Nothing But Trouble

by Matt Cain

  Lola didn’t understand a single syllable but could at least identify the word ‘no’. She walked on, trying another two shops but receiving the same answer. She wished she spoke Spanish − then she could ask someone properly. She felt a stab of guilt that she didn’t, considering she was actually half Spanish. Not that her mum had ever told her that but she’d always assumed she must be, especially since she’d been given a Spanish name. Or should I say saddled with a Spanish name so I’d never be able to forget I was a mistake? She probably got it from that stupid Barry Manilow song – I bet it was the only Spanish name she could think of. She tried to swallow her bitterness and remembered she was supposed to call her mum to find out how she was getting on in rehab. But she couldn’t face it right now.

  She strolled on through the streets and soon came to another square, which she recognized as the Puerta del Sol. She looked on the ground for the kilómetro cero, which she seemed to remember from a school project represented the centre of Spain. She found it in front of the clock tower and crouched down to get a better look. As she squatted and stared at the map of Spain, she found herself wondering where in the country her dad might live. Her imagination began racing and she revisited her childhood fantasies about what he might be like. Except that now she couldn’t help thinking he was probably just as much of a tramp as some of the men she’d dated – like the one she was dating now. Oh my God, do me and Mum have the same taste in men? Is that why she won’t ever talk about my dad?

  She closed her eyes and pictured Jake’s face last night when their bodies had almost violently come together and his eyes had bored into her with a passionate fury. But soon the image was replaced by the memory of him slowing down mid-flow to send a quick text, which Lola was pretty sure she’d seen addressed to Sharonne. But she hadn’t wanted to ask as she couldn’t face the idea of being subjected to yet another lecture about him not looking for a relationship. And she couldn’t pretend to herself anymore – there was no longer any question that she’d fallen in love with him.

  Oh what am I playing at?

  She’d got herself into such a mess she couldn’t even talk to her best friend because she couldn’t bear him to realize how stupid she’d been. Instead she’d been reduced to sidling over to Belle, Scarlett and Trixie whenever she needed reassurance that Jake was actually a great guy, reassurance that she knew was hollow as they only ever told her exactly what she wanted to hear. She straightened herself up but her body felt like a dead weight and she faltered and had to grab onto a lamp post to steady herself. She felt totally alone and utterly desperate.

  But still she couldn’t bear the thought of giving up Jake. However low he made her feel, she wasn’t sure she could exist without him. It suddenly struck her that her need for Jake was like an addict’s need for a fix. She understood why so many pop stars sang about love being like a drug – and from out of nowhere felt a flicker of empathy for her mum. She stood in the Puerta del Sol, at the very centre of Spain, and finally understood just how tough it must be for her mum to fight her addiction. Because being an addict is hard, she admitted to herself. It’s really fucking hard.

  She sloped off in the direction of the hotel. Her mission had failed. She’d just have to do without her Turkish Delight.

  *

  ‘OK, Spike, speak to you soon,’ said Harvey into his mobile as he looked out at the view of Barcelona in the early evening sunshine. A stream of strollers trickled their way down the tree-lined Rambla while the cable car cut across the sky above them. His eyes alighted on the towering monument to Christopher Columbus, the great explorer pointing out to sea in the direction of the new world he was leaving to discover. Harvey thought about their own trip to America in a few months’ time and the dazzling rewards it could bring. This was Lola’s chance to take her place alongside the biggest names in music. But before then she had a new single to promote and, most importantly, a whole arena tour of Europe to rehearse and then perform – and already he was worried about how she was coping with the frenzied work rate of spectacular success.

  Spike’s voice broke into his thoughts. ‘Yeah, speak to you soon, man.’

  ‘Oh, and Spike?’ Harvey added.

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘I love you.’

  ‘I love you too, blud.’

  Harvey looked at his phone and smiled. He was standing in the corridor of the hotel, pressed into the corner and squashed against the window – the spot that he’d worked out had the best reception. He and Spike had only just started saying ‘I love you’ to each other and it still gave him a little rush of happiness every time he heard it. He only wished Lola could experience the same thing rather than falling for men who always seemed to make her unhappy. Once they were back in the UK, he was going to have another crack at persuading her to go out on a date with Freddy Jones. He knew she fancied him and when he’d first mentioned fixing them up she’d promised she’d think about it, but since then she’d fobbed him off every time he’d brought up the subject. He couldn’t help fearing it was because she was seeing Jake. Which would explain a whole lot more besides . . .

  Just then he heard the sound of the lift doors opening and someone stepping out onto the marble floor and heading in the direction of Lola’s room. He rounded the corner to see who it was. It was Jake.

  Oh no! So I was right all along . . .

  He watched with despair as Jake checked his reflection in a window and then rapped on Lola’s door.

  ‘Hey babe,’ he called out, ‘it’s me!’

  The door swung open and Lola’s grinning face emerged. Over Jake’s shoulder her eyes met Harvey’s and her smile wilted. ‘Oh. Hi, Harvey.’

  Jake turned around to face him.

  ‘All right?’ Harvey murmured. He looked at Jake, whose eyes drifted down to the floor guiltily. Stay calm, lad. Stay calm.

  Lola stepped out in her dressing gown and leant on the door frame. ‘What are you doing here?’ she asked Harvey.

  He held up his phone. ‘I was just making a quick call. The reception’s better out here.’

  ‘Oh right.’

  There was a silence and Jake eased his weight from one foot to another.

  Lola opened her mouth to speak. ‘Jake was just coming over to—’

  ‘It’s all right,’ Harvey interrupted, ‘you don’t have to say anything.’

  Lola looked at him and hung her head. He hated her feeling this way. He hated her being in this position. And he hated Jake for putting her in it.

  ‘Look, I just remembered,’ Jake said coolly, ‘I left something in my room. So if you guys don’t mind, I’m actually going to shoot.’

  ‘Course you are,’ sneered Harvey. ‘You come along and cause a load of trouble and then piss off to let other people pick up the pieces!’

  Oops! That wasn’t particularly calm.

  ‘Harvey!’ objected Lola.

  ‘Dude, I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ smirked Jake. ‘But I really don’t need this shit. I’m going down to find the others.’ He walked over to the lift and pressed the call button.

  ‘Jake!’ Lola bleated. ‘Don’t go!’

  ‘No, I’ll see you some other time, babe,’ he said, stepping through the doors. ‘Things are getting way too heavy around here – and it’s really not my bag.’

  ‘Harvey!’ she hissed once the doors had closed. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’

  ‘Funnily enough I was going to ask you the same thing.’

  ‘Oh all right, all right. So I’ve got off with Jake a few times. Why’s that such a big problem?’

  ‘You tell me, Lola. You’re the one who’s finding it a problem – you’ve been all over the place for the last few weeks.’

  She threw up her hands. ‘No I haven’t. I’ve just been a bit tired, that’s all. In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve been working really hard.’

  He looked behind him to check there was no one else in the corridor. ‘I know you have, Lola. But I also know how men like Jake c
an mess with your head – which really doesn’t help things.’

  She crossed her arms and gave an exaggerated sigh. ‘Honestly, darlin’, you’re blowing this up into something way bigger than it is. I mean, Jake’s blatantly really fit and everything but it’s not as if we’re going out with each other. I could stop seeing him any time I wanted.’

  Harvey gave her a sceptical frown. ‘Now you’re sounding like an addict promising you can stop using.’

  Lola visibly flinched.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ asked Harvey. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Yeah, yeah, you just hit a raw nerve, that’s all.’

  ‘Oh I’m sorry. But I’m only looking out for you, Lola. And I’m not judging you or anything – I just don’t want you to end up getting hurt.’

  ‘I know, darlin’. But I promise I won’t. I know exactly where I stand with Jake. And when it stops being fun I’ll call it off.’

  As she said the words, Harvey heard her conviction waver and he knew she was lying. He’d known it from the look on her face as Jake disappeared into the lift.

  ‘Come on,’ she went on, ‘what can I do to prove it to you?’

  He thought about it for a minute but didn’t take long to come up with an answer.

  ‘OK, if you and Jake aren’t serious then presumably you’re free to date other people?’

  She nodded with a smile. ‘Blatantly.’

  ‘Well when we’re back home, how about I line up that date with Freddy?’

  ‘Fine,’ she fired back without hesitation, ‘no problem at all.’

  ‘Right. Great.’

  ‘Now is that everything? Because I need to get an early night.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah, I think so. Night then.’

  ‘Night, darlin’. See you in the morning.’

  As he watched the door close, Harvey realized she’d gone without giving him a kiss. He swallowed but his throat had gone dry.

  He walked back to his room and stopped to look out at Christopher Columbus. Now that he’d persuaded Lola to go on a date with Freddy he really hoped it would go well. He needed it to go well. Because if it didn’t, he didn’t dare think of the consequences.

  7

  Lola had been holding the can of Twinkle to her lips for so long she was worried her arm was starting to shake. She did her best to keep it still as she leaned seductively on an enormous papier-mâché moon that was hanging from the ceiling of a photography studio on an industrial estate somewhere near New Cross. All around her hundreds of little stars shimmered on a black velvet background. It wasn’t particularly subtle but it was the image chosen for the new ad campaign for Twinkle – a campaign that would be fronted by Lola.

  ‘Let’s have a little giggle please!’ said one of the photographers as the flashbulbs exploded.

  ‘And a dash of mischief!’ piped his partner.

  Lola obliged, keen to do anything to please the company that would be coming up with the money to make her vision for a spectacular stage show a reality. Not to mention providing her with a priceless platform to launch her career in America.

  ‘And how about a naughty grin?’ asked one of the photographers.

  ‘Course, darlin’.’ She instantly switched on a grin she was convinced she’d already flashed five or six times during the last hour. ‘Whatever you say.’

  The stills for the campaign were being shot by Mark and Mark, an American gay couple who were the hottest names in international fashion photography and who Harvey had described as ‘performance art’. Lola hadn’t understood what he’d meant until this morning, when they’d skipped onto the set looking like twins in matching blue-and-white sailor suits, little cocked caps embroidered with anchors, and blue suede shoes decorated with diamanté studs. Trundling along ahead of them had been a so-ugly-it’s-cute French bulldog with its own sailor hat perched on its head. The dog had been introduced as Nancy.

  ‘Oh she’s so lovely!’ Lola had cooed.

  ‘Urm, he’s actually a boy,’ one of the Marks had corrected her.

  ‘Oh right,’ she’d stuttered, suddenly getting the joke. ‘Well in that case, he’s so lovely!’

  Lola spotted Nancy splayed out in the corner, oblivious to the sound of the latest dance remixes of music by Beyoncé, Britney Spears and will.i.am that came blasting out of the speakers around him.

  And right now Lola needed the pounding beat to maintain her momentum. This was the third and final day of the Twinkle shoot and so far each day had dragged on for about twelve hours. The first two had been the hardest as they’d started by shooting the TV commercial, which had featured Lola wearing a dark green version of her currently violet halter-neck jumpsuit and catwalking through a similarly starry set towards the camera, where she’d stopped, taken a swig of Twinkle and promised the viewer, ‘You too can twinkle like a star.’ She hadn’t really understood why they’d needed to record so many takes when her contribution had been pretty much the same throughout – in fact almost embarrassingly so, however hard she’d tried to vary it. But she’d done as she was told and was determined to do the same on today’s stills shoot, which had a much more relaxed atmosphere and she hoped wouldn’t last quite as long.

  ‘And if you could just rest the can on your cheek,’ suggested one of the photographers. ‘That’s it! And then close your eyes as if you’re in ecstasy. Awesome!’

  Earlier in the week Lola had arrived home from Spain and the next day had started band rehearsals for the Trouble tour. But the first session hadn’t gone at all well. After Harvey had caught Jake visiting her room in Barcelona, Lola had become convinced her secret was out and everyone around her was gossiping. But then she’d only gone and made things worse when she’d caught Jake chatting to Sharonne, who was maniacally blinking at him like Bambi on speed, and had snapped at the two of them across the rehearsal room, no doubt increasing the tension bouncing around in every direction. This was exactly the kind of atmosphere that was supposed to develop towards the end of a tour – not before it had even started! It had been a relief to know that she’d be stepping away for a few days to film the Twinkle campaign. Even if my arm is shaking like I’ve got the worst hangover ever.

  ‘That’s great!’ oozed one of the two Marks. ‘Now if you don’t mind holding your finger up to your lips – almost as if you’re surprised by how good it tastes.’

  Lola was just about to make a joke about how good it didn’t taste when she remembered that a handful of Twinkle execs were somewhere on set monitoring the shoot. Harvey had promised to shadow them all day to take some of the heat off her, but even so she couldn’t risk joking about what she really thought about Twinkle. She remembered the nickname Harvey had given her, the Mouth from the South, and wondered whether by keeping quiet she was compromising her policy of remaining true to herself or whether she’d simply developed a little maturity. It was a tough call and right now she was too tired to work out the answer.

  The truth was, she hadn’t had a day off in nearly a month and felt close to collapse. Not that she’d ever complain about working too hard when for years she’d only dreamed about being this successful; she still felt pathetically grateful when a magazine wanted to take her photograph, a journalist wanted to interview her or a TV producer liked her enough to book her on his show. And of course she knew that everyone else on her team was working hard too, but even so the band and backing singers often had time off if she was doing press or a chat show and her Style Council were usually dismissed if she was doing radio or print interviews. Only Amina worked as hard as she did. Oh and Harvey, she thought with a little frown.

  But then again, Harvey set the working schedule – as Belle, Scarlett and Trixie had reminded her that morning when it had become obvious she was struggling to stay awake. ‘You need to stand up for yourself a bit more,’ they’d told her, ‘and remind Harvey who the star is.’ Of course that wasn’t the kind of thing she’d ever do, especially not since the two of them had been united in building up her career from the ver
y start. But she couldn’t help thinking maybe the girls had a point. Maybe Harvey should cut me a little slack – I can’t work all the time and he should know I need the odd night out to let my hair down. She spotted him feigning interest as he chatted to two strong-chinned, broad-shouldered Americans from Twinkle’s head office. They certainly seemed perfectly happy with the way things were going. She wondered if Harvey had exaggerated their response to the YouTube clip of her falling down drunk in Stockholm. What if he made the whole thing up just to try and scare me into behaving myself? And what’s he doing getting me into the deal anyway if they only want some boring stiff who doesn’t drink?

  ‘You know, Lola’s perfect for us,’ she heard one of the Americans tell him during a dip in the music. ‘She’s got that naughty edge but deep down you know she wouldn’t step out of line.’

  ‘Absolutely,’ agreed his colleague, ‘she’s a little wild but you know she takes a stand against drugs and is ultimately wholesome.’

  Lola bristled as she listened to the men speak as if she wasn’t there – and felt her irritation grow as she watched Harvey nod his head in response. ‘Wholesome’? Who are they calling ‘wholesome’?

  The very mention of the word made her want to suddenly flash her boobs or knock back a whole bottle of vodka and run naked down Oxford Street – or have mad passionate sex with Jake on her roof garden in full view of the neighbours. Oh wait a minute, we did that the other night . . . Not that she’d seen Jake much since she’d got back from the promo tour – not since Harvey’s little outburst in Barcelona. In fact, she’d seen so little of him she was starting to think he was avoiding her. Thankfully there’d been that one exception, but on that occasion she’d been so eager to please she’d agreed not only to having sex on the roof garden in full view of any prying neighbours but also letting him smoke a joint while they were at it. He’d ended up getting so stoned he’d spent the rest of the night telling her brain-bustingly boring stories about the different types of weed he’d smoked at different music festivals around the world, along with a detailed analysis of the high induced by each. She stifled a yawn at the memory of the conversation. It was a shame it wasn’t enough to put her off him.