by Becky Wicks
I'm not gonna get out of this one without a whole bunch of make up though either, by the looks of it. Thank fuck I don't have to get another manicure, or dress as Elvis. This time, I get to just be me. More or less.
18
Chloe
'I can't believe they made you speak to puppets!' Jayde cries, grabbing Noah's arm. Her blonde hair is bouncing everywhere as usual and she's wearing another too-short and too-tight black dress with blue stilettos.
'Yeah, I wasn't expecting that either,' Noah replies, swigging his beer. He's still in his TV appearance outfit but his black blazer is covering the bare arms he revealed on the show. I heard a runner backstage flip out over them as he strummed the guitar and dazzled the crowd yet again.
'Trust them to use me as a guinea pig for a new segment. If I knew I was gonna be talking to guys with fuzzy gloves on their hands I would've watched some Sesame Street beforehand or something. Did I do OK?' He shoots me a look.
'You did great,' I say, meaning it. He had the whole audience in stitches, singing The Facebook Song with them. Tree House made a couple of people cry. In fact, Twitter went crazy right after and a One Direction type hashtag is now trending.
@NoahLockton That song is so cute, who r u singing it to? Plz let it be me?!? #treehouse #newbestsongever
@NoahLockton I love you, I love yoooou, take me up to the tree house! #newbestsongever
@Noah Lockton When @HarryStyles grows up he'll be just like you!!! But your hair will always be better. #newbestsongever
'Smile, you two,' I say now, chirpily, stepping back with my camera as Jayde drapes her arms even further around Noah's taut waist. She presses herself against his chest to kiss his cheek and kicks one leg into the air. I snap the shot.
'Are you using this for the blog? Let me see!' she demands instantly, tottering over and taking the camera from me. She smells like cheap vanilla body spray. 'Oh my God, Chloe, I look so fat.'
'You look hot,' I tell her automatically. Well, guys think that. Girls think that I'm sure, when they look at her skinny legs and big pink lips. Then they realize that talking to her is the equivalent of talking to an actual lipstick.
I hear Alyssa's voice in my head instantly. Let it go. Let it gooooo...
My phone buzzes. It's yet another re-Tweet of a post I made about Noah's appearance on MoonRise. There are comments racking up under it too. I've been posting 'backstage' shots since I got here.
'Is that Cooper?' Noah asks, one eyebrow raised.
'Negative,' I say, but I register a jolt to my heart at the name. He doesn't know Cooper knows about what we did. I couldn't tell him. The photo stunt was bad enough; talking about that night would just make it real again and we've done such a great job of acting like it never happened... even though all these mentions of the tree house are starting to stab like needles poking holes back into what I've tried so damn hard to seal up.
Denzel strides over, leans on the bar and starts talking with them all as Jayde loiters close by, sipping her drink. She's like a jealous Tinker-Bell, I think suddenly, fluttering around, shooting daggers from her eyes whenever anyone tries to get close to Noah. I check the time on my phone. Where the hell is Aaron? He was supposed to swing round after his afternoon shoot and save me. Mind you, they filmed from three p.m onwards and it's only six. There's time, I guess. The show goes out as live, but obviously it's never actually live.
I walk around on my heels taking shots of the camera guys packing up and the sound engineers drinking beers and the other guests who were on the show. I'm still batting away the words Cooper yelled at me. They swarm back into my brain anyway, like flies.
All these years, I still can't believe he knew and didn't say anything. No wonder he always seemed to hate Noah. He was right though; I did tell Noah to go back to New York. He told me he'd stay; he wanted to stay with me, but I told him I loved Cooper and couldn't ruin what we had.
In truth, I didn't want to ruin me and Noah. He was everything. He is everything. He has been since I was a kid and the guilt over what I'd done on the night of my dad's death, on top of the act itself... having crazy sex with my best childhood friend... drove me crazy. I wouldn't sleep with Cooper for a month, he was right about that, too. I avoided him on purpose. I didn't ever think he put it all together, but I guess back then he wasn't high all the time. He wasn't stealing. He was awesome and loving and fun. And I was a horrible, cheating bitch.
I'm not looking where I'm going. I trip suddenly over a cable and almost lose my camera, and when I look down I see a ton of electrical wires bound together like fat snakes on the floor. I freeze.
'You OK?' someone asks. I turn to see a guy who played with Noah on stage -- a bass guitarist. Tall, shaggy blonde hair, wearing a shirt with a giant eyeball print on the front. I look from him to the cables. I could die like this, if they were live. What if there was water on the floor too, and I fell and got an electric shock...
I realize the guy is still standing here, staring at me. 'You alright?' he says again, his eyes slanted.
'Yes, yeah, sorry, I'm an idiot.'
'I'm Zayne,' he says, holding out his hand, 'and you don't wanna break that!' He gestures to my camera.
'No I definitely don't. I'm Chloe.' I shake his hand and do a double take. He's got one super-long fingernail on his thumb, painted silver. I try not to look shocked but he sees me looking at it.
'Oh, that. Helps me play better. Saves rooting round for picks,' he grins. 'It's fake. I glue it on, see?' He holds it out to me, tries to bend it with his other finger. It doesn't move. 'I saw some famous guitarist do it when I was a kid and it just kinda stuck. Literally!' He laughs and I smile; act like I'm interested. Weirdo.
I just want to get out of here, ASAP.
'You work for Shimmer, right?' Zayne says. I focus on him. He's actually quite hot, under his sandy colored stubble. His eyes are a deep brown, almost black and his arms are almost as big as Noah's. I have a serious thing for arms.
'I work at Shimmer, yes. How did you...'
'Lockton told me. He said you were friends. He didn't tell me you were a mega babe.'
Mega babe? Seriously, who says that?
'Chloe!'
I spin around. Noah's calling me and I struggle to catch my next breath as Dan Lebowitz strides into the space between us, holding a can of Fanta. He's the most famous guy I've ever seen up close. A TV staple. He's in his sixties now, loved by the whole of America. My mom would go nuts if she could see me right now.
'Dan Lebowitz. Legend,' Zayne grins knowingly. 'You should go. I gotta help shift this lot anyway,' he motions to the instruments scattered in their cases. 'Joys of being a session musician, hey? Catch you later somewhere I'm sure.'
I watch for a second as he lifts two guitar cases with ease and walks off with them. There's something vaguely familiar about him, but I can't put my finger on it.
'This is Chloe,' Noah says as I hurry towards them, doing my best not to fall over like a spaz. 'She's from Shimmer magazine. She's kind of documenting my life right now, for a blog.'
'Ah, yes,' Dan muses, holding a hand out to me and eyeing me up and down, 'wonderful to meet you, Chloe. Nice piece of kit.' He points to my camera and I try not to stare at his face in the flesh, so close I could touch it. I could smell his hair, re-charge off the famous twinkle in his eyes. I feel like I've stepped into the TV.
'Thanks,' I say. I'm totally starstruck.
'What did you think of Noah's song, Tree House?' he asks.
'I think it's brilliant, sir,' I manage. And then I add, 'everything Noah writes himself is brilliant.'
'And what did you think of Frank and Dennison? Be honest.'
'The puppets?'
'Yes. I wasn't sure that having a celebrity such as Noah here, eating cake in bed with two male puppets firing questions about his dating life and dietary preferences was such a good idea, but you know, the producers seemed to think it would work.'
I catch Denzel and Noah both looking at me expectantly.
'It worked. I think Bad Food in Bed is a great idea!' I say.
'Bad Food in Bed is gonna take off,' Denzel chimes in enthusiastically.
'I'm privileged to have been the first person interviewed, sir, and the cake was delicious,' Noah adds, to my side.
Dan chuckles. 'Such politeness, the both of you. You know, there's not enough of that left in our industry. Don't lose it. And don't lose your spark, you two. Tell me; might Tree House have been about a certain... situation?' He nudges my arm and I catch Jayde fuming silently into her beer bottle to the side of us as my cheeks flame.
Denzel takes the camera from me quickly. 'You, Dan and Noah -- you'll want this photo on your golli,' he tells us.
'Golli?' I hear Dan say, allowing himself to be positioned by Denzel.
'Golliwog, mate. Means blog.'
'Does it?'
Feeling Jayde's eyes on me I smooth down my blue dress and stand next to him. Noah puts an arm around my shoulder and on contact the sparks shoot off him and through me. Impulsively my hand comes up to clasp his. I twist the ring on his finger for a second out of habit as my other arm finds his waist. I can feel the firmness of his abs, the strength of his arm muscles against my back. Dan puts a hand on Noah's other shoulder and the flash goes off.
'Beautiful,' Denzel grins, handing the camera back to me.
'Gorgeous,' Jayde says dryly.
'Oh... Dan, sir, this is Jayde,' Noah says quickly.
'She's his girlfriend,' I add.
'Noah's girlfriend, eh?' Dan muses. He's eyeing Jayde up and down now in her dress and shoes and fake eyelashes as she clasps for Noah's hand and yanks down her rising hem. 'God bless the youth,' he sighs, and wanders off.
'He's weird,' Jayde frowns.
'He's a legend,' Noah laughs. 'Chlo, remember when our moms came to see MoonRise years ago; my mom was obsessed with him for months. Think she has a dishcloth with his face on.'
'Yeah I bought her that on eBay,' I say. 'I bought them both one.'
He snorts. 'You wanted it for yourself, to dry your face on, admit it Pan!'
'Whatever Peter, he's hot for an old guy,'
'Whatever Peter,' Jayde mimics in a high-pitched voice. 'Is it true what he said, Noah?' Her eyes are narrowed now.
Noah looks amused. 'What did he say?'
'That Tree House is about you and Chloe?'
'Uh oh,' I hear Denzel mutter under his breath. Just as I feel my cheeks turn beetroot again, my phone rings. There is a God. I fish it out of my camera bag, where I keep everything when I'm on a shoot.
'What's up, Aaron?' I answer, turning my back on them all.
'Chloe, look, I'm not gonna be able to swing round, something came up. But it's something pretty cool. You want in?'
'What is it?' I say, flustered.
'Courtney Lentini, you know the one with the song... how does it go... the slow one... you're like the flower that died, the knife that stabbed my insiiiiiiiiide... '
'Please don't sing it,' I say, and he laughs. That song is seriously hideous. I never say anything because I know Noah probably had a thing with her and also, she seemed like a decent girl when I met her briefly, but seriously, it's bad.
'She's thrown some kind of tantrum in a hotel - the Dream Downtown in Chelsea? I'm gonna get down there, get some shots when she leaves. Word is there are a bunch of trashed B-listers in there with her. You could make some good money? Or at least experience your first gang bang.'
I cringe. Aaron told me a gang bang is a pap term for a chaotic shoot, when a crowd of paparazzi scramble for the best shots. He's been moonlighting as a pap for three and a half years, says he makes triple what he makes from Shimmer. He's not supposed to be doing it; not just because he's contractually obliged to work just for them, but because it's morally wrong. But today when we hid behind a row of plants watching Anne Hathaway slurp spaghetti I admit, I was kind of psyched.
'Meet me on West 15th, we'll walk together. Twenty minutes,' he says and hangs up. Shit.
Do I go? I mean, I doubt she'll recognize me even if she does see me. She's drunk and we only met for like five seconds... but it doesn't make it right. I turn to Noah. He's got his face pressed to Jayde's, or at least, Jayde's got her face pressed to his and he can't escape.
Screw it.
'I'm leaving,' I say and he looks up. 'Aaron's invited me to shoot a... party... in Chelsea. I can walk home from there later. I got my shots anyway, thanks.'
'Are you sure?' Noah tries to ignore Jayde's hands slipping into his jeans pockets and in my mind I scratch her with sudden imaginary Wolverine claws. 'Jayde's leaving soon for her shift,' he says, 'you can cab it together, right?'
She shrugs dismissively.
'It's out of her way,' I say, 'I'll get my own.'
'OK, well take a cab home too, yeah? Don't walk.'
'I'll be fine,' I say. 'I'll see you later! Enjoy, lovebirds!'
Double screw it.
Sure, I don't agree with the paps at all, especially knowing what the media does with all those photos they buy; the lies they spread about people they don't even know. But let's face it, anything's got to be better than re-hearing Cooper's words race round my skull while standing round watching Jayde and every other human in this city fawn all over Noah.
19
'How's the superstar?' Aaron asks when we meet. He's wearing a quirky cap that kind of hides his eyes, but he pulls out some sunglasses anyway and slips them on as we start walking the block towards the hotel.
'He's OK,' I say, smoothing down my dress self-consciously. It's not exactly an ideal papping outfit. 'The show went really well. Everyone's hoping he gets to go on tour...'
'I meant you. You and your superstar blog making everyone sit up. But seriously, a tour? Already?'
'Well, as a support act,' I say, brushing off his comment. 'What's going on right now anyway? We're not hiding behind bushes again, are we?'
Aaron laughs. 'Nah, we'll just join the group, get to the front. They've been told to leave about a hundred times apparently, it's only a matter of time.'
'How do you know?'
'I have my sources,' he tells me, tapping his nose. 'This way.'
Aaron motions across the street and I feel my breath catch as I see a gaggle of paps already there, flocking around the entrance. One is talking to a security guard, but it's not a heated debate of any kind. It's almost like they know each other. 'We'll stand back here till there's movement. Then swoop in. Can you do that? Put your standard lens on yeah, but shoot RAW. Always shoot RAW, like I told you.'
'I remember,' I say. I feel my face crease into a frown as he grabs my jacket sleeve and almost slams me against a wall beside some trashcans. A rat scurries out and I hold back a shriek. There are at least twenty paps in the cluster, probably all hoping for that one shot; the one that will sell. My throat goes dry. What am I doing?
'It's best to get up in their face as quickly as possible. Especially with new ones to the game, like Courtney, and 'specially when they're drunk,' Aaron tells me, fixing another lens to his camera and wiping the smears from it with the cloth.
I think of what happened to Noah. 'Doesn't that just make them mad?'
'Exactly,' he grins. 'You want to provoke them, get a reaction. If you get a reaction, you get a better shot and you get better money, you see?'
I feel my eyes bulge as I stare at him. But he's not looking at me. He's peering around me at the hotel door and before I can say anything he's running, yelling for me to follow and what happens next is a total whirl.
I see flashes of color, bulbs going off, hair flying. I hear heels tottering, loud laughing, the paps yelling questions and snippets of a group of twenty-somethings answering back. As soon as I get close enough to even look through my lens and line up a shot, someone bigger, taller and more aggressive is shoving in front of me and within what feels like a millisecond I'm standing on my own on the street, clutching my camera to my chest, watching the group swirl like a tornado up the block and away from me.
I look from them, down to my debilitating heels and then follow the sound of snickering back to the hotel doorway.
'New to this are you?' comes a voice. I recognize him. It's Zayne, the session musician. His eyes light up when he sees me. 'Oh, hey, Chloe. Small world!'
'What are you doing here?' I ask, ignoring his laugher as he stands in the doorway holding the guitar I saw him leave MoonRise with. I smile in spite of myself. 'Yeah, I'm new. And I suck.'
'I'd say stick with it but I wouldn't bother. Cretins, all of 'em.' He gestures to the paps, now starting to retreat and scatter.
Aaron's beside me in a flash, shoving his camera back in its bag. 'Zayne,' he grins. 'Long time no see, buddy.' The two shake hands.
I have to laugh. 'Wait, you know each other?'
Aaron puts a hand to my lower back and I register how uncomfortable it makes me. Why is he doing all this with me? 'Zayne here was the bassist in Fun-K. Remember?'
Zayne grins as I shake my head, racking my brain. I don't remember. I mean, I thought he was familiar but I still can't place the band. This is embarrassing.
'We were a bit of a one-hit wonder,' he says, 'which is kind of why I play for other people now, for my sins. I'm just rehearsing for some event here tomorrow.'
'And dishing the dirt,' Aaron replies with a wink, handing over a bill of some amount I can't catch; maybe a ten, maybe a twenty. Zayne pockets it quickly, shifting the guitar he's holding to another hand.
I frown internally. So, Zayne told Aaron that Courtney and her friends were here? If so, that was fast -- he was just talking to me in midtown! How the hell did he know they were here? Does he have insiders too? Is he paying someone else off? There's so much I don't know about this business, clearly.
'You get around,' I say, noting the long, creepy fingernail again as Zayne runs a hand through his shaggy hair.
He nods. 'Gotta make a living. Hey, a few of us were gonna grab a drink if you two are done papping innocent teens? Join us?'
