by Matt Cain
‘Shit!’ he gasped. ‘This is unreal. People just aren’t going to believe it!’
Oh they will, thought Gloria. I’ll make sure they will.
‘Yeah, well, this is why you’ve really got to keep it secret,’ she explained. ‘I can’t risk this getting out before opening night.’
He nodded seriously. She knew she could trust him. She could trust Clinton with her life.
And so far he hadn’t let her down. He’d spent the day in rehearsals shadowing Vlad on the tech desk. And while he’d genuinely loved finding out about how it all worked, he hadn’t forgotten to copy the files from Vlad’s computer as well as working out a simple way for Gloria to substitute the new file once they’d created it. Which was exactly what they were about to do now.
‘So where do you want me to cut in the new footage?’ he asked as he clicked into a film-editing programme.
‘During the opening number,’ she replied. The set list for the show had already been locked down and Gloria had decided to premiere her little movie during Lola’s biggest ever hit, Tramp. ‘I think we should let her get going a bit first though,’ she added. ‘How about cutting it in about two thirds of the way through the song?’
‘All right,’ he nodded, ‘coming right up.’
As she watched him cut, paste and click, once again Gloria’s imagination jumped ahead to opening night. She told herself that Lola’s public disgrace would make up for everything she’d put her through – including the indignity of having to suck off Vlad. She shivered at the memory. Going down on him the other day had been stomach-turningly gross. For a start, she’d been right about him never having heard of manscaping and had ended up with a forest of his pubes stuck between her teeth. And she’d discovered to her horror that the smell of TCP wasn’t limited to his breath but covered his whole body. But at least her strategy had worked; Vlad had come to her begging for more every day since, complaining most girls couldn’t handle sucking his dick because it was much too big. Well, Gloria wasn’t most girls.
As Clinton dragged the cursor to the start of the new sequence and prepared to play it through, she quickly checked her emails on her phone. There was one she wanted to reread. It was from Freddy Jones at Channel 3 News.
‘We’re on board,’ she scanned. ‘And if your footage is genuine, we can confirm it will be broadcast on our programme on the opening night of Lola’s tour.’
Oh my footage is genuine all right. Unlike Lola Grant – who’s about to be exposed as a lying fake.
‘But we’re only filming the first two songs,’ she read on, ‘so please make sure your footage is played at the start of the show.’
Don’t worry, Freddy, it’s all being taken care of. Although something told her that once the audience had seen her little film, Tramp wouldn’t just be the opening number – it would also be the grand finale. And Lola wouldn’t be invited back for an encore.
She exited the email and put her phone down on the table. So her hunch had been right and she wasn’t the only person who wanted revenge on Lola. Well, in just two days’ time she’d be getting just what she wanted. And so would Freddy Jones.
*
‘Oh my God, it’s Freddy Jones! Freddy, I’m such a big fan!’
Spike watched as a fat woman with bridesmaid hair, glittery lip gloss and legs that were somehow the same width all the way down began quivering with excitement.
‘You’re so much nicer than all the other news reporters!’ she gushed as Freddy cowered in embarrassment. ‘And so lovely!’
‘Oh thanks,’ he mumbled. ‘Thanks a lot.’
‘Would you mind if I took a quick photo?’ the woman asked, her face and neck blushing. ‘The other mums at school will be so jealous!’
Spike noticed Freddy’s mouth twist into a little grimace. He knew how much he hated being the housewife’s favourite. But he was way too polite to show it. ‘No, not at all,’ he managed.
‘I’ll take it,’ Spike offered, standing up. The woman handed him her phone and slipped in next to Freddy. ‘That’s it, man!’ Spike said as she flashed her brightest smile. ‘That’s beast.’
‘Oh thanks!’ she fawned, taking back the phone to inspect the picture. ‘I can’t believe I’ve actually just had my photo taken with Freddy Jones!’
‘Well, it was good to meet you, like,’ Freddy said, obviously eager to move her on.
‘You too!’ she beamed, her rolls of flab wobbling as she squealed with glee. ‘And I’m really sorry about you splitting up with Lola Grant.’
‘Oh yeah, urm, yeah, we were only ever just friends really. Anyway, have a good night.’
‘So will you be interviewing her again?’ The woman obviously couldn’t take a hint.
‘Urm, yeah, urm, I don’t know, maybe. Actually, I won’t be interviewing her but I will be live at the first night of her tour tomorrow.’
After which we won’t be allowed anywhere near her again, thought Spike.
‘Well, in that case I’ll be watching!’ the woman squeaked, leaning forwards and planting a little peck on Freddy’s cheek. ‘And thanks for the photo!’ she called out as she trotted back to her table.
‘Well,’ Freddy sighed, ‘Lola Grant might have dumped me like a ton of bricks but at least I’ve still got my fan club at the school gates. Come on, champ, get the drinks in.’
Spike attracted the attention of the barman and ordered a pint of lager for Freddy and a vodka and Coke for himself. They were in a pub called the Cock and Bull, which was just around the corner from the newsroom and a favourite hang-out for journalists. Freddy had said he needed a bit of Dutch courage if he was going to get through the next day – and Spike had needed a dose too for what he was about to say to him.
When the drinks arrived they began throwing them down. Freddy whistled as the alcohol hit home. ‘Mate, this story’s going to be really tough – the toughest yet.’
‘You’re telling me, blud.’ Spike fished out his phone to reread the latest email that had arrived a few hours ago. ‘Lola Grant is a cokehead slag,’ he recited, ‘and it’s about time everyone knew it!’
Man, somebody sounds vexed. And whoever it is, it doesn’t sound like they’ll be backing out either.
‘And you’ve still no idea who could have sent it?’ Freddy asked.
Spike shook his head. ‘Nah, blud. I mean, it’s obviously someone she’s crossed who wants some kind of revenge. But why would anyone hate Lola?’
There was an awkward silence. Spike couldn’t believe he’d ended up in this situation. He’d already been dreading having to report on Lola’s tour and announce to the world that she was having some kind of meltdown. But now it turned out he was going to have to produce a news report revealing she was a cokehead and in the process destroy her career. Not to mention his relationship with Harvey.
And he had no doubt that if they went ahead with the story it would destroy his relationship with Harvey. Because he might not be Lola’s manager anymore, but that didn’t mean he didn’t still care for her. And there was no way he’d forgive Spike for doing this to her – or for scuppering any chance he might have of being reinstated as her friend and manager. He’d already given Spike another chance when he’d cheated on him over the summer. And OK, they’d grown stronger as a couple since then, but Spike knew there was only so much betrayal one person could take.
So over the course of the day he’d come to a decision. He couldn’t live without Harvey. It was only since he’d met him that he’d understood what it meant to be happy – and why people talked about finding another person who made them feel whole. It was like Harvey had opened some kind of door and invited Spike into a whole new world, a world he hadn’t even known had existed but at the same time had always longed for. Well, he wasn’t going to go and slam the door shut in Harvey’s face now. No, he didn’t want to produce the news story and he was determined to find a way to wriggle out of it. The only problem was, he couldn’t do it alone. He couldn’t succeed unless he had Freddy on hi
s side. He took a deep breath and began to speak.
‘Freddy, I really don’t think we should do this.’
‘You what? What are you on about? We haven’t got any choice, Spike. At least not if we want to keep our jobs.’
Spike had to admit he was right; Hugh Badcock had made it quite clear they were looking for excuses to fire people. And once word got around that Spike was the kind of journalist who backed out of a tough job, no other broadcaster would take him on either. His career would be over and he’d have no alternative but to move back in with his parents. He felt a twinge of fear as he thought back to their reaction when he’d told them he was gay.
‘No son of mine is a filthy queer,’ his dad had spat in his face. But how was he supposed to stop being gay just to please his dad? And how could he ever be happy suppressing his sexuality now that he’d known what it meant to rejoice and take pride in himself – in every aspect of himself?
It was too horrendous to contemplate. If he went ahead with the story he’d lose Harvey – but if he didn’t he’d lose his career and have to move back in with his parents. Then again, he could always get a job in a bar or a shop, the kind of job that would pay him just enough to stay in the flat with Serenity. Or maybe Harvey might even ask him to move in with him? Surely he could make it work somehow. Yes, he had to stick to his guns. He had to persuade Freddy not to go ahead with the story.
‘But aren’t there some things in life that are more important than careers?’ he attempted. ‘Isn’t that what Rex Watson said the other day?’
Freddy snorted. ‘Yeah and look how that ended up. We both got a massive bollocking.’
‘But that doesn’t mean we were wrong, man. Just because Hugh Badcock thinks we were.’
Freddy arched an eyebrow. ‘Look, mate, I appreciate this is going to be really difficult for you and it’s going to cause problems with Harvey. But there’s less at stake for me. Lola knocked me back, remember?’
‘Yeah but she’s single again now,’ Spike protested, knowing even as he said the words that they sounded lame.
Freddy laughed. ‘Yeah, well, she didn’t show the slightest sign of being interested in me when I bumped into her this afternoon.’
‘Oh come on, blud, she was in the middle of a dress rehearsal. And, you know, she probably felt guilty about messing you around.’
‘More like she thinks I’ve served my purpose now. And she doesn’t need to use me to make her drummer-boy jealous anymore.’
‘I’m sure that’s not true at all, man. I’ve seen the way she looks at you and I don’t think you should give up on her yet. Come on, blud, what if there’s still something to fight for?’
Freddy raked his fingers through his hair. ‘But Spike, do we even know the real Lola anymore? What if she’s just been putting on a front the whole time? I mean, you read the email –she’s a cokehead. So if she’s lied to the world about taking drugs, how do we know she hasn’t lied about everything else?’
Spike let out a long sigh. It wasn’t looking good. But he wasn’t giving up just yet. And he knew Freddy well enough to know that deep down he wouldn’t want to go through with the story either – however much Lola might have hurt him.
‘The thing is, man,’ he attempted, ‘I’ve learnt a lot of things over the last few months. And one thing I know now is that sometimes people do bad things without being bad people. I mean, everyone has their own story and their own struggles. I should know, I’ve taken all kinds of drugs and made all kinds of mistakes in my life. And there must have been, like, plenty of people who’ve looked at me and thought I was a liar, or a druggie, or just a shitload of trouble. All of which was true, man. But they wouldn’t have known what was going on in my head or what was making me act like such a dick. Harvey didn’t know either – not really. But for some reason he believed I was a better person than that and he took a chance on me. And it’s only because he believed in me that I was able to, like, become a better person and give all that shit up. So, you know, maybe Lola’s the same, man. Maybe she just needs, like, someone to believe in her.’
Whoa, that was quite a speech! Where the hell did that come from?
Freddy rubbed at his forehead with his hands. ‘Yeah but Spike, Lola’s got millions of fans who believe in her. Why should I make any difference? And anyway, I tried being the nice guy with her and that didn’t get me anywhere. Maybe she’ll respond better to me being nasty.’
Spike roofed his eyes. ‘Freddy, what are you talking about, man? Did you actually just say that? Come on, you heard that woman just then – that’s not why people love you. And yeah, I know they might not all be the kind of women you’d like to go out with. But they still think you’re great. So don’t go trying to change what makes you special, man.’
Freddy hung his head and didn’t reply.
Is this it? Have I won him round? Have I actually done it?
‘I’m sorry, mate,’ Freddy said eventually. ‘But I’ve got to go ahead and do this. I completely understand if you want to bail out. But I can’t.’
Spike felt like he was going to slide off his stool. ‘You can’t?’ he almost cried out. ‘Or you won’t?’
‘All right, I won’t. But you know, maybe I’ve got my reasons too. Maybe I’ve got my own story and my own struggles. And I’m a good person most of the time so maybe for once I’ll just have to go off and do a bad thing. And hope you’re right – hope it doesn’t make me a bad person.’
There was a heavy silence. Spike felt hollowed out and wanted to howl into the air in desperation. The only option he could think of was to call in sick tomorrow. But Hugh would know he was only faking illness to get out of the story – particularly if it ever got out that he was seeing Harvey. And besides, pulling a sickie wouldn’t be fair on Freddy; the two of them were a team. As his producer, Spike was his wingman. He knew that if his correspondent had made a decision, he had to stick with him.
‘Oh it won’t make you a bad person,’ he managed, nudging Freddy on the shoulder. ‘Of course it won’t. And if you really have decided to go ahead, I’ll be right by your side.’
Freddy nodded. ‘Thanks, mate. Let’s just get it out of the way now, shall we? We can try and pick up the pieces afterwards.’
‘Genuine,’ Spike croaked. ‘But I might need another drink first, man.’
Freddy thrust his hand into his pocket and called over the barman.
As he did so, Spike looked over to the fat woman who’d recognized Freddy when they’d arrived. He gave her a wave and she returned it with a bright smile.
He couldn’t help wondering if she and the rest of Freddy’s fans would love him quite so much tomorrow night.
13
Lola bolted out of bed and bounced into the kitchen. It was the morning of her opening night and she couldn’t wait to get to the O2 and reveal her amazing show to the world.
She looked at the coffee machine but decided not to bother; caffeine was the last thing she needed right now. In fact, she was on such a natural high she felt like she could fly out of the window and down the river to Greenwich. If anything she needed something to calm her down rather than crank her up. She looked in the cupboard for some chamomile teabags and switched on the kettle.
This is it. This is the culmination of everything I’ve worked for. And everyone would be there to witness it. Not just fifteen thousand fans, the TV cameras and entertainment journalists but all the important people in the music business, including the execs from her British, European and American record companies, not to mention the marketing men from Twinkle – and, of course, her mum. But she felt confident. The way she felt at the moment she knew she’d be able to thunder through the show. She could already hear the fans cheering so loudly they were drowning out the sound of the kettle boiling.
She poured the hot water onto the teabag and told herself that she really needed to try and relax. She couldn’t stay in this excitable state all day; by tonight she’d be burnt out. No, she’d just have to drink as mu
ch chamomile tea as she could, even if she did think it smelled like her wee after eating a truck load of asparagus. She fished the bag out of the mug and thought about Harvey. She only kept chamomile tea in the flat for when he came round. Not that he’d been round lately but all that would change after tonight. She’d composed a little song she was going to sing to him in between the first and second numbers, when Channel 3 News were still filming; that way he’d definitely see it, even if he was only watching at home.
She sipped at her tea and tried not to wince at the taste. The more she thought about it, the more she realized tonight was the night she’d be turning around her entire life. She was even going to make sure she bumped into Freddy backstage and invited him out for a drink. She’d been stupid not to apologize and tell him how she really felt when she’d seen him yesterday. But tonight she’d have one more chance and was determined to make the most of it. Because all right, she might have fucked things up between them, but she wasn’t going to dwell on her mistakes anymore. From now on, Lola was all about the future. And if she got it right this time, Freddy might just be a part of that future.
No, there was no doubt about it: tonight was going to be the best night of her life – both professionally and personally. And most importantly, she felt ready. She didn’t think she’d ever felt more ready in her life.
*
In the Channel 3 newsroom, Freddy sat at his desk packing his bag. Next to him, Spike was unplugging his phone and shutting down his computer. It was mid-afternoon and time for them to set off for the O2.