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In fact, it wasn’t a surprise at all. “Surprise” implies something nice. Instead it was a horrible, horrible shock.

I should have got the hint when the food wasn’t all that special at all – nice, but just one of those big bags of Indian food from the supermarket followed by mango and ice cream. Then I should have got the bigger hint when Dean started scrabbling around on the floor. Then I really, really should have got the hint when he opened a small box under Mum’s nose and she burst into tears.

‘Don’t cry, Angel,’ he said, and I wanted to scream out “It’s Rachel, you idiot!” as if he’d just been getting her name wrong all this time they’d been going out together.

This, weirdly, just made Mum cry all the more.

‘Rachel,’ he said (just to prove he did know it), ‘you know that Aggie and I have been alone together for quite a few years. Never did I imagine that I would meet someone to share our lives with again, but then you came along, and Cat, of course, and I’ve found happiness once more. Rachel, will you marry me?’

‘She … she … she can’t …’ I started to say, rather like I’d done about not coming to this whole event because I was busy on Friday. She’s busy. My mum can’t marry you because she’s busy. For the rest of her life. Being my mum.

But nobody actually heard me because Mother Dearest was sobbing and saying, ‘Yes! Oh, I can’t believe i
t! Oh, Cat, did you ever think … Oh, Dean! Yes! Yes, yes, yes! Aggie, are you sure?’ while Dean kissed her and clutched her hand to his chest.

‘Yes!’ yelled Aggie, perfectly nice and utterly hateful, and suddenly Dean shoved the table out of the way and tried to hug us all at once. Mum finally managed to reach me and squeezed me to her side with great happy tears rolling down her face, and I couldn’t, just couldn’t interrupt and shout ‘Stop! This is all wrong!’ because Mum looked more elated than I’d seen her in forever and …

Then we were all interrupted, to be honest, so it kind of went out of my head.

A voice from the doorway said, ‘Oh! You guys
look happy. What’s up?’

We all extricated our head from someone
else’s armpit and turned to see who was there.

It was a guy.

Naked as the day he was born.

And from the way Aggie screamed and screamed and screamed, I guessed that my initial thought was right, and it really was a nekkid
and rather buff Divine Jazzy D Jason Devaney, right there in Dean’s dining room.

‘Hey, Cat,’ he said when he spotted me.

At which point, Aggie passed out, and the
weirdness
really began.

Stephen Scowl

Talentfactory

PO Box 47863

London SW19 8DR

Dear Mr Scowl

I’m writing you a letter because … well, actually because I have a ban on trying to get too close to Jazzy D or Jason Devaney as I would call him as we sort of went to school together in Jersey. So while I know it would probably be better to come and find you, I think your security men would probably not let me in. (It’s all a very big mix-up, which I’ll tell you about when you come to collect your goods).

So, I’m writing you a letter as there seems to be no other way to get through to you in spite of Facespace and Tweeting and all of that stuff (because I’m sure you have secretaries going through all those things and answering for you) to give you some very important information).

If you’re missing a certain pop-star … I mean, if the lead singer of a certain very popular band has gone missing … No, I mean, I know you’ll have kept it out of the papers so as not to upset the legions of Jazzy D fans and Divvies the world over, but I happen to know where he is.

The thing is, Mr Scowl, I’m not quite sure how it came about, and especially how he managed to turn up naked and a little abusive at my mum’s
boyfriend’s
partner’s companion’s associate’s
fiancé’s house, but he did, and I’ve had to deal with the fall-out. So right now, Stephen, your teen idol is living in my shed. 

You can co
llect him any old time you like. In fact, the sooner the better, please. Looking after him is proving a bit tricky, and anyway, I’m sure you’ll be needing him for a gig or TV appearance v soon.

Many thanks,

Ms Catherine Andrews (or Cat, as I am known, not least by the very annoying Jason Devaney)

There are only so many completely mad conversations you can have with people before you start to believe that you’re really mad yourself. Seriously. Completely zomboid nutty, that’s me. It just has to be.

For instance, take the mental exchange that went on when Jazzy D appeared in Dean’s dining room doorway. It was really strange anyway because of what we were talking about, but what was strangest about it was that everyone was clearly trying to avoid the word “naked”. Which sort of implied that a world-famous pop idol to turning up at your house, going ‘hey, Cat’ was acceptable, and the only thing that was weird about it was the fact that he was naked. (To which nakedness, by the way, I would like to say, ‘Eugh. Rank, vomit-worthy and utterly unacceptable’).

Here’s how it went:

‘Cat,’ said Mother Dearest, wiping tears of joy from her face (from the proposal, not the sight of Jazzy D), ‘do you know this very n…’ PAUSE TO NOT SAY NAKED ‘ … n-nice young man?’

Aggie, reviving from her fainting session, propped herself up on one elbow. ‘Rachel, you must know who this …’ PAUSE TO NOT SAY NAKED AND RIPPED ‘… guy is. It’s Jazzy D, and he’s …’ PAUSE AGAIN TO HAVE ANOTHER LOOK AND NOT SAY NAKED, GORGEOUS AND RIPPED AND OMIGOD, NAKED ‘… here! In our house!’ She appeared to be in severe danger of passing out again.

Jazzy nodded vigorously with a smug expression on … well, everything. Did I say he nodded vigorously? He really did. Everything jiggled. Rank, rank, rank and vomit-worthy.

Dean tried
to be manly and strode over with his arm extended. ‘Hi. Jazzy. You’re very …’ PAUSE TO NOT SAY NAKED NAKED NAKED AND IN MY DINING ROOM WITH TWO IMPRESSIONABLE TEENAGE GIRLS ‘… welcome.’ He shook Jazzy’s hand, staring at the ceiling the whole time.

‘Oh, for Darwin
’s sake,’ I said, tugging the tablecloth out from under the remaining dishes. ‘Put something on, please. You’re very …’ PAUSE TO NOT SAY NAKED THEN THINK, OH, TO HELL WITH IT ‘… naked. It’s putting me off my ice-cream.’

Actually, truth be told, the sight of Dean proposing to my mother had done that job already, and anyway, the ice-cream had melted in the tense atmosphere.

‘Thanks, Cat,’ he drawled, and then – can hardly think about the vomit-worthiness of it all – he draped the tablecloth very low round his hips and slowly, slowly,
winked
at me. Winked. At. Me.

At that moment, I should have known
there was something even weirder than I even suspected about this, because I have never, NEVER, been winked at by a member of the opposite sex since I passed the age of six and general cuteness, other than by Dad when he was trying to tease me about something and I would take it far too seriously so he’d have to show he was joking. I had certainly never been looked at like that since … well, forever. Winking and looking, from a naked Jazzy D – no, that was just
wrong
.

All I could imagine at that point, however, was that Big Burly had passed on my letter and
he was here to make up for my complete humiliation at being thrown out of a Double Vision concert. Why he’d be PAUSE TO SAY NAKED I really didn’t know, but then he was a famous pop star. Maybe they all went round NAKED and winking and looking all the time, and only put on shirts with collars for concerts. To be fair, if my body rippled with muscles like that (and I was a boy) I’d probably walk round NAKED too. But maybe just in my own house, not other people’s.

Aggie sat up again, her chest visibly heaving up and down as she panted gently, like
a heroine in a Jane Austen book. ‘So Jazzy, are you here to see …’

He pointed at me, only just remembering to hold up his tablecloth with the other hand. ‘Cat. Yes. I’m here to see Cat.’

‘You
do
really know him!’

This was what my mother and Aggie said at the very same time, and I’m not sure which one of them was more surprised.
Aggie turned ferociously red and then stuttered, ‘I’m … I’m so ... so … sorry, Cat. I’d begun to think you’d made it all up.’

Mother Dearest, meanwhile, stepped closer to Jazzy D and inspected him. ‘Actually, you do seem familiar. Maybe I did see you
at the school.’

Jazzy shrugged. ‘Maybe.’

‘So … so where have you come from this evening, Mr … Divine?’ said Dean slowly, in a way which suggested he hadn’t just left out a word but a whole sentence eg. AND WHEN WILL YOU BE GOING BACK THERE AND GETTING YOUR NAKEDNESS OUT OF MY DAUGHTER’S FACE?

Jazzy hitched a thumb over his shoulder. ‘Back there, you know.’ He nodded wisely like we’d all completely understood where “back there” was.

Back there. Back where? Back at the studio? They said that on TV all the time. Back in time? Maybe he really did remember the primary school and this was his weird, pop-starry way of saying it. Yes, Cat, I do remember you, from our old school in Jersey, when you were in Mr Favreau’s class and didn’t really speak to anyone but Gemma, and I, Jazzy D, was two years older and in a different class. In spite of all that, yes, you made enough of an impression upon me for me to remember you and to recognise you now, a whole metre taller and with curly wings growing out of the side of your head.

And suddenly, I realised that his appearance in Dean’s house really
did
say that, even if Jazzy himself was a little short on words and, let’s face it, clothes.

What’s more, I had an even bigger realisation that
now that he’d done that, and proven to the world (and Aggie) that I wasn’t a terrible fibber, I had no further use for him in this location.

But he’d be very, very useful somewhere else.

‘Jazzy, do you need a lift home?’ I said. ‘Or back to your hotel? Or your penthouse? Wherever you want to go, we can take you.’

At this, both Dean and Mother Dearest started to
protest. ‘I’ve had too much to drink,’ and ‘I’m over the limit’ and ‘He’s not getting into my car’ and ‘Doesn’t he have his own transport?’

Thankfully, there was one person who would give her soul to drive Jazzy D somewhere.

‘I’ll take him,’ said Aggie in a hushed tone, so that her dad and my mum both stopped dead in their tracks and then Mum said quickly, ‘Cat, you go too, seeing as you’re the one who knows him.’

Jazzy shrugged again and flipped a hand up at Dean. ‘Later, bro.’

Dean’s face was a picture, I have to say, but he recovered quickly enough to say, ‘I’ll get you some clothes,’ before his beloved daughter and not-so-beloved soon-to-be step-daughter got into a small car with a large NAKED teen idol.

Instead we got into a small car with a large, nerdily-dressed teen idol. To my great, great shame, it was the first time I had looked at the Divine Jazzy D and thought he looked anything like Divine. He actually looked rather cute in a checked shirt and woollen tank-top that was a bit too small for him, and Dean’s beloved 501s. 

Then he opened his mouth and ruined the whole image.

‘So where are we going, laydeeeeeeez?’

Thank Newton I’m not driving, I thought, as Aggie tried to put the car in gear, accidentally touched Jazzy’s knee, and squealed like a seven-year-old at Halloween.

‘We’re going to the movies, Jason,’ I said. ‘Is it all right to call you Jason? Seeing as I know you from school and everything?’

‘Sure, Cat,’ he drawled. Then he turned to Aggie. ‘Who are you?’

Aggie was incapable of speaking, driving and staring at Jazzy at the same time, so I said, ‘Jason, this is Aggie. Aggie, Jason.’ Aggie just blinked a response
, like those people who can’t speak and have to use their computer to communicate. ‘Aggie, we’re taking Jason to the movies first, okay? And then we’ll see where he needs to go.’

To be honest, it was like taking a toddler out. Jason seemed pretty spacey and didn’t much mind where we took him. Maybe he was on something. More pop-starriness, no doubt. Drugs and nekkidness. Driving round town with laydeeeeeez. They probably all did that sort of stuff all the time.

Rank. V-W. UU.

I made Aggie circle the cin
ema a few times until the films were chucking out, which she was quite happy to do as changing gear so often meant she was brushing Jazzy’s muscly thigh with the back of her hand every few seconds. En route, we passed a billboard with the poster for the Double Vision film, Show Me TwoMorrow. Jazzy stared at it for a while, then pointed. ‘That’s me. Yeah.’

As if we hadn’t realised who he was and he had to underline it. Bighead. Big stupid nekkid bighead, tooting his own horn. Even if he did look cute in a nerdy outfit, he was still a
doofus.

‘Yes, Jason, that’s you,’ I said, rolling my eyes at Aggie in the mirror, but she was too busy
to notice, occupied as she was by staring at her little finger which she’d accidentally left on his knee and wearing an expression somewhere between complete terror and utter joy.

Then I spotted something which made me stare too, only just with complete terror. Dolores had just emerged from the cinema, clutching a poster and chattering wildly in a very Dolores manner, with one henna-tattooed hand grabbing onto Ferdy-Nerdy Freddie’s arm. And if Jason looked cute in a nerd outfit, Freddie was absolutely to die for, in low slung skinny jeans, a Nirvana t-shirt, and a long, slobby cardigan that could have belonged to his granddad,
if his granddad was, say, Mr Abercrombie or Mr Fitch.

‘Now,’ I hissed to Aggie. ‘Go, go, go. Now!’

‘Where?’

Where My Chemical Romance is about to put his arm around my biffle! I wanted to shout, but instead I just said, ‘Look, there’s Dolores! Let’s go say hi.’

To her credit, especially considering the rather massive distraction in the passenger seat on her left, Aggie did a very good job of navigating her way between disgruntled cinema employees and their ten year old nieces, daughters, and next-door-neighbours, who were all shrieking, hollering and sobbing as if Jazzy was actually there among them.

Oh.
That’s right. He was!

Mindful of what had happened at the concert, I made sure we were right next to Dolores and only Dolores (okay, and Freddie) before I wound down the window. ‘Hey, Dolores!’

‘Cat!’ Looking very pleased to see me (Freddie not so much), Dolores skipped over to the car. ‘You got out of your terrible evening!’ Then she glanced past me to the driver. ‘Oh, sorry. Hi, Aggie!’

Aggie half-turned to say hello, but could only gesture with her eyes. Next to me. Next to me. Next to me.

‘Hi, Freddie,’ I said, and then didn’t wait for a response. ‘Dolores, you’ll never guess who I’ve brought to meet you.’ I patted the headrest of the passenger seat in front of me.

She frowned. ‘Aggie’s … dad?’

‘Ah, no. Just his clothes, on account of the nakedness. Jason, this is my friend, Dolores. You already met, remember?’

So then Jazzy wound his window down and slowly perused Dolores up and down. Then he shook his head. ‘I’d remember
that.’

That? You mean my best friend and lovely human being? Hmm.

‘Dolores grabbed your collar.’

At that, he
sat up. ‘Yeah, the collar. Right.’ Then he flung open the car door and gestured to his lap. ‘Want a lift, Dolores?’

At this point, several people screamed: Dolores in complete ecstasy, Aggie and Freddie in joint anguish, and me in disbelief. I mean, that would be illegal, wouldn’t it? Two people in the passenger seat …

That was enough, anyway. Freddie could now see that Dolores had bigger fish to fry and would leave her alone and notice instead her awkward, aeroplane-headed friend; I’d proven to Aggie that I really really did know Jason Devaney, and my work here was done.

‘Jason’s got to go,’ I said, ‘but I’ll call you in the morning and tell you ALL about it.’

And Aggie pulled away before Dolores could get her sparkly claws into her heartthrob.

‘So where are we taking you, Jazzy … err … D?’ she asked, a little breathless now that she’s actually dared to speak to him.

I must admit to then having an AWFUL FLASHBACK. She was being such a ditz around Jason that I could hardly stand to watch her (especially as I could hardly stand her anyway, even more especially now we were going to be related). Why couldn’t she just talk to him normally? Why was she a traffic light whenever he glanced at her, changing from green to red and back to green again? Why was Aggie, perfectly nice and normal much of the time, a simpering wreck in the presence of Jazzy D, who was actually just an ordinary guy from Jersey?

I was just about to start feeling very superior about how cool I was with it all when I realised that I knew the answers to all my questions.

It was because of the chemical reactions.

Aggie was having the same chemical reactions with Jason that I had with Freddie. Which led to some questions, like
– am I incapable of talking to Freddie normally? Am I a traffic light when I look at him? Am a simpering wreck in his presence? Sadly the answers came back to me very quickly: Yes, Yes, and Oh dear lord yes, in Freddie’s presence you are a blushing, dribbling Titanic of a wreck.

Anyway, while I was off having waking nightmares in the form of the AWFUL FLASHBACKS, Jazzy appeared to have answered ‘Home’ to Aggie,
and like a moron she seemed to be driving him back to her home. I completely understood, of course; it was just the chemical reactions, so I decided to cut her some slack despite my overall hating of her.