by Matt Cain
‘Oh yeah, and what about you with that Spike? He’s blatantly got trouble written all over him. He’s only a kid – how can he be ready to settle down?’
‘He’s twenty-five, actually, exactly the same age as you.’
She wafted away his objection like a bad smell. ‘Yeah, yeah, and what do they call a gay guy who goes out with a much younger man? Is there a word for it? Like “bear” or “otter”? Or do you just say “dirty old man” like we do?’
‘Flippin’ ’eck, Lola! I’m not a dirty old man. But yeah, I do like Spike, actually. And since you mention it, we’re going out for something to eat tonight.’
She raised an eyebrow. ‘Just as long as you know what you’re doing. I mean, how can you be sure he isn’t still slapping his way around town? You were at his age – all those millions of years ago.’
Harvey sighed and raked his fingers through his hair. ‘Oh I know what you mean but I just have a good feeling about this one. And obviously I’ve been wrong before, but I’ve grown up so much since then. And something tells me that Spike’s worth getting to know better.’
Lola spotted her chance. ‘And what if I’ve got a good feeling about Jake?’ Not that she had, exactly, but she was too embarrassed to tell Harvey she just found him really sexy. ‘What if I told you I wanted to get to know him better?’
Harvey’s mouth twisted into a squirm. ‘I’d tell you to be careful, Lola. But if anything went wrong I’d be at and on your side.’
She put her arms around him and pulled him to her tightly. ‘I do love you, Harvey. And I promise I’m not going to do anything stupid. I’ve learnt from my mistakes and I’m not taking us back there again, darlin’ – no way.’
‘Good to hear it. And I love you too, Lola.’
‘OK, that’s all looking good!’ interrupted Hettie with an animated squeak. ‘Let’s get on with the next set-up everyone!’
Lola kissed Harvey on the cheek and slipped away from the studio to catch five minutes in her dressing room. She could hear Amina, Belle, Scarlett and Trixie scurrying behind her into the corridor. And there was someone else following them. She looked over her shoulder and saw it was Jake.
She stopped in her tracks and looked at her team. ‘You go on, girls. I’ll catch you up in a minute.’
They looked over at Jake and hurried off to the dressing room, whispering to each other excitedly. Lola was pretty sure she caught the words ‘big dick’ drifting down the corridor towards them. She grimaced and hoped Jake hadn’t heard.
‘Hiya,’ she chirped, beckoning him over. He came and stood next to her under a flickering old strip light. ‘How’s it going?’
‘Yeah, cool thanks. The video’s looking awesome. You’re really knocking it out of the park, Lola.’
‘Thanks, Jake. I’ll be glad when it’s finished, to be honest – I can’t wait to get this catsuit off.’
‘Well, I think it really suits you. And I’ve got to say, it’s sexy as hell.’
He glared at her, his green eyes feral with longing. She wondered why people always used the word ‘feral’ as if it were a bad thing – because right now it struck her as being really good.
Over his shoulder she was distracted by the sight of Freddy leading his crew across the corridor and towards the exit. He was deep in conversation with his producer and didn’t spot her. She was just about to open her mouth to shout out to him when something stopped her. She swallowed and looked back at Jake.
‘Yeah, thanks, Jake. You don’t look too bad yourself.’
‘Oh you know, I just throw myself together in the morning. I’m not really into all this male-grooming bullshit.’ As he fingered the edge of his shirt, once again Lola’s eyes were drawn to his muscular torso with its light covering of mahogany hair. Jake caught her looking and for a few seconds they stood holding each other’s gaze under the flickering light bulb. Lola couldn’t help thinking of the energy shooting between them; it was so strong it made her feel slightly giddy. It was very different from the way she’d felt when she’d looked into Freddy’s eyes. Freddy made her feel good about herself; he made her feel like a better person, which was delightful and totally intoxicating. Jake didn’t. He kind of made her feel bad. But why does it feel so good?
‘So I was thinking it might be cool if me and you went out for a drink some time,’ he said, without breaking her gaze.
‘Yeah, urm, that’d be nice, yeah.’
‘Great.’
He reached out and touched her cheek. She felt it burn so intensely she wondered if he’d left a singed handprint. Her need for him was so overpowering she just wanted her body to melt into his.
If only I’d called out to Freddy . . .
But he was gone now.
‘How about after the gig this weekend?’ she managed, her voice cracking slightly. ‘I guess I need to focus on work till then.’
‘Yeah, sounds good.’
‘OK, fierce.’
With all the confidence of a man who knew he wouldn’t be refused, Jake leaned in to kiss her. As he approached, she felt her body go limp and her mouth fall open almost instinctively. His lips touched hers only lightly and ever so slowly, but it was enough to feel their hot breath intermingling – and to feel the energy between them intensify until it sent a flush of excitement racing through her. He pulled back and gazed so deeply into her eyes she felt almost naked.
Oh what am I doing?
She hadn’t been lying when she’d told Harvey she had no intention of doing anything stupid with Jake; when she’d said the words she’d really meant them. But right now she wasn’t sure she had any control over the matter. It was like she knew it was going to happen – whether she intended it to or not.
There was another silence filled only by the sound of the strip light flickering. Lola couldn’t help thinking about the last week and her own feelings for Jake flickering on and off. It would be a relief to just turn them on now and let the light come flooding in. My God it would be such a relief.
‘OK, well I’d better go and get ready for this next scene,’ she said softly. ‘I’ll see you at rehearsal tomorrow?’
‘Yeah,’ he breathed, a grin lazily creeping its way up his cheeks. ‘See you at rehearsal.’
She moved away in the direction of her dressing room but turned to stop and watch him walk away. Once he’d disappeared around the corner she held the gun up to her lips and nibbled on it. For better or worse, it looked like she’d chosen between Jake and Freddy. Or rather, the choice had been made for her – by a force far stronger than her own willpower.
This is it – now I know it’s going to happen.
She couldn’t see how she’d ever be strong enough to stop it. Unless Freddy could somehow step in and stop her. But how was he going to do that?
5
‘And how’s my new boyfriend this morning?’
Harvey stretched out his arm so that Spike could snuggle into his chest.
‘He’s pretty cool, man. And how’s mine?’
‘Oh he’s brilliant, just brilliant.’
It was Saturday morning and for once Harvey didn’t have to bounce out of bed and dive straight into work. Later that day Lola was due to perform at an anti-drugs benefit concert organized by charismatic stand-up comedian and former-junkie-turned-sex-addict Ace Bounder. It was a huge deal as Lola’s recent success meant she had a headline slot and her performance would be live-streamed all over the world – and in particular in the US, where the exposure would help build up interest in her career before it launched there early next year. But however important it was, Lola wasn’t due on stage till nine o’clock in the evening and wouldn’t even be sound-checking till four, so there was no rush for Harvey to leave the comfort of his bed.
‘I really enjoyed last night,’ he said, running the back of his thumb along the groove of hard muscle in Spike’s back.
‘Mmm, me too, man. That place you took me to was sick.’
Early in the evening they’d been for dinner at H
arvey’s private members’ club in Soho, an elegant yet homely Georgian townhouse that had been painted and papered by Farrow and Ball, stuffed with old bookcases and antique chaises longues, and then sexed up with a smattering of controversial contemporary art by feather-rufflers such as Tracey Emin and Jake and Dinos Chapman. They’d enjoyed a delightfully flirtatious meal before deciding to slope off to Harvey’s flat in Islington, where they’d had a frank conversation in which they’d both admitted to developing strong feelings for each other and decided from now on to commit to an exclusive relationship. Harvey was relieved to wake up now and find there was no awkwardness between them. Of course that didn’t mean he was going to start letting himself go, and he’d already nipped into the bathroom to let loose a sneaky fart and combat a particularly nasty case of morning breath before Spike woke up. Now that he had, they were curled up on a pile of pillows and immersed in a calm contentment Harvey was eager to savour.
‘Man, I love your flat,’ Spike breathed. ‘It’s beast.’
Harvey explained that he’d bought it six years ago with money he’d earned from the first act he’d managed – a bubble-gum boy band called Cleen Teenz, who’d been briefly successful until two of them had filmed themselves alternately spit-roasting an underage groupie and her over-the-hill mum and the footage had somehow found its way onto YouPorn just before they were due to launch their careers in the States. The scene totally jarred with what the band stood for as a supposedly wholesome quartet of friends who’d met in a Christian youth club, and they’d instantly been dropped by their US record company. It had been a difficult time and one that had left Harvey wary of mounting a fake front for any of his acts – including Lola.
But at least he’d come out of the experience with his first property – the top two floors of a spacious Victorian conversion on a pretty little square in Canonbury Village. It housed a large office as well as a roof garden and a dramatic attic lounge that light streamed into from spring through to autumn. It had been decorated throughout with bare floorboards and whitewashed walls that Harvey had warmed up by adding shelves of trinkets he’d picked up around the world, as well as photos of him and friends having fun. Although the pièce de résistance wasn’t the decor but his pet pug Pickle, who very much embodied the spirit of his home and proved a hit with all visitors – including Spike.
‘Come on, blud,’ he called to him, patting the bed. ‘Come up here and have a cuddle.’
Pickle shuffled over and waddled up onto the bed, where he burrowed under the covers, wriggling his head out of the other end.
‘All right, lad?’ soothed Harvey. As he patted him on the head he realized he felt happier than he’d been in a long time. But there was something he’d been meaning to do for a while now – something he couldn’t put off any longer.
‘Spike? There’s something I need to tell you . . .’
‘Oh yeah? What’s that, man?’
‘You know how I’ve never had anything to drink when we’ve been out?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Well, I know I said it was because I was working early and I was on antibiotics and stuff. But actually I wasn’t being completely honest . . .’
Spike turned onto his elbows. ‘What? What’s up, man?’
Harvey knew that he had to tell the truth now because if he waited any longer he’d be misleading Spike. And besides, now that we’re boyfriends, surely it’s safe to tell him?
He contorted his face into a grimace. ‘It’s just that I don’t drink at all.’
There was a long pause and Spike creased his eyebrows. ‘What, you mean you’re like, teetotal?’
‘Yep – I don’t go near the stuff.’
There was another pause and Harvey began picking at a stray thread on the duvet. Flippin’ ’eck, maybe he’s thinking of an excuse to back out now.
‘Is that all, man?’ came Spike’s eventual reply. ‘Why didn’t you tell me before?’
‘Oh I don’t know. I guess I was worried you’d think I was boring and not wild enough for you. To be honest, the wildest I get these days is sneaking the odd packet of chewing gum through the self-checkout at the supermarket.’
‘You’re proper daft, blud.’ Spike smiled and slumped back down onto his chest.
As Harvey felt the calm rhythm of his breathing on his skin, his own tension began to seep away. Maybe this is going to be all right after all. Maybe I can be happy like this every day . . .
‘And when did you give up the booze?’ Spike asked
‘Three years ago now. I was just drinking too much. It was making me do stupid things and I was unhappy, basically. I wanted to take control of my life and sort myself out – which I did.’
Spike reached up and kissed his cheek.
‘What was that for?’
‘Oh, you know, just for being brave. That’s a cool thing you did, you know. Not everybody could do it, man.’
‘Aw thanks, Spike.’
Harvey felt him wriggle awkwardly.
‘While we’re on the subject of confessions, I need to tell you something.’
Harvey sat up and Spike slid to the side. ‘What?’
‘It’s just that I’ve made plenty of mistakes too, man. And a lot more recently than three years ago.’
‘Spike, you really don’t have to tell me about stuff like that.’
‘No, but I don’t want you thinking I’m someone I’m not. And if you knew some of the things I’ve got up to I’m not sure you’d be that into me.’
‘Oh come on, don’t be silly. We’ve all been around the block a few times. I can’t even remember who I lost my virginity to; I shagged three blokes on a boys’ holiday in Gran Canaria when I was nineteen and I was that pissed the whole time I can’t even remember which one came first.’
Spike’s throat clogged with laughter. ‘Well, last month I got so wavey I lost all my mates and all my dough and had to shag some taxi driver so he’d take me home. Except the tight bastard only reduced the fare by a tenner and drove me to a cash machine to pick up the rest.’
The two of them burst into laughter so loud Pickle reared onto his hind legs and started yapping.
‘But do you think you’re over all that now?’ Harvey asked.
‘Yeah, man. At least I hope I am.’
Harvey couldn’t help feeling a flicker of worry. He knew that Spike hoping he was over all that wasn’t the same as actually being over it. He remembered Lola saying something about him having trouble written all over him and wondered if that had been what she meant. But he was already in way too deep to pull back now. He gave Spike’s shoulders another squeeze. With everything going so well he really hoped he didn’t do anything stupid. Come to think of it, he hoped Lola didn’t either.
*
I’m going to shag Jake tonight.
Lola looked at herself in the mirror and felt a quiver of excitement laced with dread.
I’m blatantly going to shag Jake tonight.
She dug out some lingerie she’d been sent by Agent Provocateur and tried it on. Hmm, she thought, not bad. She’d been fully plucked and waxed and her figure wasn’t looking bad either; she’d stayed off the booze for the last few days and hadn’t eaten much so she looked good for today’s gig. Oh yeah, the gig! I almost forgot about that . . .
At the final rehearsal yesterday she’d been so overwhelmed by a desperate need to shag Jake she’d hardly been able to concentrate on her performance. At one point she’d been so distracted she’d mistimed a dance move and had whacked one of the dancers in the face. And on several occasions she’d even forgotten the words to her own songs – despite the fact she’d only written them six months ago. But it was as if she was possessed by some kind of savage desire for him, a visceral, animalistic need to feel her body fuse with his, that overrode everything else – even that voice in her head telling her to steer well clear.
And of course she knew that everything Harvey had said to her the other night was true. That I’m only attracted to tramps becau
se I’ve got a low sense of self-worth – blah blah blah. But what was she supposed to do about it? It didn’t stop her fancying Jake. Self-knowledge was all well and good but sometimes it just didn’t help. She still hadn’t worked out how to use it to control her emotions – or understood why it took so long for her feelings to catch up with her brain.
To top it all, now that she’d blabbed to the world about her fling with Nicky Finn, the last thing she wanted was to get mixed up with another tramp and the news to somehow leak out to the press. That would only make her look like some desperate basket case, not to mention a fake. But she decided not to think about that now – she’d made the decision to sleep with Jake and she’d just have to go through with it. Although part of her couldn’t help wondering what Freddy was doing today. Was he going to be at the concert too? And if so, would he find some way of coming over and saying hello?
She picked her way across the bedroom and between the boxes and storage containers that lay strewn all over her flat. She’d first seen the place six months ago when she’d been recording Trouble and straight away had put in an offer with the money she’d earned from her first album and from the advance on her US deal. She hadn’t really been able to afford it but everyone else seemed to be so confident about her future earnings she’d told herself that she should relax and go for it. It was a huge risk and she did sometimes worry what would happen if her career suddenly tanked. But she did have the most amazing home: it was a huge open-plan space that occupied the top floor of a former brewery in Shoreditch and when she’d viewed it she’d instantly felt an emotional connection, enough to convince her that it was her dream home. Or would be her dream home, once it had been gutted, refurbished and redecorated. The plan had been for her to be safely installed by the time Trouble was released so she’d have a sanctuary during the mad whirlwind of promotion. But unfortunately the sale had taken so long to go through she’d only moved in a few weeks ago. Harvey had wanted to put her up in a hotel or rent her an apartment while it was done up but she’d decided against it. She’d grown up living in squalor, so bare walls, a bit of dust and a few boxes really didn’t bother her. They’d have plenty of time to do the building work once she was on tour.