My Own Personal Rockstar

by Kirsty McManus

  “You did okay, though,” I point out.

  He snorts. “Professionally, yeah. Personally, I was, and still am, a mess.”

  “It’s never too late to settle down,” I tease. “I’m sure you’d still have the ladies lining up around the block for you.”

  “That’s the problem. They are. But not for boring old John-Carrol. They want JC Tarik.”

  I laugh. “John-Carrol?” Is that what your initials stand for?”

  “Yes. Popular to contrary belief, I am not Jesus Christ.”

  “Why doesn’t anyone know this?”

  “Because I only tell my friends. And they understand the consequences, should it somehow be leaked to the media. I legally changed my name to JC when I first signed with Intergalactic Records back in 1982, so for all intents and purposes, John-Carrol is dead.”

  “Duly noted. So, does this mean you consider me a friend?”

  “Of course I do. And you’ll want to propose marriage to me after I’ve told you my next bit of news.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “Earlier, I talked to Max, and he wants to meet with you to discuss a national tour.”

  My eyes widen. Max is JC’s manager. “What?”

  “It’s all hush-hush at the moment. You can’t even tell your bandmates until after the meeting, but he’s been really impressed with your performances and the feedback I’ve given him. I told him he’d better get in quick before someone else does.”

  A dopey grin forms on my face. “You did that for me?”

  “Like I said, the show wasn’t important. What happens next is.”

  “Thank you so much! You’ve already been so generous with your time and advice. I don’t know how I can ever repay you.”

  “By not screwing it up. And by being you.”

  “Aw, thanks, dude. I won’t let you down.”

  JC holds up his bourbon. “To world domination.”

  I clink my wine against his glass. “To world domination.”

  JC slams back the rest of his drink, and I finish my wine. Then I have a thought. “Does this potential tour include my band?”

  “Yes, of course. I know you’re loyal to those guys, which is why I said they’ll hopefully forgive your absence up until now. A national tour should keep you going financially for the rest of the year.”

  “And Max is okay with this?”

  “Yeah, I showed him a clip of one of your gigs, and he was sold. He likes that you already have a solid dynamic with the guys.”

  “That’s great! I guess I should find out when he’s available to meet.”

  He removes an envelope from a pocket inside his jacket. “Here’s your plane ticket. You’re flying to Sydney first thing tomorrow morning.”

  I laugh in surprise. “Seriously?”

  “I thought I’d make it easy for you.”

  “This is too much. You can’t buy me a plane ticket and set me up with your manager!”

  “I just did. Also, there’s a room at the Shangri-La waiting for you afterwards.”

  “Oh my God.”

  JC laughs. “I think we need more drinks. Make the most of this night.”

  “Can I tell Rachel the news?”

  “Maybe just tell her you have to go to Sydney as part of a contractual obligation for the show, and then you can surprise her afterwards.”

  “Okay, cool.”

  I get out my phone to text her. I pause, remembering I promised to hang out with the girls tomorrow. Hopefully, they’ll understand. I’ll just have to postpone our outing until I get back. If we have enough money to live comfortably for the rest of the year, I’m sure Rachel and the twins will be supportive. Rachel’s family lives in the UK, so we might even be able to afford airfares to go visit.

  Hey, baby. I have to fly to Sydney tomorrow for a thing to do with the show. My flight leaves early, so please apologise to the girls for me and tell them I’ll make it up to them. And I promise I’ll make it up to you too. I love you!

  She doesn’t reply, which is understandable if she’s putting the girls to bed or has already gone to sleep herself.

  And while I would still love to be with them right now, you don’t get opportunities like this every day.

  I’m going to make the most of it.

  THREE

  Tash

  The next morning, thanks to a traffic jam on the way to the airport, I almost miss my flight. I race through check-in, glad I only have a carry-on, and bolt to the boarding gate.

  “Just made it,” I say breathlessly to the flight attendant checking passes. “I got stuck in traffic.”

  She smiles politely, but I can tell she’s heard that excuse a million times. I’m normally quite organised and allow extra time in case of such a hold-up, but this morning, Daisy woke up early and decided to have a clingy moment. When she begged me not to go, I was this close to booking three extra tickets and dragging Millicent and the kids along to Sydney, but Millicent managed to distract Daisy with pancakes long enough for me to sneak out.

  If I didn’t have Millicent, I don’t know what I’d do. My parents help out a lot, but I can’t rely on them all the time. Mum is a teacher at a primary school (sadly, not Daisy’s) and Dad is always travelling for his work as a software sales manager (he met my mum when he was in Japan on a business trip), so their schedules aren’t very flexible.

  It’s times like these when I wonder what it would be like if Daisy’s father, Brad, was around. Not that I actually want that man anywhere near us. He made his stance very clear when he found out I was pregnant after we’d been dating for a year. I’m not ready to settle down, cliché, cliché, cliché. He didn’t even stick around long enough to find out if I was having a boy or a girl. And when I tried calling him after Daisy was born, I discovered his phone had been disconnected. As a result, he didn’t get a mention on the birth certificate.

  I make my way down the tunnel connecting the terminal to the plane and smile guiltily at the next attendant waiting patiently to direct the last of the passengers to their seats.

  “Just to your right and down the back,” he says.

  “Thank you!”

  I avoid eye contact with my fellow travellers, who are already seated with their carry-on luggage stowed. Of course, I’m in the back row, maximising my exposure to everyone on the plane.

  I spot the only empty seat left, which is thankfully on the aisle, and plonk down.

  It takes a second to register who’s sitting next to me.

  Oh. My. God.

  My heart starts racing. Am I hallucinating? Maybe I’m still sleeping and just thought I woke up and got on the plane. After all, this man did occupy a significant portion of my dreams last night.

  Lincoln Page.

  I sneak a glance at him. He’s reading the in-flight magazine, and I’m pretty sure he’s on his own. I quickly scan the surrounding rows for signs of his partner and kids, but they’re nowhere in sight.

  I think I’m about to hyperventilate.

  I belatedly realise my carry-on won’t fit under the seat in front of me, so I have to get back up and find a space in the crowded overhead compartment. I’m so jittery, my bag slips from my hands.

  Lincoln looks up. “Are you okay? Do you need some help?”

  Agh! Lincoln Page is talking to me!

  “Uh, I think I’m all right.” I make a second attempt and feel my shirt ride up. My bare belly is practically in his face, but I can’t do anything about it until I secure my bag. I slam the overhead compartment door a little too loudly and hurriedly pull my shirt down. I sit back in my seat and fasten the belt. “Sorry about that.”

  “What are you sorry for?” he asks, smiling.

  I don’t think my mouth is capable of connecting with my brain right now.

  “Oh, just for being disorganised and making a spectacle of myself. You’re Lincoln Page, right?”

  “Yes, I am.” He holds out a hand for me to shake. “And you are?”

  “Tash. Natasha. Nor
thwood.” I don’t know why I added my surname, but it sort of just popped out.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Tash Natasha Northwood.”

  I giggle. “Just Tash is fine.” I hold on to his hand just a fraction too long and suddenly rip it away when I realise it might seem creepy.

  He pretends not to notice and gestures at my head. “Hey, I like your hair.”

  “Thank you. It cost a fortune to have done, but I think it’s fun.”

  Eek, am I rambling? I’m totally rambling.

  “Is it supposed to look like fire?”

  “Yes!” I turn so he can see the back. “I used to just have it orange, but then I saw a picture where someone had the same colour and then added pink and red streaks to make it look like flames, and I knew I had to copy it.”

  “It’s very cool.”

  “Your hair is very cool,” I say, wishing I could reach out and touch it.

  “Thanks. It’s a bit of a mess today, but I didn’t really have time to do it properly. I was at an after-party for the show last night, and I found it difficult to sleep when I got home.”

  I stare at his tangled curls, and I can’t help wondering if that’s how he’d look after a session in the bedroom.

  It takes a second for me to formulate an intelligent question. “Are you disappointed you weren’t in the final three?”

  “Do I look disappointed?” His trademark grin is ever present.

  “No?” I guess.

  “Exactly. I’m not, because I’m off to Sydney this morning for a secret meeting.”

  “That sounds intriguing.”

  “I’m not really allowed to talk about it yet. But hopefully soon.”

  The plane taxis for take-off, but I barely even notice.

  “Please let me know if I’m being too personal, but how did you end up back on another reality show?”

  “Well, it wasn’t something I would have sought out on my own, but the producers at Sing to Me wanted to mix it up a little this year, so they invited a whole bunch of people who had already experienced some level of success in the past. That’s why you probably recognised a few of the contestants.”

  He’s right. At least six of the first-round singers had been one-hit wonders or child stars at some point in time.

  “I just assumed they changed the rules this year, allowing a wider variety of people to try out.”

  “Technically, that’s true, but I wouldn’t have applied unless they asked me. Anyway, enough about me. What do you do?”

  It takes me a second to remember because I’m hypnotised by his liquid brown eyes.

  “I…uh…I run a food delivery business for schoolkids’ lunches.”

  “That’s awesome. I know Rachel and I are always struggling to think up new ideas for the girls to take to pre-school.”

  I get out my phone and open the photo gallery, relieved my limbs are obeying me and not freezing up in superfan-induced fear. “This is the kind of stuff I do.”

  I hand him the screen, and he flicks through the images. “Holy shit. You made these?”

  “I did.”

  “Even this one?” He points to a photo of a box containing nine rice balls that look like kittens.

  “Yes. Admittedly, that dish took a while to do.”

  “My girls would love these!”

  “If they’re anything like my daughter, Daisy, they’d probably like this one.” I scroll to a lunchbox with a teddy bear theme.

  “How do I get these?” he demands.

  “I…I have a website.”

  He picks up his boarding pass and a pen. “Write it down for me. I’m going to show the girls when I get home.”

  I shyly oblige, wishing I could ask him to write something on my boarding pass. And then I have a brainwave.

  “Would you mind signing an autograph for Daisy? She’s a huge fan.”

  He chuckles. “Of course.”

  I hand him the card and watch as he scrawls a message.

  Dear Daisy,

  Thanks for listening to my music! It is amazing to know I have fans like you.

  Have a beautiful life.

  Lincoln.

  P.S. Your mum is very talented!

  I read it and smile. “Thank you so much! She is going to love this.”

  “No problem.”

  The food cart comes by and interrupts our chat. I figure I should give Lincoln some space, so I eat the breakfast wrap the attendant hands me while reading through the notes for my meeting on my phone. But I can’t concentrate. Having this rock god sitting inches away from me is making me giddy. His arm accidentally brushes mine, and I feel like I’ve been zapped.

  “Oh, sorry, did I hurt you?” he asks when I physically jolt.

  “No! I’m just nervous. About a meeting I have today.” Phew. Nice save, Tash.

  “What’s your meeting for?”

  I explain to him about my appointment with the supermarket people, and he nods, impressed. “Going by what I’ve just seen, you definitely deserve success. So, it looks like we both have interesting things happening today.”

  “If your secret meeting doesn’t turn out the way you want, I will be very surprised,” I say.

  “I appreciate your vote of confidence.”

  The rest of the flight goes way too fast. I think I could stare at Lincoln forever and not get tired of it.

  When we land, since we’re right at the back, we’re the last to disembark, but it still doesn’t feel like enough time. At least I didn’t get a chance to freak out too much about my appointment.

  We go our separate ways in the terminal and Lincoln waves. “Good luck today. You’re going to kill it!”

  “Thank you! You, too! I’ll keep an eye out on social media for what’s happening with your music.”

  I watch him walk off, almost fanning myself. Millicent will find it hilarious when I tell her what just happened.

  I take a deep breath. All right. Fun time is over.

  Now I’m ready for business.

  ***

  Some of Lincoln’s stardust must have rubbed off on me because my meeting goes even better than I expected, with the acquisitions department practically agreeing to stock my meals before I’ve even opened my mouth. Of course, they have a whole bunch of stipulations, and they want to maximise their profits, but I come out of it with a deal I feel is more than fair. Our lawyers are going to talk next week and make it all official.

  I whip out my phone the second I’m sufficiently far enough away from the supermarket headquarters and call Millicent.

  She answers immediately. “How did it go?”

  “So, so well! They love the product, and they’re going to start stocking it in July.”

  “Well done, babe! I’m so happy for you! And now for me, too! I’ve been looking at the Audi website today, and I’ve picked out this cute little silver number…”

  “Ha-ha. Oh! I have other news! You would not believe who I was sitting next to on the flight here!”

  “Who?”

  “Lincoln freakin’ Page!”

  She cackles loudly. “Seriously? Did he need to have you restrained by the flight crew?”

  “No! I’ll have you know I was cool, calm, and collected the entire time, thank you very much. I did not try to maul him, as much as I would have liked to. I respect that he has a partner and family.”

  “Good for you. Was he just like he seemed on TV?”

  “Oh God, yes. Missy, he was so nice! And he even asked about my business!”

  “Aw, that’s sweet. I guess I’ll have to prepare myself for endless talk about Lincoln Page once you get home, huh?”

  “If I were to die today, I’d be a happy woman.”

  “Well, don’t go accidentally wandering into traffic. You have an empire to expand and a daughter at home who needs you.”

  “Duh, of course. I was being silly. Anyway, I should probably go check into my hotel. I’ll call again later when Daisy is home from school.”

  “Okay, bye!�
�

  I book an Uber and have it take me to my accommodation at Cockle Bay Wharf. After checking in, I open the minibar and celebrate my new business deal with a bunch of tiny spirits mixed with Coke. I don’t even mind that I’m on my own. Daisy is my favourite person in the entire world, but having a day off from the school routine and all the work that goes with being a single mother is heaven.

  I switch on the hotel’s cable TV and locate the music channel. It’s blaring a setlist of nineties pop. Perfect. I dance around the hotel room, singing along.

  When I get tired of that, I open Instagram on my phone and navigate to Lincoln’s account. I don’t actually follow him, because it would be kind of embarrassing to make my reality TV crush public—especially since I only have the one account for my business. I have a lot of followers, thanks to my bright photos of fun food. Pining after a reality singing star does not quite fit the image I’m trying to portray.

  I am very tempted to start following Lincoln now, but I chicken out at the last minute. If he checks his notifications, he’ll make the connection immediately, and it will be mortifying to have him know I’m still thinking about him hours later.

  His latest photo was only posted a little while ago. It’s a picture of him standing outside a big building with one hand doing the rock-n-roll sign. On anyone else, it would look like they were trying too hard, but Lincoln pulls it off. Probably because you can tell he’s enjoying himself and not taking the situation seriously.

  I read the caption.

  Exciting things are afoot!

  There are dozens of comments already, with people telling Lincoln he was robbed and should have won the show. I read through every single one. He has a lot of fans.

  I pause on one that looks like it’s from a friend of his called Felix.

  Are you in Sydney, man? You want to meet up tonight at Nicky’s Bar? 9?

  There’s actually a reply!

  Sounds great. I’ll call to confirm.

  Oh my God. Did Lincoln Page just tell everyone where he was going to be tonight? Does he not realise how many people follow him? That place is going to be insane.

  I google the venue. It’s only two blocks away.

  No. I am not going to stalk Lincoln at a bar. I look at the time. It’s seven thirty.