by Becky Wicks
My stomach lurches. I pull away from him, almost tripping on my shoes. 'What?'
'Courtney Lentini? You're like the flower that died, the knife that stabbed my insiiiiiiiide... the chick you were papping with Aaron before... well, you know.' He casts his eyes over the remnants of my bruises and I look away.
'I know who she is, Zayne,' I say. I know he feels bad about the fact I was mugged. So does Aaron, who I still have to talk with every day about my photos. And I also know Noah Lockton is not here in this room. My heels feel way too high. Goosebumps have broken out on my bare arms. He's with her?
Really?
'Come on, you're getting behind,' Zayne says, motioning to my glass again. He loops his arm around my waist again and instead of batting him away I feel a burst of anger and humiliation rush right through me. Without thinking I take the glass to my lips and knock my drink back in three gulps.
I cringe instantly at the sting. Zayne laughs, squeezes me closer, presses his now-bearded face into my hair. 'Way to go Chloe Campbell, here, you need a top up!' He reaches for the bottle with his other hand just as Ryder walks back over with one of the girls and takes it off him.
'Chloe, this is Jane, she was wondering how you got the job at Shimmer that lets you hang with us,' Ryder winks, filling our glasses again.
'I can't believe I'm meeting Chloe Campbell!' Jane drawls. 'I love your blog! We're massive Lockettes, too, especially Tina and Amber here.'
Her teeth are too white. My throat is burning. Two of her friends totter over to join us and I find I'm leaning against Zayne as they gush on and on about Noah. I feel slightly sick. Alyssa was right. He has been talking to Courtney. And now he's in the tour bus with her. I take another swig of my drink. And another.
My head feels warm, like it's being hugged by a bear as they fire questions at me and tell me how exciting my life must be and I sip and swig and sip through every re-fill until I actually like the taste. I like it because it numbs me. I remember now. It eases the words coming out of my mouth; separates them from the chanting in my brain.
I'm conscious of Zayne poking a finger through the belt loop in my jeans as I talk, but Ryder's crazy blue eyes are on me and so are the girls' and I find myself talking on autopilot about how Noah and I grew up together, how he encouraged my photography, how I loved New York because of his aunt Madeline who used to be a Rockette. They lap it all up with their glossy mouths open as I keep on sipping and sipping and sipping and I can't keep my eyes off the Lockette T-shirt; Noah's stupid cheesy grin, mocking me as I speak every word.
'Shall we get out of here?' Jeremy says eventually, one arm draped around the auburn girl's shoulder.
Zayne's finger is still in my belt loop and I grab his hand, hold it up high between us. 'This nail pick thing,' I say, finding fresh confidence from out of nowhere, 'freaks me out. Do you ever take it off?'
Ryder snorts and Zayne pretends to pout. 'I like it,' he tells us both.
'It's kind of weird, man,' Jeremy follows and Zayne holds both hands up in defeat.
'Fine, I'll take it off, whatever,' he says, laughing. Weirdly, I hear myself laughing too.
Ryder offers me a tequila and kisses my cheek like we're old friends in on some secret, and as we all down our shots and head for the door I can't help but grab Zayne's hand again when he offers. I'm so numb I'd probably fall over if I didn't.
27
Noah
'Noah Lockton, I think it's safe to say you've made it,' Courtney grins, swinging round in the tour bus with her arms outstretched and her hand clutching a bottle of San Miguel. 'Look at this pimped up gypsy van, my God! Oh, and your band-mate is hot, who was that?'
'Jeremy,' I tell her. 'He plays back up guitar... and girls.'
'Like you?'
'Me? I'm no player,' I respond, pretending to be offended.
She walks towards me, grabs the front of my collared shirt. 'Who're you kidding, Noah, I remember that night as well as you do. We can have a rerun any time you like.'
Her black mini dress is punctured with see-through stars under her leather jacket. Red meshed tights are ripped in a few too many places to be legal. Her cropped, newly bleach-blonde hair with its new, poppy red tips is spiked and pointy and she kind of looks like a pixie. A sexy pixie.
I step back towards the chill out area and grab another beer from the refrigerator, forcing myself to ignore her proposition. 'You wanted to talk,' I say, ramming a hand in one pocket. 'So, what's been going on?'
She sighs, follows me. 'Well, the single went to shit. Number fucking nineteen, can you believe that? It dropped to like... forty-five or something in a week. Unless the album sells I'm gonna be shoved from the label, everyone knows it.'
'Well, at least you didn't have to go back to the bank,' I offer, 'and the album might do OK?'
'Not as OK as Play Me. They spent all the money on you, Lockton, I don't even know why they signed me in the first place. Anyway, whatever, you're fucking talented on top. Did you see them out there? They fucking love you! You're the hottest singer-songwriter since... God, I dunno, since John Mayer maybe?' She winks. 'You have better hair, though, trust me. It's so soft...' she reaches for my curls, brushes them away from my forehead. I feel the blood rush to my groin as her eyes blaze into mine. 'So soft... or is it hard now?' she grins, guessing.
I turn away, sit down on the leather couch, swig from my bottle. She flops down next to me, chews on her silver tongue piercing thoughtfully. Her ruby red lips are sparkling and wet. Her scrutinizing eyes are like lasers. I can still feel her mouth around my cock from way-back-when in boot camp and just the thought of it is making me want to jump her, right here.
But I'm not going to. I'm horny, that's all. Watching Chloe walk round every day in her fucking gym gear with her perfect ass and stomach and legs doesn't help.
'Tell me,' I say, clearing my throat, 'you're not really going out and getting drunk all the time, like the blogs all say, right?'
She lowers her eyes and shrugs. 'Not all the time, no.'
'Cause there have been a lot of photos...'
'Lockton! You've seen how the press talk shit about me, it doesn't even matter what I do. I have a few wild nights with friends and suddenly I'm fucking Britney Spears about to shave my head! They try to get drunken photos of me!'
Courtney puts her bottle down on the ledge by the window and sighs, fogging up the glass. She presses her finger to it, draws two triangles to make a star. 'It all makes me want to drink. Seriously, I don't know how you're so cool about the whole thing. It's a fucking paradox! People can kiss the floor you walk on but the more they love you, the bigger you get and no matter what you do, someone, somewhere is always disappointed, right? It's those people that get to me, Noah. They write their snide comments on the Internet and they think I don't see them calling me a fuck up? My own uncle believes them now! I've had ex-fans tell me they're gonna come take Catsby away!'
'OK,' I say, facing her, 'so how are you gonna show them and everyone else you're not a fuck up?'
She shuffles closer and puts a hand on my arm. Her nail polish matches her tights -- red and fashionably shredded. 'I was hoping Chloe Campbell could write something about me? Like she did for you, right?'
I almost choke on my beer. 'Seriously?'
'Everyone trusts her, Lockton! She's like the goody-two-shoes of the media right now. The rest of them are assholes. I want her to do a story, take some nice photos of me doing normal stuff with The Great Catsby... helpful stuff, like your soup kitchen thing. Can you make it happen?'
I realize I'm laughing but I can't help it. Just a few hours ago I had some weird goth girl waving death signs about her and here's a fellow celebrity wanting Chloe to save her reputation. Whatever Chloe's started, she's making an impact. I'm impressed.
'I know she's your friend,' Courtney says. 'Seriously Noah, I need this. Almost as much as I need you.'
Shit.
'You know we should've got together months ago when we had that whole
fucking apartment. We could've screwed in every room.' She grins at me. 'Don't you think we should finish what we started?'
'Courtney, I had a girlfriend,' I remind her.
'Didn't stop you the first time,' she retorts, reaching out and grabbing a fistful of my hair again. She pulls my face to hers, presses her lips to mine momentarily, hard and obnoxious at the same time as her hand reaches for my crotch. For a split second I'm too stunned and too turned on to move. Her eyes are hungry... but if mine are remotely starry, hers are brimming with scars. Courtney fucks to forget, never to remember. That's what everyone says.
In a flash I think of Chloe, crying into me, up in the tree house. Was that all she was doing that night, too? That night when I should've known better myself?
I pull away, finish my beer in one go and stand up before Courtney can put her hands or her goddam lips anywhere else. The drinks are going to my head and if we stay here I'm gonna surrender, do something else I'll regret.
The tour door opens and Britney walks up the steps. 'Lockton, you need a car for the club?'
Thank fuck. 'Yeah, I think so,' I reply as Courtney grabs Denzel's whiskey from the counter and unscrews the top. 'We're going to Mangroves,' I say, adjusting myself, watching her swig straight from the bottle. I guess we're done with beer.
'Really? Mangroves?' she grimaces, swiping at her mouth. 'That place is a zoo! Do you want to be on all the news tomorrow?'
'We're getting a car, we'll go straight in and out, no one will see us.'
'Yeah right! You do want to be in all the news!'
'Not really. Courtney, I only have one night, I've spent all week on this bus. And anyway, Chloe's there. You want to talk to her, don't you?'
'OK, OK, fine', she says, rolling her eyes. She takes another swig of whiskey. 'As much as I want to suck your beautiful cock again, Noah Lockton, take me to your leader.'
28
Denzel spots us as soon as we walk in together with the hostess. 'Glad you made it mate, we've got a VIP table downstairs in the lounge bar. How's it going Courtney, darlin'? Congrats on the single!'
He holds out his hand and Courtney frowns as she shakes it, lifting her sunglasses. We both wore them, even though it's dark. 'You're joking, right?' she says and Denzel grins. I can't help but notice the lingering look he gives her as he appraises her body. I know Denzel bashes her music but it's pretty obvious he'd fuck her in a second. Most men would. She's damaged, tragic, totally screwed but for some reason, it draws guys to her like flies round shit.
He leads us downstairs and my eyes scan the crowd. I can see Ryder and his band talking to some girls on plush couches. Jeremy is sucking face with a redhead on another giant chair. A bottle of champagne and two bottles of whiskey, plus mixers are sitting in ice buckets on the table in front of them and Courtney reaches for my hand as Ryder waves us over. 'Noah! Over here!'
I can feel the whiskey we swigged in the car rushing through me along with the beat of the music. A flash goes off and before I can see who took the photo, security is pouncing on someone and marching them back up the stairs.
'Shit, sorry about that,' Denzel says but Courtney's smiling and I know she doesn't really care if we're photographed together at all. I read all about her public crush on me. She's only marginally more vocal on Twitter than she is in person.
The guys make space for us and Denzel goes to pour us drinks as we sit. 'Where's Chloe?' I ask him as Courtney starts chatting to Ryder.
'Over there mate,' he says, motioning to the bar about ten feet away. I turn my head and see her.... long hair cascading down her back, high heels resting on the bar of the stool she's sitting on. She's facing away from me, talking to someone and it takes a second for me to realize it's Zayne. He's leaning into her, draping an arm around her neck, brushing her hair away from one shoulder and they're laughing. I lose my concentration for a second as my mind spins, registering how I feel about what I'm seeing.
Denzel pushes a glass into my hand and I clutch it, feeling the blitz of the ice freeze my palm just as Courtney grabs my arm. 'That's Chloe, isn't it?' she asks, following my stare. I nod, feeling my jaw pulsing. She stands up, pulls me with her. 'Let's go talk to her!'
I let her lead me across the room, moving on autopilot. People are staring now but I ignore them, watching Chloe leaning into Zayne. She's got one hand against his chest now, a glass in the other.
'Noah! We were just talking about you,' Zayne says as he spots me.
Chloe spins around in her seat at my name. Her eyes grow wide for a second and she does a double take when she sees who I'm with. 'Hey!' she says as we stop in front of her. I realize my jaw is set. I do my best to smile.
'So great to see you again,' Courtney gushes at her, leaning in to air-kiss her cheeks. 'Oh, wow, I love your dress! So we met briefly at the house, and the finals, right? But that was before you were this awesome Internet extraordinaire! I asked Noah if I could talk to you about some stuff. I hope that's OK?'
I watch as Chloe's eyes flit from me to her quickly as she clocks Courtney's hand in mine. I drop it, run a hand through my hair. She's wearing red lipstick again, a red strapless dress with a crocheted spider web across the top. It shows off her toned, tanned shoulders, her sleek thighs. She looks incredible.
'Sure, you can talk to me. What about?'
The word 'sure' comes out slurred. Zayne puts a hand on her knee and it takes every inch of my willpower not to shove it off. What the fuck is going on? I thought Chloe didn't even like Zayne all that much. And more to the point, why the hell is she slurring her words?
'What are you drinking?' I say, interrupting Courtney's spiel.
'Jack and ginger, you want one?' Zayne answers for her, motioning to the barman. I hold my full glass up to signal no.
'I'll have one,' Courtney chirps.
'I'll have another,' Chloe follows, tossing her hair.
'Chloe doesn't drink,' I tell Zayne and she snorts at me indignantly.
'Maybe I changed my mind, Peter.'
'Well, maybe you should change it back, Pan,' I reply, holding her stare for a bit too long. I instantly regret it as I see a stab of something like pain cross her features. She's screaming at me inside, I can tell. Maybe I deserve it.
'What are you, her dad?' Courtney laughs at me. She turns to Chloe. 'Why did you call him Peter?'
'Hasn't he shown you his green tights yet?' Chloe answers, standing up. 'I'm sure he will, if you ask. He doesn't take much convincing.' She teeters and Zayne catches her. He puts his arms around her from his seat on the stool and I watch his fingers curl round hers for a second before she pulls away. The long fingernail I know she hates is gone. 'I'm going to the bathroom,' she announces.
'I'll go with you,' Courtney chirps.
Jeremy calls Zayne over and I'm about to grab his arm to stop him going when Denzel approaches from behind and slaps a hand to my shoulder.
'Courtney Lentini! Nice work, mate! She's a fuck up. The press love her, this is just what you need!'
'What?'
I catch Zayne grinning at me before he heads over to the group. He's way too smug for my liking.
'You're doing a Miley, finally,' Denzel continues as I swig my entire drink back. 'I get it. Getting in the headlines, being a wrecking ball, that's my boy. Only, know when to stop mate, yeah? Don't go too far...'
'Denzel, I'm not going anywhere with Courtney Lentini, she's just a friend. She wanted to talk.'
'Rubbish, mate. Use your loaf, play it smart and this'll be perfect. You're on the same label. Double clever move.'
I start to respond but I stop myself because he'll never get it. I'm starting to realize Denzel doesn't give a shit about anything as long as we sell records.
'Listen,' he's saying now, leaning on the bar. 'We're flying back to NY in the morning, you and me, I just booked us in. We'll head back to Chicago for the gig on Thursday.'
'I thought tomorrow was a day off?'
'Yeah, but HotFlush want us all there to talk abo
ut the video. Skype wasn't gonna cut it, mate, sorry. You know what these yanks are like - they need Pepsi and donuts and cuddly toys and whatever the fuck else around them to make a decision. No offence. In England we pick up the phone, we say yes mate, no mate, and Bob's-yer-uncle. Job done. Not here.'
I nod. I should've known a day off was too much to ask. I order a double Jack and ginger and watch the crowd, watch how people avoid my eyes. It's so fucking weird how they'll stare but as soon as I sense them looking they turn away. I feel like a freak.
Shit. The freak. The goth girl.
'Denzel,' I say, 'I saw a girl tonight, I think it might've been the one who tried to get backstage, remember? She had another note.'
He frowns. 'What did it say?'
'More about death. She was sitting in the front row!'
His eyes widen for a second as he swallows his drink and coughs. 'Fuck. OK. Did you say anything to Chloe?'
'No, I haven't had a chance,'
He slams his glass down. 'Good, don't say anything. I'll put her on the flight with us tomorrow. Shimmer want to see her anyway. Best not leave her with this lot.'
'You don't think she's really in danger, do you?'
He shakes his head, but he's not looking at me. He's looking towards the bathroom exit, where Zayne is all over Chloe again. She's leaning into him now, arms around his neck with another full glass in her hand behind him.
Courtney's walking towards me. She blocks my view for a second but when it clears I see them with their heads pressed together, making out in front of everyone. I see his hands in her hair, touching her necklace, grabbing her ass. I see red.
The barman slides me my drink and I tip it down my throat in two seconds. I meet Courtney halfway. 'What's wrong with you?' she asks as I stop right in front of her. I have to stop, else I'll carry on and tear Zayne's fucking head off.
I pull Courtney close; so close and so hard that her hip is right up against my crotch and she gasps and laughs in my arms. I ram my hand to the back of her spiky hair, another to her back and then her ass. I press my mouth to hers as a flash goes off. Just as fast, another guy is frog-marched quickly up the stairs.
