Starstruck (35 page)

‘She’s
not my mate,’ I snap.

‘Whoever
she is. When they got wind of what happened to Luke, it would be more valuable
to them to put you with him than with Dylan, especially after the statement-’

‘The
statement!’ I interrupt. ‘What did he say?’

‘That
he shouldn’t have cheated on his wife, that he panicked about settling down and
had one last fling. He basically begged for forgiveness.’

I
nod. So he did what he said he was going to and now he looks like a reformed
character, and I look like an even bigger slapper who takes drugs.

‘I’ll
release a statement on behalf of both of you, telling them what nonsense this
all is.’ He grabs his notebook and starts scribbling things down.

‘Tell
them the truth, I don’t give a shit,’ Luke insists.

‘That’s
very noble of you, Luke, but it will ruin your career before it’s even properly
started. You boys might be doing well, but you’re not famous enough to get away
with a drug problem.’

‘I
don’t give a shit,’ Luke repeats, over pronouncing each word.

‘You
don’t need to, lad. Look, enough of this is made up for us to rubbish it, after
that no one will believe a word of it. Nicole, you say those photographs were
uploaded the day after the party?’

I
nod.

‘Well
then anyone who goes on Facebook will see the date they were uploaded and that
will prove your version of events.’

‘Right,’
I say, but I’m not so sure about this.

‘Leave
it with me, ok?’

I
guess for now that is all I can do.

It’s
been little over a week since Luke’s accident and I am like a regular Florence
Nightingale. Ok, maybe that’s a slight exaggeration. I have officially moved
into Luke’s spare room and I am looking after him. With no income or savings I
don’t even have any money in my pocket. I’m so lucky to have my parents still
paying the rent on my flat, but when my mum asked me if I needed money I said
no. If I told her I’d blown what little money I had saved on an outfit for
Dylan’s wedding she wouldn’t be too impressed. So I am staying here, nursing
Luke back to health and living off his money, which to be honest is make me
feel like a bit of a tramp.

Life
is weird now. I hardly leave the house, unless I'm going to the shop or the
coffee bar just outside the flat, and we’re pretty much living off take-away
food. Right now this suits us just fine because neither of us are getting very
good press. No one seems to care about the little details that prove the things
in the press aren’t quite what they seem, people would much rather hate me for
being a homewrecker. The nasty headlines still upset me, but I guess that’s
what you get when you sleep with one of the country’s biggest stars. I say
sleep with, because that’s all we did. Sleep.

‘So
what culinary delight are you preparing for us tonight?’ Luke asks me, with a
cheeky grin.

‘If
by preparing you mean opening the container and putting the contents on a plate
then we are having Chinese, and any more sarcastic comments and you can get
your own,’ I reply, sticking my tongue out to make sure he knows I’m only
joking.

‘Touchy.
Is it nearly time for my bath?’

‘You
wish. Surely you must be getting better by now? I’m sure you’re milking this.’

‘What
kind of nurse says that?’

‘The
kind who really doesn’t want to bath you,’ I tease.

‘Why
not? I’m clean!’ Luke insists, sounding mildly offended.

‘If
you’re clean then you don’t need a bath, do you?’

‘We
could take a picture for the Scoop. Just you, me and my rubber ducky.’

I
shoot him another dirty look.

‘Seriously
though, I think they’re starting to lose interest,’ I tell him. ‘I’m just going
to keep my head down, let this blow over and then -’

‘And
then what?’ he interrupts. ‘Nic, they’ve ruined your life. You’ve lost friends,
they’ve damaged your reputation, trashed your website. Let me talk to the
press, I can at least clear up my accident.’

‘But
Frank said-’

‘Fuck
Frank!’ Luke winces with pain.

‘Calm
down, love.’ I rest a hand on his shoulder so gently I’m not even sure if I’m
touching him.

Everything
he just said is right, but there isn’t anything I can do about it.

‘Forget
about things for tonight, I’ll go order our tea.’

‘Ok,
but you’re in London now so stop calling it tea. It’s dinner.’

I
almost preferred him unconscious.

Luke
and I are sitting in his bed, eating Chinese food and flicking through the
channels on a TV that makes the one in my bedroom look like a toy. It’s so big
that if were to stand next to the damn thing the people on it would be bigger
than me. Normally I’d say that could only be a good thing, but it turns out that
stress is the best diet going. I’ve shifted a few of pounds over the past
couple of weeks, but now things are getting back to normal and we’re living off
takeaway food I expect I’ll quickly put the weight back on, times two.

‘Wait,
go back.’ Something catches my eye and Luke clicks  back a channel as
instructed. I thought I saw Dylan, and I’m right. The show, rather creatively
called We Four Kings, appears to be some sort of fly-on-the-wall documentary
filmed at Dylan’s house.

‘Bloody
sell-out,’ Luke mutters, but I’m too fixated on the screen to say anything.

‘This
is Chardonnay,’ Crystal points at a baby in the arms of an older woman - I’m
assuming she’s the nanny.

‘No,
this is little Lambrini,’ the woman corrects her with an awkward smile.

‘How
embarrassing is that?’ Luke laughs. ‘Your boy Dylan isn’t saying much, is he?’

‘Ok,
well this is Chardonnay,’ Crystal says, pointing to the tiny baby in Dylan’s
arms. To the people watching he probably looks like the proud parent, but I
know better. He hasn’t uttered one word yet, which isn’t like him at all. He
just looks so miserable. When he came to my office to see me he told me that
this wasn’t what he wanted, and I talked him into it.

I’m
not sure what I’m supposed to think or feel when I see babies. I think there
might be something wrong with me. I have no maternal instinct whatsoever.
Normal women look at babies and they think they’re adorable, it makes them want
to have their own. I look at babies and I panic. I don’t even find them cute,
they’re like little machines constantly firing out piss, crap, snot and sick. I
remember when one of my cousins brought her new baby to meet us a few years
ago. ‘You’re doing that look, Nicole,’ my mother told me with a subtle nudge.
‘What look?’ I asked after they had gone. ‘That look you do when you see small
children, it’s like you’ve caught whiff of a bad smell, it’s plastered across
your face whenever a baby is in the room.’ I thought perhaps she was
exaggerating until I saw the photos later on. If I didn’t know better, I’d
think Dylan was fighting off a similar look.

We
watch for a little longer as Crystal shows the cameras around the house,
Dylan’s house, the one I was in not long ago. I didn’t really appreciate it,
which is understandable given the circumstances, but looking at it now it’s a
gorgeous house, like something you’d see on Cribs.

‘You
ok?’ Luke asks me.

‘I
guess.’ I'm not sure what I’m feeling really.

‘You
miss him?’

‘A
bit,’ I lie. I miss him like crazy. I know it hasn’t really been that long, but
it feels like he’s dead. I doubt Crystal will ever let him see me again.

‘You’ve
still got me,’ he says with a smile.

‘Only
just. No thanks to that crap you shove up your nose or wherever you put it,’ I
snap.

‘I
guess I deserved that,’ he says, looking embarrassed.

‘Luke,
I’m so sorry. I was just so worried about you and what you were doing to
yourself. Why did you do it?’ I ask.

‘I
don’t know.’

‘Does
it feel good?’ I don’t mean to question him about it, but I’ve never really
understood what could possibly make someone want to take drugs.

‘At
first, yeah. It’s like being in love. At first it’s amazing, you know? You’re
on top of the world.’

‘And
then?’

‘And
then you end up alone, feeling like shit and wondering what the hell just
happened. And skint,’ he adds with a laugh.

‘That’s
what you think of love?  Anyway, you’ve never been in love with anyone but yourself,’
I tease.

‘I
have been in love actually,’ he insists and an awkward silence follows.

Finally,
I break it. ‘Well you’re far from being skint if you’re living in a place like
this. And you’re not alone, you’ve got me. So no more drugs, ok?’

‘No
more drugs, Nicole. I promise.’

As
I queue with my basket of shopping, I wonder what inspired me to buy the
coffees first. I like to think I’m pretty smart, but I can be so stupid
sometimes. I sigh with relief as I dump my basket down at the till, sitting my
drinks down at the end of the checkout so that I can pack my bags. It’s as I do
this that I spot the latest copy of Bacci magazine, the front cover occupied by
the King family. It pains me to do so because I know this is just Crystal
cashing in, but I buy a copy. I can obsess over it as I drink my coffee.

As
I pack my bags I glare at the cover. “Our plans for a family Christmas” the
cover reads, and I am reminded that it is nearly December. I wonder what Luke
does for Christmas? I imagine I’ll end up back in Leeds, all alone.

I
pay for my shopping and head back to the flat. It’s starting to get pretty
cold. I need to go to the proper shops and buy more clothes because I only have
the few items I packed and it certainly didn’t occur to me that I might need my
scarf and gloves. With the way money is (me not having a penny – Luke gave me
money for this shopping), I guess I’ll have to ask Jake to send me some things
from my flat.

As
I approach the door I see Frank, Luke’s manager, buzzing to be let in.

‘You’ll
be lucky,’ I call out. ‘He was fast asleep, nothing wakes him.’

‘Don’t
I bloody know it,’ he chuckles, taking my bags from me.

‘Thank
you,’ I say, once again comforted by his lovely northern voice. ‘He’ll wake up
when he smells the coffee, don’t worry.’

‘Actually
I’m here to see you,’ he replies.

‘Me?’
I ask, totally shocked.

‘Yes,
you. I’ll tell you all about it when we get inside.’

Once
inside I set the coffees down on the table and take the bags from Frank. I
ditch them in the kitchen, and turn to see Frank drinking Luke’s coffee.

‘Let’s
give him another half hour while we talk, eh?’

‘Sure.’

‘I’ve
got a job for you,’ he says proudly, sipping his stolen coffee.

 ‘I
don’t think I’d make much of a musician, Frank.’ I laugh, and so does he.

‘Neither
do I, but I’m not just a band manager you know, I’m a proper agent, I’ve got
all sorts on my books. People know you’re living with Luke, so I suppose they
thought they could approach you through me.’

‘So
what does this mean?’ I ask, confused. Who would want to give me a job?

‘I
want to be your agent, Nicole. We’ve gone about this all wrong. People clearly
want to talk to you, why shouldn’t you speak up?’

‘Speak
up about Dylan?’

‘Yes.
The offer came from Chit-Chat, do you know the show?’

Oh,
I know the show - not that I watch it. It’s chat show involving two washed up
female hosts (plus special guests) sitting around and complaining about
everything. It’s on every Thursday afternoon so I never get chance to watch it
– not that I would if I had the time.

‘What
do they want me for?’

‘They’re
doing a special on adultery-’ he doesn’t get to finish his sentence before I
cut him off.

 ‘No,
no, no, no, no. No! Because I’m haven’t engaged in any adultery. I’m not going
to be some kiss and tell girl that they can have a go at on TV!’

‘It’s
going to be a big show. Kathy Saunders, who hosts the show, she cheated on her
husband with some bloke, reckons it’s made her marriage better. Then there will
be the other regular, Deborah Blake,’ he takes his Blackberry from his pocket
and pushes a few buttons before reading aloud. ‘And pop princess Kelly Parker,
who recently found out her footballer fiancé had been playing away from home.’

‘So
why do they need me?’

‘They
want to talk to you because you have been caught up in an affair, and before
you start, I know you haven’t. But Dylan told the nation that you did. This can
be your chance to set the record straight. Don’t you want to have your say?’

‘Well
yeah, but not like this. I don’t think I could go on TV and talk about
anything, let alone this.’