by Matt Cain
He wrapped his towel around him and rushed closer to the TV, where he could actually hear what was being said. He stood fixed to the spot and endured a long report about a minor altercation between Lavinia Trout and some gobby fish-wife on a market in Grimsby and then an interview about unemployment with some businesswoman with librarian boobs straining to get out of a dress way too tight for her middle-aged spread. Surely if Lola had been busted for taking coke it would have easily trumped this round-up and made the top story? So why on earth had they mentioned her name in the headlines?
After what seemed like forever, the presenter announced that Channel 3 News had secured exclusive access to the first night of Lola’s tour. Harvey let out a sigh of relief. Is that it? A trail for next Wednesday’s programme?
As she explained that Freddy Jones would be the only journalist allowed backstage, he returned to his locker and began patting his hair dry. Oh maybe there was no need to worry about Lola’s coke binge making the news. Because of libel laws, no journalist could run the story without cast-iron evidence. And as far as Harvey knew there wasn’t any.
For the first time since last night he was starting to feel a little less tense. He padded over to the mirror and stopped to inspect his reflection. He looked tired and a bit frazzled but at least he was still standing – and would live to fight another day. After all, he’d fought his way through much worse than this and had always survived. He forced out a little smile and broke away to start slipping on his clothes.
As he pulled on his trousers he remembered that Spike was going to meet him outside the gym to come back to his place for a late dinner. And he was determined to enjoy himself. It was no longer his responsibility to worry about Lola. Besides, it didn’t look like there was anything to worry about.
*
Over near Heathrow, rehearsals for the Trouble tour were being wound down for the evening.
‘Well done everyone!’ called out Carlson. ‘If we can do as well as that for the next five days we’ve got nothing to worry about.’
Oh save your breath, thought Gloria. Some of us aren’t worried in the first place. In fact, some of us couldn’t give less of a shit if we tried.
No, Gloria had a whole different show to prepare for – one that would be much more deserving of the title Trouble than Lola’s tacky tour. But before she could begin rehearsals she needed to hold one key production meeting. And now looked like the perfect time.
As the band and dancers grabbed their coats and bags and bolted out of the door, Gloria sidled over to the tech desk and perched on the edge.
‘Hi Vlad,’ she purred, ‘how’s it going?’
‘Fine thanks,’ he answered without moving his eyes from his computer screen.
He didn’t seem remotely interested in her presence. She subtly inched up her skirt to flash him a bit of leg. ‘I’m not sure we’ve actually met before. Well, not properly anyway. I’m Gloria. One of the BVs?’
She held out her hand and her eyes sparkled at him.
‘Oh yeah, Gloria. Good to meet you.’
As he shook her hand she spotted a glimmer of interest in his eyes.
That’s more like it . . .
‘Night, guys!’ called a voice behind her. She looked around and saw Lola leaving with Amina trailing after her.
‘Night!’ yelled Vlad.
‘Night!’ Gloria shouted, trying her best not to scowl. Lola had been a silly cow in rehearsals all afternoon, bursting with enthusiasm and forcing them all to go over the same bits of the show time and time again to make sure everything was perfect. And she’d been annoyingly chirpy for someone who’d spent all night snorting coke. It wasn’t right – nobody on a comedown should be that cheerful. Well by the time I’ve finished with her, cheerful’s the last thing she’ll be.
But first she needed Vlad to take the bait. And she was dismayed to see he’d turned back to his screen and was tapping away on the keyboard. She casually unzipped her top to reveal a bit more cleavage. It’s about time I got my money’s worth out of these girls, she thought, leaning forward so he’d get a decent eyeful.
‘You know, I’m so impressed by your contribution to the show,’ she gushed with such conviction she almost fooled herself. ‘I was just saying to Sharonne how amazing your video projections are looking.’
Vlad broke away from his computer and smiled at her. ‘Yeah, turned out well, didn’t they?’
Yeah, and they’ll be turning out a whole lot better once I’ve got my hands on them.
‘Funnily enough,’ she went on, ‘it’s the screens I wanted to talk to you about.’
‘Oh yeah. What do you want to know?’
‘Well, I wondered if I could ask you a little favour. My brother’s studying IT at uni and he’s absolutely brilliant. But would you mind if he came and sat in with you some time? I’ve already told him about some of the stuff you’re doing and it’s exactly what he wants to do when he graduates.’
‘Urm, yeah, maybe, urm, leave it with me and I’ll have a think. I mean, we’re obviously really up against it at the moment.’
‘Oh I know, Vlad. And I’ve no idea how you manage with all the pressure you’re under. But if you could squeeze him in for just one day I’d be ever so grateful.’
‘See you tomorrow, guys!’ called out Carlson as he sloped out of the door.
‘Yeah, see you!’ Gloria called after him.
Finally they were on their own.
‘So how exactly do the screens work anyway?’ she asked, fingering the zip around her cleavage suggestively.
‘Well, it’s all digital, obviously,’ Vlad explained, struggling not to stare at her boobs. ‘So we feed in the finished films on a memory stick, cue them up and just click on one little icon when it’s time for them to play. It’s that simple.’
‘My God, even I understand that,’ Gloria fawned. ‘And I’m hopeless with technology!’ She gave a flirtatious giggle to make her ineptitude sound more convincing. ‘So is that just a normal memory stick then?’
‘Yeah, just your regular thirty-two-gig pen drive from any old computer shop.’ He ejected it from the hard drive and held it up to show her.
Hmm, that looks promising. She knew it wouldn’t be too difficult for her to copy the master sequence, edit in her own little piece of movie magic and substitute the new version on Vlad’s hard drive just before opening night. And then all those lucky fans at the O2 would be getting two shows for the price of one – and she’d be getting maximum value out of her debut as a film-maker. She shivered with excitement as she pictured Lola prancing around the stage screeching along to one of her awful songs while the footage of her snorting coke was projected onto the screens behind her. Oh yeah, that would be so much better than just sending the clip directly to Channel 3 News. Especially as Gloria had just heard Freddy Jones and his crew had already been granted permission to film the show on opening night – and their programme started broadcasting at nine o’clock, just half an hour after Lola was due on stage. They’d be ideally placed to capture the fans’ outrage as their idol was humiliated. It was all falling together perfectly.
But Gloria knew her plan would only work if she had access to the tech desk so she could copy the file and smuggle it out of the building. Which was where her little brother Clinton would come in. She just needed Vlad to let Clinton shadow him for a day. But he didn’t seem that keen. Oh what’s his problem? All he does all day is sit around on his bony arse pressing a few buttons. Why should he care if someone watches him?
She told herself not to get irritated. She’d just have to try a bit harder to win him round. It wasn’t as if she’d had any difficulty on that front in the past. In fact, she prided herself on having ways of getting around any man. And one way in particular she was confident would work even on a man nicknamed the Impaler.
But God he was ugly. She’d seen better legs on an oil rig and when he smiled his face reminded her of a diseased ferret straining out a dump. On top of all that, he looked distinct
ly like the kind of man who didn’t clean his bits properly and had never heard of manscaping. She tried not to think about it. Think about Chanelle. Think about the money. And think about Lola’s face as she finally gets what she deserves.
‘Oh Vlad,’ she breathed, running the tip of her tongue along her top lip, ‘I hope you don’t mind me saying this but I’ve always been so turned on by talent.’
‘Really?’ He switched off his computer and stepped towards her. Now she had him.
She slid across the desk so the insides of her knees were touching the outsides of his thighs. ‘Absolutely. And I’ve been wanting to come and chat to you for ages.’
‘Are you serious?’
‘Yeah. But you’re always surrounded by hangers-on. This is the first time I’ve had you all to myself. And I’ve been waiting for so long . . .’
He inched closer and Gloria was overwhelmed by the smell of TCP. ‘Yeah, well, I’m glad you did.’
‘Oh, Vlad, you’ve no idea how good it feels to hear you say that.’
She tried not to retch as she leaned in to kiss him. Within seconds he was ramming his tongue down her throat and pressing his growing erection against her groin. She immediately understood how he’d earned his nickname. His dick was the size of a small bulldog and, by the looks of things, just as lively.
Come on, Gloria. You’ve got to go through with this now . . .
This was it – her chance to resurrect her career, turn her entire life around and punish Lola in the process.
She took hold of Vlad’s belt and undid the buckle.
12
Freddy leaned onto the railing and squeezed it with both hands. He and Spike were standing in the lift on their way up to the Channel 3 News boardroom. They’d been summoned to a top-secret emergency meeting and all Freddy had been told was that it had to take place outside the newsroom. It sounded ominous.
‘Man, do you think we’re in for a bollocking?’ asked Spike, a look of terror on his face.
‘I don’t know,’ Freddy gulped. ‘I’m worried it could be much worse than that. I’m worried we could be about to get sacked.’
Last Friday the two of them had recorded their exclusive interview with Rex Watson and celebrity sexpert Bunny Love but it had turned into a disaster. Freddy had started the shoot ready to rip Rex to pieces by taking the piss out of his plan to write a sex manual, but every time he’d tried, Rex had smiled serenely and said he didn’t care if he was making a fool of himself – he’d fallen madly in love with Bunny and realized that some things in life were more important than his career. He’d also said that his first experience of love had made him realize some of the mistakes he’d made in the past, and Freddy’s instincts had told him this was a major scoop so he’d spent the rest of the interview quizzing Rex about his plans to turn his back on his nasty past. But when he’d returned to the newsroom and shown the finished interview to his editor, Hugh had gone apeshit, accusing Freddy of producing a puff piece, letting Rex walk all over him and giving one of the country’s most hated figures a platform to rehabilitate his image. So much for Freddy’s instincts. In the end, his package had been hacked down to less than two minutes and dumped right at the end of the programme. But it looked like that wasn’t the end of it. It looked like the incident might be about to cost him his job.
The lift doors pinged open and Freddy and Spike gave each other a solemn nod.
‘Here we go, champ,’ Freddy said, patting his producer on the back.
Spike opened his mouth to reply but nothing came out.
As they strode forwards and into the boardroom, Freddy could feel his legs beginning to wobble beneath him. Come on, mate. Hold it together!
Waiting to greet them were an obviously fired-up Hugh Badcock, who was manically twiddling his signet ring, and his deputy editor Janine Jury, who as usual was chewing gum and swigging Diet Coke.
‘Freddy, Spike,’ Hugh beamed at them. ‘Come and sit down.’
Uh-oh. This doesn’t look good.
Freddy shut the door and he and Spike took their seats at the other end of the board table. Hugh introduced them to a grim-faced lawyer who looked like something out of a Ken Loach film and who Freddy couldn’t help noticing was wearing a fluorescent orange vest underneath his white shirt. But what was a lawyer doing there?
This really doesn’t look good.
Freddy told himself he should probably get in there first with some kind of apology for the Rex Watson debacle. At least that way he might save some face – and earn some goodwill.
‘Look,’ he began, laying his hands down on the table, ‘can I just start by saying I’m sorry about the whole Rex Watson thing? I know what I delivered wasn’t what you were looking for and I’ll just have to try harder in the future.’
Hugh looked surprised. ‘Oh, great. Well, it’s good to hear that, Freddy. But we didn’t ask you here to talk about Rex Watson.’
‘Oh. Right.’
‘We asked you here to talk about Lola Grant.’
‘Lola? What about Lola?’
Hugh looked at the other two and then launched into his story. ‘Well, while you were out filming with Rex, a confidential email marked for your attention arrived on the newsdesk.’
‘Oh, right. I haven’t seen it, sorry.’
‘No,’ explained Hugh, ‘as you were out it was passed onto me.’
‘OK. And what did it say?’
Hugh slid his laptop across the table and Freddy grabbed it from the centre.
‘Have a read,’ Hugh said, ‘but it’s basically from someone in Lola’s entourage who says they want to remain anonymous. Now whoever this person is, they say they have exclusive footage of Lola snorting coke that they’re going to play onto the screens on the opening night of her tour.’
There was a long silence.
‘Fuck,’ was all Freddy could say.
‘What the fuck?’ echoed Spike.
‘Exactly!’ smiled Hugh and Janine in perfect unison. ‘Isn’t it fucking brilliant?’
Freddy didn’t answer. ‘And who else has seen this email?’
‘Just that blonde bird on the newsdesk, whatever her name is,’ brayed Janine. ‘But I’ve already had a word with her and she’ll keep schtum.’
‘And obviously we don’t want anyone else to find out about it,’ added Hugh. ‘Of course, once the footage has been played to thousands of fans in the O2 there’ll be no keeping it secret anymore. And am I right in thinking as part of the deal we have to pool our show footage after we’ve broadcast it?’
‘For real,’ croaked Spike, his dark knuckles turning white as his hands gripped onto the sides of his chair.
‘But that doesn’t matter too much,’ reasoned Hugh. ‘What matters is that we’ll be the first to break the story – we’ll be the only ones allowed in the O2 and the only ones broadcasting live.’
Fuck, thought Freddy. How the fuck has this happened?
‘Yes, that’s what we negotiated,’ he confirmed gravely.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
‘So as far as anyone else is concerned it’ll be our scoop,’ Hugh grinned, his face more animated than Freddy had ever seen it. ‘And I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you it’ll make shitloads of noise.’
Freddy tried to swallow but his throat was too dry. All right, he’d been angry with Lola when he’d found out she’d been seeing her drummer – and his anger had helped him decide to go through with Hugh’s request to come up with some kind of grubby story. But this was something else. This would destroy her career – and ruin her life.
‘And is it definitely coke?’ he ventured somewhat lamely. ‘I mean, in the video?’
‘Well, that’s where our legal expert comes in,’ chomped Janine.
‘It’s difficult to say without seeing the footage,’ began the lawyer. ‘To be on the safe side you might have to say it shows her “snorting a white powder believed to be cocaine”. And say that if it is, stressing that “if”, it’ll prove her to be a hypocrite.�
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‘OK,’ Freddy nodded, making a mental note.
‘But our viewers aren’t stupid,’ Janine butted in, her eyes gleaming with aggression. ‘They’ll see for themselves that Lola’s a cokehead.’
‘If she is a cokehead,’ Freddy pointed out.
‘I think we can trust this source,’ countered Hugh. ‘They seem to know what they’re talking about and they’re offering us a broadcast exclusive if we can guarantee them a slot – in writing.’
‘And can we?’ asked Freddy, a small part of him still hoping for some way out.
‘Can we?’ Hugh spluttered. ‘We can do more than that – we can guarantee the top story. Fuck it, we can guarantee the whole programme if we need to!’
Freddy did his best to look excited. ‘OK, great, I suppose I’d better crack on with it then.’
‘Good man. We’re taking both of you off-roster for the rest of the day so you can start preparing. And if I were you I’d get onto this source ASAP. He or she wants an answer by close of play or they say they’ll go to another broadcaster.’
Freddy gave a sharp sniff. ‘OK boss. I get it. And I’ll get onto them right away.’
He stood up to leave and Spike followed, his chair scraping along the floor with a high-pitched screech.
‘Good man,’ repeated Hugh. ‘But this time, don’t let me down.’
‘Oh don’t worry,’ Freddy nodded. ‘I won’t.’
*
‘La la la la la la la la laaah.’
Lola was determined her voice wouldn’t let her down.
‘La la la la la la la la laaah.’
As she moved up a key she remembered to keep her mouth wide open and to sing from her diaphragm.
‘La la la la la la la la laaah.’
She stopped and smiled. Even though she was aware of her limitations as a singer, she could tell her voice was sounding better than ever. And the discovery came as a relief because she really wanted her vocals to be up to the standard of every other aspect of the show, which was starting to take shape as something very special. In rehearsals they were now running through the set list in full costume; the other day Lola had tweeted a selfie of her dressed as Cleopatra and the response from the fans had been insane. And earlier that day she’d spent a long time rehearsing and perfecting her big entrance at the start of the show, which involved her shooting up from underneath the stage and onto a raised platform at the back before stepping her way down the stairs to join the dancers. Once she’d nailed the sequence she’d felt a rush of excitement and couldn’t wait to do it for real for the fifteen thousand fans – not to mention the TV cameras – on opening night. But before she did, she just needed to spend a bit of time working on her voice.