by Matt Cain
I was lost, lost,
Lost in love.
In the elation of the moment Lola knew that if she was lost in love then it had to be a love of music. Music made her feel strong. It made her feel brave. It made her feel ready for anything. Rex, Jake, Freddy, whoever she met and whatever happened in life, if she could just keep singing then she knew she’d be OK.
The music thundered to its finish and Lola broke into her final pose, the adrenaline soaring through her. Around her she could hear the dancers panting and catching their breath as the audience bellowed so loudly the cameras began shaking on their stands. The lights snapped on and she spotted Rex Watson standing on his feet cheering, a storm of ticker tape swirling around him.
Point proven!
*
‘Here’s to a brilliant performance!’ proposed Harvey, holding up his glass of water.
‘And loads more to come, blatantly!’ added Lola with a whoop.
There was a growl of agreement and a swarm of plastic glasses were thrust into the air.
After the show Lola had invited the band and her entire team to squeeze into her Winnebago for an impromptu celebration. It always surprised Harvey how unglamorous stars’ trailers were – this one reminded him of the mobile home where his family had stayed during many a wet weekend in Blackpool. Someone had gaffer-taped a heart-shaped cushion that a fan had sent to Lola over the smoke detector and cigarettes were being gaily waved around directly underneath it. As part of her rider Lola always insisted on a fully stocked minibar, but after just half an hour it had been decimated. A runner had been swiftly dispatched to the nearest off-licence and come back with what at the time had seemed like plentiful supplies of champagne, but these were already running low.
‘Oh and here’s to a number-one album!’ Harvey boomed.
‘A number-one album!’ everyone yelled, grasping the opportunity to down more booze.
They were starting to become so raucous that the trailer was actually swaying. It reminded Harvey of the time he’d been working as personal assistant to Blake Striker, a long-haired rock god who sang guitar anthems about how tough it was to be a man but when it came to sex was secretly all woman. After one TV show the two of them had got carried away with such rowdy drunken sex that they’d actually tipped over Blake’s trailer. Harvey chuckled at the memory. He wondered how many anecdotes like that would be in the making tonight.
‘Let’s all smoke cigars!’ squeaked a paralytic Belle.
‘Let’s all take off our underwear!’ screamed Scarlett, swigging straight from the bottle.
‘Let’s all get tattoos!’ squealed Trixie as she slid off her seat.
The success of tonight’s performance clearly had everyone fired up – and rightly so. Not only would it boost album sales and build excitement for the tour but it was a huge relief that the band were gelling musically.
‘Tonight was immense!’ gushed a thrilled Mike with what looked like a peanut but could just as easily have been half a champagne cork lodged in his moustache. Swaying arm in arm beside him, Danny, Smudge and Chuck were so drunk they’d lost all musicality and were droning their way through a tuneless dirge that Harvey could just about make out was supposed to be Lost in Love.
But it wasn’t just the band who were feeling jubilant. The usually shy Amina had lost all sense of personal space and was leaning right into Harvey to tell him how much she loved him, her breath smelling of cheese and onion crisps even though Harvey couldn’t spot any around. And Barbara had drunk so much that for the first time Harvey could remember she’d actually removed the jacket from her men’s suit and was twirling it around her head like a cowboy at a rodeo.
Not far behind them was Lola, who popped open another bottle of champagne and proceeded to glug her way through half of it. Harvey hoped she was all right – he felt terribly guilty that he hadn’t been there to support her when she’d come face-to-face with Rex Watson. But from what he’d heard she’d coped admirably, slaying a stubborn and sizeable demon in the process.
‘Oh and everyone,’ he called out over the rising din, ‘we need one final toast. To the best performance of the day – Lola pissing all over Rex Watson!’
As everyone raised their glasses and the trailer began to rattle from the racket, Harvey spotted Lola and Jake grin at each other with a frisson of what was obviously flirtation.
Flippin’ ’eck, he thought, here we go again . . .
This was a situation he’d been dreading ever since he’d met Jake and he could see it was something he’d have to keep his eye on – especially as Lola was starting to look seriously shit-faced.
‘Come on guys!’ he watched her drool. ‘Let’s sip till we slip!’
As she held up the empty bottle in triumph, the naughty glint in her eye transported Harvey back to his own days as a heavy drinker. When everything was going well in his life he’d always found himself overwhelmed by the temptation to blow it all up in the air – and he worried that Lola suffered from the same compulsion. Unfortunately, he knew from experience that suggesting she stop drinking would prompt the same reaction as throwing water on a Gremlin. And he didn’t want to spoil her fun but if she got any more pissed then he was going to have to step in – to protect her from herself.
*
Lola wasn’t sure she’d ever been so pissed. As she reeled around the dance floor, shapes and colours began to whirl in front of her in a psychedelic blur.
Once she and her entourage had emptied the entire TV studios of alcohol they’d jumped into a fleet of cabs and raced over to Club Foot in the centre of Soho. As she’d recognized the introduction to Lost in Love blasting out of the sound system, Lola had led the girls onto the dance floor. But just a few minutes later she was feeling harassed by an excited huddle of members of the public who’d clustered around her, pushing through to introduce themselves and trying to take photos on their camera phones. She needed to get back to the safety of the VIP area – and fast.
As she staggered off the dance floor she felt Harvey appear from nowhere, take her arm and guide her through the crowd. ‘Always at and on my side,’ she smiled. And it was a good job – she felt as disorientated as a sailor back on land after years at sea. She careered through the velvet rope and slumped onto a sofa where the band were downing shots of sambuca. They welcomed her with a loud cheer.
‘You know what,’ she slurred, ‘I’ve got the best band in the world!’
At that they cheered even louder. As they all put their arms around her for a group hug, Lola felt bad for having judged them on their looks. Sure, together they were rougher than a bag of spanners, but they were passionate about music – and damn good players. And then there’s always Jake . . .
As a waiter brought over yet another round of drinks she had no idea who, if anyone, was paying for, Jake patted the space between him and Gloria. She slid into it with a mischievous smile.
‘What have you been taking?’ he asked. ‘You look totally out of it.’
‘Oh just booze,’ she managed, biting her lip in what she hoped was an attractive way. ‘I never touch drugs.’
‘Shame, I was going to ask where I might score some weed.’
She felt her spirit sag but tried not to look disappointed. ‘Trixie’s your girl. Over there, the Chinese one.’
As they both looked towards Lola’s stylist they saw she was itching her nose and erupting in a bout of aggression. ‘What do you call this?’ she spat at the bewildered waiter who’d just served her a drink. ‘This tonic’s as flat as my tits!’ On either side of her, Belle and Scarlett cackled with laughter. The waiter picked up the offending drink and scurried away.
‘Hmm, it looks like she’s been overdoing it on the coke,’ Jake mused, rubbing the stubble on his chin.
My God he’s sexy, thought Lola, forgetting all about how she’d felt when he’d turned up late to rehearsal what now seemed like a lifetime ago. She leaned forward to breathe in the scent of his maleness and found herself fluttering her eye
lashes. She couldn’t pretend she was flirting with him now just to wind up Harvey or Mike. No, there was only one reason she was flirting with him and that was because she found him seriously attractive – so attractive in fact that she forgot all about how she’d felt when Freddy had visited her just a few hours ago. But it’s such a shame he’s into weed – and such a turn-off.
Gloria nudged her in the ribs. ‘Hey,’ she asked, ‘is there anything going on between you and Jake?’
‘Oh no,’ Lola mouthed, pretending to be surprised. ‘No. I’m just having a little flirt, that’s all.’
‘Well, if I were you, I’d stop at that. A friend of mine in New York warned me about him. Apparently he’s the Pied Piper of trouble.’
‘Oi, Lola!’ interrupted Trixie, beckoning her over. ‘Come and have a drink over here!’
As she extricated herself from the sofa, Lola narrowly avoided tripping over Amina, who’d fallen asleep in a huddle on the floor, and colliding into Barbara, who’d heard the sound of P!nk and was knocking over furniture in her rush to get to the dance floor.
‘So are you going to get off with Jake or what?’ Trixie asked when she finally reached the group.
‘I don’t think so – I reckon he might be bad news.’
‘No!’ chorused all three girls at once.
‘He’s a sweetheart,’ said Scarlett. ‘He’s just a bit of a player, that’s all. But he’s perfectly harmless.’
‘Do you really think so?’ Lola wondered if she’d misjudged him after all. Maybe she was just being overcautious because of her experiences with Fox and Nicky. And he was very gallant when he helped me face up to Rex Watson . . .
‘You need to loosen up, girl,’ breathed Belle. ‘Give yourself a little treat for doing so well today.’
‘The only treat Lola needs right now is a glass of water,’ broke in Harvey, wincing as he braced himself for her reaction.
She stood up to face him. ‘Water?’ she yowled. ‘Water’s for the shower! Why do I want water?’
He motioned her through to a quiet corner. ‘I’m just worried that you’ve had enough to drink, that’s all.’
‘Oh please don’t have a go at me, darlin’. I’m only just getting going.’
‘Lola, you look shit-faced. And tonight was brilliant – I just don’t want you to do anything to sabotage it.’
She leaned on the wall to steady herself but began sliding forwards. ‘Oh chill out, darlin’. I’m fine, blatantly. I just need a little shot of tequila to perk me up.’
Just as she was about to slide to the floor she stopped herself and propped herself up again against the wall.
‘Lola, I don’t have the slightest problem with you drinking,’ Harvey explained. ‘It’s the way you’re drinking. It’s like you’re trying to punish yourself or something.’
She waved away his objection like a fly but part of her worried he was right. Meeting Rex Watson today had brought back that sense of not being good enough that had haunted her for as long as she could remember. It was a feeling that only seemed to go away when she was drunk. But she didn’t want to think about that now. She just wanted to carry on drinking.
‘Darlin’, I think you’ve read too many self-help books. Honestly, there’s nothing wrong with the way I’m drinking. I’m just not very good at finding my Off switch, that’s all.’
‘Well, you might have a better chance if you knock back a quick glass of water.’
She rolled her eyes affectionately. ‘Oh all right – just as long as I can chase it up with a shot of tequila.’
‘Deal.’
‘Oh, and Harvey?’
‘Yeah?’
‘I promise I’m not trying to sabotage anything.’
But from the way he frowned at her she could tell he wasn’t convinced. And as her eyes flickered onto Jake, she realized she wasn’t either.
4
It was 6 a.m. and Lola crashed head first onto the sofa in her dressing room. She let out a low moan. ‘Amina darlin’, you couldn’t get me a coffee, could you? I’d kill for a latte.’
‘Course,’ smiled Amina, stifling a yawn. ‘Coming right up.’
‘Oh and make sure you get yourself one too. I think we could both do with something to crank us up for the day.’
As Amina shuffled away, Lola stretched out and tried not to give in to sleep. She was still much too tired to be up so early. But at least I’m not hung-over, she consoled herself. And she’d had some stonking hangovers during the past week. The worst had been the day after she’d performed on Lucky Star and dragged her entire entourage on to Club Foot. She cringed as she remembered downing shots of tequila and then going back to flirt with Jake, only to beat a hasty retreat to the disabled loos where she’d spent the rest of the night throwing up, once so violently that some of it had splashed back all over her face. In the end she’d had to be smuggled out to her car through the back door, although someone had tipped off the paps and they’d been there waiting. The pictures of her being carried out of the club by Harvey had been plastered all over the Internet and the red tops over the next few days, but the funny thing was they’d only helped boost sales of the album.
And after today, sales would hopefully be boosted even further. Lola had been picked up at 5 a.m. and whisked to a film studio in Hertfordshire where she’d be shooting the video for her next single, Tramp. A rousing dance anthem, she’d already told the press she’d written the song after being dumped by Fox Marshall, but in reality it was addressed to all the slaggy men who’d ever mistreated her – or any woman for that matter. She’d wanted a video to really enhance this message and had insisted on a female director to create it. After much discussion the choice had been made to hire Hettie Spriggs, an endlessly enthusiastic twenty-something who always dressed in the full get-up of a 1950s rockabilly, with dyed-black hair in bangs and pigtails, a red polka-dot swing dress, matching open-toed heels and a gingham headscarf. She’d contemporized the look with a smattering of cheetah-print tattoos running up her arms and legs. Although it wasn’t Lola’s own particular style, she could see that Hettie really made it work. Hopefully she’ll be able to do the same thing with my video . . .
‘So,’ Hettie began, pacing the room with her usual flurry of energy, ‘just to remind you of the concept for the video. It’s set in the future in a really cool world that looks like something out of a science fiction film. Spaceships, aliens, UFOs – they’ll all be added later with CGI.’
‘Sounds good,’ nodded Lola, sitting up.
‘What you need to know for today is that you’re going to be playing a punky crusader whose job is to protect women from trampy men.’
‘Now you’re talking! And how exactly do I do that?’
‘Well, you go on a rampage looking for men who are misbehaving – and you shoot them basically. With a stun gun that fires lasers.’
‘I am so up for that!’
‘But I also got the message that you wanted to focus on the music . . .’
‘Well, yeah, I mean that’s what I really care about. The music should always come first.’
‘Well, don’t worry – we’re going to shoot a performance sequence with you and the band and mix this in with the other footage. Sound good to you?’
‘Sounds fierce!’
At that moment the door opened and Amina re-emerged with the coffees.
‘Just let me down this and I’m all yours,’ Lola smiled, perking up already. ‘And I can’t wait to start shooting those tramps!’
*
In the Channel 3 newsroom, Freddy was packing his bag for today’s shoot. He’d agreed with Barbara that they wouldn’t turn up till late morning to give Lola and the crew plenty of time to settle into filming. Unfortunately, that also gave him plenty of time to get worked up about seeing her again.
The worst thing was, as it was a light news day there wasn’t much going on in the office to distract him. Two business correspondents were half-heartedly trying to manufacture a scandal from a stor
y they didn’t actually believe had happened in a big City law firm. The flip-flop-wearing chubby girls on the admin desk were writing on each other’s Facebook walls and sending each other links to YouTube clips of cats falling off tables. And the Home News team was organizing a sweepstake on the predicted death date of a nonagenarian senior royal.
‘Why don’t you have a go, champ?’ Freddy asked Spike. ‘Come on, you must have a good idea – isn’t your new boyfriend about the same age?’
Spike gasped. ‘That’s well out of order, blud – he’s only thirty-five!’
‘Yeah and how old are you again?’ Freddy teased.
Spike smiled and gave Freddy’s chair a swivel with his foot. ‘Twenty-five! And anyway, he’s not my boyfriend, man.’
‘Yeah, yeah, well I think we should have a sweepstake on how long till he will be.’
‘Freddy!’ interrupted Hugh Badcock’s voice behind him.
He grabbed onto his desk to stop his chair from spinning. ‘Yes, boss?’
‘Come in here a minute – I want a little chat.’
He gave Spike a gloomy glare and followed Hugh through to his office. ‘Is everything all right?’
‘Yes, but I want to talk to you about this Lola Grant thing. It’s going out tomorrow, isn’t it?’
‘Yep, sure is.’
‘Well, we’ve got a problem – there’s fuck all news around. Nobody’s dying, all the politicians have pissed off on holiday and even the paedos have gone quiet. I never thought I’d say this but we could do with another right-wing president in America to start a few wars.’
Freddy clenched his teeth and forced himself to smile. What a dick – and if he weren’t my boss I wouldn’t waste any time in telling him.
‘So anyway,’ Hugh steamed on, ‘you need to come back with something big. Ask Lola about that junkie mum again – there must be more dirt there. Actually, why can’t we get her to speak?’
‘I’m afraid she won’t. Everyone’s tried but she just won’t talk. I think Lola gives her money.’