Jaz was already at the bus stop when I got there. Funny how she had bunked off school most days for the past year until I started getting the bus, at which point she’d suddenly become Student of the Year.
I nodded in a way that I hoped she’d realize meant please leave me alone.
Message undelivered.
‘You are so mad these days, you know that?’
Today she was wearing full school uniform, only with knee-high lace-up spike boots and her hair in a full beehive.
‘You’re one to talk,’ I said, thinking vaguely that I’d never have spoken to Jaz like that a month ago.
Her lips twitched, but I couldn’t tell whether it was with laughter or something else. ‘I’m not the one who kicked off at Savannah’s party.’
‘That was an accident.’
‘Same difference.’
Look,’ I said, ‘I am not you, OK? I have good reasons for what happened last night. I am about to become a pretty major celebrity and –’
She doubled over with laughter.
‘What?’
‘You had a tiny taste of fame,’ said Jaz. ‘You couldn’t let it go so you’re spinning out this fantasy –’
‘My record deal is not a fantasy,’ I said. Then, ‘I didn’t have you down as automatically believing what everyone else thinks.’
She liked that, I could tell. ‘All right. Prove it.’
‘I’m going to London today, to talk to Tony Topper who is the head of Top Music, which is a huge record label. We are going to discuss my tour and my single. Lend me your phone and I’ll send you a picture from outside the building, if you want. Although I don’t know how I’ll send it to you. I suppose I could send it to Nicole or something. Or, actually, I’ll just take the photo and then I can give it back to you tomorrow. I don’t know why I didn’t think of that first.’
Jaz’s mouth opened like a Venus flytrap that had just finished chomping a fly and was getting ready for more. ‘You’re skiving to go up to London? Today?’
So much for my secret plan. ‘Tell the whole universe, why don’t you?’
‘You think I’m mad,’ said Jaz. ‘But I’ve never been to London instead of going to English.’
At which, I must say, I felt a bit of pride. I’d out-Jazzed Jaz! Or, at least, I was about to.
The bus came and I sat apart from the others, down at the front, thinking that I’d shared quite enough of today’s plan, given how it was supposed to be classified information and all.
Nicole was attempting to wax her nostrils with masking tape as Jaz came and sat in front of me, melting the little man who had been sitting there with one quick blast of her laser stare. Genuinely, I think he just turned into a puddle because one second he was there and the next it was Jaz, leaning back to face me. She smelled of toothpaste and extremely strong perfume, which surprised me, as I’d always thought she looked like she needed to wash her face a bit.
‘What time are you going, then?’
‘I don’t have to tell you,’ I said.
‘No, but you want to.’
Correct, as ever. How did she know this stuff? ‘I was going to change on here, get off a stop early and walk to the station.’
‘So not even go to registration?’
‘No. You never do.’
Jaz seemed pleased that I’d noticed. ‘Yeah. If you turn up and then go again they’ll only come looking for you.’
‘Exactly.’
‘What time are you planning on getting there?’
‘Around twelve, I suppose.’
‘You’ll never make it if you walk to the station. Takes way too long.’
‘Does it?’
She gave me this pitying look.
‘So what do I do?’
‘Easy,’ said Jaz. ‘We’ll hitchhike.’
‘What?’ I said. And then, as I really digested what she’d just said, ‘We?’
People I did not want to come to Top Music with me:
– Adrian
– Ms McAllister
– Jack the Ripper
– Mad Jaz
Honestly, I tried everything to make her go away. Which included looking awkward, having big silences fall between us and in the end literally telling her to go away.
It was like I was speaking French or something. Not only did she not seem to understand, she also didn’t seem to care. Which has always been Jaz’s attitude to French, and maybe explains why her exchange partner had to go back to Paris a week early.
To start with, the hitchhiking thing was totally terrifying.
‘Jaz, we mustn’t. Suppose we get abducted?’
‘No one would want to abduct you, Katie.’
Harsh. ‘They might want to abduct you.’
She put her hands on her hips. ‘There is no way anyone is abducting me.’
And actually, she was so scary that I kind of had to agree with her.
We went and stood down by the main road, Jaz sticking her thumb out as though she’d done this a thousand times before, and I thought: This isn’t real. I really am in a film. Which then made me wonder what genre it was. Thriller? Maybe. Uplifting comedy? Probably not. Disaster movie? Definitely.
Then this silver car stopped and a man wound down the window.
‘Take us to the station, yeah?’
‘I’m not going that way –’ said the man, by which time Jaz was already in the passenger seat.
‘What are you waiting for?’
We didn’t get snatched, in the end. In fact, he was quite sweet and promised he would buy my single for his god-daughter. Although as I said to Jaz, one not-murderer doesn’t mean that everyone else is a not-murderer too.
By this time we were on the train, and as I finished talking the woman opposite us said, in a loud and bossy voice:
‘Shouldn’t you ladies be in school?’
Jaz’s reply made it very clear that she was not a lady.
I suppose I should have known from our time on the bus that she wouldn’t be the most relaxing travel companion. Her feet went straight on to the seat opposite (at which point the bossy woman gave up and went away) and she played Slipknot at top volume on her phone. Then, when she got bored of that, she went through all her ringtones one by one. I’d have strangled her, except that she’d have killed me for it. And all the time, she kept giving me these little glances, like she was challenging me to something. Only, I didn’t know what.
Then we were at Liverpool Street and the Tube.
‘Covent Garden,’ I said. ‘That’s the Central Line and then one stop on the blue one.’
Jaz stopped trying to pinch jelly snakes from this sweets cart and stared at me. ‘You’re really serious, aren’t you?’
‘Of course.’
‘I thought you’d have given up by now.’
‘Why would I do that?’
‘So . . .’ She couldn’t have looked more surprised if I’d grown a tail. ‘We’re going to this music place. To talk about your tour.’
‘I’m going,’ I said. ‘I’d really rather you didn’t, though.’
‘Huh,’ said Jaz. ‘You were telling the truth. This is going to be even better than I thought.’
The woman at reception wasn’t nearly as smiley as last time, probably because Jaz had picked up a stack of magazines and was asking, ‘Can I keep these?’ while I said, ‘It’s me!’
‘Who?’ said the receptionist.
‘Katie. Katie Cox. I’m here to see Tony Topper.’
‘Is he expecting you?’ said Ms Frosty.
‘He said to come any time today.’
‘Hold on.’ She picked up her phone and dialled.
‘How come she doesn’t know who you are?’ said Jaz. ‘I thought you were their super-cool new singer.’
‘I have a Katie Cox here to see you.’ The receptionist nodded. ‘Yes.’ Then she smiled at me. ‘Sixth floor.’
‘Thanks,’ I said. Then, to Jaz, ‘See!’
The barrier opened and we stepped into
a waiting lift. There was a huge mirror on one side, and I couldn’t help but notice that my face was completely white with excitement. This was really and truly happening.
I pushed my hair behind my ears. Maybe Lacey had been right about me needing a fringe. No. No, she hadn’t.
‘Nicole? Yeah, it’s important. I’m with her. In London. The music stuff, it’s true. We’re going in now. Tell everyone.’ Jaz saw me staring and turned around from her phone. ‘What?’
‘Jaz, I’m skiving, it’s maybe best if she doesn’t tell everyone . . .’
Then the door opened and there was Tony.
‘Katie! Come through into my office, that’s right, this way . . .’
‘Hi!’ I looked meaningfully at Jaz, so that she’d be sure to hear everything we said. ‘I’m here! To talk about my tour and my new manager and my single and my album and everything.’
‘Of course!’ He looked so happy.
‘Like you said, keep up the momentum!’ I knew I was babbling a bit, but hopefully he hadn’t noticed. He was looking at something to my left.
‘I’m Jasmine,’ said Jaz.
‘She wanted to come,’ I said, feeling like I should add something but not knowing what. ‘And now, here she is.’
‘Here I am,’ said Jaz, her head swivelling like crazy as she took it all in, the posters, the spotlights, all that glass.
Please don’t do anything, Jaz, I prayed. Please, behave.
‘Can I get you anything?’ said Tony.
‘I’m fine,’ I said.
‘What have you got?’ said Jaz.
‘Um. The usual, tea, coffee, juices . . .’
‘Can I have a vodka?’ said Jaz.
‘Er, how old are . . .’ he began. Then, looking at Jaz, ‘A vodka it is.’
A really quite good-looking boy was sent off to get Jaz’s vodka, and we sat down opposite Tony, and a big heavy wooden desk. I glanced around. More pictures, of famous musicians, famous buildings, a huge black-and-white one of what was probably a very famous bridge, and on the desk, an enormous vase holding an even more enormous arrangement of white flowers next to a photo of Tony with his arm around a blonde who I really hoped was his daughter because otherwise, eew.
‘Where’s Katie, then?’
‘Mmm?’
Jaz waved at the posters: Karamel enjoying their anti-gravity haircuts, Crystal Skye huddling over a piano, all eyes and shoulders, like she’d just come through a famine. ‘There should be one of Katie.’
‘I don’t want to be on a poster,’ I said, even though I quite did.
‘If you say so,’ said Jaz.
‘Anyway,’ I said, wanting to get things feeling positive, ‘I told Adrian.’
Tony smiled and leaned in, looking at me with this intensity that, on anyone else, would have been slightly scary. ‘What did he say? What, exactly, did he say?’
‘Not a lot,’ I said. ‘It was fine.’
He seemed surprised. ‘Really? Tell me everything.’
‘I just told him that we clearly had different ideas about where I was going, and that it might be better if I was managed by someone else.’
‘He must have been hurt, though,’ said Tony.
‘Honestly? Yes, I think he was.’
‘Good,’ said Tony.
‘You’re pretty twisted,’ said Jaz.
I gave Tony a look that was supposed to say, Jaz is so weird but don’t worry, she’s completely harmless.
‘So . . . my tour, then. How long do you want me to play for? And will I have a backing band because I should rehearse with them and I guess it’ll have to be quite soon if I’m going off soon . . .’
‘What do you want?’ said Tony. He spoke slowly, carefully. Like he’d been planning it for a while. ‘Tell me, Katie. Tell me exactly what it is that you want. Tell me your dream.’
‘Just . . . to make good music. To connect with people. I suppose.’
‘There must be more.’
‘I . . . don’t know.’
‘Then I’ll tell you,’ said Tony, licking his lower lip, staring at me, harder than ever. ‘You want the whole world to hear you. You want to stand on a stage and play to millions. You want the house and the pool and the cars. You want the girls, screaming your name. You want it all.’
‘Girls?’ said Jaz.
Tony’s eyes bored into mine. ‘You want it all.’
‘Maybe.’
‘Say it. Say “I want it all”.’
‘I . . . I want it all.’
‘Louder.’
‘I WANT IT ALL.’
‘And you’ll never have any of it.’
‘Um, what?’
‘Remember this feeling, Katie. Because I want you to tell him. I want him to see it in your eyes.’
‘What’s going on?’
And Tony said, ‘There will be no single. There will be no album. There will be no tour.’
‘But we recorded . . . You said . . . We agreed . . .’
‘How does it feel?’ said Tony. ‘How does it feel to be on the brink of something and have it snatched away?’
And then I knew, and it felt like falling, down, down, down. ‘You can’t,’ I said. ‘This isn’t . . . right.’
‘What is going on?’ said Jaz.
Tony smiled at her as though she’d asked him for the time. ‘Many years ago, I was in a band. We recorded a single. We were going to make it very big indeed. But before we could, someone split us up.’
‘But you said . . . you forgave him!’ I stuttered. ‘You said it was all OK!’
‘Did I ever say that?’ said Tony. ‘Did I ever say it was “all OK”?’
And I could see that it really, really wasn’t.
My heart was fluttering around in my chest like a trapped hummingbird. Because if there was no single, no tour, no nothing, then what would I tell Lacey? What would I do?
And what had I done?
‘I’m not him,’ I pleaded. ‘You can’t . . . you can’t punish me just because . . . You can’t!’
‘You will tell him, won’t you? How he ruined your life? I hope you will,’ said Tony, the base of his neck flushing ham-pink. ‘We were right there, Katie. The whole nation was going to see us, and he walks out without a care in the world. Well, this time, this time he’ll care.’
‘He still cares!’ I said. ‘For your information, he’s still upset about it now, like, a billion years later!’
‘It was one song,’ said Tony. ‘It was pre-recorded. All he had to do was stand there and mime. But we’re in the studio and the audience are sitting down and the lights come on and suddenly he’s all, “What are we doing, Tony?” and, “Are we losing our way?” and, “We’re a live band, not puppets,” and then he’s asking why we were there, what music is really for. And so I told him. It’s for making money! And we were about to make more money than we’d ever dreamed of. And then . . . he just walks off the set.’
‘I’m glad he did!’ I said. ‘Imagine if he’d spent the rest of his life with you!’
That got him. The hairy bit between his open collar turned the colour of minced beef. ‘That useless piece of . . . What’s he made of himself? Nothing! Just some pointless little shop in the middle of nowhere, never married, beer gut like a –’
‘LEAVE HIM ALONE,’ I screamed.
‘Oh, now I will,’ said Tony, suddenly calm as anything again. He picked up a phone. ‘Security?’
‘But . . . he said you were old friends, he was at your wedding . . .’
‘Yeah,’ said Tony, as two men in dark jackets appeared behind the glass doors.
‘It’s my song. You can’t just –’ then one of the men had his arm around my shoulder.
‘Come on,’ said the security guy.
‘Tony,’ I shouted, then, to the security guard, ‘Get OFF ME. Tony? Tony!’
He was standing, watching me, his arms folded.
‘Take it easy,’ said the security guy. ‘Let’s get you downstairs.’
So I turned a
round. Which was a real shame, as I missed Jaz throwing the vase of flowers into Tony’s face.
And then we were back outside, with the rest of Covent Garden carrying on as if no one’s life had been ruined.
Jaz checked her watch. ‘It’s still early,’ she said. ‘Let’s go nick stuff from Zara.’
I was scrolling through the contacts on my phone, up and down, up and down. Not Amanda, I’d only get a lecture, and not Mum, no no. Not Dad, either, he’d probably start telling me the latest on Catriona’s Pilates studio.
I went right the way back around until I got back to A.
Adrian.
Adrian would sort it out.
He was on my side, he’d know what to do . . .
Only, his phone went straight to voicemail. I went to redial, and as I did, saw I had a text, from Amanda.
WHERE R U???????????????? Skool called.
R U really in LDN????!
And Mum found out bout record deal.
My hands were shaking as I typed my reply.
Record deal is off. R u with Adrian?
Need 2 speak 2 him ASAP
A second, standing outside the Tube, with all of London whirling on by, and then:
Mum and Adrian split up
So I’d got my wish.
Adrian was out of my life.
The house would go too, I guessed, what with it being half his. Another home gone. The third one in a year. Surely some kind of record.
I was face down on my bed when Mum came in. If she’d noticed I wasn’t in my uniform, she didn’t say so.
‘Katie, love, please don’t cry.’
I started making this scary whooping, howling noise, and she held me, and rocked me, and when that didn’t work, she got me a glass of water. You can’t drink water and howl at the same time. When I got to the bottom of the glass I still wasn’t feeling any better, but at least I’d stopped sounding like I needed to be in a mental institution.
‘Mum,’ I said. ‘Oh, Mum.’ My head found its way on to her shoulder, smelling that familiar mix of the special washing powder she uses for her uniform and Elnett hairspray.
‘We’re better off without him,’ she said.
‘Are we?’ I couldn’t see her face, but I felt her body go stiff.
‘A man like that . . .’
Accidental Superstar Page 19