Nothing But Trouble

by Matt Cain

  Oh it wasn’t her fault she was in love with Jake. She’d tried everything she could to make herself not be in love with him but nothing seemed to work. And now she’d agreed to go for dinner tonight with Freddy, which was pretty stupid because she was only doing it to prove to Harvey that she wasn’t in love with Jake, even though she was quite happy to admit to herself that she was. And the worst thing was that she’d actually really fancied Freddy, but now she’d be trying her best to resist him because it would mean going off Jake and she was terrified of losing him. She had no idea how she’d ended up in such a stupid situation. Why do I always have to fuck everything up?

  ‘OK, can we be a bit sexy please?’ asked one of the Marks. ‘Kind of stroke the can a bit?’

  As she complied with the instruction she shot a pained smile in the direction of Harvey and the Twinkle execs. Oh I know the whole Jake thing’s a disaster but I don’t need anyone else to tell me. Harvey’s expression of concern only made her feel worse. And why should she have to put up with him criticizing her all the time – even if he was doing it for the right reasons? Surely one of the perks of being a star was that you could do what you liked and everyone else had to dance to your tune? And anyway, what makes him think his life is so sorted? Do I go around criticizing his new boyfriend?

  ‘OK, that’s awesome!’ cheeped one of the photographers. ‘Let’s take a break and start again in ten!’

  Lola put down the can of Twinkle and wriggled her right arm until it stopped shaking. She slid down from the fake moon and tried to land gracefully on the floor but stumbled and almost went over on her high heels. She looked up but thankfully no one had noticed. Not even Nancy, who was too busy lapping up a latte Mark and Mark had sent out for and then tipped into a bowl. Lola smiled at the dog as he slopped most of it onto the floor.

  She looked over and saw that Harvey was still chatting away to the Americans. Yeah, she thought, it might all be going brilliantly with his new boyfriend at the moment but it won’t last long. And when it did all start going wrong, Lola wouldn’t gloat. She wouldn’t say ‘I told you so’. She’d do just what Harvey had done and express her concern. She’d tell him she only wanted what was best for him and was just looking out for him.

  And let’s see how he likes it.

  *

  Spike quickly glanced around the newsroom to check no one was looking and held out his hands in front of him. They were still shaking, even though it was mid-afternoon. He lodged them under his thighs and trained his eyes on his computer screen. Oh when’s this shit going to stop, man?

  He tried to read the same email three times but just couldn’t concentrate. He felt gripped by a fear that any minute a huge news story would break and he’d be thrust onto the front line, where everyone would be able to see he was going through one of the worst coke and booze comedowns ever. He slouched so far down into his chair that he almost slid under his desk. He just wanted to disappear and hide away from everyone until the programme went on air – at which time he could slip away and collapse into his bed.

  Of course Spike knew that if he were white, straight and posh, everyone in the newsroom would love him being hung-over – he could just imagine them all queuing up at his desk to give him a pat on the back. Just the other day Hugh Badcock had got so shit-faced with one of the foreign correspondents at some awards show in Switzerland that they’d ended up missing their flight home. When they’d turned up for work the next morning they’d been greeted by a round of applause. But it was different for Spike; as the odd one out in several ways he had to be twice as good at his job as anyone else in the newsroom if he wanted to prove himself. He certainly couldn’t risk anyone seeing the state he was in now – except Freddy.

  A glass of something fizzy and fluorescent was plonked down in front of him. ‘Come on, champ,’ Freddy said, ‘get this down you.’

  As he raised it to his lips and drained the glass, Spike thought about all the booze he’d downed last night. His flatmate Serenity had texted him during the day to say she’d just heard she’d landed her dream job at her favourite magazine, Heat. She’d wanted to go out and celebrate but Spike knew from experience that Serenity’s celebrations were always characterized by a complete absence of serenity. To try and limit the damage he’d suggested they go for a meal and they’d met after work in a gay restaurant in Soho called Meat and Two Veg – although neither of them had eaten much meat and certainly hadn’t touched any veg. Instead, they’d worked their way through two bottles of champagne before moving on to a gay bar called Rod’s, where they’d downed endless shots of vodka with a Brazilian go-go dancer Spike was pretty sure he’d once met on Grindr for a bout of post-club off-his-face sex. Once the dancer had worked them for free drinks and moved on to flirt with someone else, Spike and Serenity had clattered on to a dodgy fetish club called the Butt Hut, where they’d snorted so much coke they’d both been overwhelmed by an uncontrollable urge to have sex. It hadn’t been long before Serenity had disappeared into the staff room with one of the bouncers and Spike had ended up going home with a horrendous blonde geezer he didn’t even fancy, who he couldn’t help thinking looked a bit like Myra Hindley.

  Several hours into his crushingly miserable comedown he still hadn’t worked out what had come over him. He let out a low moan as he remembered stumbling onto a nightbus outside the Myra Hindley lookalike’s flat in Tottenham, then falling asleep and being woken up by the driver at the end of the route in Wandsworth. By the time he’d made it home to Brixton it had been 8 a.m. and he’d had to get ready for work, where he now sat shaking, sniffing and suffering – proper suffering.

  Thankfully it was a heavy news day so the entertainment team had been left alone for a spot of forward-planning, which meant Freddy could work himself up about tonight’s date with Lola while Spike cradled his comedown. His eyes darted around the room, paranoid that everyone was watching him. But they all seemed to be going about their business hyper-normally, which for some weird reason only made him more edgy. A group of middle-aged secretaries dressed in Marks & Spencer’s leopard-print were indulging in what they called their regular ‘Friday sex talk’, giggling girlishly as one of them reminisced about the time she’d drunk one vodka and orange too many, pulled a black man then screamed out loud when confronted by his ‘massive willy’. Spike wondered what they’d say if he told them some of the things he’d got up to last night with the Myra Hindley lookalike. He squirmed at the memory. Oh what was I doing, man?

  ‘Any better?’ asked Freddy softly.

  ‘Not really, blud,’ whined Spike. ‘I still feel a bit wavey, to be honest. And I just can’t get over how stupid I’ve been.’

  ‘Yeah well, don’t beat yourself up about it. We’ve all been there, you know.’

  ‘No,’ Spike corrected him, ‘I’m not sure we have all been there.’

  He watched Freddy nod solemnly as he ran through some of the more shameful details of his night out, ending by shaking his own head in disbelief. He’d no idea how he’d been able to cheat on Harvey so casually. Everything had been going so well between them; they’d had a brilliant time in Rome, wandering through the streets arm in arm and snogging like teenagers in the audience of Lola’s concert in the Villa Borghese. Since Harvey had come home they’d spent all their free time together – except last night, when Spike had had a few drinks and suddenly been overwhelmed by a desire to shatter his happiness into tiny pieces. What if I’ve gone and fucked up the best relationship I’ve ever had?

  And the worst thing was it was all so predictable. He was sure Harvey’s friends thought it would only be a matter of time until Spike showed his true colours and started behaving badly. And now here he was, doing exactly that. But the weird thing was that he hadn’t even wanted to – it was like he’d been somehow driven to it against his will. He wondered whether he was just a bad person, forever destined to ruin everything that was good in his life. The idea of his own badness felt like a poison creeping through his body and turning ev
ery last bit of him rotten.

  ‘Oh what am I supposed to do now, man?’ he asked Freddy, letting out a long sigh. ‘I mean, should I tell Harvey or not?’

  ‘I’m not sure, mate,’ came the considered response. ‘Obviously telling him would be the right thing to do, like. But I don’t know him like you do. How do you think he’d react?’

  ‘He’d be proper gutted, man. And I’d always know I’d done that to him.’

  ‘But could you live with yourself not telling him?’

  Spike crinkled his nose as he thought it over. ‘Urm, no – I don’t think I could, blud.’

  ‘Well, there’s your answer.’

  Spike looked at his watch; it was still only four o’clock. He stretched his mouth wide open and slapped his cheeks. He had less than five hours to figure out what to tell Harvey.

  *

  Lola stepped out of the car and undulated into the restaurant. She was feeling pretty slinky after finishing a shoot everyone said had gone brilliantly. Unfortunately she hadn’t had time to nip home to change so had been forced to come out in the violet jumpsuit she’d worn in the studio together with her professionally done hair and make-up. She was slightly worried it was all a bit over-the-top but reminded herself that it didn’t matter, seeing as she was only here to shut up Harvey. I wonder how soon I can get away and if I’ll have time to see Jake afterwards . . .

  Inside the restaurant, Freddy was waiting at the table. He’d specifically asked to be seated in a quiet corner so they wouldn’t be hassled by other diners – although he’d chosen the restaurant because it was often frequented by celebrities and people working in the creative industries who were less likely to be star-struck. Scran was a fashionable, relaxed venue acclaimed for its contemporary take on unfussy, traditional British food. Freddy looked down the menu to see what was on offer – calves’ liver, sausage and mash, corned beef hash . . . He hoped his choice of restaurant would be glamorous enough for Lola. He realized he was scrunching up a napkin in his fists and stopped to straighten it out on his lap. Calm down, champ, there’s nothing to be nervous about, remember?

  A few feet away, Lola was being greeted by a maître d’ with a face like a Digestive biscuit and a set of discoloured teeth that seemed to have been arranged in his mouth like crazy paving. ‘Hello, Miss Grant. Welcome to Scran.’

  ‘Hiya,’ she chirped, ‘it’s great to be here!’

  She followed him through a timber-panelled, cosily lit restaurant full of unpretentious people relaxing on green leather-backed chairs and cushion-covered benches, leaning forward to chat on tables covered by pristine white cloths and decorated with little vases of pink and yellow gerberas. It was so delightfully inviting she found herself suppressing a little squeal. Well, Freddy certainly scores full marks for his choice of venue. That is, he would if she were keeping score – which she reminded herself she wasn’t. Because I’m only here to please Harvey.

  She swept round a corner and spotted Freddy furrowing his forehead as he studied the menu. ‘Hiya!’ she beamed. ‘You all right?’

  Wow! he thought. She looks incredible.

  ‘Yeah, cracking, thanks,’ he smiled, standing up. ‘Good to see you.’

  He was wearing a sea-green polo shirt that perfectly complemented his red hair, with the top button undone to reveal a silver chain rolling over the ripples of his upper chest muscles and sleeves that dug into the curves of his bulky biceps. He gave her a little hug and she noticed he was wearing a subtle but strong aftershave that smelled of cedarwood and spices, and as he squeezed her he felt solid and tough. Hmm, she thought, someone’s even more handsome than I remembered.

  ‘You look great,’ he murmured, sitting back down as the maître d’ pulled out Lola’s chair. ‘Really gorgeous, like.’

  ‘Oh come off it,’ she scoffed, lowering herself into her seat. ‘I’ve come straight from a shoot – I look like a drag queen!’

  ‘No you don’t!’ he said as the maître d’ swept away. ‘You look gorgeous, honestly.’

  ‘Well, in that case, thanks darlin’. You’re looking pretty good yourself.’

  Freddy shrugged sheepishly. He’d actually been heading out in his work suit when Spike had pulled him back and insisted he change into the only casual clothes he had hanging in his locker. His producer had also sprayed him with a few squirts of his own favourite aftershave, something called Terre by Hermès. Freddy hoped Lola liked it – because he really wanted tonight to go well. He’d been thrilled when Harvey had emailed to say Lola was back from Europe and wondered if he’d like to go out for dinner. Finally he had her on her own.

  ‘But a handsome man like you doesn’t need telling,’ Lola teased. ‘And anyway, I’ve blatantly told you plenty of times already.’

  ‘Yeah, thanks,’ he managed, looking down awkwardly. There was a short silence and he reminded himself not to talk too much. It’s not your job to fill all the pauses.

  ‘Cool restaurant,’ Lola said after a few seconds. ‘Have you been here before?’

  ‘Yeah, a few times – the food’s cracking. But what do you want to drink first? Shall we get a bottle of wine, like?’

  ‘Yeah, go on. I could do with a drink after today.’

  He called over a waiter, who was shaven-headed, stubbled and had the kind of uber-masculine look that could have meant he was either extremely straight, or extremely gay and doing his best to butch up. As Freddy chatted to him about the wine options, Lola couldn’t help noticing the waiter was shaking with nerves – even more than her arm had been shaking holding up that can of Twinkle all day. Aha! she thought. He must fancy Freddy.

  It looks like this waiter fancies Lola, thought Freddy as he watched him shake more than Spike had done on his coke comedown. And he couldn’t blame him; not only did she look amazing but she had an energy about her that in a funny way made him just want to be better. He tried to relax and ordered a bottle of Sancerre, which he’d chosen after googling the restaurant’s wine list and researching several options. Whatever it tasted like, he couldn’t wait till it arrived.

  ‘So how was the shoot?’ he asked Lola.

  She told him all about her three days posing with a can of Twinkle and he chuckled as she reprised the one line she’d had to deliver what felt like a thousand times. ‘You too can Twinkle like a star!’

  Oh she’s such a laugh, thought Freddy. I hope she doesn’t think I’m boring and uncool.

  I feel so happy and safe with him, thought Lola. I hope he doesn’t think I’m dirty and common.

  The waiter reappeared and served their drinks, spilling a little as he splashed it into the glasses. Lola noticed that not only was he shaking but he also had terrible bitten-down fingernails. He must have a serious crush on Freddy, she thought. And she couldn’t blame him. How could she have ever let him get away? How could she have allowed herself to be distracted by a blatant tramp like Jake? She watched him fiddle with his silver chain then let it fall onto the contours of a chest she could just imagine tracing with her finger.

  Freddy felt embarrassed that the waiter was falling to pieces in front of Lola and tried to distract him by asking about the specials. He took another look at the menu and couldn’t help giving a little chortle as he saw cock-a-leekie soup. He was just about to make a knob gag when he stopped himself – he knew Lola was famous for being straight-talking but he didn’t want to offend her by being too crude. He needn’t have worried.

  ‘This cock-a-leekie soup,’ she asked the waiter, raising an eyebrow. ‘Does it have real cock in it?’

  The two of them burst out laughing and the waiter looked mortified. ‘Urm, no, it’s urm, it’s a chicken-based soup with leeks and barley.’

  ‘Oh I’m sorry,’ Lola said, mid-giggle, ‘please ignore me. I’ll have the scallops and then the roast chicken please.’

  The waiter looked at Freddy, who was still trying to control his laughter. ‘I’ll have the tomato soup followed by the Dover sole,’ he managed, wiping his eyes. ‘And I’m sorry f
or laughing too.’

  Once the waiter had scurried away the two of them allowed their laughter to come spilling out.

  ‘He blatantly fancies you!’ Lola spewed.

  ‘No he doesn’t!’ Freddy said. ‘It’s you he’s into.’

  ‘Leave it to me, darlin’. I’ll find out later. And the loser blatantly has to down a glass of wine.’

  ‘You’re on!’ He smiled and held up his glass. ‘Cheers!’

  ‘Cheers!’ She took a sip and smiled back at him.

  Freddy felt his shoulders drop as he started to relax. He wasn’t sure what he’d been nervous about; this was going to be fun. You never know, he thought, I might even manage to impress her.

  Lola stretched out her legs and kicked off her heels under the table; this was going to be fun – much more fun than she’d expected. Although the truth was she hadn’t thought about it much beforehand, probably because she’d been too busy being besotted with Jake. Apart from Harvey, the only person she’d told about the date had been Gloria, and that had been because she’d wanted to stem the rumours she was sure were circulating through the band about her affair with Jake, who’d only become twitchy and take it out on her if everyone knew they were sleeping together. She remembered how sweet Gloria had been and how she’d spent ages giving her dating advice, while all Lola had been able to think about was how long it would take for the news to filter through to Jake and whether it might even make him jealous. Not that she was giving the slightest consideration to Jake’s feelings right now. You never know, she thought, it might not be too late for Freddy to save me from Jake after all – to turn my head back to where it first started.

  ‘So come on then,’ she said to him, ‘what can you tell me about you? You’ve already interviewed me twice. How about I interview you for a change?’

  ‘All right,’ he smiled, ‘what do you want to know?’