by Matt Cain
‘Well, can’t we give her more?’
‘I don’t think so. But don’t worry, Lola knows how this whole thing works. I’m sure she’ll give us something good in the interview.’
Freddy wriggled in his seat uncomfortably. He hated having to pander to Hugh. And the truth was, he was much more interested in flirting with Lola again – and maybe even asking her out – than he was in alienating her by asking awkward questions. He’d been looking forward to today all week and wasn’t going to risk messing it up for anyone, even his boss.
‘Yeah, well make sure you come up with something,’ Hugh brayed. ‘We’ve got a whole hour to fill tomorrow and nothing in the diary. And I’m sure I don’t need to remind you I’m monitoring your work.’
Freddy tried not to clench his fist. ‘No, no,’ he managed. ‘I haven’t forgotten. And I’ll do my best.’
‘Good man,’ Hugh nodded at him. ‘Now off you go. I need to nip out for a Welsh breakfast.’
‘Sorry, a what?’
‘A Welsh breakfast – a leak. Get it?’
Freddy mustered a feeble chuckle while Hugh roared with laughter at his own joke.
‘Come on boyo, keep up!’
I need to get out of here before I say something I’ll regret, thought Freddy. ‘All right, all right, I’d better make a move.’
‘Yeah yeah, off you go. And don’t forget – let’s make some noise!’
*
In her dressing room, Lola almost jumped as a blast of noise came thumping through from the neighbouring sound studio. Once she’d collected herself, she recognized it as the opening notes to Tramp. She felt a flurry of excitement.
She did a last-minute check on her appearance in the mirror. She was dressed in a black PVC catsuit with matching high-heeled boots and a long hairpiece that had been tied to her head with a sparkling silver band. And she was fully made-up, with false eyelashes so long they almost touched her hairline and a futuristic look created with silver glitter eyeshadow and matching lip gloss.
Belle, Scarlett and Trixie stepped back to admire their work and Belle took a photo for Lola to tweet to her fans. ‘Sweet,’ she cooed, fiddling with the hairpiece, ‘real sweet.’
‘Are you sure?’ asked Lola, pulling a face. The catsuit felt so tight she was worried that it gave her little rolls of flab on her back. Ordinarily, she didn’t have to worry about her weight – and was lucky that she could more or less eat what she wanted without putting much on. And ordinarily, as so much of her appeal was built on the fact that she was a real woman, people didn’t expect her to be stick-thin anyway; in fact, journalists seemed to love it when she spoke about her relatively normal diet and her love of everyday foods such as pizza and curry. But ordinarily she didn’t go out wearing a PVC catsuit – or prance around a studio in front of Jake Hunter and Freddy Jones. ‘You don’t think it gives me bum back?’ she asked the girls.
‘No!’ they chorused. ‘You look totes amazing!’
‘Really?’
‘Yeah!’ cheeped Trixie. ‘And I’m sure Jake will think so too.’
‘That’s not why I asked,’ pouted Lola with a little too much indignation, although she had to admit to herself that she’d thought about him a lot since abandoning him in Club Foot. And while she’d seen him at rehearsals for a big anti-drugs benefit gig they were headlining at the weekend, there hadn’t really been the chance for her to follow up their flirtation – until now. The only problem was she was seeing him on the same day she was following up her flirtation with Freddy. There was no question that she fancied both men. But which did she fancy more? Perhaps today would be the day to work it out. Although it sounded like the girls wanted to work it out for her.
‘You can say what you like about Jake,’ quipped Scarlett as she stepped in to touch up her make-up, ‘but he is fit as fuck.’
‘You should totally do him,’ agreed Belle. ‘I bet he’s a wicked shag.’
‘Big time!’ oozed Trixie, ‘Can you imagine the cock?’
Lola tutted loudly. ‘Yeah but according to Gloria, he’s also the Pied Piper of trouble. Some friend in New York told her he was a total tramp.’
‘Well, in that case,’ grinned Scarlett, ‘getting off with him today would be totes appropriate.’
Lola roofed her eyes and smiled. ‘But the song’s all about being through with tramps. It’s supposed to be about a strong woman saying she won’t put up with any more shit.’
‘Who says anything about putting up with any shit?’ huffed Belle. ‘We’re only talking about shagging him!’
‘Yeah but sometimes it’s not as simple as that, is it?’ sighed Lola. ‘I’ve been here before, remember? And in case you didn’t notice, the last few times I didn’t handle it very well.’
The girls looked stumped as memories of Lola’s devastation crept into the room, souring the atmosphere like a grief-stricken guest at a party. An awkward silence gradually imposed itself between them and they began busying themselves with last-minute adjustments to their work. After a while Lola couldn’t help a mischievous grin lifting her face.
‘Oh but I suppose he is hot . . .’
They all burst into laughter and Trixie whooped loudly.
‘Now come on,’ Lola broke in, ‘I need to get on set. Will somebody hand me that gun? Something tells me I’m going to need it.’
*
As Gloria watched Lola bound onto the set like a Labrador out of a Volvo, she couldn’t help feeling a twist of jealousy. She stood fixed to the spot as it tightened and tightened inside her until she felt it holding her in its grip like some kind of vice. It was as if she was being crushed, as if every last drop of goodness was being squeezed out of her. And that was when she knew she couldn’t hold back her feelings any longer. No, it was all too much. Being here was just too much.
Lola’s video shoot was taking place in exactly the same studio where Gloria had shot her first video just a few years ago. As she forced herself to greet Lola with a smile she hoped wasn’t too strained, she couldn’t help revisiting her own feelings of excitement as she’d embarked on the solo career she’d spent her entire life dreaming about. But it hadn’t taken long for that dream to come to an abrupt end. As Lola’s first single had become a hit, Gloria’s had struggled to get playlisted at any of the major radio stations, and more and more of the label’s resources had been diverted into packaging and promoting Lola’s debut album while Gloria’s campaign had been neglected. She’d eventually been told there wasn’t enough money to film a video for her second single, which subsequently bombed. And when her album swiftly followed it to the bottom of the charts, dropping out of the top forty after just one week, that’s when she’d been dumped from her deal. As she watched Lola skip around firing her laser gun like an excited child, the memory burned so furiously inside her she felt as if it were poisoning her from within. That could have been me. That should have been me . . .
‘Morning, Lola,’ she murmured, struggling to swallow as she almost choked on her jealousy.
‘Hiya darlin’,’ chirped Lola. ‘Check out my stun gun. Isn’t it fierce?’
Gloria responded with the prerequisite gasp of approval as her mind transported her back to a particularly painful meeting she’d had with a hideous record exec with dandruff and buck teeth. She’d sat cowering in his office entirely on her own, deserted by all the arse-lickers who only a few months earlier had whipped her up into such a frenzy of excitement about her career that she’d thought she’d been invincible. When the exec had told her she lacked charisma and was ‘just like any other black girl who can sing’, something inside her had broken. ‘You’re not a star, not like Lola Grant,’ she remembered him saying as she’d blinked back the tears. And that was when he’d explained that the record company had only ever taken on the two artists with the intention of sticking with one – and they’d chosen to back Lola. The exec suggested Gloria concentrate on finding work as a backing vocalist and at the time she’d dismissed his suggestion outright.
But after nearly two years without working had decimated her savings, sheer desperation had forced her to go begging to the same exec who’d fired her – and he’d put her in touch with Lola’s MD Mike Henry. And here she was now, reduced to watching with a smile as Lola flounced around the set flaunting her success as if determined to rub salt into Gloria’s still festering wound.
She wished more than anything else she didn’t have to be here. It had been torture having to get ready with the rest of the band in a communal dressing room that stank of unwashed sweaty balls and a shared bathroom that had a toilet seat covered in streaks of dried yellow piss while Lola had giggled at full volume in her plush suite next door. And now she had to carry on suffering while Lola swanned around a set that must have cost hundreds of thousands of pounds, simpering like some smug superstar. It was sickening to think that financing Gloria’s second album would probably have cost the record label a small fraction of what they must be spending on this stupid video.
Oh and Gloria didn’t buy all this crap about Lola being a real woman because she’d been through pain. Pain? What does Lola Grant know about pain? Gloria had experienced a pain stronger than anything she’d even thought possible – a pain so strong that for a while she’d actually thought it might kill her. Not like Lola Grant, who makes such a song and dance about being dumped by the odd bad boy. Big deal! She wants to try being a single mother with no man, no money and no career. Not to forget a nagging bitch of a mum who never ceased to remind her she was a failure.
‘OK, positions please everyone!’ called the voice of the director, some silly cow who was caked in make-up and looked like she’d turned up in fancy dress as a permanently grinning version of one of the Pink Ladies from Grease. Gloria watched in disgust as she fawned all over Lola, repeatedly telling her how amazing she was. Lola Grant, the woman who’d destroyed her own career – the woman who was the source of all her pain.
What Gloria would give to see her fall off that pedestal – and flat on her face. And if there was any justice in the world she had no doubt that one day she would. She had to believe that; it was the only thing that would keep her going.
And the higher she soars, the harder she’ll fall.
*
‘Roll cameras!’ called Hettie with a burst of such enthusiasm Lola could almost feel it blowing through the studio.
‘And roll playback!’
Stepping in front of her to hold up the timecode slate was a hairy clapper loader with a terribly distracting case of brickie’s wink. Lola tried not to giggle but she caught Gloria’s eye and the two of them couldn’t help themselves. She was so pleased they were becoming mates; it couldn’t be easy for Gloria to sing backing vocals for an artist who’d been on the same label as her. In fact, she couldn’t believe how well she was taking it.
‘And action!’
As the clapper loader stepped out of shot, Lola quickly refocused and assumed her opening pose. The set looked like something out of a blockbusting superhero film and she shuddered to think what it must have cost. She still couldn’t quite believe the record company had such confidence in her career that it was investing so much money. Determined not to disappoint anyone, she glared into the camera lens and delivered the words that opened the song.
This song’s for all you tramps out there.
So shut up and listen!
As the music began to pound through her, she launched into the dance routine she’d been rehearsing all week and blasted her way through the lyrics with such a burst of energy that she surprised even herself.
All that talk and all those lines,
I listened to you too many times.
No apologies and no excuses,
I think you’ve exhausted your uses.
They were beginning the shoot by recording a wide master shot of the performance of the whole song, after which they’d pick out individual shots to record separately. This was only the fifth video Lola had made but she already felt familiar with the process.
Yeah you’re hot but that’s about it,
And guys like you don’t count for shit.
She strutted her way through the moves, concentrating every muscle in her body on radiating a look of strength and defiance. She wasn’t an actress so didn’t really know how to play a part – but reassured herself that in this song she didn’t have to. All she had to do was think back to how she’d felt when Fox and Nicky had torn through her life and torn up her heart – and how determined she’d been never to let any man make her feel that way again.
You’re a tramp,
Nothing but a tramp,
A low-down dirty tramp,
But I don’t need no tramp.
And I don’t want you!
As she scorched through the song, all around her the band mimed playing their instruments. They were dressed in black PVC outfits that matched hers and she couldn’t help thinking Danny, Smudge and Chuck looked slightly ludicrous, like Matt Lucas playing the only gay in the village in Little Britain. But she knew they’d only be appearing on screen in the odd flash – and even then they’d be in the background. Perhaps unsurprisingly, Jake had been positioned further forward than the others and she saw that he was looking seriously hot, with his outfit slashed down to his waist to reveal an impressively muscular torso covered by a light smattering of chestnut hair. She remembered being asked by a journalist a few weeks ago how she felt about chest hair. At the time the question had seemed completely random and she’d mumbled something about it being hot on the right man. But now she knew the answer – it was a massive turn-on. At least it was on Jake, even if he wasn’t the right man.
Right now though it was a distraction. And unfortunately, Jake kept straying into her eyeline. As she mimed her way through the lyrics she tried her best not to direct them at him.
What you did was just plain wrong,
It’s only gone and made me strong.
No more pain and no more tears,
I’m now the bitch of your wildest fears.
Swaggering her way across the set, Lola couldn’t help her eyes being drawn to Jake’s chest – and found herself imagining how it would feel to be lying next to it, running her fingers along that gorgeous ridge between his reassuringly manly pecs.
Yeah you’re hot but you’ve no range,
And guys like you don’t ever change.
As her imagination ran away with itself, her head rang with the sound of Belle, Scarlett and Trixie urging her on.
‘He’s a sweetheart.’
‘You should totally do him.’
‘Can you imagine the cock?’
Lola stamped the thoughts out of her head by concentrating on her angry dance moves. This was a song she’d written about not going anywhere near men like Jake. But why was it that, however passionately she believed in it, it still didn’t stop her fancying him?
You made me want you,
But you never loved me,
You think I need you,
You don’t deserve me!
As she felt her conviction begin to waver, she threw herself into the song’s middle eight with a vigour she hoped would be strong enough to protect her from the magnetic pull of Jake’s attraction.
You’re a tramp,
Nothing but a tramp,
A low-down dirty tramp,
But I don’t need no tramp.
And I don’t want you!
She delivered the song’s final lines and dropped down into the crouching pose that ended her routine. She looked directly at the camera with a snarl so furious she could hear Hettie gasping with delight from behind the monitor. The song thumped out into silence and Lola was left with nothing but the sound of her own breathing. She knew she’d stormed it when the applause erupted around her.
‘And cut!’
*
As the applause faded, Jake couldn’t help himself from breaking into an amused chuckle. Sure, it was a great performance and Lola had really thrown herself into the sentiment of the song. But she o
bviously didn’t realize ‘tramp’ was a word most people used when talking about women. That was, unless she was trying to make some kind of feminist point. Well, whatever it was, she didn’t fool him. No, I’m not convinced she’s through with tramps just yet . . .
Not that he was particularly attracted to her or anything. But it kind of bothered him that so far she was proving immune to his charms. On top of that, he was well aware that his buddies back home would be expecting him to screw her – and he couldn’t bear for them to think he was losing his touch. But why was it taking him so long?
He’d thought backing her up when she’d bumped into Rex Watson might at least have been worth a blow job – a bit of chivalry usually went down well with those girls who bothered to try and resist him. And when they’d all started drinking later that night he’d thought he’d been on course to get laid, especially when Lola had gone off to down a shot of tequila and then come back to flirt with him. But a few minutes later she’d said she didn’t feel well and had disappeared, leaving him all fired up like a bull at a gate. He wasn’t sure if she really was sick or just being a prick-tease – and it didn’t help that her fag manager was looking out for her the whole time. Well, Jake didn’t care because sooner or later he’d get what he wanted.
He watched Lola now, engrossed in a conversation about her performance with the director, some ugly chick who looked like she was going to a 1950s costume party and had taken so much Ecstasy she couldn’t stop smiling. Well, I can think of one way to wipe the smile off her face . . . Just as he was drifting off into a fantasy about Hettie giving him head in the dressing room, he noticed that Lola’s gaze had drifted onto him. He quickly pulled himself together and flashed her a twinkle of his sparkling green eyes. Oh no, he wasn’t giving up on this one just yet. He’d just have to up the ante to make sure he got her.
But the truth was, he wasn’t in any rush. Just last night he’d hooked up with a waitress with an indecipherable accent he’d met on her way home from work while he was strolling back to his hotel after a few drinks in Soho. He seemed to remember she was from somewhere in Eastern Europe but couldn’t speak proper English – not that it had remotely bothered him. In fact, it had been quite handy, seeing as the last thing he’d wanted to do was talk to her. He was much more interested in her long blonde hair and smoking-hot legs – although once he’d got her under the harsh lighting of her roach-pit of an apartment, he’d seen that her hair had been dyed such a cheap shade of blonde it actually looked green and she hadn’t bothered shaving her legs or waxing her bush for weeks. It had really grossed him out but of course he’d banged her anyway. He usually found that when a girl was grateful for his attention she went out of her way to please him. The ugly chick always tries harder. And last night had been no exception.