by Daniel Grant
The evening progresses steadily. If I’m honest, I think we feel a little out of place amongst the great and the good of the City. When Keely comes back from buying a round of drinks, she looks like she’s just witnessed a war crime.
‘You okay?’ Rachel asks.
‘Yeah, yeah. It’s quite expensive here, isn’t it?’ she says, a poor attempt at keeping her tone light.
‘Is it?’ Parker says.
‘Yes it is. You’ll see,’ I say, smiling. I need a piss and I can’t hold it any longer. I stand and squeeze past Rachel who barely makes an effort to let me past. She’s off my Christmas list. I wander back to the bar and look for the familiar, internationally recognised male and female symbols. I spot them and head in that direction, pushing through the throngs of people. Christ, you can barely breathe it’s so packed. I stop suddenly because ahead is someone who looks exactly like Lauren. It’s difficult to see and bloody people keep walking in front of me. I frown. No, it can’t be. I carry on, pushing past another person. No, it’s not her…phew, that would have been so weird. As I get closer however, the girl who looks like Lauren starts kissing the guy she’s sitting next to. I swallow. It can’t be her. No, it isn’t her, her hair is shorter.
I continue to watch these two strangers with fascination as they go at it, full pelt. The guy isn’t wearing a suit, in fact he looks quite dishevelled. They are all over each other, she kisses him and runs her hands over his back. I see him move a hand over her breast as I catch a momentary glimpse of his tongue in her mouth. Her eyes open and I suddenly get a full view of her face. It…is Lauren. She looks different, her hair and makeup…but it is her. Oh my God. Her skirt is pulled up and although they sit in a relatively secluded spot, it still seems inappropriate. What am I saying, it’s more than bloody inappropriate. Her eyes roll back into her head, clearly enjoying every second. I want to interject, stop it, stop them from continuing but I can’t move. I’m just so…shocked. She’s supposed to be in New York. Ruling the world. Breaking the glass ceiling. She’s isn’t. She’s here…in London, sucking this guy’s face off. Whoever he is. He runs his hand through her hair and I feel a retch of sick fly up to my mouth. I catch it and swallow. What…the…fuck? Her eyes open again and she stares at him, smiling. But then, suddenly she turns and looks over to where I’m standing. She catches me staring at her. It takes a few moments for her to process who the strange man standing in the middle of the bar is. She jerks away from the guy, a glass smashing on the floor. People glance around at the noise. I stare at her, she frowns, her eyelids heavy. She’s drunk but I see the realisation creep over her face.
‘Ollie?’ her mouth says, frowning. I can’t hear her over the music and people but I recognise my name just from lip-reading. The guy turns to face me and suddenly I recognise him. It’s only Johnny fucking Dougan, the lead singer from the Time Travellers she’d said she used to date. I look from Johnny Dougan back to her, still completely unable to process what I’m seeing before me. Our eyes stare at each other for a moment longer before I turn slowly and walk towards the front door. I hear a raucous behind me as she tries to push Johnny away.
‘Ollie…’ This time I do I hear her behind me. I don’t react as I walk, now in slow motion, towards the exit. Each step feels heavier than the last, I glance over to Parker and Nicola, catching Parker’s eye. He frowns. I get to the door, Lauren’s high heels clip-clopping on the floor behind me. I yank the door open and step outside.
‘Ollie, Ollie wait!’ Lauren shouts. I stop but don’t turn around. I hear her walk up behind me. A deafening silence between us. I glance down at the cracks in the pavement.
‘I…I’m so sorry,’ she says. ‘Please, let’s just…let’s just talk.’ I turn slowly and look at her. I want to swear, to shout, to punch something but shock is the only real emotion I’m feeling. Then clarity finds my mind as everything orders itself.
‘Don’t. Ever, come near me. Again,’ I say, my eyes burning. Her eyes fill up at my words. Her lips start to tremble. I turn and walk towards the tube station.
‘I’m sorry. I’M SORRY! Ollie! OLLIE!’ she screams. I don’t look back, focused on getting as far away from her as possible. All that time. All those moments we shared. I believed it all. How busy she was. The job in New York. My God, I’m so stupid. Of course it would end like this, it’s so obvious. I’m momentarily confused as to why I’m upset. I carry on regardless, I need to get to the tube. The City rings out with the sounds of drunken people and distant pub music.
‘Hey!’ I hear a male voice behind me and shoes hitting the pavement, gaining on me. Parker. I don’t stop. ‘Hey, hey…’ he reaches me, out of breath, and puts his hand on my shoulder. I shove it away. ‘Okay…what just happened? Was that Lauren?’ I turn, face him and nod. ‘What happened? I thought she was in New York.’ I shrug, trying to form the words.
‘Nope. She’s here, kissing Johnny Dougan,’ I say, surprisingly calmly.
‘What?’
‘In the bar, just now. I went to the toilet and I saw her. Right in front of me. Kissing him.’
‘Shit, man.’ I shake my head.
‘All that time…when she said-’
‘Don’t think about it. What a fucking bitch. I’m gonna talk to her, tell her exactly-’
‘Don’t. Just, leave it alone,’ I say. Parker shakes his head and looks back towards the bar. He breathes out and nods.
‘What do you want to do?’ he says.
‘I’m going home.’
‘Then I’m coming with you.’
‘No, it’s fine. It’s Nicola’s birthday.’
‘So? My best mate has just been royally shat on. You are not going home by yourself tonight. Probably find you hanging from the ceiling,’ Parker says, taking out his phone. He dials a number.
‘I wouldn’t do that,’ I say. At least, I don’t think I’d ever kill myself.
‘Uh huh,’ he replies, ‘hi baby, it’s me. Listen something’s happened…Lauren was just in the pub, kissing someone else…’ as he says it, my stomach drops again. The power of hearing those words. ‘Yeah…I’m gonna stay round his, okay…okay. Yeah…’ I barely hear the words, my mind replaying over and over the image of Lauren and Johnny. Fucking Johnny Dougan. She said they were just friends. I hear an ambulance siren in the distance. I find myself hoping it’s for Lauren. No, I don’t mean that. But…how could she? ‘Yeah, okay…bye,’ Parker says. I stare at the pavement again, tears welling in my eyes. It’s too much to try and hide it. Parker puts his arm around me. ‘Come on dude. Let’s get you home.’
I gradually become aware of my surroundings. I’m in my bed, the curtains are pulled. I blink and rub the sleep out of my eyes. I feel drunk. What on earth did I have to drink last night? How did I even get back here? And then the memories fly back to me. Lauren. Johnny. Hands. Hair. Lips. I sigh, pull the covers off and find my dressing gown.
I walk into the kitchen to find the Nescafe jar out and two cups sitting on the worktop. I switch the kettle on and get some milk from the fridge. Parker is at the door, already dressed.
‘Hey,’ he says.
‘Hi,’ I reply.
‘How you feeling?’
‘Like shit,’ I say. He nods.
‘I can do this,’ he says. I let him. He puts two sugars in each cup and pours the water into the mugs followed by a dash of milk. He hands me a mug and I follow him into the living room. We sit down. I look up towards the window.
‘I still can’t believe she did that,’ Parker says. I nod.
‘Yeah.’
‘I mean really. I was thinking about it last night. Who does that? Who plays some massive elaborate game about going to New York and you coming over and long distance Skype bullshit when all the while she’s fucking about with that Johnny arsehole?’
‘I don’t know,’ I say and I mean it. I have no explanations. No answers. After all the shit with Svetla and now this. I’m right back where I started. ‘You know what pisses me off most? Apart from the obvio
us. I let her in. I let her get to me. At the beginning, I really wasn’t that into it, you know? I know she’s gorgeous and everyone stares at her when she walks into a room but I really was pretty indifferent to it all. I just wanted to get over Svetla and she seemed like a good idea.’
‘Yeah,’ Parker replies, nodding slowly. I take a sip of coffee. ‘So maybe you got from her what you needed?’ I frown. ‘You needed to get over Svetla and Lauren was the person to do that.’
‘Yeah but all I’ve done is swap Svetla for Lauren. I haven’t progressed, haven’t evolved. Same shit, different person.’
‘Maybe you just need to take some time to yourself? I dunno, go travelling or something?’
‘Maybe,’ I say. I sigh again.
‘Or you could try and talk to Ashley?’ he says. I glance at him and frown.
‘What for?’
‘I dunno, she was always good at this sort of stuff.’
‘You know what happened between us?’
‘Yeah-’
‘She won’t want to talk to me.’
‘Could try, what harm can it do?’
‘I think I need to stay away from women for a while. Bad for my health.’
‘Amen to that,’ he says. My phone rings from my bedroom. I glance over to Parker. ‘Don’t answer it.’ I stand up. ‘Hey, seriously don’t answer it.’
‘I’m not going to,’ I reply, heading to my bedroom. The phone ring gets louder as I walk into my bedroom. Sure enough the display reads ‘Lauren Calling…’ I wait for it to stop.
‘Is it?’ Parker calls from the other room.
‘Yep,’ I say, walking back into the living room.
‘She leave a message?’
‘Not yet.’ We both wait expectantly for the voicemail notification beep. I glance over to Parker, he shrugs. Hmm. Maybe she didn’t leave one. Even that’s a bit shit. BEEP! It almost makes me jump.
‘You want me to listen to it, give you the edited highlights?’ Parker says.
‘No, cheers.’ I listen to the voicemail. It’s Lauren’s voice but she sounds shaky, nervous, unsure.
‘Hi. It’s me. Look I know you must be…so angry with me. And I know there’s no excuse for what I did…(long pause)…I just, umm…I’ve been having a bit of a shitty week or so and…not that that’s your problem but Johnny was just there and I was weak.’ She clears her throat. ‘Anyway…I just wanted to say please give me a chance to at least explain myself. If, after that, you don’t want anything more to do with me I’ll understand but…yeah. Okay. Take care.’ The click on the other end signifies her ending the message.
‘Well?’ Parker asks. I look over to him and sigh.
‘She says she’s sorry and she was having a hard week.’ Parker snorts at that.
‘Oh right, so it’s a hard week when you find yourself in the wrong city getting it on with the wrong guy. That’s so crap, doesn’t even deserve a response.’
‘Yeah. Unless I’m the wrong guy,’ I reply, still in a trance.
‘Don’t say that, don’t even think it. This is her fuck up. She knows it. None of this is your fault and you’d be a pussy if you start going down that road.’
‘Yeah. I guess,’ I reply.
Parker stays for another hour. We talk, I don’t learn anything new, we just chew over how shit it all is. I appreciate his presence but find myself just wanting to be alone. He gets the hint and tells me to call him if I need anything. I nod and hug him, man style. He slaps my back on the way out.
‘Hey. Be okay dude. Just gotta wait a while. Let time do its thing,’ Parker says. I nod.
‘See ya,’ I say. I watch him walk away. I go to close the door and spot Tristan leaning against the railings watching Parker. He turns to face me. He looks, different. He’s had a shave and his hair is gelled back. There are still multiple holes in his jeans and his leather jacket has seen better days but his whole aura seems changed. He looks like a druggie James Dean. Or am I being too kind with that analogy?
‘Hey,’ I say, nodding to him.
‘Alright,’ he replies, taking a drag from his cigarette. About the first time he hasn’t started the conversation with ‘fuck you.’
‘Have a fight with your girl?’ he asks. I frown.
‘Yeah, how did you-?’
‘I heard high pitched wailing last night, figured it was you.’ I nod, mildly embarrassed. Was I wailing?
‘You going somewhere?’ I say, eager to change the subject.
‘Yeah. Got a job.’
‘You have?’ I ask. He nods and takes another drag from his cigarette.
‘Doing what?’ Maybe he’s a stand in for Danny in Grease.
‘Window cleaning,’ he says. I frown, confused. I feel sure there’s a punchline in here somewhere.
‘Right. So you just…clean people’s windows?’
‘Yep. The boss is a really nice guy as well.’ O…kay.
‘Well that’s…great. I’m really happy for you?’
‘Yeah. Bit of a turn up, someone like me working for a cripple.’
‘What?’
‘My boss. He’s only got one arm,’ Tristan says. I stare at him, trying to work out exactly what this job entails.
‘So if he’s only got one arm, how does he-?’
‘Clean windows? I put the leather in the water, hand it to him, he washes them and hands it back to me. I wring it out and so on.’ And there it is, the punchline.
‘That’s…good for you.’
‘Thanks man,’ he says, checking his watch, ‘shit, better go. Don’t let the girl get you down.’
‘Right,’ I say, closing the door slowly.
I walk back inside, sit down on the sofa and listen to Lauren’s voicemail again. She wants to explain herself? Fuck her. She doesn’t get to do anything. Not now. Not ever. A flash hits me of us at the cottage in the Cotswolds and I breathe out. I hate that she made me feel something for her. I sit in silence, unable to make a decision. I can’t call her back. Not this soon. She can sweat. I genuinely don’t know what to do. Then Parker’s idea fades into my subconscious. Ashley. She always knew what to do in these situations. Is it weird to call her up, ask her advice about this after what happened, especially as she’s moved on in such a massive way? Would she even talk to me? I look down at my mobile and I find Ashley’s mobile number in my phone. Fuck it. I dial her number. It rings once, twice…click.
‘Ollie Hayward,’ her voice says on the other end. She sounds cheerful, happy.
‘Hey, how’s it going?’ I reply, trying to sound normal.
‘Good, long time no see.’
‘Yeah well, you’re all famous now so…’
‘Doesn’t mean I don’t have time to talk to my favourite ex shag,’ she says. I smile. ‘So, how are you? Everything well?’
‘Well, you know, same as always…’ my voice falters, I can’t keep up the act. I clear my throat.
‘Ollie?’
‘Yeah, sorry. I just, uh…look I’m sorry to just call you up like this but, uh…is there any way you might have time for a chat? Just, I’m going through a bit of a tough time and I could really do with someone to talk to.’
‘Of course. I’m in Camden, can you get here?’
‘Camden?’
‘Yeah, at the Roundhouse. I’m performing three nights. I get busy from about five but if you can come down earlier?’
‘Yeah. That would be great.’
‘Cool, give me a bell when you get here.’
‘Thanks Ash, I really appreciate it.’
‘For you Ollie, anytime.’
‘Okay. I’ll see you in a bit.’
‘Bye.’
‘Bye.’
I hang up, swallow and head off to find some shoes.
The Roundhouse in Camden used to be an old Victorian steam engine repair shed. Now it’s blossomed into the place for new artists to play. Looking like a massive stone drum off the busy Chalk Farm Road, it has a vibe about it unlike other venues. I stare in awe at Ashley’s p
oster draped over the main entrance. She’s made it. Not that I ever thought she wouldn’t but she’s had an incredible year. First album, debuting at number three. Top five single with ‘Charity’ which even made it onto a ‘Now’ album. Everyone wants a piece of her. Christ, I’m starting to sound like a press release.
I stand, slightly overwhelmed. I knew she’d become successful but I guess it’s only when you see it right in front of your eyes you realise how real it all is. I walk inside and up to the desk. I’m greeted by a guy wearing funky thick-framed glasses.
‘Hi there, how can I help you?’
‘I’m here to see Ashley, I’m a friend of hers.’
‘Okay, who shall I say is here?’
‘Ollie Hayward, she’s expecting me. I hope,’ I reply, a little too enthusiastically. The man gives me a polite smile and dials a number.
‘Hi there, I’ve got Ollie Hayward here to see Ashley. Yep. Okay, thanks,’ he says, putting the phone down. ‘If you take this and head through that set of doors there.’ He hands me a temporary visitor’s pass.
‘Thanks,’ I reply and go over to the doors. I push them open and stop when I see the stage. Powerful spotlights are trained on Ashley who sits at the piano. A half-empty bottle of water rests next to her stool. Behind her, a fully kitted out band look ready to start. She’s talking to one of the roadies, who’s testing the speakers. At least that’s what I think they’re doing. I’m not a sound expert or anything, I just tell you what I see.
‘No, try it a little higher,’ she says, playing a small tune on the piano. ‘That’s it, much better, thanks Josh.’ A guy wearing a black t-shirt and jeans waves and heads behind the stage. I walk towards them slowly, unsure if I really am allowed in here.
‘Okay, from the top,’ Ashley says to the rest of the band. ‘One, two…one, two, three...’ The band starts to play. I stop, listening to them play. Then she begins to sing, her stunning voice filling the arena.
A friend and something else.
More than a lover, more than friend