Chapter 18

Day 5 – Kai

Kai looked up from his position on the carpet where he was lying on his front, surrounded by used make-up wipes, empty Pringles tubes, dirty knickers, screwed-up bits of A4 paper from uncompleted school assignments and Haribo packets. The same litter had lain in the same place on the carpet ever since he’d first got it on with Jade, almost six months ago now.

He unscrewed the little pot of nail polish and began painstakingly sweeping brushfuls of silver glittery varnish onto Jade’s toenails, having already squeezed her toes into the pink foam toe separators.

Jade scowled down at him over the top of her laptop. ‘You didn’t shake it! All the sparkles will be at the bottom if you don’t shake it!’

Kai obediently shook the bottle – but he’d forgotten to put the brush back in it first, which prompted more howls of outrage from his girlfriend.

‘Oi, you NOB!’ she shouted.

‘It’s OK, bae, look, it ain’t spilled anywhere,’ he placated her.

‘It had better not. It’ll ruin me carpet if it gets on it and me mum’ll kill me!’

Kai thought it best not to point out that he couldn’t even see the carpet, under all the trash, that Jade’s mum – who looked like she might one day need to be winched out of this house – had given up long ago. He decided it would be safer to change the subject on to something happier. ‘What date’s the OnT book signing, babe?’

‘The thirteenth. The day before Valentine’s Day.’ She paused. ‘Lol! Friday thirteenth! Can’t wait to go to that posh restaurant you booked us.’

Kai looked up again, worried. ‘I didn’t book no posh restaurant, bae, was I meant to?’

Jade slapped the side of his head, a little harder than necessary. ‘Duh! I was joking! You’d better get me a lush pressie, though. So, right, we’ll get a night bus over there, yeah? If we get there for 3 a.m. I reckon we got a good chance of being first in line. Or should we make it earlier, like the night before?’

Kai didn’t answer, as he was concentrating too hard on the toenails. He suspected, correctly, that Jade wasn’t interested in his opinion anyway and that she was just thinking out loud.

‘I wonder when the others’ll get there. We gotta make sure we get in that queue before them chavs like Chloe and ShawnsCupcake.’

‘ShawnsCupcake? Who’s she?’

‘I dunno, she’s a noob. Tell you what, though, she’s a right know-all and I bet she’s a right little chav. She just comments on everything I post, like, straight away, chatting shit ’n’ shit. It’s not respectful to us lot who’ve been on the forums for, like, ever. You can’t just barge in and take over. I bet you she’ll try to jump the queue at the signing, well, that ain’t happening, no way!’

‘No way,’ echoed Kai from her feet.

‘She’s acting like she’s Shawn’s biggest fan when everyone knows that I am. She’s been commenting on StoryPad too – she, like, had the nerve to say that Shawn and Blake wouldn’t go that way round, that Blake would be on top? I mean, I wrote the fucking thing! How dare she? If I see her, I’m gonna have a word or two!’

‘How dare she? Blake would never be on top!’ Kai protested, although he hadn’t read Jade’s latest shipping story or any of her stories for that matter. He found it a struggle to read anything longer than a tweet. Hashtag Boring, he thought, but would never admit it. Actions speak better than words, was his motto. Besides, he really didn’t want to read about two blokes getting it on. But writing her stories kept Jade off his back for hours at a time, plus it made her horny as hell, and so was an activity to be encouraged.

‘More than a word or two, I reckon,’ he said, running a thumbnail around a smudge on Jade’s toe. ‘If she’s that much out of line, we need to let her know she can’t go around acting like that. I’ll sort her for you.’

‘Gettin’ good at that now, ain’t ya, bae?’ Jade smiled at him and their eyes met in a moment of sly complicity before hers flicked back down to her feet. ‘Don’t forget to do another coat. And shake it first this time!’

Chapter 19

Day 6 – Patrick

Patrick fondly remembered the days when pubs were filled with the aroma of cigarette smoke, the blue-tinged cloud that hung over the tables, just as he recalled with a pang of nostalgia a time when he was young and foolish enough to puff his way through a pack of Marlboro Lights every day. Now, there were a couple of blokes sucking on e-cigarettes and the first smell he noticed when he entered the pub was the sickly sweet odour of the toilets.

He ordered a lime and soda and looked around for Hattie Parsons. The Prince Regent in Kentish Town was almost empty at this time of day. It seemed the kind of place that would always be empty and the barman wore the thousand-yard stare of a man who has seen terrible things. But Hattie insisted they meet here as it was a long way from her office and her colleagues would rather have their eardrums ripped out than visit a place like this. Patrick smiled. He’d rather have his eardrums ripped out than listen to the new OnTarget album again. Carmella had forced him to play it in the car yesterday, after picking a copy up from the record company office. It was so anodyne that the moment it ended he’d forgotten every note – though later, to his intense disgust, he’d found himself humming OnTarget’s latest hit, ‘Lonely Girl’ (‘You are a lonely girl/But you are the only girl/For meeeeee’), in the shower.

Hattie was in the corner, wearing dark glasses, which she raised when she spotted him, which made him laugh.

‘It is I, Leclerc,’ he said as he sat down.

‘Huh?’

‘Never mind. You obviously don’t share my love of corny sitcoms. Lovely place.’

She leaned across the table. She had a glass of wine in front of her, lipstick smudges on the edge. ‘Ghastly, isn’t it? And the wine . . .’ She pulled a face. ‘Wise to choose a gin and lime.’

‘It’s lime and soda. I’m on duty.’

‘Oh. Shame. Never as much fun, drinking alone. Sure you can’t have just one?’

He noticed her eyes flicking up and down his torso, sizing him up and apparently liking what she saw. Carmella was right – he must be giving off some kind of heavy pheromone at the moment – which was ironic, given the situation at home. If he was free and single . . . Hattie was a few years older than him but still a very attractive woman, with appealing laughter lines that showed she wasn’t always as wound-up as she was right now.

‘Thank you for agreeing to talk to me,’ he said, ignoring her question.

She had taken the sunglasses off now and glanced left and right. Her eyes were slightly glazed and Patrick thought that, despite her complaint about the wine, she had downed at least a couple of glasses while waiting for him. That was fine. In fact, he had been deliberately ten minutes late, thinking this might encourage her to have a drink, which would help relax her and loosen her tongue.

‘You know, if I’m caught talking to you, it will be the end of my career. Not just at GSM but the whole music business. And although I’m just a PA, and could probably be a PA anywhere, I like working there, you know? It’s a hell of a lot more glamorous than being a PA in a bank.’ She sipped her wine and winced. ‘You look like you’re into music. Let me guess . . .’

He was keen to move on to the point, so curtailed her guessing game. ‘I’m a big Cure fan.’

‘The Cure! I love them. They were my favourite band when I was younger. Saw them at this fantastic outdoor gig at Crystal Palace in, ooh, 1990? Actually, this is a big secret, but OnT are planning to record a cover of “Boys Don’t Cry” for their next album.’