by Becky Wicks
'Morning! The East Village shoot? Sure, hang on one sec.' I reach for my purse. Everything that happens on a shoot is recorded in my notebook. 'I have them here, you want me to type them up?'
'If you could, that would be great,' he replies. But he's not looking at me. He's looking at the stack of newspapers on Claudia's desk. She's not in yet, but the papers always arrive before any of us. 'Hey, Chlo, have you seen this?'
'What?'
'This article about Noah Lockton?'
I stand up on my high heels, walk over to where he's leafing through to the inside story. He smells like shaving foam and cinnamon pastries and I wonder if he's got a wife at home who kisses him goodbye in the mornings. Aaron settles a finger on the page about Noah and my blood runs cold instantly. I almost drop my coffee again as I grab for the newspaper.
'Cooper,' I say out loud. 'That utter asshole!'
Aaron's looking at the paper over my shoulder now. 'Cooper?'
I scan the article quickly. The headline reads Noah Lockton Stole My Girl! There are two photos; one of Noah pulling stupid faces at a party with a blonde girl called Lizetta Sargent. The other is of Cooper kissing the same girl, looking blissfully happy; or maybe just high. The text is some drawn out crap about them being love rivals.
I remember Lizetta, vaguely. She dated Cooper for a few months, at least a year before we met, and then Noah went out with her a couple of times. It never amounted to anything. Cooper told me once that Noah stole her but I didn't take him seriously. I knew it wasn't true. Everyone's been out with everyone in Boulder -- it's a small town.
'Cooper's making this up,' I say incredulously. 'This is total trash!'
Aaron frowns. 'Really? You know for sure?'
'Course I know for sure, Cooper's my ex. I just broke up with him. That's why he's done this!'
'Done what? Who are we talking about?' Claudia's just walked in. She unravels a scarf from around her neck, puts it on the back of her chair and joins us in looking at the article over my other shoulder. 'Noah stole this guy's girlfriend?' she says in surprise.
'No, he did not!' I cry, slamming the paper shut between them. 'Jesus! How can they be allowed to print this shit?'
'Where did your ex get both photos?' Aaron asks.
My heart rises up to my mouth in one giant leap. I rush back to my desk, grab my cell. Mom answers after two rings. 'Honey! How's New York?'
'Mom, did you let Cooper into the house?'
'What?'
'Mom, tell me. Did he try to get in?' Fuck him, I should've known he'd do something like this. I'm aware of Claudia and Aaron both still looking at me, but I turn my back on them. 'Mom, speak to me,'
'He came to the house, honey, he seemed upset. Said you weren't answering his calls.'
'What else did he say?' The guy's a piece of work. He can schmooze anyone.
'He said he left something in your room, something he really needed back. I Iet him in, he was only in there five minutes, Chloe what's wrong?'
'He stole photos, mom, photos of Noah. Photos I took!'
'He can't have done... he wouldn't...'
'Trust me mom, he would. Look, I can't talk now. I'll call you later.' I hang up, slam the phone on the desk. I'm breathing in and out like a dragon about to shoot fire. My fists are clenched. I remember taking the photo now, the one of Noah and Lizetta. I took a million that night of everyone. I wonder how much he got paid for that; for stealing from me, for lying to the press. I wonder what else he stole. I pick up the phone again, call Jack.
'Chloe! My favorite glossy mag girl, how's it all going?' he asks cheerily.
'Jack, look, Cooper's had a story printed about Noah, it's total bullshit, he's just trying to make him look bad. They probably paid his broke ass a fortune for it.'
'Wait a minute... what? Where is it?'
'In USA Today. I need you to go to my house, go to my room, look in the closet to the left. There's a wooden box full of photos, prints and negs. All the ones that aren't in digital format. Can you take them, put them somewhere safe? I can't ask the Commander - there are photos there she shouldn't see, probably. I don't know how many Cooper took but there are hundreds, Jack!'
'Of course, but Chlo, really, why would Cooper do this?'
'Because he's a liar and a thief, Jack. Trust me, I know he's your friend but he needs money right now and he'll do anything for it.' I realize my voice is shaking. Aaron and Claudia can hear every word I'm saying.
'OK, look, don't panic. I'll go over later and see your mom, I'll tell her I need the other photos, it's all good babe, it's not your fault.'
'Thank you, Jack. Noah's on MoonRise tonight, I don't want him to be freaking out over anything...'
'I know, I know. It's gonna be OK, Chloe. Chill. Look, I have to run, I'll buzz you when I get the photos, alright?'
'OK, love you,' I say.
'Love you too. Let it go. Let it go...'
'Don't you start.'
He hangs up and I stand with my back still to the others for a second. It occurs to me how warped my world is right now. I've always hated all this celebrity-obsessed bullshit and now I'm part of it. I clutch the phone in my fist and turn round. Aaron's face is intrigued. Claudia's is bewildered. I hate myself all over again for not seeing the real Cooper; the selfish him who wouldn't let me touch his frickin' sweater sleeves and was too stoned to even have sex with me, most of the time. I hate myself for going back to him four years ago because I felt guilty... and because I didn't want to lose anything else I loved.
'I have to make another call,' I tell them. 'And I don't think it should be in here.' I march through the office, past Marianne who's just walking in with her hands full of latte and magazines, into the hallway. By the time I've dialed his number I'm standing on the corner of Broadway and Spring, trying not to look like a murderer on the loose.
'Chloe. Great to hear from you, finally.' His voice is slow, I can tell he's high. A fresh wall of rage crashes over me.
'What the hell do you think you're doing?'
'Chloe, baby...'
'Don't baby me. You stole that photo, Cooper! You schmoozed your way into my house, you lied to my mom...'
'I had to find some way to get you to talk to me. Can you blame me? Chloe, you just left! You just left me!'
'Of course I left you, Cooper. You stole a shitload of stuff when I was with you, you lied to me, you could've had us all arrested, me and Alyssa! You made us drive halfway across the country with a car full of drugs!'
I realize I'm yelling now. Shit. I spin around, but in typical fashion the hurried New Yorkers aren't even registering my existence.
'I just wanted a chance to explain...'
'By causing more trouble for me?! Cooper, you know for a fact that story is made up. Noah never stole Lizetta from you! I wonder what she thinks about all this! Do you ever think about anyone but yourself?'
'Chloe, it was her idea,' he says and I freeze mid-pace outside the deli. A woman in a suit tuts as she almost bangs into me with a coffee cup. 'She came to me with that photo of us! I never had any fucking photos; she was the one who always took them all. I just agreed to get one of her and Noah. We split the cash from the newspaper.'
'You're evil,' I say. I can feel the tears welling up in my eyes now but I swallow them back. I'm more angry than upset. If he was here I'd scratch his eyes out.
'Oh come on, Chloe, they twisted it all up and made it sound worse than it was...'
'That's what the media does, Cooper! They use people, like you do.'
'Come on, you know I love you...'
'You never loved me, Cooper. You loved having someone around who put up with your shit. You loved that I never said a word about your disgusting habits and your deceit and...'
'How can you say that?' He actually does sound incredulous.
'Listen,' I say, balling my fist, taking a deep breath. 'I don't know what else you stole from my room, but if I find out you've sold any more stories, or used any more of my photos for anything I swear t
o God I'll call the cops, Cooper. I'll tell them you took two hundred pounds of marijuana in a Jeep to Chicago!'
'They couldn't prove that.'
'They could if they started looking hard enough.'
His tone changes instantly. 'If you tell the cops anything about me, I'll tell the press even more about Noah.'
'You have nothing on Noah!' I yell. 'Leave him out of this. This has nothing to do with Noah. You and I are a different story, Cooper!'
'Bullshit Chloe, you make everything about Noah!' he spits. Now he sounds pissed. 'Do you really think I don't know what you did? Do you really think I don't know how you went to him, after your dad died? I know you slept together, Chloe. I know you let him screw you in your goddam stupid tree house!'
All the breath has gone from my lungs. I hear him take a huge puff from his pen and exhale angrily. 'What are you talking about?' I manage, even though I feel sick. I clutch an arm around myself.
'I called you a million times that night. I'm not an idiot, I knew it was him you wanted with you! I drove there anyway and I saw him heading up that ladder and neither of you came down. I drove past every fucking night for a week and saw the lights!'
'That doesn't prove anything!'
'You told me you were with your mother!'
'I was with my mother!'
'Bullshit! Why are you still lying to me? I could see it in your face. We didn't have sex for a month!'
'It happened once!' I yell as my heart leaps into my throat. It did only happen once, not that it matters to Cooper. 'It was a mistake!'
Cooper's silent for a long time. 'I never said anything, Chloe,' he says eventually. 'All this time. You know why? Because I loved you. I really loved you. And I knew you were going through shit, and I knew you told him to go back to New York, and I trusted it was over in spite of your constant fucking banter and jokes and the rest of it, and you're standing there now telling me I didn't love you? I'll tell the fucking world what you did if you say one thing about me.'
'Cooper...' I can't even finish. My heart is thudding and skidding like the traffic on the street. 'Don't ever call me again!' I yell instead, and I hang up with a smack on the screen so hard I'm surprised my phone doesn't break. I lean against the cold brick wall, swiping my cheeks. Fuck.
'Chloe?' Aaron's voice makes me open my eyes. 'Are you OK?'
I straighten up again, smooth out my shirt, flip my hair over my shoulders. 'Sorry, I just had... some things to sort out.'
'Tough morning, huh?' He leans against the wall next to me. He has his camera bag around one shoulder; an olive green shirt is tucked into skinny brown jeans. He pulls out a cigarette, lights it and drags on it before offering it to me. I shake my head. Cooper's words are still racing through my head. He knew? He knew all this time?
'Exes suck, trust me, I know. I just broke up with a total psycho. What do you say we forget the East Village editing for now? We can make that up later.'
'What do you mean?'
Aaron grins at me around his cigarette. 'I think I know something more fun we can do with our morning. Go up and grab your camera. I'll show you.'
17
Noah
'Holy shit, what's that?' Jack cries in my ear as the Escalade rounds the corner onto 44th and Fifth. I hear the screaming before the car's even stopped and I switch the phone to my other ear to try and see better.
'That would be the fans,' I tell my brother and I can't help a small smile landing on my lips as I say it. When I actually see them though, my heart jumps and clings to my tonsils. Holy shit is an understatement. 'Jack, there are hundreds of them.'
'Seriously?'
'Maybe, five, six hundred, they're all outside. They're waiting for me.'
'Woah, bro, you're a rock star!'
'They've got those Lockette banners. I can see T-shirts too... oh man. With my face on.'
Jack laughs down the phone. 'That's fucking creepy man, do you have to sign your own face over some hot mom's boob?'
'I hope not,' I say, 'I should go,'
'Good luck yeah, we'll be watching,' he replies and I hear a crowd of people yelling in the background as Jack holds the phone up in his living room. They're almost as loud as the people screaming outside the MoonRise studio. 'Go get em, can't wait to hear the song! Oh... Dani says she loves you... hey Daniela,' he shouts to his girlfriend, 'think you got with the wrong brother now, do you?'
I cut them off and swallow my heart from my throat; look out the blacked-out windows as we slow to a stop. Instantly there's a crowd around the car. Girls are peering in with their hands all over the glass, getting up close to the windows to try and see me. I fix a grin to my face and wave. They scream even louder.
'He's in there!' I hear one girl shriek, and another jumps up and down, banging on the door, screaming at a decibel I'm sure only dogs should be able to hear. She starts pulling on the handle to try and open it. Thank fuck it's locked.
'Just be Noah Lockton,' Denzel says, sliding back the screen and speaking from the front passenger seat. 'They love Noah Lockton. You alright mate? I haven't seen as many as this before -- you must be doing something right!'
I salute him, try not to let on that I'm actually pretty overwhelmed right now. Be Noah Lockton. OK. But which version? Not a freaked-out-by-his-fans version, that's for starters. I carry on grinning.
Denzel gets out of the car and the screaming multiplies as I hear him address them. 'Now, girls, you're gonna have to move aside, let the man out, yeah?'
Phones are being pointed at me from all angles. Paparazzi flashes are going off like lightning strikes. I grab my blazer, pull it on as two security guys in black suits saunter out of the building and help him move the crowd, slowly, calmly, like they do it all the time. Shit, they probably do. A million famous people have pulled up in this exact spot; done exactly what I'm about to do here.
Instinctively I pull my sunglasses down over my eyes. I used to see celebs looking like this, even when the sun wasn't out and I'd think they were totally stupid -- as if wearing dark glasses stops people recognizing you when you get out of a souped up bling-mobile like this!
But the truth is, you need the shades to stop the camera flashes blinding you. And you don't want your scrunched up squinty eyes - the ones they catch in the moments you're blinking - inviting headlines that say you're drunk when you're not, or that you're tired, when you are. You're fucking tired. All the time. Because people won't leave you alone.
The door opens and Denzel beckons me out. I can see the girls behind him going mad now. Their screams are deafening. It's actually a blur as I step onto the sidewalk in my Converse sneakers and jeans and Denzel shuts the door behind me.
'Noah! Noah! Noah!' they're screaming.
'Noah, I love you! Noah, will you sign this?'
'NOAH, please sign this! Noah, please! Noah, can I have your photo?'
I stop along the line of them, signing what's thrown at me. One of the security guys stays close behind, stopping them from jumping on my back. He's taller than me, expressionless. I feel like I'm in a movie.
'Oh my God, oh my God! Can I have a photo? I followed you from week one,' a pretty brunette tells me breathlessly, shoving a photo of myself into my hands with a big marker pen. I sign it with my name, add a kiss at the bottom, then one to her cheek which makes her clutch her friend and squeal after me.
'Photo!' another demands, a blonde this time, with my name scrawled across her cleavage. She brings her cellphone up in front of us and I grin alongside her, point a cheeky finger at my name on her bouncy flesh. She snaps the shot, squeals and then straight away turns to her friend to inspect the photo. 'I'm Tweeting it NOW,' she tells her, 'OMG, Nadine's gonna freak, she soooo didn't believe I'd get a photo with him. Hashtag I WIN!'
I let at least another ten girls take my photo with them, answering all their questions, feeling their grabby hands on my shirt and my hoodie and my arms. I feel like a camel or something that's come too close to the bars of a cage during feeding
time. I have to let them pet me; I have to do what they ask me to do. I have to pretend I like it. A part of me does I guess. I'd be lying if I said I didn't. Some of these girls are seriously stunning, and who doesn't want hot girls throwing themselves at them?
But I wanted attention for my music, really, not my body, or my hair, or my shoes... or my exes.
The thought of the photo in USA Today riles me up for a second, but I re-fix the grin to my face and sign another photo of myself. Cooper is one hell of an asshole, but I refuse to let him get to me. I told both Chloe and Jack that he probably won't be the last douchebag trying to use me or shame me. Besides, Denzel said what he did was great for my image. He wants me to look available, so any girl can picture themselves with me: 'Steal all the girlfriends you want, mate! Just do it on camera.'
'Noah! Noah! Noah!'
They've been getting bigger all week; the groups of fans, the more the single's been playing on the radio. Since I reached number two it's like things have gone totally crazy. HotFlush have put a live video of me singing it, mixed with clips from Show Us What U've Got on all the music channels too, and Denzel says they'll want to me to make an actual music video of the next one -- whatever that might be. We'll probably have to shoot it on location.
'Noah! Noah! Noah!'
The security guys are on either side of me now, ushering me into the building. A pap steps out in front of me but Denzel holds his hand up to block his shot. These guys are fucking relentless. I'm about to step inside when I catch a familiar face in the crowd. It throws me off guard.
It's a girl, no more than twenty I guess; short, cropped hair, dark eye make-up, verging on goth. She's smoking a cigarette. Her eyes lock onto mine for a second before I'm swept inside. Her face lingers in my mind as I'm greeted by a producer and led through to the studio, and into the back towards the dressing rooms. Where the hell have I seen her before?
For some reason she bothers me, but I haven't got time to think about it any more because I'm surrounded by a bunch of MoonRise people all throwing timeframes and instructions at me for the show. It's so weird to be here. I've been watching MoonRise for years.
