I Heart Paris

by Lindsey Kelk

  ‘He did, he told me to stay here.’ I tried to look apologetic. ‘I guess that means he’s going to be here.’

  ‘He had better be,’ Graham brushed his hair back off his face, ‘he’s got ten minutes before these guys finish. We’re on at seven.’

  ‘What happens if he misses the slot?’ I didn’t especially want to know, I already felt quite guilty enough, but it seemed polite to ask.

  ‘We get fined and I doubt we ever get to play for the promoter again,’ he tilted his head to one side. ‘So not great.’

  ‘How often do you come out to Paris?’ I held out my arms. ‘Really?’

  ‘The promoter is global.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  Craig walked around Graham and folded me up in a huge hug, with only the slightest hint of a pat on the ass. ‘Don’t worry Ange,’ he whispered into my hair. ‘And what’s with this chick you got with you? She single? Can I hit that?’

  I pushed out of the hug and gave him my sternest look. Virginie had already had her dream job taken away and a slap in the face in the past twenty-four hours, hooking up with Craig would just about push her over the edge.

  ‘So that’s a no?’

  ‘It’s a no, Craig,’ I confirmed, looking out at the stage. Wow it was big. And wow, there were a lot of people in the crowd. As in thousands. Directly opposite, there was another group watching the band, waving at us. Craig waved back before he had his hand slapped down by Graham. I looked suspiciously at the boys and then squinted back across the stage, through my smudged mascara, holding my hand over my eyes to block out the early evening sun.

  It was Solène.

  And she was waving at me.

  ‘Angela, just let it go,’ Graham urged, apparently able to see my temper rising through the back of my head. ‘She’s not worth it.’

  ‘Did you talk to Alex about it?’ I asked him, as quietly as possible when you were standing next to a band belting out their closing number to 10,000 screaming fans.

  ‘We didn’t get a chance last night, he vanished right after the show,’ Graham yelled into my ear. ‘When I got that message I figured you two must have had a bust-up or something.’

  ‘But he didn’t come back to the hotel,’ I said slowly, feeling the Percy Pigs coming right back up. ‘He wasn’t with you?’

  ‘Uh, no.’ He looked back across the stage to where Solène was dancing with the rest of her band. ‘Don’t get ahead of yourself, Angie, you don’t know what he did. Alex knows this city probably as well as he knows New York, there are a million places he could have stayed.’

  ‘A million,’ I repeated, unable to take my eyes off Solène. I wanted to believe Graham, but out of the two of us, I was the one with dirty hair and no idea where my boyfriend had spent the night. If Alex had told her to go to hell, why was she dancing? If I knew that I had lost him for good, I wouldn’t be able to dance. I wouldn’t be able to laugh or smile or probably get out of bed for a month, so I sure as hell didn’t know what she was looking so happy about. Unless…

  ‘Ahh, fuck, they finished early!’ Craig slapped his hand against his face as the drummer onstage threw his sticks up into the air to announce the end of their set. ‘I never liked those bastards.’

  The band came off towards us, high-fiving Craig and Graham as they went, while the roadies swarmed the stage, unplugging all the equipment to make way for Stills.

  ‘What do we do, man?’ Craig asked Graham, looking panicked. ‘You know the words, you could sing?’

  ‘Knowing the words isn’t the same as singing.’ Graham frowned. ‘But we’ve got to do something. I’m gonna go and find someone, see if we can hold on for a little while. You go set up, you take too long anyway.’

  Ignoring, or not recognizing the insult, Craig tiptoed through the cables and on to the stage to help his drum tech set up. I couldn’t believe this was happening and as much as I was trying to stick to my new positive thinking regime, I was pretty sure it was at least fifty per cent my fault. Possibly slightly more. Or slightly less. Depending on whether or not Alex needed to see me to break up with me or to tell me he had been a dick and that he loved me.

  ‘I am going to find drinks,’ Virginie announced loudly, apparently sensing an impending meltdown and wanting to be out of harm’s way. ‘I will bring back wine.’ Regardless of her previous betrayals, there was no disputing the fact that she was an intelligent and intuitive girl.

  I paced the limited space I had beside the stage, willing Alex to burst through the doors, take the stairs two at a time and storm the stage just in time, but the clock kept on ticking and no one came up the stairs except for a tall blonde – oh, brilliant, just what I needed.

  ‘Angela,’ Solène greeted me, as usual, with a smile. Stage-ready in a stripy black-and-white mini dress I was pretty sure I had owned pre-exploding suitcase, black over-the-knee boots and perfect make-up, she was not a sight I wanted to see. ‘Angela, have you slept at all? You do not look well.’

  ‘Whatever,’ I replied eloquently, looking past her to where Craig was struggling with a particularly tricky snare drum. I did not want to get into this. There was no way I was listening to another word out of that woman’s mouth until I’d spoken to Alex.

  ‘Of course, I did not get too much sleep myself,’ she shrugged. ‘But perhaps I am glowing. Where is my Alex?’

  My heart fell right to the floor, my stomach and my handbag following closely behind. She hadn’t? He wouldn’t? They didn’t?

  ‘All right,’ I breathed out, remembering too late that my laptop was in the bag I’d just dropped. ‘You can stop. I’m sure this is all hilarious to you, but until I’ve spoken to Alex, I don’t want to see your face. And I’m fairly certain that even after I’ve seen him, you’re going to be the last person I want to talk to, ever again.’

  ‘You have not seen him?’ she asked, her bravado drooping slightly. ‘You have not spoken to him?’

  ‘I’m not talking to you.’ I folded my arms to stop them from doing anything I might regret. One slap per trip was my limit. ‘So whatever it is that you’re dying to tell me, you can just piss off until I’ve heard it from him.’

  ‘But he said he had to talk to you,’ Solène faltered. ‘Last night. He said we would speak when he had spoken to you.’

  ‘Well that’s very chivalrous of him, isn’t it? He dragged himself all the way over to London, so he could break up with me before you carried on your epic romance.’ I couldn’t believe this was happening. Had they spent the night together? And that was why he needed to speak to me? Of course he needed to speak to me. He couldn’t be with Solène without breaking up with me first, that way he could convince himself he hadn’t cheated. I was so stupid. Positive thinking, my arse. Delusional was a better word for it.

  ‘London?’ She looked confused. ‘He is in London?’

  ‘I can’t actually explain any of this to myself so I’m not going to try and explain it to you,’ I snapped, desperate to be away from her. ‘Please just go away. You’ve got what you wanted, haven’t you?’

  ‘Yes.’ She shrugged, the self-assured arrogance reappearing on her face. ‘Where is he? There is no way Alex would miss a gig.’

  ‘Apparently, he would.’ I waved my arms around, tears prickling in my scratchy, dry eyes. ‘Can you see him anywhere?’

  ‘This is your fault.’ Solène’s eyes narrowed and she prodded me in the shoulder. ‘Alex has never missed a show before, not for anyone. I cannot believe he would risk his career for you.’

  I paused for a moment. Why was she so pissed off if they were back together? ‘What, he never missed a show for you?’ I asked.

  She froze, her mouth set in a hard line. ‘He would do anything for me.’

  ‘Except, it was me he chased to London.’ I tipped my head to one side and pursed my lips. ‘When you come to think of it, that’s a weird thing to do if you’re going to dump someone, isn’t it?’

  ‘No.’ She didn’t even sound as thoug
h she’d convinced herself. ‘He said that he could not see me until he had spoken with you.’

  I breathed in sharply. They hadn’t spent the night together at all. ‘You’ve said that once. So you haven’t even seen him?’

  ‘I am sure that once he has spoken to you—’

  ‘Oh my God!’ I pushed some loose hair behind my ears and took a step towards her. ‘This was all in the bar, wasn’t it? You didn’t even see him after the gig last night.’

  ‘He said—’

  ‘Stop telling me what he said and tell me the truth.’ I took another step as she stumbled backwards. High heels and stage cables do not mix. ‘Did you spend the night with my boyfriend or not?’

  ‘Maybe not last night, but—’

  ‘Piss off, Solène,’ I said with as much venom as I could muster given how incredibly relieved I felt. ‘You’re pathetic.’

  I hadn’t thought she would break down in floods of tears exactly, maybe more of a defeated skulk back to where she came from, but really, the last thing I’d expected was for her to let out a terrifying battle cry and throw herself at me, pulling at my hair, and generally behaving like a complete psycho. I tried to fend her off, flashing back to my last full-on girl fight, with Janet Martin on the school playing field in year nine. Only this time, there was no Louisa around to kick her in the shins while I ran away.

  ‘What the—’ I panted, trying to push her away. But compared to her, I was an amateur. I might have got one unexpected slap away on Virginie, but this was not Solène’s first time in full combat. The Alice band had been my first mistake. She ripped it out of my hair and began attacking me with it like a claw. There must have been a full minute of battle before anyone even attempted to break us up, most likely because the first person so spot the fight was Craig, and I saw him actually hold one of the roadies back so he could watch. If I lived through this, he was next on my ass-kicking list.

  Before Solène could attempt to pull any more of my hair out at the roots, I felt someone swoop in behind me and pick me up by the waist. Luckily, the elevated height meant that I was able to land a good kick to her jaw as I was snatched away and then dropped unceremoniously on to my backside.

  ‘Angela, what are you doing?’ Graham hissed, attempting to hold Solène away with one arm. ‘Everyone can see you.’

  ‘I’m going to kick her arse, Graham, leave it,’ I said, scrambling to my feet and pushing him out of the way. But I shouldn’t have launched myself at such a skinny target with so much vigour. As soon as I hit her, we both barrelled backwards, landing in an undignified heap, only stopping the scrapping just long enough to ascertain that we were right in the middle of the stage.

  The crowd whooped and screamed as we appeared on the big screens set up at either side of the stage. I sat up, straddling Solène, and stared out at the sea of people.

  ‘Oh shit,’ I said, blinded by the flashes coming from the photo pit.

  ‘Stupid bitch!’ Solène wailed, knocking me off balance and rolling over on top of me. The crowd cheered us on as Solène sent a flurry of tiny fists my way while I wriggled underneath her, slapping away her hands and kicking my legs wildly. It only took someone who would for ever be on my shitlist a couple of seconds to turn on the stage mics so that the crowd could hear the running commentary of bilingual cursing, and, even though it felt as if she’d been clawing at my face for hours, it was probably only seconds before I felt her foot in my stomach as she was pulled up and away.

  Opening my eyes, I saw that it wasn’t a roadie or Graham or even Craig removing Solène, but Virginie, who was dragging her backwards across the stage. Even though she was considerably smaller than my nemesis, Virginie had the element of surprise. And a good handful of her hair, right at the roots. Solène’s dress had ridden up around her waist and one of the heels of her thigh-high boots had snapped off. She wasn’t really looking her best for the cameras. The two girls screamed at each other in French, to the delight of the hometown crowd, Solène trying to twist out of Virginie’s vice-like grip and Virginie kicking her feet forwards to the edge of the stage. I propped myself up on my elbows to watch and try to get my breath back. Fighting was the best aerobic exercise I’d ever tried.

  Just as Virginie was about to push Solène backstage, she managed to weasel herself free and started attacking my would-be saviour. I jumped up, making sure my own T-shirt covered everything it was supposed to, and leaped back into the fray. I pushed Virginie out of the way, as gently as possible given the heat of the moment, and turned back to give Solène the slap she so sorely deserved. Solène looked surprised to see me back up on my feet, but not surprised enough to forget what we were doing. Before I could even draw back my hand she planted a fist in my cheek, exactly where I’d blacked my own eye.

  ‘Oh, you bitch,’ I squealed, doubling over and pressing a hand to my face. Solène gave me a triumphant smirk, shuffled her dress back into place and flicked her hair back over her shoulder. Before I could even think to react, I heard a loud wail behind me and saw a flash of brunette hair barrel by. I staggered out of the way, falling back down on my arse just in time to see Virginie smack Solène full in the face. She wavered for a moment, teetering backwards and forwards on one flat foot and one four-inch heel, and then took a step backwards on to the stage to steady herself. Unfortunately, there was no more stage. I held my breath, waiting for her comedy windmilling arms to propel her forward, but nope. She dropped off the front of the stage like a brick, right into a huddle of photographers, all trying to get a good shot of the bitchfest. I waited to hear her start screaming before I breathed out and she didn’t make me wait long.

  Virginie and I crawled to the edge of the stage and peered over to see Solène slapping away the helping hands that tried to pull her upright. I waved down at her with a cheesy smile, able to laugh now I knew she hadn’t accidentally broken her neck. Which probably would have been a bit harsh. She pushed through the popping flashbulbs and out of the photo pit, vanishing into the crowd, who cheered as she went by.

  I shook my head, gingerly rubbing my cheek. I couldn’t believe she’d actually gone for an all-out punch. And I couldn’t believe that Virginie had KO’d her off the stage.

  ‘Thanks for that,’ I said, pushing my cheekbone in as I spoke.

  ‘I am not normally violent,’ Virginie blushed, ‘but I feel better.’

  ‘You don’t need to explain to me. I completely understand that sometimes, you just need to slap someone. Or hit them with a shoe. Sorry about that again, by the way.’

  ‘You did not hit me with a shoe?’ she said, confused.

  I turned to look at the side of the stage where Graham was still standing, openmouthed and staring at the chaos. Craig was beside him, but looking far less concerned, in that he was making rock signs at me while drinking a beer.

  ‘No Alex?’ I mouthed, not knowing whether or not the mics were still turned on. Graham shook his head and shrugged, pointing at his watch. The band should have gone onstage five minutes ago.

  Without the impromptu entertainment to keep then occupied, the crowd began to get restless. A small section at the front began chanting for Stills, and the cry soon rippled all the way to the back of the square. Graham threw his hands up in the air and turned away, holding his phone to his ear.

  ‘Erm, is this still on?’ I asked no one in particular, picking up a stray microphone from the floor. A high-pitched squeal from the monitor in front of me confirmed that yes, it was. And without knowing what I was going to say, I suddenly had the crowd’s attention, whether I wanted it or not.

  ‘Hi,’ I said slowly. ‘I’m Angela. Sorry about the whole fighting thing.’

  The crowd was suddenly silent. And all looking at me.

  A lone voice in the photographers’ pit coughed and shouted up to the stage. ‘En Français?’

  ‘Je suis desolée, je ne parlez vous la Français?’ I stuttered my stock phrase into the microphone against a wave of boos. ‘But I’m sure Stills will be on in just
a minute.’

  The boos faded out to some confused mass chatter.

  ‘Ah, Stills seront sur la scène dans un moment,’ Virginie grabbed the mic out of my hand, and the crowd responded with a cheer. ‘Say something,’ Virginie urged, her hand over the microphone. ‘I will translate.’

  I took the mic back and stared out. Really, that was a lot of people.

  ‘So, my name is Angela and I’m a huge Stills fan,’ I put the microphone back in its stand.

  There was a brief delay while Virginie translated, followed by a huge roar.

  ‘Angela, what are you doing?’ Graham yelled offstage. Craig was too busy shouting along with the crowd. It seemed he was a huge fan of his own band.

  ‘I don’t really know,’ I shouted back. ‘I want to say I’m buying you some time, but I might mean making myself look like a complete dick.’

  ‘Yeah, the second one sounds right,’ he shouted back.

  ‘The band are having some technical issues,’ I said back into the mic. ‘So they’ll be on in a minute.’

  A murmur travelled across the square. The cameraman at my feet called something out to Virginie, bypassing me altogether. And she replied into the microphone, eliciting a loud whoop, followed by a mass giggling from the female festival goers.

  ‘What did you just say?’ I hissed across the stage, blinded by a sudden outbreak of flashes at my feet.

  ‘He asked who you were,’ Virginie said, backing away from the cameras slightly. ‘I told him you were the girlfriend.’

  ‘You didn’t?’

  This was not good. I was not in a state to be photographed as ‘girlfriend of the lead singer’. I could possibly pass as ‘drug dealer of the lead singer’, but that was about it. A fact not lost on the girls in the audience, who did not seem too keen on Virginie’s revelation. I was seeing a lot of arms folding in front of me and even hearing a few boos. Harsh, ladies.

  ‘They want to know why the band aren’t onstage,’ Virginie translated the random screaming coming from the front few rows. ‘I think you should tell them, it is a very sweet story.’