by Becky Wicks
She's wrapped around me now, breathing against my cheek, hot and hungry. 'You wanna get out of here?' I say.
29
Chloe
The headline says Co-No Lock Lips at Last and I force myself to look at it on Denzel's tray table next to me. Co-No? They're combining their names already? This is the worst flight I've ever been on.
Noah's been staring out the window with his headphones on the whole time and Denzel's been sleeping. We're all hung over but that's not the only reason I'm feeling like shit, obviously. The photo was one caught on someone's phone but even in its grainy quality I can see how much he wants her. I saw it in person before they left together and didn't come back.
The door to his room was locked when we got back to the tour bus last night. I couldn't help remembering what Ryder told me that meant - not that it wasn't obvious. Zayne tried to drag me into his bunk but I batted him off, pretended I was too drunk and tired. I shut myself behind my curtain, listened to Jeremy fucking the redhead in the chill out area and totally failing to do it quietly.
I tried with every inch of my being not to cry; not to bolt for Noah's door and kick it like a crazy bitch, so I lay there shaking like a mess all night with my mind making movies of his hands in her hair, on her body, Courtney sitting on his lap, laughing in his arms. I couldn't sleep. So now I'm tired and moody and I just want to get the hell back to New York.
I grab the newspaper, take out the inside supplement - a glossy mag full of even more incredulous stories. I'm flicking through it when something catches my eye. A photo. My heart stops.
It's the one from my camera; the one of Brandon Cleaver face down and drunk in the bar. I scan the text. It doesn't say when the photo was taken, but I know it's the one from my camera. It's taken from the exact same angle we were standing. And if it's in today's paper, it's probably on all the blog sites too.
My hands go clammy. The flight feels like it lasts all day.
When we land at JFK a fleet of paparazzi are waiting in arrivals. I have no clue who it is at airports who tells the press which celebs are getting on which planes but they should know they're the most evil people on earth. Who wants to be photographed after being cramped in a plane seat for God-knows-how-many-hours? Ours wasn't even a long haul flight but I still feel like death and looking at Noah, he doesn't feel much better.
'Stick with me guys,' Denzel says, taking the lead. Noah pulls his hood up and his dark glasses over his eyes. I can hear them all shouting as the clicks go off and I bury my face in my heart-patterned scarf, look to the floor.
'Noah! Noah! Where's Courtney this morning?'
'Noah, Noah, over here, are you gonna be spending more time in Tampa now?'
'Lockton! Is it true she's on the way to rehab?'
'Noah, look at me, is it true you and Courtney will be recording a single together?
I feel a hand on my arm. 'Chloe Campbell, love your blog! Is it true your father died in the back of a taxicab? What happened with that?'
I freeze instantly. The woman is looking intently at me, clutching my bare arm and holding a camera in my face. I can't even move. 'What did you just say?'
'Don't talk to her.' Noah. He's stepped back to me now, pushed the journo off me and Denzel's fending off the crowd, who are swarming closer in around us like wasps. My fists are clenched. Passengers are running over now, holding up phones and yelling. I feel Noah tug me. He starts leading me away, wraps an arm around my shoulders to hide me even more, but all I can see is her face, her eyes, the way she asked the question with absolutely zero emotion or care.
'How did she know that?' I blurt when we've been bundled into the back of a waiting black car. The paps are still shooting into the windows and I cover my face with my hands until we've pulled away. When I look at Noah, his lips are pressed together and his forehead is creased in fury. He turns, stares out the window as the skyline comes into view.
'I have no idea, Chloe.'
'But I've never told anyone that, except Ryder.'
He looks at me now in surprise. 'You told Ryder about your dad?'
'His dad died, too,' I say. I haven't had a chance to tell Noah, but the piece we're working on to go with his photos is about how fame has affected his relationship with his family. Marianne thinks it's the greatest thing ever.
'You shouldn't tell anyone anything, you know how things get twisted.'
His words irritate me. 'You think I don't know that? Noah, Ryder wouldn't have said anything about my dad, why would he do that? People are following me now! She probably went looking for that story and found it!'
'OK, fine, you're probably right,' he says, 'but just be careful what you say. Be careful who you trust.' His eyes are dark now and there's something else he's not saying, I know it. Does he mean Zayne? Is he telling me not to trust Zayne?
His phone rings on the seat between us and I see Courtney's name flash up before he covers it with his hand and hits cancel. I swallow a flurry of words I want to say that I know won't do any good, but my fists clench in my scarf.
'As long as you don't draw attention to yourself,' Noah starts up again, and fucking hell, that's it.
'Oh, because you don't draw attention to yourself!' I spit. His eyes widen instantly. 'You posed for those cameras last night, Noah, you and Courtney!'
'That's got nothing to do with you!' he yells, suddenly.
'It's got everything to do with me! You think I won't have a million requests for more information on you both, now? I spend my life telling people everything about you Noah... somehow it's my job. But it's me who gets the death threats, me that gets random journos looking for stories on my family! My ex-boyfriend who sells photos he stole from my bedroom...'
'Chloe, look...'
'No. Just... shut up, Noah. I don't want to hear it, OK? This is all just way too twisted. You've got things easy right now compared to me and you don't even see it!'
'Of course I see it, Chloe...'
We pause as Denzel slides the compartment back from his place in the front. 'What's going on? You're not killing each other are you?'
'We're fine,' Noah says quickly, but I notice how he yanks the hood of his jacket further over his face so he doesn't have to look at me. I turn my own head to the window, watch Manhattan start to tower over us. I want to get lost in it. But how can I lose myself anywhere with all of this going on? My life is a fucking show for the world to devour. I have no secrets left whatsoever. I bite my tongue. I'm so tired, so utterly pissed about everything right now. I should've just quit when I told him I would, before the tour.
We don't say another word until the car pulls up at the Shimmer office. I have to check in with the team. 'The studio meeting's at three, let us know if you can be there,' Denzel says as I climb out. 'I know they want a behind-the-scenes take on the video shit for your golli. We'll send a car. We'll have someone take your stuff to the flat, OK love?'
'Can't wait', I say, slamming the door. I don't even look at Noah and within two seconds they're speeding off again, round the block.
Aaron hurries over as soon as he sees me at my desk. He's holding three papers with the photo from my camera on them and the sight of them makes my stomach lurch. 'Don't say it,' I tell him before he can open his mouth.
'What, that it's nice to see you? Or, did you tell the cops these photos were on the stolen camera?' he replies.
I shake my head. 'I didn't tell anyone about those photos, Aaron. I don't want anyone to know I've had anything to do with that kind of... thing.' I'm still shaking. Still furious with Noah; with that woman for blurting that kind of question in my face about my dad.
'Did you call the papers, ask where they got it?'
'No, I've not had a chance.'
'Well, I did,' he says. 'I asked who sold them the photo and they all said it came from an anonymous source.'
'Like that's a surprise.'
He perches on the corner of my desk and studies me. 'I guess there's no point following it up then. It'll be s
ome kid's hamster cage lining tomorrow anyway.'
'Guess so,' I sigh.
'What's wrong?'
'Nothing. Well, aside from the fact that Brandon Cleaver's people are probably going insane because of us.'
'They're already saying he was only drinking water. He's like the angel of pop, Chloe, this won't change anything.'
'So it wasn't as gold as you thought?' I say, raising an eyebrow.
He shrugs. 'It happens.'
'Good. Is Marianne here yet?'
'Ten minutes, she's in a meeting. So tell me, Courtney and Noah... or should I say Co-No? Is it a real thing or...'
'Jesus, Aaron, not you too!'
'Woah!' He throws his hands in the air, almost knocks off his own hat. 'What's wrong with you?'
'Sorry, sorry,' I rub my eyes, lean forward onto my arms. 'God, sorry. I'm just so tired.'
'Well, you've been working hard,' he replies. 'Everyone here fucking loves you, Chloe. Blog hits went up by fifty thousand this morning and that photo of Co-No wasn't even on it! You know, you can have any job you want in New York after this. You could work for Teen Vogue.' He winks.
'Marianne would have me speared if I went to Teen Vogue,' I say. 'I'm thinking maybe I'll just see if Chuck e Cheese wants me back.'
‘Well, Chuck e Cheese would be lucky to have you. But so would Cosmo, or Glitter, or Rolling Stone.'
'Yeah, right.' My phone rings. It's Alyssa. 'I have to take this,' I tell him, standing up to head outside. Why is it that even in a closed-off room these days, I can never get a moment to myself?
30
Noah
'Gotta admit, I didn't think she'd have the Niagaras, but she's gone and done it,' Denzel says, walking in and shoving the Evening Post under my nose on the table.
I lean over my guitar, pick it up, scan the photos of me and Jayde smiling. There's the selfie she took of us both standing on the Brooklyn Bridge the week we met; the one she took of me lying in bed, naked except for my boxers, reaching up for her. 'He wanted Courtney the whole time...' it starts and I slam it to the table, face down.
Fuck her.
'You know, I actually thought she was the one person who wouldn't do something like this,' I tell Denzel who's flexing his arms in another crazy flowery shirt.
'I could've told you she would from the start. Right little leech that one, no offence. She got in quick mate, must've been on the dog as soon as she saw that photo from last night! Anyway, so what if it's bollocks? Right? You're front page news, you're winning. Your sales are going through the roof. The album's at number three...'
'Denzel, this is bullshit!'
'Noah.' He slides the swivel chair out next to me, takes the guitar I'm holding out of my hands and puts it on the floor before sitting down. 'I don't think you're quite getting this, mate.'
He's leaning towards me now; the hair is poking out of his pointy collar. 'It's a game. It's one big fucking game. You have to suck it up. You have to play along or you'll fade into the abyss with the rest of 'em. Get it? You've got people eating out of your sodding hand, half the women in America want to fuck you right now, you're A List royalty. But you can have your crown taken away. Don't forget that.'
'Maybe I don't want a crown,' I say.
He shakes his head, motions to my cell on the table. It's just buzzed again with a message from Courtney. 'If she calls, you answer,' he tells me. 'If she Tweets, you Tweet back. Trust me mate, you want your records to sell, you ride this out. And ride her too, as much as you want. You gotta admit, it's not a difficult thing to do with a body like that, is it?'
'Why don't you fuck her? You work for the label too?' I say.
He sighs. 'I don't have records to sell. We'll fly her to Denver for the shoot, get Chloe to snap some shots of you looking all loved up in the snow...'
'No,' I interrupt, 'Denzel, not Denver.' The thought sends chills right though me. They're talking about shooting somewhere up past Vail. It's too close to home. Way too close to home. And the last thing I want is Chloe taking photos of me and Courtney, for fuck's sake. She was right, what she said in the cab - this is all so twisted.
Every time I pick up to Courtney I hate myself, but I can't exactly ignore her after what the world... and quite possibly she thinks is going on. She's arranged to meet the Shimmer team after the tour in a few weeks for a blog shoot and apparently her uncle thinks I'll be a good influence on her, seeing as I've never been photographed drunk; not even once. It's crazy how people only have to see one photo, one kiss in a fucking club to think they've got someone else's life completely figured out.
I reach for my guitar again, just as Chloe walks in. I tense instantly. The clock on the wall reads three fifteen; I didn't even notice the time. I had a phone interview with a radio journalist, a fitting for some more stage outfits and I've been writing a song for two hours on my own, trying not to vent my anger on any humans.
'Sorry I'm late,' she says. She's in the same floaty brown dress and boots, but she's got her hair up in a bun now, wrapped with three fake flowers. She's carrying two Starbucks cups. She puts one down in front of me. It's a long black with cinnamon, just how I like it.
'What's happened?' I say, smiling at what I know is her apology for before in the car. She looks worried. She's fiddling with Tinker-Bell.
'Alyssa's had a note in the mail.' She slides her phone towards me. I grab it, look at the photo she's sent on WhatsApp. The cut-out letters are the same as before.
CHLOE CAMPBELL WILL DIE!!!
'Alyssa had this?' I say, reeling. 'Shit, Denzel...'
'Did she call the cops?' he asks, studying the phone over my shoulder.
'Not yet,' Chloe says. 'But she's freaking out. She told me not to worry about the last one but you should've heard her today. It's different when it's her. I told her not to tell the Commander, but Noah, you know what she's like...'
'There was one more, too, yesterday,' I admit, and I pretend to ignore the look Denzel shoots me.
‘What? Why didn't you tell me?!'
'I didn't want to scare you, but when I was on stage I saw some girl holding something up in the front row...
'So you both knew?' she says incredulously as Denzel shrugs cartoonishly with his eyes wide. 'What did it say?' She's squeezing her coffee cup so hard it looks like the lid's about to fly off.
'Something like this. I saw a girl with it but she left halfway through the gig. We're getting the Tampa Bay Times Forum to check all the names, see who was in which seat, right Denzel?'
'I asked them this morning,' he replies just as Chloe's phone rings in my hands and we both jump. I catch the caller's name on the screen as I slide it back to her across the table.
'It's Zayne,' I tell her. She meets my eyes for a millisecond as she lifts it to her ear.
'There's lots to say actually, yes, but I can't talk right now, I'm in the meeting. I'll call you later?'
The door opens and the HotFlush team walk in with notebooks, a tray of cookies and even more coffee. I put my Starbucks cup to my mouth to stop myself speaking. I don't know if it's the shock of knowing there's obviously someone seriously deranged out to scare Chloe (and now Alyssa too), that's causing my flesh to crawl, or the fact that it might be Zayne she's now turning to.
The meeting goes on way longer than it's supposed to. We've decided, since my own songs have been doing so well on the tour, that we'll be featuring a new one in the video. I have to play what I've done so far in private for the execs and thankfully they love it. Everyone's excited and everyone's got a view of how they want the music video to go. It's going to premiere exclusively on iTunes.
The coffee turns to beers and I'm surprised to see Chloe take one. I don't say anything. I've managed to reply to all of Courtney's Tweets throughout the meeting, and even one from The Great Catsby. I know Denzel's serious about this, and with all that's going on I actually can't fuck things up. It's exhausting.
'You guys get some rest,' he's saying now, putting a hand on both our should
ers. 'Don't worry about anything, it'll all be Isle of Wight in the end. We fly to Chicago at two forty five, I'll have the jam jar with you by noon.'
'No problem,' I say, translating his words while looking at Chloe. She's fiddling with her phone. She types frantically the whole way down in the elevator, but when we get to the lobby she grabs my arm, pulls me aside as Denzel heads out through the exit.
'I don't want to go back to the apartment, Noah. I don't want to think about those notes. Let's do something normal.' Her khaki eyes are imploring and I can see she's buzzed from the beers, too, clutching the heart-pattered scarf around her neck, searching my face.
Denzel pops his head back in again. 'No paps. You're safe, and your carriage awaits,' he informs us.
We wave him off. 'Where do you want to go?' I say. I get a sudden urge to sweep her bangs back from her forehead. They've gotten long. I picture Zayne doing the same thing and I have to swallow.
'Central Park,' Chloe tells me.
'Central Park?'
'Sure. When was the last time you went to Central Park and got a hot dog?'
I shrug. It feels like forever since I did anything remotely normal. All I know lately it seems is contradictions and hypocrisies and people I don't even know, screaming in my face. 'A hot dog sounds good,' I say.
'It's open till one a.m, I just checked,' she smiles. Just for tonight, Noah, let's forget all the bullshit, OK?'
This time I do sweep her bangs aside. 'Sounds good to me.' It sounds better than anything I've heard all fucking day. I switch my cell off before Courtney or anyone else can demand my attention again. 'How about we don't even look at our phones? How about we pretend we're just...'
'Peter and Pan,' she finishes.
'Deal.'
I pull her jacket hood up over her head and do the same with my sweater before leading us out the door. We climb into the back of the waiting car. 'Second star to the right and straight on till morning,' I quote at the driver and Chloe laughs.
