Between a Rockstar and a Hard Place

by Portia MacIntosh

  ‘Have I offended you?’ Troy asks me, clearly baffled.

  ‘Nope. You may have saved the day.’

  Chapter Nine: Hugh G Rection

  Finally clothed, Troy and I are hurriedly making our way to the hotel reception desk.

  ‘I told you Dylan likes to use the names of important people,’ I explain breathlessly as we rush across the lobby.

  ‘Yeah, and military titles and the Cyrus family,’ Troy adds.

  ‘Well before he got really famous, he’d rather pun than claim to be a member of the Cyrus family. The problem was people were either offended or too embarrassed to say the names he came up with so he had to stop, but last night he was trashed and most likely showing off. It’s going to be a funny one, I just know it.’

  ‘Rather you than me,’ Troy says with a chuckle as we approach the reception desk. Working this afternoon is a woman who I’d guess was in her sixties. She’s wearing a lilac twin set and a neat little pearl necklace, and is already looking down her nose at my outfit before I’ve even open my mouth.

  ‘Good morning,’ I say brightly. ‘I’m looking for a friend, he checked in last night.’

  ‘Good afternoon,’ she corrects me. ‘I am Mrs. Williamson, the owner of the hotel. I imagine you’re with the festival people?’

  ‘We are, and what a lovely hotel you have,’ Troy says, offering a hand for Mrs. Williamson to shake.

  She looks at his hand with distaste before turning back to me.

  ‘The name of the friend you are looking for, what is it?’

  It’s bad enough this woman thinks she clearly has better things to do than deal with the “festival people” who are overrunning her hotel, but what I’m about to do…

  ‘Mike Oxlong,’ I reply.

  Mrs. Williamson taps a few buttons on the computer.

  ‘I’m sorry, we have no one staying at the hotel under that name.’

  ‘Do you have a Master Bates?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Ben Dover?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Hugh Rection, middle initial G?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Come on, Nicole,’ Troy says, taking me by the arm and leading me away from the desk. ‘It was worth a try, we’ll find him some other way.’

  ‘Excuse me,’ Mrs. Williamson calls after us. ‘Could your friend’s name be Juan? Juan King?’

  I spin around to face her, my jaw practically on the floor.

  ‘Did you say –‘

  ‘I did,’ she interrupts me. ‘You think I don’t see what is going on here? Room 239’

  Mrs. Williams smiles at us briefly, before waving us away from her desk as some non-festival people arrive to check in.

  As we head up in the lift, Troy finally breaks his straight-faced silence.

  ‘I can’t believe what just happened,’ he says.

  ‘What, exchanging masturbation puns with a little old woman? Happens all the time.’

  We both burst out laughing. I’m not sure how this day could get any weirder. Don’t get me wrong, it is still absolutely vital that I find Dylan and get him on that bus for 6pm, but even if I don’t find him, it’s been a fun night. Troy’s right, it’s been an adventure – and it’s not over yet.

  I knock on the door of room 239. A girl answers who looks like she’s just time travelled from the crowd at Woodstock, circa 1969. She’s a proper hippy chick, not Dylan’s usual type but then again neither was Misty. Oh, and her nose is bright red, so she’s definitely the girl we’re looking for.

  ‘Hello, I’m looking for my friend,’ I say hopefully. ‘His name is Dylan.’

  ‘Oh, I know Dylan. We shared a beautiful night together.’

  ‘So he’s here?’ Troy asks, trying to peer inside the room.

  ‘Afraid not,’ hippy girl tells us. ‘He’s popped into the town.’

  ‘Why?’ I ask. What could he possibly want from the town? I don’t think that prostitute will still be hanging around.

  ‘He was admiring my pleasure beads,’ she explains. ‘Would you like to see them?’

  I think I say no about as quickly as Troy says yes, but it’s too late. Hippy girl disappears into her room and returns with her pleasure beads, which thankfully are around her neck.

  ‘Wearing these beads will bring you pleasure. I bought these from Groovy Baby in the town centre just yesterday, and they brought me Dylan. He’s gone to buy some.’

  ‘That man does not need any help finding pleasure,’ Troy says with a snigger, so I elbow him in the ribs.

  ‘Well, because he’s found you,’ he assures the hippy chick, but she’s not buying it. Then again, she did steal him from a prostitute so I doubt she’ll be going out and buying wedding magazines any time soon.

  Thankfully she’s too far out (stoned) to care, and she happily gives me directions to Groovy Baby.

  ‘Be sure to pick up some pleasure beads while you’re there,’ she calls after me.

  ‘You don’t need them,’ Troy tells me with a wink. ‘You’ve got me.’

  Chapter Ten: Rascals, scoundrels, villains and knaves

  Troy and I have briefly separated. He’s gone to tell his manager that he’s hanging out with me for a while and I’ve just been to tell Mikey that I haven’t found his brother yet, but that he hasn’t to let Claire know. He says he’ll cover for us but come 6pm if Dylan isn’t on the bus they will leave without him. He’s usually very tolerant of his brother’s antics, but the gig tonight is for a charity and he isn’t going to let them down, even if it means performing without a front-man.

  As I stroll through the lobby I spy Troy, and he’s talking to a girl. I try and ignore any feelings that may or may not be jealously. As I approach them I realise it’s the girl from last night, Dylan’s first conquest, the one who has his phone.

  She has a huge smile on her face as she chats to my Troy – that is until she sees me.

  ‘You again,’ she says rudely. ‘You’re still not getting that phone.’

  ‘Can I have it?’ Troy asks her, realising who this girl must be. ‘I’ll give you an autograph.’

  She nods before handing Dylan’s phone to Troy and in return he scribbles his signature on a piece of paper for her.

  ‘Laters,’ she says, walking away without a thank you.

  We watch her drag her purple suitcase towards the door, tightly clutching Troy’s autograph in her hand.

  ‘Well that was easy,’ I say as Troy hands me the phone. ‘I should take a celebrity with me everywhere I go – I wish you were with me earlier, I could have kept my dress.’

  ‘Just make sure the celebrity you drag around with you is a world famous movie star,’ he advises.

  ‘Why is that?’ I ask, unsure what he means.

  ‘She thought I was Orlando Bloom. Quick, let’s get in a taxi before she realises I’m not.’

  I smile at him. He’s really gone out of his way to help me these past few hours and I’m not sure what I’d be doing if I hadn’t bumped into him in the bar.

  ‘Thank you,’ I say as soon as we’re in the taxi and on our way to Groovy Baby.

  ‘It was nothing. His accent is pretty easy and I knew enough Pirates of the Caribbean quotes to pull it off.’

  ‘Not just for impersonating a movie star.’ I squeeze his hand. ‘For everything. You’ve made what should have been a nightmare of a night actually pretty fun. I won’t forget that.’

  Troy places and hand on my neck and pulls me close for a kiss.

  ‘I told you, it’s me who should be thanking you. I never have any fun anymore, and I’ve certainly had fun with you. I’ve taken taxis, braved a haunted hotel floor, I’ve heard a lady old enough to be my grandma chat about self-love, and I’ve met all kinds of different women – a goth, a hippy, a prostitute –‘

  ‘Don’t forget that skank who thought you were a pirate,’ I interrupt.

  ‘Yes, there’s her. And then there’s you. ‘

  ‘Oh dear, what kind of woman am I?’ I ask. As I turn to f
ace him so he can’t get away with lying to spare my feelings, I notice that even the taxi driver is watching our conversation play out in his rear-view mirror.

  ‘One of a kind,’ Troy says with a laugh. ‘But I like it.’

  Chapter Eleven: Is it because he's a Leo?

  Doing the job that I do and having friends who travel a lot, I’ve been to a lot of places – some nice, some shitholes, some interesting places, but this town… this town is weird. I can’t make my mind up if it’s weird and wonderful, or just plain weird. I’m wandering this as we walk through the door of Groovy Baby, and as I catch my elbow on a sculpture of a giant baby smoking a joint, I realise it’s just plain weird.

  ‘Can I help you?’ asks a lady who looks and dresses exactly like Eddie from Absolutely Fabulous.

  ‘Yes, how much for the baby?’ Troy asks.

  I shoot him a look which hopefully tells him that while I did find that funny, we’re sort of up against it.

  ‘Actually, I’m just looking for a friend. He came here to buy…’ I pause for a moment because it just sounds so dodgy. ‘…pleasure beads.’

  ‘Dylan!’ she shrieks. ‘What a soul!’

  ‘Oh, yes. Troy, aren’t I always saying that about our Dylan?’

  ‘Yeah,’ he chuckles. ‘It sounds a bit like that.’

  I subtly give him that evil glare again before turning back to the Eddie lookalike.

  ‘Anyway, do you know where he went?’

  ‘Yes, but it’s not my place to say.’

  ‘It really is,’ Troy interrupts. ‘You’re the only person who knows where he’s gone.’

  ‘I don’t want to cause him any trouble,’ she insists, biting her lip.

  ‘You won’t be, we’re his friends,’ Troy assures her in that soothing voice of his that has been making me melt for the past few hours.

  ‘He met Lola and seemed quite taken,’ she says uncomfortably. ‘They’re staying at the same hotel so they went back there.’

  I don’t know why she found it so hard to tell me that, if only she knew I’d been chasing him from woman to woman all night long. A customer walks up to the till with a pair of feather earrings, so the Eddie lookalike goes to serve her quickly. We hang around for a few seconds to say thank you.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ I whisper to Troy. ‘The easiest way to find Dylan would have been to book a room and wait, he’s shagging his way through the hotel.’

  Troy laughs and kisses me on the cheek.

  ‘Oh, are you not Dylan’s girlfriend?’ the shopkeeper asks me after she is finished with her customer.

  ‘Nope, I’m not.’ So that’s what she didn’t want to tell me that he’d gone off with this Lola chick.

  ‘Is it because he’s a Leo?’

  ‘No.’ I smile. ‘It’s because he’s an arsehole. Thank you for all your help.’

  We quickly leave the shop and I’m careful not to knock the giant baby like I did on my way in.

  ‘You know how some people have a little black book?’ Troy asks me as we wait for a taxi.

  ‘Mr Reeves,’ I say, faking shock. ‘Do you have a little black book?’

  ‘I don’t have time for a little black book. But other people do, right?’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘Is Dylan’s little black book just the actual phone book?’

  I laugh. ‘Brilliant. Have you been working on that one for long?’

  ‘Since the prostitute,’ he replies proudly.

  Our taxi pulls up, so we hop in and head back to the hotel. I’m having so much fun with Troy, I almost don’t want to find Dylan. It doesn’t even cross my mind to stop trying and hang out with Troy though, because whichever way I look at it, Dylan needs to be at that charity show tonight. He owes it to himself, his band mates, his tour manager, his fans and the charity to be there. I know he would never intentionally let anyone down, he just gets too drunk, starts thinking with Little Dylan, and loses track of time.

  Chapter Twelve: Looking for Lola

  At the hotel, once again, I stroll up to Mrs Williamson and lay my cards on the table.

  ‘Listen, I know I’m annoying you, but I’m looking for a guest called Lola and I’d really like to find her without having to sling anymore dirty words your way, so could you please just check and the sooner I find her the sooner we can leave, and I promise to never come back,’ I rant.

  Mrs Williamson doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t show a speck of emotion, she simply taps a few buttons on the keyboard.

  ‘No one by that name staying at the hotel presently,’ she says, as if that’s an end to that.

  ‘Big mistake, lady,’ I warn. ‘Do you know how much time I take off work? I’m coming here for my holidays.’

  Mrs Williamson gasps with horror. ‘Well, there’s no need for that!’ she exclaims.

  ‘Excuse me,’ Roger the concierge interrupts us. ‘Mrs Williamson, I’ll take it from here.’

  Roger ushers us away from the front desk before we make too much of a scene.

  ‘You looking for Lola?’ he asks.

  ‘Yes!’ I cry with relief, do you know what room she’s in?’

  ‘I just took champagne up there, room 398.’

  ‘Thank you, Roger,’ I squeal, kissing him on the cheek.

  ‘By the way,’ Roger starts, but Troy doesn’t let him finish.

  ‘No,’ Troy says, placing his hand over Roger’s mouth. ‘You’re still in our bad books, buddy. No tip today.’

  We race off towards the lift and as the doors are closing I’m sure Roger shouts something to us, but I don’t hear it. All I know is that if Dylan was just in this room and ordering champagne, there’s no way he’ll have left yet.

  Chapter Thirteen: Finding the sausage

  ‘If there’s a woman and champagne, then there’s no way Dylan will have left this room – not this quickly.’

  ‘Speaking from experience?’ Troy asks me with a cheeky wink as he places an ear on the door of room 398 to see if he can hear anything. ‘I think I can hear crying.’

  ‘What?’

  I put my ear to the door a little too enthusiastically and knock my head on it.

  ‘I don’t hear anything,’ I say, just as the door opens causing me and Troy to fall into room 398.

  Still laid out on the floor I gaze up expecting to see Lola, only to see a very tall man, wearing very high heels and women’s underwear. I can tell he’s been crying because his make-up is smudged all over his face, and just after I notice that he is wearing a hairnet I spy his long, blonde wig on the floor next to me.

  ‘Lola?’ I ask, my brain putting two and two together.

  He starts crying again. I look over at Troy who is just staring blankly, like his brain is processing the evidence in front of us a little slower than mine did. I may not be shocked when it comes to what Dylan gets up to, but this scenario is new to me.

  ‘I’m looking for Dylan,’ I say softly. ‘Was he here?’

  ‘He was,’ Lola yells, spitting on the floor in temper – what a lady. ‘The drunk pig, he’s gone now.’

  I climb up off the floor and sit down on the bed next to Lola, which I’m guessing isn’t his real name but it’s the only one I have for him.

  ‘What happened?’ I ask.

  ‘We really hit it off, we came back here, I ordered some champagne… one thing lead to another.’

  I glance over at Troy who is still on the floor, only now he’s looking shocked to his core.

  ‘So what went wrong?’ I ask – as if I didn’t know.

  ‘Well, we were kissing-‘

  ‘You were kissing?’ Troy interrupts. ‘You and Dylan? Kissing?’

  ‘Yes,’ Lola replies, clearly offended. ‘Would you like some too?’

  Troy shuts up again and goes back to just staring in amazement.

  ‘We were kissing,’ Lola continues. ‘But when we started undressing each other he must have realised I am not a natural woman and he went crazy. First he tried to jump out of the window, then he r
ealise we were on the fourth floor and bolted for the door.’

  I bet he did. Dylan is the kind of man who won’t even wear pink, so getting off with a man is way out of his comfort zone.

  ‘When was this?’ I ask.

  ‘A few minutes before you arrived,’ Lola tells us.

  I give him/her a hug and then grab Troy by the hand, pulling him up and dragging him towards the lift.

  ‘That was a man,’ Troy says when the doors are finally closed.

  ‘Yep,’ I reply.

  ‘That was so blatantly a man though.’

  ‘Yep. I could see his Adam’s apple.’

  ‘Nicole, I could see his penis. He was a man. How did Dylan not know that was a man?’

  ‘Lord knows,’ I say, laughing to myself. ‘I can’t believe he tried to jump out of the window. And there wasn’t any champagne in that room, which means he took it. Which means he is still off his face and things are only going to get worse.’

  The lift pings and the doors open. The lobby is busy with all of the “festival people” checking out, but we can’t see Dylan anywhere.

  ‘Roger,’ Troy calls out, spotting him making his way towards the exist. His shift must be over, but he might have seen Dylan pass through here. ‘Has Dylan been down here?’

  ‘The last time I saw him he was with…’ Roger’s voice trails off.

  ‘Yeah, thanks for the warning,’ Troy says, pushing money into his pocket. ‘Next time I’d open with the important details if I were you.’

  I plonk myself down on the sofa behind us. The trail has gone cold and time is almost up.

  ‘Get back up,’ Troy insists. ‘We’re not done yet.’

  ‘Unless you know something that I don’t, we’re so done.’

  ‘Look, Roger didn’t see him leave. That means he’s still in here somewhere. I doubt he had time to find another girl – or boy – so he must be in one of the public areas. One last sweep of the place, what do you say?’

  You’ve got to admire his enthusiasm, although this is his first Dylan hunt. This kind of nightmare is a regular occurrence for me, although he’s never proved this hard to find before.