Kitabı oku: «If We Ever Meet Again», sayfa 5

Chapter Twelve

The Skanky Groupies

After an awesome performance (including an encore), I am clapping and screaming just as much as any other fan in the room – maybe more so.

‘Are you their mascot?’ a handsome older man asks me, nodding in the direction of the hideous orange dress I forgot I was wearing.

‘Not exactly,’ I tell him with a giggle. ‘It’s a funny story really.’

‘I hope you’re going to tell me it.’

‘To summarise…’ I take a deep breath. ‘I am touring with the band, to write a magazine feature, but I forgot my bag and I spilt a drink on my pretty dress, so Luke, the drummer, was kind enough to give me this to wear.’

‘Wow, he must hate you!’ the stranger says, insulting my dress.

‘I know, right? What a bastard!’

He laughs.

‘You said you’re writing a feature on the band? I’m here to write a review for the local paper,’ he informs me.

‘Oops! Did I say he was a bastard? Because what I mean to say is what a wonderful band this is, and how you should definitely give them a good review!’

‘Don’t worry, I’m impressed. My name is Kenny by the way.’

‘Nice to meet you, Kenny.’ I shake his hand, ‘I’m Nicole.’

‘It’s nice to meet you too. Can I buy you a drink? We can swap notes.’

The band have only just finished and I know I’m going to be on my own while they do promo and meet fans, so I agree and we take a seat at the bar. Kenny seems like a nice guy and he’s a music reviewer for the local press so I’m sure I can learn a thing or two from him.

‘I think your friend is worried about you,’ Kenny tells me, gesturing towards Luke with a swift movement of his eyes.

I glance over and he’s right, Luke is giving us a filthy look.

‘He needn’t be worried, I’m more interested in him than I am in you, darling,’ he says with a wink.

Poor Luke, if only he knew.

‘I’ll put in a good word for you,’ I tell Kenny, winking right back at him.

‘Don’t worry about it, I think he’s got his eye on someone else in this room and I think we both know who that is.’

I smile, but then something catches my eye.

‘Excuse me for a moment,’ I say, making my way over to the band.

The guys are surrounded by fans, but there’s this one girl who caught my eye because she is wearing the same orange T-shirt as me.

I tap her on the shoulder. ‘Don’t you just hate it when someone wears the same outfit as you?’

‘It looks better on you,’ she replies with an unconvincing smile.

‘Are you trying to meet the band?’ I ask.

‘Trying.’ She holds up a poster. ‘I wanted them to sign this but it’s like I’m invisible.’

‘I’m a friend of theirs, I’ll get them to sign it.’

Taking the poster and marker pen, I start with Luke.

‘Can you sign this for that lovely girl over there?’ I ask him.

‘Sure. Who’s that guy you’re with?’

‘A journalist, so be nice,’ I warn him.

Ben signs the poster next, and thankfully he gets Mark to sign it too. If I’d asked, he probably would have told me to piss off. Now all I need is Eddie, and skanky groupies are his favourite thing so it’s going to be tough getting his attention. I push my way through a girl gang and hook my arm around Eddie’s. You’ve got to get territorial and show them who is boss, it’s the only way a girl can survive in this environment.

‘Eddie, baby, could you sign this for my friend please?’

‘Anything for you, Miss Wilde,’ he says, taking the pen and signing over his face on the poster. ‘Give me a kiss,’ he says before puckering up, and I’m not sure who he’s showing off for but I’m happy to help.

‘No way, I know where that mouth has been,’ I tease as I reach for the poster, but he holds it out of my reach and makes kissy noises at me.

I peck him on the lips and give the girls a friendly smile before taking the poster and making my way back towards my new friend.

‘Ta-da,’ I say, handing her the poster along with a plectrum, a wristband and some stickers. ‘And here’s a few bits from the merch stand too.’

Bless her, she looks so happy. It really bugs me that Eddie only gives attention to the girls he fancies. It’s girls like this who pay his wages, not the ones who are only here to try and sleep with him.

I head back over to the bar where Kenny is sitting.

‘I saw what you did. You’re a real sweetheart, aren’t you, Nicole?’

‘Oh, I do try,’ I say with a laugh, just as Luke appears.

I introduce them and Luke shakes Kenny’s hand. I’m surprised he isn’t doing more to soften up the guy who will be reviewing him for the entire city of Birmingham to read.

Luke tells me that they’ve got to head back to the hotel for an interview, which I’m guessing is my cue to say goodbye to my new best friend and go with them.

‘Kenny, do you want to come and have a drink in the hotel bar?’ I ask. ‘I want to hear more of your stories, and if these guys are doing an interview I’ll only have to sit and watch.’

‘I’d love to,’ Kenny replies, clearly annoying Luke by doing so.

‘Right, well we’re going now so if you’re coming get a move on,’ Luke tells us, so we knock back the remainder of our drinks and follow his lead.

Chapter Thirteen

The Crack

The hotel we are staying in is absolutely gorgeous. I couldn’t ever afford to stay in a place like this on my own, but that’s the beauty of being a hanger-on; someone else always foots the bill. I know that I’m lucky to stay in such beautiful places, which is probably why I don’t take any of it for granted, unlike most of the bands I know.

Tonight we’re staying at the Hotel Regale. I’ve only just stepped through the door and I’m already in love with the place. Inside the lobby they have replaced one of the walls with a huge fish tank, which is absolutely mesmerising – even to an entirely sober person, I’d imagine. On the other side of the tank is the bar, which is where Kenny and I are heading. There’s no point in me going up to the room and hanging around in the background while they do their interview, I may as well be down here sucking Dutch courage through a sparkly straw.

As soon as they’re done, Luke is going to call Reception and have someone let me know I can go up. I’m suddenly really nervous again, but trying to keep it out of my mind while I’m chatting to Kenny. We’re swapping stories about interviews and gigs. I know I have some great tales to tell (not that I ever would outside of the loop), but I am so jealous of some of his stories. Yes, we’ve only just met, but we’re already sharing a little too much information – this must be how rumours start, with journalists getting tipsy and exchanging stories.

It isn’t long before a nice lady lets me know that ‘Mr Fox’ is waiting for me. It sounds so weird to hear Luke being referred to as Mr Fox, like he’s a proper adult.

I say goodbye to my new friend and we swap details before I make my way to the lift. I hang back for a few minutes, spotting Mick the tour manager getting in the lift with a gang of giggly girls. No prizes what, or should I say who Eddie is doing tonight. I’m so glad I’m in with Luke because I am so not in the mood for a party with giggly fan-girls – and I’m allowed to say that because I used to be one, I know how annoying we are.

The nerves finally hit me as I step out of the lift. Luke is standing outside the door waiting for me, and he must have had quite a bit to drink while they were doing their interview because he is wasted.

‘Shall we go in?’ he asks, fiddling with the keycard for the room. For some reason he can’t get the door to open.

‘Do you want me to do that?’ I ask.

‘I can do it,’ he snaps.

I thought maybe he was just nervous too, but he looks terrible. His eyes are red and watery, and between attempts to get the door open he is rubbing his nose. If we were in the ‘real world’, I’d probably think he was coming down with a cold, but we’re not in the ‘real world’, are we?

In a way, I am proud of myself, I’ve always been very anti-illegal drugs and there’s a huge amount of temptation in the biz. Well, I’ve never been tempted. Sadly, it looks like Luke has. I know a lot of bands are close friends of Mary Joanna (say it quickly), but I’m guessing Luke is on something much harder. So the rumours are true.

Finally he gets the door open, laughing as he falls through the doorway, only just managing to stay upright. Kicking the door shut, Luke puts his hands on the wall either side of me. I can’t move and I’m being forced to look into his eyes. I’d imagined this moment being intense, but this just feels all wrong. Not only that, but he looks a mess – sexy doesn’t spring to mind at all.

He starts kissing me but it doesn’t feel like it did earlier. Earlier was great, this is awful. I feel uncomfortable and his constant sniffling is making me feel kind of sick so I pull away.

‘Everything OK?’ asks the snotty-nosed man of my dreams.

‘Are you OK?’ I ask.

‘I’m fine, let’s just get on with it,’ he insists, sounding slightly annoyed that I stopped him.

‘Get on with it? You smooth-talker.’

He ignores my sarcasm and starts kissing me again, pushing me onto the bed. After five minutes of awkward – and to be honest, slightly snotty – kisses, he rolls off me and sits on the edge of the bed, facing away from me. He seems frustrated and he’s swearing under his breath, banging his hands on the bed like some kind of mad man.

‘For fuck’s sake!’ he shouts to himself. To be honest, I’m a little bit scared.

‘I’ll be right back, just going to the bathroom,’ I tell him. I don’t wait for a reply before heading into the huge bathroom and locking the door behind me. I close the lid on the toilet and sit down. The bath looks so inviting, I’d love to have a long soak with lots of bubbles, pull on one of the fluffy bath robes, eat room service, watch TV and then fall asleep in the big, comfy bed – rock and roll. With a wasted Luke waiting for me in the big, comfy bed, I can forget about relaxing tonight though, and even though I would rather sit here until morning, I know that I have to go back out there. I’m not sure what has happened to the man I was pretty much in love with, but that isn’t him sitting in there waiting for me and that definitely wasn’t him throwing me around the room before. It’s only a matter of hours since we kissed in the dressing room, but now it’s like that perfect kiss never happened. His mood is all over the place, one minute he is the life of the party, the next he’s losing his temper.

I check the time and realise I have been sitting in here for twenty minutes now. It’s time to face the music or, in this case, the musician.

It turns out I have nothing to worry about. Luke is fast asleep, the wrong way across the bed, with his jeans and his boxers around his ankles. His mouth is wide open and even though his eyes are closed, they still look so sore. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look so unattractive. A lesser woman than me would take a photograph – who am I kidding? If my phone battery wasn’t flat I’d probably snap a quick one, if only to remind myself that I never slept with a coke-head. That has to be the reason he’s acting like this, it makes too much sense not to be.

I can see his chest moving so at least I know he’s breathing, but I still don’t fancy sleeping in here with him. I grab the spare keycard for the room next door. I might as well head to the party, drink this out of my mind and try and get some sleep in there.

Opening the door to Eddie and Mark’s room (with ease, because I’m not high), I realise there isn’t a party going on because all is quiet. This room is much bigger than ours, and thinking I hear someone in the bedroom I walk though, only to be greeted by Ben’s bare arse and a rather embarrassed-looking girl underneath him. From the way he described his girlfriend to me earlier, I can safely say this isn’t her.

With no idea where anyone else is, I head back to the bar, plonk myself on a sofa and gaze at the fish. Maybe Eddie and Mark will appear, maybe Ben’s female friend will leave and I can go back up, or maybe Luke will come looking for me.

The past couple of days have been so weird. I thought these guys were my friends – I’ve know them for years, I’ve got drunk with them a million times before, I’ve crashed on the bus and in hotels with them countless times – but these past few days I’ve seen another side to them, their true colours or the side effects of fame? I just don’t know. Eddie, the one who I expect the least of based on past experiences, is the only one who has pleasantly surprised me, or at the least remained consistent.

I thought this was going to be the best tour ever and I thought things were going to work out great between me and Luke, but after several bad experiences with boys in bands you’d think I’d know better by now. I guess I just thought things were going to be different this time.

I don’t know how I’m going to face them all tomorrow. After this business with Luke, my argument with Mark and catching Ben in the act, I’ll be avoiding everyone apart from Eddie tomorrow. To be honest, all I care about right now is finding someone I know, getting to bed and getting some sleep. I’ll just wait here and hopefully someone will come looking for me.

Chapter Fourteen

The Accident

Another day, another night sleeping on another uncomfortable sofa – Nicole Wilde, this is your life.

This morning I woke up on the sofa in the hotel bar. I slept there all night. I’m lucky a member of staff didn’t wake me up and ask me to move because I really don’t know where I would have gone.

It’s 9 a.m. now. I’ve just been in the toilets freshening up and before I have chance to worry about what to do next, I spot Mick at the reception desk – he looks stressed-out.

‘Everything OK, Mick?’ I ask.

‘Nicole, I wondered where you’d got to. Everything is not OK – one minute.’

He’s on the phone, saying something about a hospital and cancelling the rest of the tour. All kinds of thoughts are running through my head. Was Luke definitely OK when I left him last night? I was sure he was breathing when I left him, but I’ll never forgive myself if something happened to him after I left. I wait patiently for Mick to finish on the phone and tell me what’s going on.

‘Right,’ he composes himself, exhaling heavily and running a hand over his bald head. ‘There was a bit of an accident last night.’ He stops again, this time to punch something into his phone. ‘At some point, while I was fast asleep might I add, a couple of the boys took the party to the hotel pool.’

I feel momentarily relieved because Luke hasn’t choked to death on his vomit, but someone has had an accident…

‘Eddie was pissing around on the diving board, he tried to jump in and hit his leg on the side of the pool. He’s at the hospital now, they say his leg is broken. We might have to cancel the rest of the tour. They’re giving him some pain relief and putting a temporary cast on, and then we’re heading back to London so he can see his own doctor. Are you coming back with us?’

‘Don’t worry, Mick. I think I’ll head home.’

This is a blessing in disguise. I can go home without having to face Ben, Mark or Luke. I feel slightly guilty for being so happy when poor Eddie is in the hospital with a broken leg, but it’s best for everyone if I just leave.

‘Could you let me on the bus, please?’ I ask Mick as I try to look at least a little bit disappointed. ‘I just need to get a few things.’

‘I’ve got a few more calls to make,’ Mick tells me, then he spots Mark walking across the lobby.

‘Oi,’ he calls to him. ‘Mark? Let Nicole on the bus to get her stuff, mate.’

‘Sure,’ Mark replies as Mick tosses him the keys.

I follow him reluctantly.

‘It’s just down the road,’ he tells me. I wasn’t expecting him to talk to me at all.

‘Were you with Ed when he fell?’ I ask.

‘Yeah, I was. He was off his fucking head. That’s him and Luke, always taking it too far.’

Don’t I know it. If Eddie was half as wasted as Luke, then it’s no wonder he had an accident.

‘I’m sorry for calling you a slut,’ Mark tells me as we approach the bus.

‘Actually, you called me a slapper,’ I correct him without thinking, and I instantly regret it.

‘Whatever,’ he laughs. ‘You are neither of those things and no one has the right to call you either of them, remember that.’

I smile at him and he sighs.

‘I liked you, and I thought you liked me, but then I realised you liked Luke. You do like Luke, don’t you?’

‘Sort of,’ I reply sheepishly. I thought I did until last night.

‘I shouldn’t talk this way about my band mates – my friends,’ he corrects himself, ‘but Luke is bad news, Eddie too. Anything they come into contact with they’ll either shag or snort. You’re a nice girl, maybe a bit naive and easily led, but nice all the same.’

He unlocks the bus door and gestures for me to get on first. As I collect up my things from the living area, he carries on talking.

‘It’s not my job to warn you off these guys, and yeah, they’re my friends, but so are you and I don’t want to see them mess you around. I only snapped at you because I was jealous. Will you forgive me?’

‘Of course I will,’ I tell him, and he offers me a hug which I accept. ‘I’m sorry for shouting at you too.’

‘Forget about it, I’m just glad we’re still friends. Just tell me that I wasn’t a bad kisser.’

‘You weren’t a bad kisser.’ I smile at him. He actually was kind of a bad kisser, but that’s probably not the best thing to say out loud right now.

‘So are you heading for the train station?’ he asks.

‘Yeah. Wasn’t expecting to have to do this today.’

‘Do you want me to walk you there?’

‘Don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll find it. You go help Mick, he’s so stressed-out. Give Eddie my love, won’t you? Tell him I’m putting this in the magazine.’

‘Oh I’ll tell him, don’t you worry about that.’

We laugh. I am so glad that we are on good terms again. We say our goodbyes and he gives me a kiss on the cheek. My next impossible task is to wander through Birmingham, trying to find the damn train station.

Chapter Fifteen

The Rumours

Oh, Leeds, how I’ve missed you. My train journey back from Birmingham was absolute hell. I just couldn’t stop thinking about the past couple of days and when I wasn’t obsessing over every little detail, I was falling asleep, all under the watchful gaze of an elderly lady who clearly couldn’t wrap her head around my dress.

Speaking of my dress, I’m going to drop by the office and show the gang – because I know it will give Emily a laugh and provide Jake plenty of piss-taking material for the foreseeable future – and then it’s home to bed for some much-needed sleep.

Armed with the coffees I picked up at the station, I bum-barge my way through the ByteBanter doors with my usual baby elephant-like elegance. ET pokes his head out of his office door.

‘Wilde, I thought you were on the road?’

‘I was. I’m back!’ I say cheerily, holding my arms out in a ‘voila’ kind of way. I clock one of the nerdy desk boys (probably not his official job title) staring and blow him a kiss. He turns bright red and I feel slightly bad. I’m just glad to be home and it’s really showing.

This explanation obviously satisfies my boss, who has vanished as fast as he appeared, so I trot on to my office.

‘What’s up, bitches?’ I yell as I enter the room.

‘Are you high?’ Jake replies without missing a beat.

‘High on life, babes. High on life.’

‘And wearing orange,’ Vicky chimes in.

‘Yep, you know me and secondary colours,’ I say, still with a huge smile on my face. ‘Love them!’

At this point Emily walks out of my office with a very worried look on her face.

‘Oh God, what’s happened?’ I ask.

Jake’s face has fallen too but Vicky is still smiling, so I know it must be bad news.

‘What are you doing here?’ Emily asks me.

‘Eddie broke his leg. What’s happened?’

‘We’ve been trying to call you, why was your phone off?’

‘I forgot my charger, tell me what’s happened!’

‘Did you know about Dylan?’ Emily asks me.

‘What about him?’

‘About him getting some random girl pregnant!’ she squeals, holding up today’s paper as evidence. The headline reads ‘You must be joKING: Dylan to be a dad’ – very pun-ny, I have to admit.

‘He sprang it on me the day before I left for the tour,’ I admit. ‘He made me promise not to tell anyone until I’d spoken to his new publicist guy.’

‘Well his new publicist guy has been trying to call you – non-stop,’ Emily informs me, handing me a scrap of paper with ‘Charles Pace’ written on it, followed by his number.

‘Is that all? I can call him, explain I was away. It’ll be OK, Em.’

‘That’s not all,’ Vicky says, raising her hand.

‘Put your hand down,’ I snap before turning to Emily. ‘What’s happened?’

Emily places a hand on my shoulder. ‘You’ve been mentioned on Scott Hale’s website.’

I laugh.

‘I have? I’m a nobody, why would he bother?’

Scott Hale is one of those celebrity bloggers. Basically he’s a loser with a computer and a few friends in decent places. Half of the things he posts on his website are completely fictional, but everything he posts is completely horrible. There are never any happy stories, it’s all ‘this person is on drugs, this person had a threesome, this person had sex with their dog’.

Vicky happily loads up the website for me, clearly basking in my misery. I lean over her and read the blog in question.

‘What? That didn’t happen!’ I exclaim.

Scott and I have never interacted in any way, shape or form, but this blog is clearly a personal attack on me.

His blog, which went online last night, explains how I went on tour with TFTR. It then goes on to explain how, by the end of the first night, I had slept with no less than three members of the band. Oddly, my first reaction is to consider which three members he is referring to. My second is to work out which three members I would pick, in order.

I am snapped from my inappropriately timed thoughts by Vicky, who reads key parts of the blog, titled ‘Nicole Wilde has Three On The Road’, out loud.

‘Claiming to be there for journalistic purposes, Nicole Wilde of Starstruck is currently on tour with Two For The Road. One of my spies at their Manchester gig claimed they saw Nicole getting up close and personal with THREE different members of the band.’ She stops reading, and starts summarising. ‘It says you had one in the toilets, one around the back of a night club and one on the tour bus. Is it true?’

‘Of course it isn’t true, Vicky!’ I snap. She reads the last line to me to well and truly twist the knife.

‘Why pretend you’re there to work, Nicole? It’s clear enough to us that you were only there for one reason only....or would that be three reasons?’

I stare at the screen for a moment. TFTR are getting quite famous, but this just feels so personal. I mean, my name is in the headline! And while there are bursts of almost truth in there, it can only be a coincidence because, despite a couple of awkward kisses, I didn’t ‘have’ any of them anywhere.

‘I have to get him to take this down!’ I insist. ‘Is there a contact address on there?’

Vicky gives me the email address so I take a seat at Emily’s computer and start typing.

‘Dear Scott,’ I say what I am typing out loud for everyone to hear. ‘I’m not sure who gave you the information about my time on tour with Two For The Road, but I can assure you that none of it is true. I would appreciate it if you removed the post from your site immediately. Thanks, Nicole Wilde.’ I hit send.

‘Why did you say you were home early?’ Emily asks, and I tell her the story of Eddie breaking his leg. I fail to mention everything that happened, I’ll save that for later. I am almost finished telling her my story when the computer makes a noise.

‘It’s a reply from Scott,’ I tell the room as I click open. ‘Oh, you little fucker!’

‘What has he said?’ Jake asks.

I read out loud. ‘Dear Nicole, I have it on very good authority that events happened exactly as reported on my website—’

‘Blog,’ Jake interrupts.

I continue to read. ‘My spies don’t lie, Miss Wilde. The blog stays up. Scott.’

‘What the hell?’ Emily shouts in disgust.

‘He really is a little fucker,’ Vicky tells me, and it totally throws me to have her on my side. ‘Send him another email telling him what a little fucker he really is.’

Succubus is right for once. I can’t just sit back and let him publish lies about me.

‘She should do it, shouldn’t she, Emily?’ Vicky asks her, and Emily nods.

‘I don’t think he’s gonna take it down, Nic.’

‘Exactly!’ Vicky continues. ‘He probably thinks you’re a pushover. Show him that you’re not, and then he might take it down.’

I regret doing it the second I hit the send button, but I do as my girls suggest and sent Scott Hale a shitty email. I don’t feel better for sending it, and he doesn’t reply in the time it takes me to finish my coffee and have Emily fill me in on what’s been going on over the past couple of days.

Heading into my own office, I shut the door behind me. I’m determined not to cry, but I don’t want Vicky to see me just in case I do. I’m feeling a little delicate after the past couple of days and the last thing I need is another person making me out to be a huge whore.

My parents moved to France not long after I started working here. I don’t get to see them very often and I know my mum keeps an eye on my work – she is forever Googling my name to see what comes up – and I will be absolutely mortified if she reads Scott’s blog about me.

Rummaging around in my desk drawer, I find my spare charger and juice up my trusty yet battered mobile.

It starts bleeping like crazy with missed calls, text messages, emails, tweets and Facebook notifications – aren’t I the popular one? That reminds me, I need to call Dylan’s new publicist guy. What was his name again? I glance at the scrap on paper on my desk. Charles Pace. It’s a mobile number, so at least I won’t have to go through any grumpy receptionists.

‘Charles Pace,’ a rather serious-sounding man’s voice says after several rings.

‘Hello, Charles, it’s Nicole Wilde. You’ve been trying to get in touch?’

‘Hello, Miss Wilde.’ He relaxes slightly. ‘Yes, I’m Charles. Dylan King has hired me to take care of his extra press.’

‘Extra press? Is that what we’re calling her?’ I laugh. He ignores my joke.

‘While I’m sure Dylan has plenty of faith in my ability, he doesn’t entirely trust me yet. He gave me your number because he’d like you to give me your opinion on my ideas. He has instructed me to do whatever I see fit, providing it’s approved by you. A rather unusual request, but he’s paying my wages.’ It’s his turn to crack a joke, and I laugh politely because that’s what you do.

‘Unfortunately I couldn’t get in touch with you before we ran the article in the Daily Scoop, but we had to go ahead because Miss Slater wanted to announce the engagement as soon as possible. Magazine deals to sort out and so on.’

‘Sorry, you’ve lost me. Miss Slater?’

‘Crystal Slater,’ Charles replies. ‘Dylan’s fiancée.’

‘He’s marrying her?’ I squeal, totally horrified. The idea of Dylan getting married is shocking enough, but to a girl he accidentally knocked up! A girl he has only known for a few days! I’m just so shocked!

‘I’m sorry, Miss Wilde. I assumed you knew.’

Well, that explains all the missed calls for Dylan.

‘When are they getting married?’ I ask.

‘Next week.’

‘You’re shitting me!’

‘I think he’s trying to do the right thing,’ Charles offers up. It sounds kind of like he’s trying to make me feel better. ‘Good for him, I suppose.’

‘He’s crazy! I think he’s making a huge mistake!’ I insist. Charles doesn’t say anything in response to this, but I suppose he’s working for Dylan so it’s not his place.

‘Did you say magazine deal?’ I ask.

‘Yes, for Bacci magazine.’

I cannot believe I’m hearing this. Maybe it was me, not Eddie, who jumped in the pool. Maybe I bumped my head and this is all a crazy dream? First my press debut on Scott Hale’s blog, now this. Dylan is forever harping on about ‘the bloody media’ and how he’d never sell his soul. He has also spent the last few years sleeping his way through his female fanbase and I could get you a stack of magazines featuring interviews where he says he’d never get married.

‘So, what’s the plan?’ I ask Charles.

‘I’d give him a call, Miss Wilde. Talk things over. I’ll keep in contact over the next few days.’

‘OK, but please call me Nicole.’

‘Nicole,’ he corrects himself. ‘Have a good day.’

And with that, our call is over. One short phone call full of so much life-changing information.

My phone only moves far enough away from my head for me to hit call on Dylan’s name. He answers after one ring, not giving me any time to plan what the hell I’m going to say to him.

‘Hey,’ he says sheepishly. He sounds like a little boy who knows he’s done something wrong and that he’s going to be in big trouble for it.

‘Hay is for horses,’ I reply. ‘I hear congratulations are in order.’

‘I tried to tell you. I wanted to tell you first. I know what I’m doing, babe.’

‘You only found out she was pregnant a couple of days ago, have you really thought this through?’

‘First of all, she is called Crystal. All I know is that there’s this poor girl and she’s heavily pregnant and scared to death. It’s all my fault and I want to make sure she’s OK. And that my kids are OK.’ He adds that last bit as an afterthought. It’s so weird hearing him say things like that.

‘And you have to get married to do that?’ I ask.

‘Trust me, will you? I’ve dicked around for too long, time to do the mature thing. I’m going to have a family, Nic!’

He sounds almost excited. Even if I think he’s making a huge mistake, what can I say? I’m his friend and I’ve got to support him.

‘Then I’m right behind you. The wedding is next week?’

‘Yeah. Well, they’re highly likely to be little bastards with me being their dad, so we don’t want to do anything else to encourage it,’ he jokes. It’s so weird hearing him talk about his kids and say ‘we’ when he’s talking about what’s-her-name. I remember a particular interview he gave a while back. He said he’d considered having a vasectomy so that this kind of thing could never happen. The press will almost certainly drag this quote up at some point in the very near future. If he wasn’t my friend, I know I would.

An awkward silence falls.

‘You’ve got a magazine deal,’ I say to fill the silence.

‘Crystal wants to do it, and I want to make her happy.’