The Wannabes

by F. R. Jameson

  As if by mutual consent they left a gap to make sure he’d finished, then carried on.

  “Well, I’m a little disappointed that no one mentioned this to me, either,” said Charles. “I do have a distinction from drama school, after all.”

  “Shut up, Charles!” said Abigail. “Didn’t you pay attention? This is a story about witches. Women’s roles – do you know how hard a good female role is to find? Do you? This could have been our making, yet even when our ‘friends’ write it, we’re still not given the opportunity.”

  “Let’s not do this, please,” Flower pleaded. “Raymond has been dead less than twenty-four hours – let’s not argue like this. It’s hardly respectful. Please.”

  “Yeah,” said Jake. “It’s a dreadful day. Let’s think about the good times we had, let’s not do this.”

  “Yes, yes. I think you’re absolutely right,” said Bunny. “This is most definitely a time to remember rather than recriminate.”

  “Did Raymond know about this?” asked Judy, her voice even smaller and younger than usual.

  “Please,” said Flower.

  “It’s a fair question,” said Abigail. “It’s good we truly appreciate the man we’re mourning tonight.”

  “Hang on!” said Toby. “Are you really going to storm out if the answer isn’t what you want? Are you going to throw off the mourning suit and go back to glad-rags?”

  “I would just like to know,” said Abigail.

  “Can’t we talk about this another time?” asked Clay.

  Belinda’s fingernails dug into his thigh. A suggestion, a hint, a command he should shut up.

  Jake took a large gulp of his drink. “Raymond had casting approval,” he said. “He had the final tick on the main roles.”

  “What?” Belinda, Abigail and Judy exclaimed in unison.

  “Yeah,” said Jake. “The TV company did the casting, but Raymond had his okay on it. There you go. He knew these characters, knew how they should be played – and he didn’t call you three. So I guess it’s back to your agent’s office to find out what toothpaste ad is in this month.”

  He looked stronger now, but Flower clasped his hand tighter.

  “The script is written,” he continued, “the casting is done and there’s nothing I or anyone can do about it. I apologise, ladies. You worked hard on the young actress thing of being as bitchy and superior as possible, so it’s a shame it hasn’t panned out for you. But I’m afraid there’s nothing that can be changed now. And frankly, on a day a good friend of mine died, I can’t see how I’ve ended up arguing over something so fucking pointless.”

  “To Raymond!” said Bunny, with an optimism misplaced on many levels.

  They raised their glasses. Some with emotion like Flower and Jake, others with definite reluctance like Belinda, Abigail and Judy. Only Nick sat with his glass untouched, that one spot on the table holding his attention rapt.

  “How are you, Clay?” asked Flower.

  “I’m good,” he said. “If it wasn’t for the news about Raymond–”

  “Terrible news,” interjected Charles.

  “–then it’d be close to a perfect home-coming. I’m with Belinda, my old friends – what could be better?”

  “Where’ve you been?” asked Flower.

  “Yes, come on now, my boy!” said Toby. “You’re going to have to answer that question some time. You can’t play the International Man Of Mystery forever. I know you, another three drinks and all modest reticence will be discarded and you’ll be giving slide shows.”

  “I was just around,” said Clay. “There’s really not that much to tell.”

  “You were just around?” asked Jake. “For two frigging years?”

  “We were worried about you,” said Flower. “No one knew where you were.”

  “We did.” Belinda smiled smugly.

  Flower’s gaze passed across Belinda, Abigail and Judy with a calm passiveness that was deliberately without a flicker of warmth.

  “Well, we kind of drifted apart not long after you left,” Flower said. “And I guess when that happened there were certain people we should have asked, but didn’t – that now seems foolish. Raymond would have liked to have seen you, he was more concerned than anyone.”

  Clay couldn’t remember his dream any more, just the fact that he’d had it and it had seemed real. In it he thought he’d seen Raymond, but right then it was as if he could barely remember what Raymond looked like.

  “You’d have sucked my dick, wouldn’t you?” yelled Nick at Abigail.

  The two were separated by Judy, Toby and Charles, but the violence in his voice that made her flinch.

  “What?”

  “If I’d made it, if I’d sold out and made myself famous – I could have walked in here with my fly open and had you chomp down. Couldn’t I?”

  Abigail gave her best shocked face; everybody else accompanied her.

  “But I didn’t, did I? Because I’m an artist, y’see? A bona fide artist, not a fame hungry slut like you. I write songs from the heart, create something beautiful. I don’t do it for MTV, or groupies or press coverage – I do it because those songs are there and need to be heard. I’ve created something with my life, you know that? I’ve made beauty that’s going to live forever, be remembered years after I’m gone, be celebrated a millennia from now.”

  He stumbled to a halt, and for a moment it seemed a toss-up whether he’d continue ranting or just sit there and sob. He chose the former, lurching forward in his seat again.

  “There are some people just too good for their times and I’m one of them. I don’t need the fame and fortune, I know what I’ve created is worth far more than that. But if I did have fame and fortune, I know you’d have sucked my cock, Abigail. You’re such a fame-crazy slut, you wouldn’t have teased me at all, you’d have got down on bended knee for the pleasure of it. Just so you could say you’d been with me, just in case I took you somewhere where there were photographers, just so you could think of yourself as an artist. But you’d just be a parasite clinging onto real talent – me.”

  “I can assure you, Nick, that I wouldn’t have touched you,” said Abigail. “What are you talking about?”

  He reeled in his seat. “You’d have sucked my cock, Belinda! You’d have sucked my cock, Flower! You’d have sucked my cock, Judy! You’d have sucked my cock, Bunny! All of you would’ve! All of you’d have sucked it if I’d just cheapened myself by accepting fame. None of you could recognise an artist, none of you could spot great talent – but fame, you’d have chowed down for that. Abigail, you fucking bitch – with your aloof air and sneering at any man who might want you. I wasted so many nights on you, didn’t I? So much time I spent on you. You needed me but you fucking ignored me. You shunned me because talent to you is what they tell you it is on television and in magazines, while if you had any real talent you’d know that I was the only talented person you’d ever met. You’d have sucked my dick, you’d have let me do anything I wanted to you. All I had to have was a little bit of fame and I could have fucked every one of you. If only you’d seen me then, Abigail, I’d have made you scream.”

  “I don’t believe this!” said Abigail. “Do we have to listen to this?”

  Belinda let go of Clay’s leg.

  “Come on, Nick,” Clay said. “Let’s get some fresh air.”

  “Yeah,” spat Nick. “I can’t stand the stench of mediocrity in this place any more.”

  “That’s your aftershave,” said Abigail.

  He was going to turn on her again, give another salvo – but Clay grabbed his arm. He looked back remorsefully and even tried a smile, as if this was a pleasant goodbye.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Nick took a deep breath of warm, sticky air. He was pale, shaky – he’d only drunk two in the pub, but had clearly started earlier than that. He reeked of booze, he reeked of disappointment, he reeked of his life long-failure to get what he wanted. The street was quiet, a nondescript corner of shut-down shops and
abandoned free newspapers.

  “What the Hell’s the matter?” Clay demanded.

  “Fuck it!” said Nick. “I ain’t seen them in a year and I don’t expect to see them again. I don’t expect to see her again. We’re only together tonight because of Raymond and because of you, and Raymond ain’t going to die again and we won’t welcome you back again – so fuck it!”

  “Why’d you say those things to Abigail?”

  “Because they’re true, man. It’s all true. And because I can. And because,” he sobbed once, “this is the first time I’ve seen her for a long time and not been in love with her. I loved her for an age, man. I really did. I loved her and she let me love her. She captivated me. I don’t know how, since she never did a single thing for me – but I did so many things for her, things that I shouldn’t have done, that she wanted me to do. She had a power over me – one look from those eyes and I’d just do anything – fucking anything. What a loser, ay? I loved her, man. I wanted her so much and now I don’t love her anymore and I can say what the fuck I like.”

  “Come on, mate. Even then you shouldn’t have said all that to her.”

  “You don’t know her! You don’t know her like I do. I have my eyes open now and I can see what she is, I can see what she did. I just can’t figure out how the fuck she did it. Suddenly she was all I could think of, every thought I had revolved around her. I was spellbound. I tried to talk to her, tried to tell her I loved her – but she already knew that. She didn’t tell me that she didn’t love me, she didn’t tell me that she’d never love me – she just let me love her and used that.”

  He put his hands to his eyes, but there were no tears there.

  “You ever been in love with someone who didn’t love you?” he asked. “I don’t suppose you ever have, have you? It’s hard, man, it’s fucking hard. It’s hard if she uses you, if she makes you her tool. I would have done anything for her, anything at all. All she had to do was smile, all she had to do was call me – and I’d fucking lose all rationality. One day she kissed me on the cheek and I thought I might just blow up. What a fucking simpleton, ay?”

  “I’m sorry,” said Clay.

  “When I was on my own I would think about how crazy it all fucking was, how I was so madly in love with her but had no reason to be madly in love with her. I mean, she’d never even shagged me; she was never going to fucking shag me. But each time I decided never to see her again she trapped me even more. I once went a week without calling her – didn’t even answer a text she sent me – and when I went round there feeling strong, determined to end it, she answered the door in her lingerie. Can you imagine how fucking good she looks in her underwear?” He answered his own question, shaking his head in amazed disbelief. “I still dream about it now. I loved her, man. She made me love her. Then one day she didn’t need me to love her any more and so she sent me away – she stopped seeing me, stopped taking my calls. She broke my heart without ever giving me her heart.”

  “I’m really sorry, Nick.”

  He took a deep breath, as if sucking all the upset back inside him. “Don’t be. I’ll get the last chuckle. I hung around a long time. She let me take her out, buy her drinks, left me in pubs while she went off with other fucking men. It was all fucking horrible, I loved her so much and she destroyed my fucking insides. But it means I know things about her, know things about her past – and I’m going to get her. Don’t worry about me. Don’t feel sorry, I’m going to show her. I’m really going to fucking show it to her.”

  He staggered into the road, a black cab swerved to avoid him, the cabbie yelling abuse. He stopped just before the opposite kerb and spun back to Clay, his heels so close to the pavement that a gust of wind would have knocked his arse down onto it.

  “I’m glad you’re back, Clay. I’m glad you’re back from wherever the Hell you’ve been. It’s good to see you again. Word of advice, though – don’t trust them, don’t trust any of them. Don’t fucking trust her. I promise you, you’ve got no reason to trust her.”

  And then he turned away and pelted down the asphalt.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Clay re-entered the pub and found everyone staring at him. It was a quiet bar and so voices inside travelled, so it wasn’t only his group which gawped. There was the barman, the barmaid, the regulars, a couple of blokes in suits and a gaggle of girls getting drunk on bottle after bottle of white wine. All of them appalled and amused by this soap opera they’d witnessed; all now hoping for the next instalment.

  “I’m sorry about that,” he said, sitting down. “He’s just really drunk.”

  “He’s an arsehole is what he is!” said Abigail. “An absolute arse. I’ve always thought as much and I’ve always said as much.”

  “I don’t know why he pointed to me in the middle of all that,” said Bunny. “I actually have sucked his little cock.”

  “Really?” asked Toby.

  “We had a moment once. I sucked it and he lay there and hated me. It’s the curse of the homosexual and the slightly bi-curious man.”

  “He is an arse and I can’t see why we let him stay around so long,” said Abigail.

  “He was never really one of us,” said Belinda. “We’ve got talent and charm.”

  “It’s a shame as I used to quite like him,” said Judy, “I even kissed him once. But sometimes I’m very wrong.”

  An awkward silence which had been creeping up now swooped over the table, covering them all in a cloak of taciturn embarrassment.

  Nick had never been particularly popular and so no one spoke up in his defence. While Bunny – whose stock of pointless anecdotes ready to be told at awkward moments used to be quite amazing – seemed to have run dry.

  “So,” said Abigail finally. "Congratulations on the script. When do you begin shooting?”

  Jake looked up. “Three weeks’ time.”

  “Three weeks’ time?” she said. “That’s great. It’s all cast and ready to go then?”

  “Yeah, it’s all there.”

  “And Flower has a main part?”

  “I earned that on merit,” said Flower. “I did read for it.”

  “Of course you did,” said Abigail. “What do you think we’re saying? We’ve seen you act, we know how good you are.”

  “We’re proud of you,” said Belinda.

  “We really are,” said Judy.

  Charles nodded once. He wore a look that Clay recognised. It’s sometimes said that people hate it when their friends are successful, but it’s nothing compared to actors watching other actors get jobs. So what if the role was the wrong gender? He still thought he should have been considered.

  “What’s this thing called?” asked Toby.

  “It’s got the same title as Raymond’s version,” said Jake.

  “Which is?”

  “Well, Raymond wanted it all kept hush-hush, so I don’t think today is the appropriate day to go against his wishes, do you?”

  “Oh come on!” said Toby. “I could never understand why Raymond wouldn’t tell me. I understand even less from you. When some show comes on having been written by Jake Monroe and starring Flower Honeysuckle, I’m going to know what it is, aren’t I?”

  “I’ll tell you before it goes out,” said Jake.

  “Please do,” said Bunny. “I’ll be sure to stay in with a box of chocolates.”

  That silence lingered over them again.

  Abigail yawned theatrically. “I’m sorry. It’s been a tiring night and I’ve had a long, hard day. I think we may possibly go.”

  “Yes I think we should,” said Belinda.

  “Okay,” said Judy.

  “Clay, why don’t you stay?” asked Flower. “Please. It’s been a long time, we could catch up.”

  “Yeah,” said Jake. “You could tell us where on Earth you’ve been.”

  “You’re not going to get an epic from that direction,” said Toby.

  “What do you think?” asked Bunny. “A few more drinks, Clay, to count out the eveni
ng.”

  Belinda stood with a smile. She held out her hand and knew he’d accept it – she knew she was too difficult to resist. He thought quickly of Nick being so enamoured of Abigail, how she could apparently purse her lips and he’d jump. He thought how hard that must be if the love is only going one way. His hand slipped into Belinda’s and they smiled at each other.

  “Apologies.” he said. “I’ll take them home. But look, I’m back now. I don’t think I’m going anywhere, so I’ll see you all again soon.”

  “Well, leave one guest off the list next time,” said Bunny. “I’ve seen some bridges burnt in my day, but to use so much incendiary...”

  Clay shook their hands and received a warm kiss on each cheek from both Flower and Bunny. They were so happy to see him, they said, they’d missed him so much – and he thanked them and said he’d thought often of them too. Then he joined the waiting Belinda, Abigail and Judy. The four of them exited together, arm in arm. He must have looked to a lonely passer-by like the luckiest bastard in London.

  With three women hanging off him it didn’t take long to find a black cab. He sat at the middle of the back seat with Judy and Abigail either side, both leaning on his shoulder. Belinda sat on the jump seat in front of them, watching with a smirk of mischief.

  CHAPTER TEN

  The cab moved away.

  “I can’t believe that ugly moron Nick Turnkey,” said Abigail. “I just cannot believe it! As if I’d ever suck that man’s cock. As if I’d ever give him the impression I possibly might one day.” She turned her face so her lips were only an inch from Clay’s. “You don’t believe that, do you, darling?”

  Judy started to kiss Clay’s shoulder. He turned from Abigail’s piercing eyes to Judy’s softer gaze, which peered up, as if nervous.

  Belinda chuckled; both her friends were now wrapped around him.

  Abigail whispered in Clay’s ear, so close her lips were touching it, warm and tickling. “What did he say about me, darling?” she asked. “When you were outside, what did he say?”