Starstruck (30 page)

‘Ok
love, well I’m off to Google you.’

‘You
do that,’ I chuckle.

It’s
times like these that I really miss my mum. I can’t wait until my family move
back home, but for now it’s just me against the world.

I
peep out of my window and see that Jake is right, a gang of photographers are
hanging around outside the door, the bloody vultures. It angers me that these
people are harassing me just to get a photo to go with a story. My privacy
feels majorly invaded, but isn’t this basically what
I
do for a living?
Although in my case I can safely say that the story is absolutely not true. I’m
going to have to find a way to make people see that.

First
things first, I’d better put some clothes on before Jake gets back, he looked
mortified before when he walked in and saw me in my towel. Did I even wash my
conditioner off? I’ve nothing better to do so I may as well get back in the
bath.

After
warming up the water and adding a shot of something expensive and purple that
is supposed to make me feel relaxed, I lie back and let the water cover my face
for a moment. I feel safe under here – a million miles from the outside world.

I
dread to think what people are saying about me as they’re picking up the
morning paper and seeing those headlines and that misleading photo. That bloody
photo that Vicky took on my own camera. Despite only looking at it for a few
seconds the image is burned into my mind and it’s all I can see whenever I
close my eyes. I pull myself up out of the water suddenly and gasp for breath.
I can’t hide forever can I?

‘I’ve
tried them, Jake. Their publicist doesn’t want to know.’ I snap my laptop
closed in temper.
‘Don’t worry,’ Jake says, pushing a cup of tea into my hand. ‘We’ll find
someone - anyone.’

‘Like
who?’ I ask, flinging my arms in the air and spilling my tea down my OnePiece.
It’s been a few days since my ordeal - maybe even a week or so, I’m not sure.
When you don’t leave the house for a while all the days just merge into one.

Unfortunately,
what happened is still big news. The paps are still hanging around outside my
flat and although there aren’t as many now, the few that remain are playing the
long game because they know I’ll have to leave at some point. Well let them
wait, because I can sit here in my tea-soaked clothing forever if need be.

Dylan
is supposed to be making some big statement soon, not that it will do any good.
On the day the news broke Dylan hadn’t even made it back to London before some
more news broke – that Crystal had gone into labour.

Jake
has been my knight in shining armour through all of this. He’s been looking
after me, shopping for me and he’s even set us up a little office in my flat so
we can work from here. I never need to go outside ever again.

For
the first few days I had him buy me every tabloid and trashy magazine on offer,
keen to keep an eye on what was being printed. I’ve cut that out now though,
because not only was it working out quite expensive but the more I read, the
more the story changed. It wasn’t true to start with, but one paper in
particular is just making things up – the one Vicky appears to be working for
now.

Do
you know what though? This is great. It’s getting really cold out, so being
able to work from home in my pyjamas is awesome. Well, that’s what I’m going to
have to start believing anyway, because I’ve been sitting here for the past
couple of days trying to get an interview with anyone at all and no one wants
to know. I’ve tried every contact I have. My band friends don’t want to be
associated with me right now, and all the publicists in the world are worried I
might try and shag their bands and ruin their careers in the process.

‘I
know!’ I yelp with delight. ‘Plastic Rap! I think Sam took a bit of a liking to
me, he gave me his mobile number.’

‘It’s
worth a shot,’ Jake tells me.

I
grab my mobile – not the one I dunked in the bath, that one is finally toast.
Instead I have one of Jake’s old ones, but it’s way too hi-tech for me.
Eventually I work out how to call Sam.

‘Yo!’
he answers cheerfully.

‘Hello,
Sam? It’s Nicole Wilde from Starstruck.’

‘Wow!’
he says, sounding totally surprised. ‘Didn’t think we’d hear from you again.’

‘I
was just wondering if you fancied another interview,’ I ask, straight to the
point.

‘Do
we want another interview with you? Hmm, let me think about that one. No way!’

‘Look,
I know you’re probably a bit put off by what you’ve read in the papers -’

‘What
we’ve read in the papers?’ interrupts me. ‘What we’ve seen in the papers is
your little story about us shagging underage fans. We know it was you, Nicole.
You were the only other person there.’

‘Sam,
listen to me. That wasn’t me, I promise you.’

‘Save
it, Nicole.’

I
don’t get chance to explain myself, Sam has hung up.

‘Didn’t
go that well?’ Jake asks, although he already knows the answer.

‘Bloody
Vicky! She’s really stitched me up.’

I
feel tears run down my cheeks and before I know it I am sobbing again. There’s
that look on Jake’s face, one that I’ve come to know these past few days. I cry
and he looks like he has no idea what to do with me.

‘Come
on, Nic.’ He takes the phone out of my hand to save it getting soggy like its
predecessor. ‘How long have you been wearing that thing now?’ he asks, nodding
at my adult baby grow as he sits down next to me. I wonder if it’s/I’m starting
to smell.

‘I
dunno,’ I hold my sleeve up to my nose, smells ok to me.

‘This
isn’t the Nicole I know, the Nicole I know has rules about these things. Never
wear the same outfit twice in the same week, right? You need to get changed,
it’ll make you feel better.’

‘I
doubt it will. Who’s gonna see me?’ I ask? ‘Just you. I’m stuck in here! Can we
do Somebody That I Use To Know on the karaoke machine again, please?’

Jake
laughs at me. ‘No, and I’m a little worried about your obsession with that
song. Gotye should be paying
you
royalties.’

I
laugh half-heartedly, safe in the knowledge I can sing it until I pass out as
soon as he leaves me unattended. I’m not on suicide watch, I’m on a break-up
ballad ban.

‘Go
have a bath,’ Jake suggests with a little too much enthusiasm. ‘Do that thing
with your hair that always makes you late for work, get some nice clothes on
and I’ll go pick us up a pizza or something - did you know that all you have
left in your fridge is moisturiser and a cucumber?’

‘That’s
not for eating,’ I tell him.

‘Oh,
you dirty bitch!’ He roars with laughter and I give him a playful punch.

‘It’s
for my eyes, pervert,’ I tell him, not that he didn’t know that.

‘Well
you could do with using it on the puffy eyes right about now. Forget work.’
Jake grabs yet another tissue and dabs my eyes dry.

‘Ok,’
I say rather pathetically. Despite everything that is going on, I do appreciate
all Jake is doing for me and I can’t help but feel amused by how much
Nicole-like behaviour he has absorbed over the years.

‘I
need to pop home too,’ he says. Will you be ok for a couple of hours?’

 I
nod. Jake kisses me on the forehead, grabs his coat and leaves.

I
touch my head where he kissed me, pleasantly surprised by his tenderness. Then
I run my hands through my greasy hair - I’d be mortified if anyone else saw me
like this.

After
having a bath and washing my hair, I dry it half-heartedly. I can’t be bothered
to put any clothes on so I lazily pull on my dressing down and flop back down
on the sofa, clicking on the TV with the remote. I don’t pay too much attention
to what’s on – I just want to hear noise other than the usual ringing sound
that is the theme to my life – but a familiar sounding song catches my
attention. It’s Two For The Road, they’re on some chat show. I well up with
pride, it’s nice to see them getting the recognition they deserve. I don’t
suppose they’ll want to be associated with the likes of me anymore, bad for
their reputation I’d imagine.

As
I watch them perform their new single my phone starts to ring again. It’s barely
stopped ringing for days; Jake has made me promise to ignore it. We have a
special code, so if Jake or my mum wants to call me they ring three times, hang
up and then call again. It’s rings more than three times, but I grab it anyway.
It’s Luke, and before I know what I’m doing I’ve answered it.

‘Hello,
you’re on TV!’ I answer cheerfully.

‘Hello,
you’re on the front of my newspaper!’ he replies in a similar tone, reminding
me of my current situation.

‘Oh
yeah? What have I not done now?’

‘A
lovely photo of you and Dylan King at his wedding, and yet another revelation
about your affair – apparently you crazy kids are into some strange role play.’

‘Who
isn’t?’ I joke. We laugh together, but only briefly.

‘It’s
not true,’ I tell him.

‘If
you tell me that it’s not true, then I know it’s not true. So that’s cleared
up.’

‘Well
I’m glad someone believes me. That makes you, Jake and my parents.’

‘Who
else matters?’ he laughs. ‘Boyfriend doesn’t believe you then?’

‘Boyfriend
thinks I’m a dirty whore.’

‘Boyfriend
knows you quite well then.’ He laughs again and it makes me laugh. It feels
good to laugh properly after days of being miserable cow.

‘He
didn’t deserve you, Nic.’

‘Nah,
I guess not. So how come you’re live on TV and on the phone?’

‘It’s
not live, they’re lying.’

‘Bloody
media, it’s all a lie isn’t it?’

‘I
just called to see how you were - I’ve got a pretty good idea now.’

‘It’s
horrible, Luke,’ I confess. ‘I’m stuck in my flat, Jake from work is looking
after me but I don’t see a soul otherwise. I’m too scared to go outside. I want
to clear my name, but I don’t know how to go about it.’

‘What
has Dylan said?’

‘Four
fifths of fuck all. I can’t get in touch with him, his phone is always off.’

‘Do
you know where he lives?’

‘Yep.’
Not that I’ve ever been to his house – I’m not even sure
he
goes there
all that often.

‘Well
come to London. You can stay with me, clear your name and then we can hang out
for a bit. Like a bit of a holiday,’ he suggests with a laugh, but I think he’s
being serious.

That
might be a good idea. Well, what else am I going to do? Slip my tea-stained
OnePiece back on and sit here calling people who are only going to tell me to
fuck off? I need to go down there and see Dylan because together we can set the
record straight.

‘Luke,
that’s actually a pretty good idea. You’re sure you want me staying with you? I
mean, I could damage your reputation by association.’ I say this in a jokey
voice, but it’s actually true. No one else wants anything to do with me - with
good reason - maybe Luke should stay away.

‘I
don’t think there is anything you could do that would damage my reputation
further,’ he assures me with a laugh. ‘And anyway, you’re my friend so that
always comes first.’

My
heart does a little dance inside my chest and I know that my crush on him is
still tucked away in the back of my mind somewhere.

‘You’re
too good to me, Luke. Thank you.’ A slightly awkward silence follows.

‘Well
I’m not that good to you I’m afraid, I’ll have you cooking and cleaning and
washing my clothes for me.’

‘Honey,
I don’t cook or clean for myself and I certainly don’t wash my own clothes - I
don’t know how!’

‘Aww,
you’ll make someone a crap little wife one day.’

We
both laugh and for the first time in days things don’t seem quite as hopeless
as they did. I finish up on the phone and begin to pack my suitcase. I’ve
always been pretty fashion conscious, but now that I have photographers on my
case I shall have to up my game. I’ve published enough photographs of stars
with their fashion faux pas and wardrobe malfunctions pointed out to know that
I need to put extra thought into what I pack, and what I wear on my journey
down there. The next photograph they take of me will be the first since
that
morning, so I don’t suppose I’ll have to try very hard to look better than I
did with my foam-irritated skin, messy hair and night-before outfit. Just
listen to me, I think I’m a celebrity when really I’m no better than a kiss and
tell girl in the eyes of the press - even though I didn’t do any kissing or
telling.

Jake
arrives back in no time, pizza in hand.

‘You’re
not doing a bunk are you?’ he asks, gesturing towards my case and the huge pile
of clothes and shoes that are taking over my living room.

‘Nope,
I am off to London. I’m going to stay with Luke -’