How to be Famous

by Alison Bond

  ‘If it were you… what?’

  ‘I’d be really excited,’ said Lynsey somewhat lamely.

  ‘So what? Do you think I’m nuts?’ Melanie smiled to acknowledge that there was only one answer to that question.

  ‘A bit, yeah.’

  ‘So what would you do?’

  ‘I’d rent my house, dump my boyfriend, get on a plane and go to work.’

  ‘It’s that simple?’

  ‘It can be. Look, the easiest thing to change is your mind. Contracts can be broken and the planes go both ways. When opportunity knocks it’s no good unless you buzz him in.’

  ‘So you think I should just go for it?’

  ‘That’s not for me to say. But I think you’re looking at this as if it’s The Rest Of My Life and it shouldn’t be like that. We make decisions every day but we only notice the ones that scare us. Whether you take the job or not, don’t be scared of making the wrong decision. Often there is no such thing. Don’t be scared.’

  Melanie had no idea that she was a coward. She had always thought that she was just a deep thinker.

  As soon as she identified her worries as fear they seemed to shrink back and allowed her to look at her quandary with fresh eyes. The only option was clear.

  ‘So do you think you’re going to like Los Angeles?’ asked Melanie.

  ‘What? Me?’

  ‘I know about the offer Max made you,’ said Melanie. ‘Jim told me. It was one of his pressure tactics.’ She smiled. ‘Thanks, Lynsey, I’ve got to go. Lots to do. What was it? Rent my house, dump my boyfriend, get on a plane.’

  ‘And go to work.’

  ‘I’ll call you,’ said Melanie.

  Lynsey waited until she was a safe distance away before hugging herself and squealing like a pre-pubescent girl at a boy-band concert.

  Melanie had missed her phone ringing; she had a voice-mail message. Jonathan. Running late, probably wouldn’t make it to the party, but she could come and see him after if she wanted to. Translation: can’t wine and dine you, sweetheart, but I wouldn’t mind a blow job.

  She was about to go straight round there and break up with him, inspired to be brave by a twenty-something with a pink handbag, but then she remembered that she still hadn’t talked to Douglas. She considered leaving anyway, she would tell Amanda that she hadn’t found an appropriate moment and refuse to try again, but Amanda would only suffer in silence and treat Melanie to the explicit grief of it all on a weekly basis. Amanda was right, Douglas responded well to direct orders and right now Melanie was very much in the mood for giving them.

  It wasn’t hard to find Douglas, his voice carried across the sea of false congratulations. She walked over and tapped his shoulder.

  ‘Melly, hello again,’ he said. ‘You know Candida and Michael?’

  ‘Can you excuse us for just a second?’ said Melanie to the people she’d never met.

  She manoeuvred Douglas into a corner. ‘Amanda knows you’re screwing the nanny so you have to stop, okay?’

  ‘Right. Gosh,’ said Douglas, thinking about the trip to Florence with Sara’s name on the ticket and how much it would cost to change it. ‘Jealous?’

  Melanie ignored the last comment. ‘So you’ll stop screwing her?’ said Melanie firmly, her expression never changing from one of distaste and disinterest.

  ‘Yes.’ Douglas shuffled his feet like a scolded schoolboy.

  ‘Great. So, anyway, lovely to see you, do say hello to… Candida and Michael, was it? I suggest you don’t discuss this with Amanda, she’d only get embarrassed. Best forgotten, eh?’ said Melanie, slapping Douglas firmly on the behind before leaving the party.

  Her cab driver was one of those angelic ones with good taste in music and an encyclopaedic knowledge of the traffic system. He’d drive you through parts of London you never knew existed and get you home in record time.

  Melanie felt better than she had in weeks.

  8

  ‘I can’t believe you’re doing this to me,’ he said. ‘You selfish bitch.’

  Jonathan’s reaction was not what she expected. True, Melanie’s imaginings had mainly involved her getting off lightly and the two of them ending the night as friends. With a hug, perhaps.

  As ever she had tried to be diplomatic. She explained about her job offer, she was honest about how neglected and uninspired she had felt over the last few months. She suggested that it might be a good idea for them to call it quits, save themselves for the real thing, which this quite obviously was not. Unless true love was supposed to feel like a constant struggle to please.

  Jonathan went berserk. He laid the full guilt trip on her, accusing her of using him to further her own career, as if fucking a middle-aged theatre director whose career had seen better days had propelled her to this impending stardom. Despite Melanie’s utter conviction that the relationship was dead on its feet, he made shocked and surprised noises.

  ‘Is it because I can’t have children?’

  No, it’s because you’re a dickhead. ‘Partly.’

  ‘Bloody hell, Melanie. You knew that all along. You told me you didn’t want children, you don’t even like children. What’s changed? Is the tick-tock too loud now that you’re past your prime?’

  ‘I just think we both deserve the chance to be happy.’

  ‘I am happy, you stupid cow. Why do you have to ruin

  everything?’

  ‘This isn’t exactly out of the blue. Things haven’t been great for a while.’

  ‘You’ve been on the other side of the world. What was I supposed to do, fly to Indonesia for a dirty weekend?’

  Why not? You could afford it. ‘A phone call might have been nice.’

  ‘Don’t start, Mel. You know I’m shit on the phone.’

  But in the flesh you’re a real charmer.

  ‘Do you want me to bullshit you?’ said Melanie. ‘Fine, then I’ll bullshit you. It’s not you, it’s me. I need some space. I’m just no good for anyone right now. I love you, but I’m not in love with you. I hope we can still be friends.’

  ‘You’re so fucking childish. That’s the problem. Every time we have to converse as adults you turn into a spoilt brat.’

  ‘Oh, yeah, you’re absolutely right. That’s the problem. Well spotted.’

  ‘I can’t deal with you when you’re like this.’

  ‘Don’t worry. You won’t have to deal with it again. Goodbye, John.’

  ‘How many times do I have to tell you? My name is Jonathan, not fucking John.’

  She closed the door on her way out.

  *

  The next day, when she returned from a trip into Highbury to see some estate agents about renting her house, the first thing she noticed when she walked in her front door was that Jonathan had used his key to get in and remove everything he considered to belong to him, including the stereo they had bought together. It was finally over and now all Melanie wanted to do was chill out to Macy Gray in a hot bath and relieve the gnawing tiredness with a long sleep. Instead of Macy she listened to the tinny radio and the reassuring English accents on the news reports. She overloaded her bath with Philosophy bath oil and slipped around in the warm buttery water, washing away the tension of the last few weeks. Cleansing her newly single self.

  Melanie lay back and flicked off the radio, relaxing into the silence. The evening chorus of the birds chattering outside seemed louder than usual and was the only background noise. Then she heard the sound of the front door slamming shut.

  Melanie was startled and rose from the bath in a cascade of water, dragging the towel from the rail around her and leaving wet footprints across the floor as she walked towards the door.

  ‘Hello?’ shouted Melanie. ‘Who’s there?’

  ‘Honey? It’s me.’

  Jonathan. What the hell?

  Melanie dried herself briskly and threw on her robe, tying it tight around her waist. She walked into the lounge and found Jonathan relaxing with her newspaper, his feet up on her coffee tab
le. It was so unexpected to see him like that. Perhaps if Jonathan were acting hostile, throw ing his weight around the cramped lounge and demanding more explanations she wouldn’t be so surprised to see him, but he put down the newspaper and was grinning at her widely.

  ‘Hi,’ she said and there was an awkward pause. ‘What do you want?’ she asked and regretted her abrupt tone, which contrasted with his amicable smile.

  ‘Christ, it’s good to see you,’ said Jonathan, rising from the couch and holding her arms with a gentle caress. ‘I miss you. I want you to know that we can forget everything we said last night. You were tired and I know you must have a lot on your mind. Let’s just talk.’

  The last thing Melanie wanted was more talking. She had meant everything she said and she had no intention of repeating it all, it had been hard enough the first time. ‘Jonathan,’ she said, ‘I don’t want to see you any more. You said some horrible things, let’s just leave it.’

  ‘I said some horrible things?’ Jonathan’s voice rose slightly and he sounded angry for the first time. ‘Mel, you tried to dump me.’

  Melanie noted that he had said ‘tried’. Oh God, this couldn’t be happening. She squeezed her fingers to her temples. She was going to have to break up with him twice.

  ‘Jonathan, if you thought it was all a misunderstanding, why have you taken all your stuff from here, even the stereo?’

  ‘You said you needed space, I’m giving you space. You’re right, we never said we’d live together, I’ve crept in. It’s not fair.’

  ‘And sneaking in while I’m in the bath? Is that fair?’ asked Melanie. ‘I’d like my key back, please.’

  ‘Oh, give me a break,’ he said with a snort that was typical of everything she disliked about him. ‘I don’t care what you think, I just know we would be so foolish to throw away what we have. You’re everything to me. Intimacy, it’s difficult for me, you know that. But, Mel, I love you.’

  And just like that she crumbled.

  She didn’t know what was more pathetic, Jonathan begging or her falling for it. When she looked back she wasn’t sure whether she was simply tired, whether he was right, whether his consistent stroking of her arms had softened a lonely body starved of love or a lonely mind craving affection, but she fell into his arms and they were kissing like teenagers. She couldn’t even remember the last time Jonathan had kissed her on the mouth.

  Jonathan pulled at the belt of her robe and it fell open, his hungry hands reaching for her smooth damp skin. Over and over he said her name and as they moved towards the bedroom and fell onto the unmade bed his intensity overwhelmed her and she surrendered as he made love to her using all the tricks that had so turned her on at the beginning. He devoured her body with reverence, worshipping every inch of her. He lifted her foot and leisurely kissed the underside of first one leg and then the other, he used his hand to skim over her breasts which were screaming for a more forceful touch, he continued down her body, teasing her, she struggled a little and tried to raise her hips so that the pressure of his touch increased but he moved his hand away until she gave in and allowed him to continue his slow roam across her body with his hands and mouth, exploring her. When he finally entered her, he murmured into her hair as she shuddered. Oh, he could be so good when he put his mind to something.

  It was so damn familiar, so easy to push each other’s buttons and remember the excitement of the first time they were found.

  Jonathan mumbled into her hair as her orgasm pushed its way through her body. ‘Never leave me,’ he said. ‘Never, never.’

  Afterwards Melanie lay in his arms, their limbs entwined, and she fell into a deep sleep without saying a word, his stroking fingers rhythmically lulling her to a satisfied slumber. She would stay. It was easier this way. At least she had someone.

  Melanie woke disoriented, the ringing phone interrupting a vivid dream. It was more like a nightmare but was gone as soon as she reached across and picked up the handset. She cleared her throat before answering.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Did you like that, babe? Can you still feel me inside you? You came so hard you almost cried.’ It was Jonathan, speaking softly in a low and sexy voice and Melanie felt a rush of warmth. Her hands strayed to her breasts as she recalled the previous night.

  ‘You always were an easy lay.’ He spat out the words.

  ‘What?’ Melanie sat up in bed. An icy chill crept into her heart.

  Jonathan laughed. ‘That’s the last time. I thought I’d give you something to remember me by. We’re over, how does it feel?’

  ‘You took me to bed just so you could say that?’ said Melanie, shaking the sleep from her head.

  ‘I screwed you to prove you still wanted me. Who the hell do you think you are? You broke up with me, wrote off two years in a second. How does it feel? Like shit? Like you’re nothing? Well, you are nothing if you’d do that to a person, you are a shit. What do you say to that with your smart mouth? Come on.’ He screamed abuse down the phone, his voice loaded with bitterness.

  ‘Goodbye, Jonathan,’ said Melanie, replacing the handset and falling back to sleep untroubled.

  Enjoy The Journey

  There may be an occasion, the launch party for your first album, say, or your face on a billboard in Times Square, when you will think that you have arrived. But these things are just landmarks on the path. There will be plenty more landmarks before your time on earth is done. Find the fun. Because if you’re not enjoying yourself then you’re doing it wrong.

  9

  Heathrow was mobbed. Lynsey and her parents battled through as they tried to make it to the departure gate. While her parents worried and scanned the information screens, repeating the gate number over and over again, Lynsey flowed with the crowd in a state of bliss. Two weeks ago she thought she was doing kind of okay, not great, but okay, pretty good. Then when Melanie accepted the part the crazy-paving pathway of life had become sublime. Jim Taylor let her go gracefully and she had a whole week off until her new job began.

  Lynsey had treated herself to the most expensive colorant she had ever had. Her growing hair fell almost to her shoulders in a golden red shade that made her skin and eyes seem brighter than usual. Or maybe that was the anticipation.

  ‘I still don’t understand why you’re going to New York when the job’s in Los Angeles,’ said her mum for the third time.

  ‘For the adventure, Mum, that’s all,’ said Lynsey. Ever since she saw the Wrigley’s chewing-gum advert Lynsey had dreamt about travelling America cross-country. Jim had suggested that she use her free week for a holiday and she couldn’t think of a better way to start in a new continent than seeing all of it from a moving vehicle.

  ‘I’d want to get to Los Angeles as soon as possible, settle in.’

  ‘Yeah, Mum, but that’s you, isn’t it? Not me.’

  This was karma, she was sure of it. She had been trying to think happy thoughts and give out positive energy for years and it was finally coming back. Her first long-haul flight to a job in the sun, a job she could make her mother understand. Nobody was prouder than Mrs Dixon. A daughter moving to Hollywood was an entirely unheard-of occurrence in her neighbourhood. She told everyone she knew and a few people that she didn’t.

  After a hasty farewell – when a teary mum couldn’t look her in the eye without a fresh wave of sobs and when a stoic dad tucked a few notes in her hand and whispered, ‘Don’t tell your mother,’ – they were behind her and Lynsey was airside. She even had time for a swift half before take-off.

  Once on the plane the novelty of free drinks on intercontinental flights was too much to resist. She drank through two in-flight movies and fell into a deep and satisfying sleep, awaking more refreshed than she had any right to be. There was only an hour until landing and a good-looking air steward was offering her coffee. As she watched his butt wiggle down the rest of the aisle she didn’t know why so many people complained about air travel, this was as good as a night in but at someone else’s expense
.

  Lynsey knocked back the coffee and grabbed her bag, heading for the bathroom. From her hand luggage she pulled a pair of shades and stuck them in her hair, which was finally the colour she had been looking for all her life. She pulled off her sensible red sweat top and the T-shirt beneath (layers, her mum had said) and revealed the flamingo-pink vest beneath it, complete with picture of an actual flamingo. A slick of lip gloss and she was ready for anything. As far as Lynsey was concerned this was a whole new beginning. A chance to totally reinvent herself and try to be the person that she had always known she could be. From now on she would be a professional hard worker and a chaste socialite. She would make armies of new and exciting friends who only saw a funky English girl who travelled, not an art school drop-out with a northern accent and a penchant for disco. Starting today everything was going to be different.

  She stepped off the plane feeling like The Beatles and gave a self-indulgent wave to no one in particular on the observation deck. How lucky could one girl get?

  That was how Lynsey Dixon arrived stateside.

  10

  Port Authority bus station was awash with silver buses that rolled in and out like the tide.

  One day Lynsey would come back to New York City. She was certain of it. So far her massive expectations had been justified. The real New York had been just like the one that existed in her dreams. But for now she had to keep on moving. It felt like saying goodbye to a new friend after an unfortunately short lunch. But she knew they would keep in touch. Now she wanted to find her Greyhound and get on board before she was tempted to stay. She was running out of time.

  Her silver carriage awaited.