Starstruck (16 page)

Still
no reaction from Crystal, but the crowd love it and one of the bridesmaids
gives him a cheeky wink.

‘I
don’t want you thinking that just because Dylan is my brother that I’m going to
go easy on him,’ Mikey continues.  ‘It is tradition that I give him the most
uncomfortable five minutes of his life. For the record, Crystal, the most
uncomfortable five minutes of you live will be later on this evening, courtesy
of the groom. Or did that happen eight months ago? I’m not sure. That said, I’m
not standing here in front of you now to make a fool out of my brother. Why
should I take all the credit? He’s been working on that for years.’

Dylan
is taking the speech as intended – as a joke – but Crystal has a face like a
slapped arse.

‘I
hope you’ve all had plenty to drink and that you’re having a good time,’ Mikey
continues. ‘I could tell you a few stories about Dylan having plenty to drink
and having a good time on tour, but it seems a shame to ruin the wedding.’

Charles
and I are in hysterics. I don’t know what is funnier, the speech or the fact
that Crystal isn’t laughing at all. Dylan is laughing his head off – I wouldn’t
like to be in his shoes tonight.

‘I
can’t believe you two got married today and you’re not even touching,’ Mikey
points at the happy couple’s hands. ‘Come on Dylan – she’s not that fat. I’m
joking, I’m joking, I know she’s pregnant. Well, that’s what she told us
anyway. Crystal, place your hands on the table and Dylan, place yours on top,
show the girl some affection.’

Mikey
knocks back half of his champagne prematurely as Dylan and Crystal do as
instructed.

‘I’d
like to take this moment to tell Crystal that she looks stunning.’ Everyone in
the room takes a moment to make sighing noises at Crystal. ‘Dylan, you just
look stunned. But seriously, Crystal you look beautiful. Bridesmaids, you did a
great job with her this morning. Dylan, what can I say? We tried our best.’

Crystal
isn’t laughing at the jokes, she isn’t smiling at the compliments and she isn’t
even laughing at the jokes that are only about Dylan, but to be honest I think
the fact she isn’t amused is making Mikey really go for it.

‘He
has got himself a beauty though, and she’s defiantly his type. I’ve always said
that my brother likes his women like he likes his cars. He’s currently driving
a convertible Mercedes-Benz which is a really nice car, and confirmation that
he loves topless models.’

I’m
laughing so hard my face is hurting.

‘Time
to be serious,’ Mikey insists. ‘I think marriage will be good for my brother.
It will teach him loyalty, self control, responsibility and a load of qualities
he wouldn’t have needed if he’d just stayed single. You know, I asked Dylan
what he was looking for in marriage. He told me he was looking for love,
happiness and a family. Isn’t that sweet? I asked Crystal the same questions, she
told me she was after a coffee percolator. Well actually she said “a perky
copulator” but I knew what she meant.’

Mikey
glances around the room. ‘Do you all have a drink in your hand? I am about to
propose a toast. I actually congratulated the groom already, I said to him
“Dylan, you will always look back on today as the happiest day of your life” -
and that was just the stag do.’

Mikey
pauses for laughs.

‘Ladies
and gentlemen, there are two very important people here today, without whom
very little of this would have been possible. As the evening goes on, I’m sure
you’ll spend more time with them, I know I will. So if you’ll join me in
raising a glass. To the bar staff,’ Mikey says, raising his glass.

‘To
the bar staff,’ the rest of the room echos.

‘Seriously
though,’ Mikey says, fooling no one this time. ‘They say a man is incomplete
until he is married, and after that he is finished. Dylan, you are finished
from today. A toast, to Dylan and Crystal.’

‘To
Dylan and Crystal.’ We all raise our glasses.

‘Before
I go,’ Mikey nods towards Dylan and Crystal. ‘I see you’re still holding hands,
that’s nice. Dylan you should enjoy that. It’s the last time you’ll ever have
the upper hand again. Thank you and good night!’ he yells into the microphone
like he’s just finished a show at the o2 Arena.

That
has to be the most hilarious speech I have ever heard in my life. Charles
actually has tears in his eyes from laughing so hard - in fact, so do most of
the guests. Crystal, however, is a crazy shade of red and boy does she look
angry. She must have found some of it funny, surely? Ok, maybe not the part
where he called her fat, but the rest of it was just brilliant.

‘Let’s
go congratulate Mikey,’ I suggest to Charles. ‘That was amazing.’

We
have to fight out way through a crowd of adoring fans but we finally get to the
front.

‘Oh
my God!’ I give Mikey a playful shove. ‘That was so funny!’

‘Maybe
you could tell Crystal that?’ he suggests, grabbing me for a hug. ‘Apparently
she didn’t like it.’

‘Everyone’s
a critic,’ Charles jokes, offering Mikey a hand to shake.

‘Ah,
but not all critics go to the toilet to cry. Dylan just has to run after,’
Mikey informs us. I wondered where the happy couple had gone.

‘Maybe
it’s her hormones, mate? She is pregnant after all,’ Charles suggests.

‘Or
maybe she’s just a bitch?’I chime in before thinking about what I’m saying.
Charles looks at me, shocked.

Mikey
throws down another glass of champagne. ‘Don’t say anything to Dilll, but I’m
with you on this, Nic.’

It’s
good to know I’m not the only one who doesn’t like her, for a while I was
worried I might have been possessed by the green-eyed monster. Speaking of monsters,
as Charles and I make our way back to our table we are stopped by Daisy the cow.

‘Where
were you last night?’ she asks bluntly. I had planned on thinking up an excuse,
however I was distracted with other things this morning. Thankfully I had time
to tell Charles all about her during dinner, so he’s well prepared.

‘And
who is your friend?’ she asks, looking him up and down and licking her lips
like she genuinely wants to eat him.

‘Charles.
Nice to meet you,’ he says, shaking her hand. ‘I’m sorry, Nicole stayed with me
last night. She will be tonight as well, I hope that’s ok? At least you’ll have
the bed all to yourself.’

‘Oh,
so this is your boyfriend?’ she asks me. I stare at Charles blankly.

‘I
am,’ he replies cool and confidently.

‘That’s
ok then. I thought she was gay,’ she tells him before losing interest and
walking away.

‘I
hope you will accept my offer,’ Charles says.

‘Really?’

‘Of
course. I can’t have you going back to... that. Anyway, it’s all for Daisy’s
benefit - I think she’s worried you’re going to make a pass at her.’

I
laugh.

‘Do
feel free to make a pass at me though,’ he says with a cheeky wink.

What
a tempting idea.

I
like to think that deep down, I am a nice person. However, I felt a weird sense
of satisfaction watching Dylan and Crystal go off to the honeymoon suite, knowing
I’ve already spent a night in their bed. Can you imagine what Crystal would say
if she knew? She’d probably insist on changing sheets or rooms or something.

I
tried to talk to Crystal earlier. I went up to her and told her she looked
lovely. She replied with, ‘Thank you, and thank you for not making much of an
effort to try and upstage me.’ End of conversation.

I
was really hoping that we’d be able to get along. Dylan is such a huge part of
my life and I don’t want that to change. I suppose it will though. She’ll be
there on all the tours - on the bus, backstage, at the hotel and with two
screaming babies. Fucking wonderful. So, in the past week I’ve lost my two
favourite bands to tour with.

I
swang by my/Daisy’s room to collect my things on the way up to Charles’ room. I
plan on leaving fairly early tomorrow, and I don’t want to have to face Daisy
or anyone else for that matter. Another quick getaway. To be honest, I just
want to get the hell out of London. As silly as it sounds, I’m scared I bump
into Luke - I know, London is huge, and it’s very unlikely.

Now
in Charles’ room, I can’t help but feel a little scandalous – sharing a bed
with a man I hardly know. On tour it’s one of the most standard, day-to-day
things you can do, but Charles isn’t someone on tour, Charles is from the “real
world”. The “real world” where you only go to bed with someone if you want
to... oh God! You think you’re so streetwise and socially blessed when you
spend a lot of time with musicians. Instead it’s making me forget how to behave
like a regular human being. What am I supposed to do? If I leave now it will
seem strange, and I’m sure I’ll have to work with Charles in the future – is
that a reason to stay or to go? This is so messed up. Yes, Charles is gorgeous,
but I don’t want to have sex with him. Regardless of what my brain is telling
me, my body is kicking off my shoes and sitting on the bed. It clearly has an agenda
that I am not aware of.

This
room is nice – it’s not as big as Dylan’s, but it’s a hell of a lot bigger and
nicer than Daisy’s.

‘Can
I get you a drink? It’s pretty late, I think I’m going to get in bed if you
don’t mind,’ Charles says, and now it definitely feels real.

‘Sure,
I think I’ll do the same. I’m kind of tired and I’ve got a long trip ahead of
me tomorrow.’ Plus, if I’m asleep then I don’t have to have sex with you - hopefully.

‘It’s
only a couple of hours on the train, isn’t it?’

‘Yep,’
I reply awkwardly, killing the conversation.

‘So,
drink, what can I get you?’ he asks after a few awkward seconds.

‘Surprise
me! Am I ok to get changed in the bathroom?’

‘Go
ahead,’ he says with a smile.

I
disappear into the bathroom with my case. This is going to be fine, I’ll get
through this. Searching through my case I find my pyjamas, and the startling
reality of what I have done hits me. To sleep in, I packed a black vest... and
my SpongeBob SquarePants short-shorts. Smooth move, Nicole Wilde.

Brushing
my teeth and taking off my make-up (and if I’m totally honest, putting quite a
bit of make-up back on) I venture out of the bathroom.

‘Oh
God! Sorry!’ I squeal, throwing my hands over my eyes. Standing at the end of
the bed wearing nothing but a pair of black socks and a tight-fitting pair of
black boxer shorts is Charles. ‘I didn’t realise you were still getting changed.’

‘No,
it’s ok. I’m changed.’

I
slowly move my hands away from my eyes and try to focus my gaze on his eyes and
absolutely nothing lower down. There’s a little voice in my head (although I
believe it originates somewhere further down my body) begging me to look down
but I’m stronger than that.

‘This
is how I sleep,’ Charles tells me. ‘I didn’t bring pyjamas.’

He
nods towards my super-sexy night time attire and appears to be stifling a
giggle. ‘Anyway, it’s all you saw me in this morning.’

Charles
hops on the bed, settling right in the middle with his hands behind his head.
Welcome to the gun show.

‘You
getting in?’ he asks with a cheeky smile.

I
nod nervously, pull back the covers and climb into bed, staying as close to the
edge as possible. As I lie back, in one swift movement Charles places an arm
behind me and scoops me towards him, resulting in my head resting on his chest.
His rock hard chest.

‘So
tell me a bit about yourself,’ Charles says, squeezing me tightly.

‘Erm...,’
I always blank when people ask me these kinds of questions. It’s hard when
you’re put on the spot, especially being a writer. People think words come
easily to us, but that’s usually after a few sleepless nights at the keyboard
and a scary amount of coffee. ‘Well I live in Leeds, on my own. My parents and
my little brother are living in France at the moment – some work thing of my
dad’s.’

‘Are
they coming back?’ he asks, sounding actually interested.

‘Oh
yeah, definitely. Soon I hope. We have a house in the country but I didn’t want
to stay there on my own so I rent a flat in the centre. It’s ok, but I haven’t
ever really adjusted from family life to being a loner.’

‘I
live alone too, although I’ve always been a loner. Only child, busy parents. Do
you have a boyfriend?’

‘Nope,’
I reply – I’m never sure how to answer this question. No, I haven’t had a
boyfriend for years, but that’s not to say I don’t have boyfriend-type
characters in my life. The problem has always been that the kind of guys I am
attracted to don’t have much will power when it comes to girls throwing
themselves at them, so they don’t have girlfriends, which in turn means that I
don’t have boyfriends. It’s gone on for so long that I wouldn’t know what to do
with one now. To try and put this point across to a practical stranger is
impossible without sounding like a total slut, so hopefully he won’t ask any
questions.