hard to get me some good press. He’s a top man, although he is getting his cut. Luke is doing much better, too. Luckily his ribs weren’t too badly broken and they are healing nice and quickly. He’s moving around like normal, although he’s been advised to take time off from performing. Apart from a few TV appearances, he isn’t missing out on much work so he’s taking the opportunity to rest before the big European tour next year.
Tonight we’re actually going to an event together – a big, fancy music award ceremony. They’re actually going to let me walk down the red carpet. I’m under no illusions, I know I’m
not really a celebrity, but a girl could get a big head over the treatment I received today.
I’ve been given a proper make-over and a dress that I really don’t deserve to wear, and the Two For The Road boys are all suited and booted too. Poor Eddie is still in plaster, but there’s no chance of it getting him down. He is absolutely loving the attention, and his cast looks amazing – he’s had some famous tattoo artist doodle all over it. Apparently he’s a pretty big deal in the tattoo world, or so the guy told me. As soon as he realised I wasn’t impressed by ink, he soon got bored of talking to me.
It’s been nice spending the day with the guys. We all shared a car to the ceremony, and on the way there I told them all about what’s been happening to me. Either they’re really good actors, or they all believed me when I told them it was all lies. It’s nice to have people just believe me without any extra effort on my part.
Finally pulling up outside the venue, Frank talks us all through the procedure. This is as new to the band as it is to me. In a way, it feels quite nice that I have Luke to share this with, if only because I can follow his lead. Frank must have realised I’d be scared, so we’re all going to stick together, even for the photos.
‘Luke, I’m bricking it,’ I whisper into his ear, proving that it doesn’t matter how pretty and expensive the dress is, there’s no hiding a foul-mouthed Yorkshire girl.
He offers me his arm to link up with. ‘Just hold onto me and you’ll be fine. Don’t let go, smile at the cameras, we’ll be inside in a matter of minutes.’
I take one last deep breath and we begin our journey along the red carpet. Before we even reach the photographers, the flashes make me feel dizzy. The band stop to sign a few autographs, but I keep hold of Luke’s arm rather tightly. Somehow he still manages to sign things and pose for photos. I’m used to seeing girls all over him, but this is insane. I usually only ever experience this kind of hysteria when I’m with Dylan; the girls (and quite a lot of the guys) go crazy for him.
As we approach the photographers, we pause while they finish up snapping photos of whoever is in front of them. It’s only as we’re standing still, waiting for our turn, that I realise they’re taking photos of Dylan and Crystal. How stupid of me not to consider that they might be here – Frank must have realised, then again, he was probably counting on it.
Willing them to hurry up and go, I grip Luke’s arm a little too tightly. Realising something is wrong, he only has to follow my trail of sight to work out what’s bothering me. Crystal looks tacky as ever, she’s dressed like a Barbie doll and is about the same size as one – probably just as plastic too. I can tell she’s had new hair extensions put in – they’re not bad, but I can tell. That’s the thing about having long hair that is real, you learn to spot the fakes a mile away – or about fifteen feet away in this case.
Dylan looks over in our direction, maybe he’s just seeing who is next or maybe he can feel my eyes burning into him. It isn’t long before Crystal catches sight of me too. The filthy look she shoots me is enough to alert the photographers to something, and one by one they turn to face me. They instantly start snapping photos of me and shouting my name to try and get my attention. Dylan and Crystal disappear and, sensing drama, Frank ushers me away from Luke and the guys, hurrying me into the building. As he does this, I hear a few of the photographers shouting horrible things at me to try and get a reaction, or my attention at least, but I don’t look back.
‘You knew they would be here,’ I say to Frank once we are safely inside.
‘You didn’t?’ he replies. ‘These are music awards and he’s one of the biggest musicians in the country.’
If I knew where the toilets were, I would go and cry in them. Instead, I wait for Luke so that I can latch back onto him and I’m not letting go until we are back in his flat.
‘Nicole?’ a friendly female voice calls out. ‘I thought that was you.’
As Kelly Parker greets me with a big hug, I catch site of Frank over her shoulder, rubbing his hands together, pound signs rolling around in his eyes.
‘I’ve been meaning to call you, I’ve just been so busy,’ she says sincerely – I think. ‘You’ve been busy too I see.’
‘She has,’ Frank interrupts. ‘You could be too if you sign with me.’
Kelly ignores him.
‘Nicole, are you all right?’ she asks, obviously realising I haven’t spoken a word yet.
‘Dylan was outside with Crystal, it was weird. She looked at me like she wanted to kill me.’
‘Babes, I’ve seen her in magazines, that’s her day-to-day face.’ She laughs briefly, then she looks at Frank and her expression changes to a serious one. ‘Could you give us a moment?’
Frank obliges.
‘Do you want to sit with me? Let’s kick up a fuss,’ she suggests, and I feel tears rolls down my cheeks. It means a lot to me to have her believe that I didn’t do anything wrong, especially after all she’s been through.
‘Don’t cry.’ She takes a tissue from her tiny clutch and dabs my face in a way that doesn’t affect my make-up.
‘I’ll be fine. Don’t worry, you don’t have to babysit me.’ I smile, truly grateful for the offer. ‘I’m here with some friends, I’m just waiting for them to come in.’
‘Two For The Road?’ she asks. ‘I’ve read about you and that Luke guy, are you two, y’know...?’
‘We’re just friends.’ I smile. I’ve missed having a female friend to chat like this with.
‘As long as you’re sure you’re OK, I’m going to go inside. We will absolutely meet up in the next couple of days, promise me?’
‘I promise,’ I say, although I’m not sure what Frank has lined up for me.
She hugs me again as Luke and Eddie walk over, or limp over in Eddie’s case.
‘Are you OK?’ Luke asks me, not even looking at Kelly. I nod.
‘Kelly Parker, I’m a huge fan.’ Eddie takes her hand and kisses it. I think he was trying to be charming, but he’s coming across a little creepy, bless him.
‘Thank you. So did you win some kind of competition to come back here?’ she asks slowly and, without waiting for an answer, she hugs me again before wandering off.
‘Was she joking?’ Eddie asks me, and I know that she was but I don’t tell him that. Instead I shrug my shoulders, grab Luke’s arm and head over to where Frank has been waiting.
‘I’ve just checked the seating plan, you’re on the table next to Dylan. Don’t worry, they’re big tables. You probably wouldn’t have , but I thought I’d best tell you,’ Frank warns me, although I suspect this isn’t much of a surprise to him either. I think he wants drama and headlines for me, when all I want is an easy life. The shine is wearing off being a celebrity pretty quickly. I knew there were downsides, but I didn’t realise they would overpower the positives. Hopefully Frank is right, and I won’t notice the happy couple sitting near me.
Chapter Sixty-Three
The Foursome
Frank is a massive liar. I’m practically back-to-back with Crystal, and the same goes for Luke and Dylan. When we went to sit down, I noticed Luke look at Dylan, and there was such hate in his eyes. He’d always joked about wanting to be mates with him – I’ll bet it’s because of me that he doesn’t want to any more.
We’ve been sat here for an hour or so, and despite their public displays of affection, and Crystal purposefully saying things loud enough for me to hear, I am pretty much pretending my best friend and his horrible wife are not there.
‘And now for the Female Artist of the Year award,’ announces the host, who I vaguely recognise as being someone from some TV show.
As the video with the nominations plays, I feel a tap on my shoulder. It’s Dylan.
‘Where’s your wife?’ I whisper.
‘Toilet. I’m sorry about this, I didn’t know you’d be here.’
‘Whatever.’ I turn back around, but he grabs my shoulder. Not hard, but Luke is there quick as a flash to remove it.
�
��I don’t want any trouble, mate. I just want to talk to her before Crystal gets back.’ He sounds panicky, like maybe he thinks Luke might hit him or something.
‘What could you possibly have to say to me that you can’t say in front of your wife?’ I ask. ‘Unless you wanted to apologise for lying to the press about us having sex when we didn’t.’
‘I’m sorry about that, Nic—’
‘You piece of shit,’ Luke cuts him off. ‘I didn’t doubt for one second that she was telling me the truth, but hearing you say it out loud now just makes me want to smack you even more.’
Dylan looks at me, and I’m sure I can see tears in his eyes. ‘I just wanted to see my kids, Nic.’ He spies Crystal making her way back through the tables and quickly turns around.
I squeeze Luke’s hand. ‘Thanks for sticking up for me.’
He smiles, and we turn our attention back to the host.
‘And the winner of Female Artist of the Year goes to...’ she pauses for dramatic effect. ‘Kelly Parker.’
Oh my God, Kelly won! This time last week I wouldn’t have cared as much, but now she’s my friend and I’m so proud of her. She looks absolutely beautiful as she makes her way to the stage. Her dress puts mine to shame.
‘Wow, this is such an honour, thank you.’ She kisses the trophy triumphantly, and then goes on to thank all the people who helped to make it possible.
‘I’ve had a pretty horrible year,’ she says, and everyone in the room knows that she is talking about her cheating fiancé. ‘But I want to put that all behind me and just get on with making music. I’d also like to dedicate this award to my friend, Nicole Wilde, who is in the audience. I know how harsh the press can be – I had to have my heart broken before they decided to like me – and I know that once this mess is cleared up you’ll all like Nicole as much as I do. Thank you.’ She holds her trophy high before leaving the stage.
Before the events of the past couple of months I wouldn’t have said I was much of a crier, but that speech went straight to my tear ducts.
How Not to Be Starstruck Page 27