Girls to Total Goddesses (11 page)

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20

Wednesday evening arrived at last. The black eye had faded to a tasteful yellow, and I had managed to hide it, and my chin scabs, with a thick layer of concealer. At the thought of seeing Beast, a flock of multi-coloured butterflies hatched in my tummy and performed a series of crazed pirouettes. I applied ten tons of cosmetics, wiped them all off and started again. I mustn’t overdo the make-up. Beast would NOT be expecting to encounter a circus clown.

A horrid little chilly autumnal wind had sprung up as I walked along the high street, and a few pieces of litter were blowing about. The street looked desolate. The butterflies in my tummy evolved suddenly into a pack of mad dogs as I neared the building in which Beast was waiting. I came to the street door, which was open. There was a message pinned to it:
JAILHOUSE ROCK MEETING UPSTAIRS
. It wasn’t Beast’s handwriting. It was quite girly. It must have been Charlie’s.

I tiptoed upstairs, my heart racing. Voices were coming out of a half-open door on the first floor: I stepped inside. Beast looked up. Our eyes met. The dogs which had been devouring my insides turned into a school of dolphins leaping across a glittering ocean.

‘Hi!’ I smiled, wrenching my eyes away from Beast’s and politely smiling at everybody else.

‘Hi, Zoe,’ said Beast with a grin. ‘You know Charlie and Paolo, er . . . this is Alex and Harriet. This is Zoe.’ I nodded at the two new people: a fair boy with glasses and an amazing-looking girl with a thicket of dark hair. Maybe if Beast didn’t go for Charlie, Harriet would be The Next Best Thing.

‘We’re just looking at the shortlisted poster designs,’ said Beast. ‘Have you brought yours?’ I opened my bag and took out my five shortlisted paintings.

‘I think this one’s amazing – it’s my absolute favourite.’ I showed them the R Rogers one.

‘Roy Rogers!’ grinned Beast. ‘A famous old cowboy from the 1950s. My role model.’ I tried to smile bewitchingly, but it was hard to concentrate on what he was actually saying, as all my muscles were melting with joy at the sight of his restless grey-green eyes and black tangled curls.

Everybody looked at my five shortlisted paintings, and then I had to look at everybody else’s. R Rogers’s picture beat them hands down. Although the other people were slightly attached to their own best offers, they had to admit mine was in a different league.

‘I think Zoe wins,’ said Beast, giving me a smile. It wrapped itself around my heart like a silk scarf.

‘Yes, it’s brilliant, it’s definitely the best,’ said Charlie, kind of trying to take over the meeting. ‘Shall we agree on this one, then?’ she went on. ‘I hate meetings that go on and on unnecessarily – I’m not really an ideal committee person. I like to cut through the waffle to what really matters.’ I fought off a brief urge to punch her on the nose. So the rest of us were wafflers, were we?

‘Yeah, this is definitely going to be our poster,’ said Beast, looking admiringly at R Rogers’s painting. ‘OK, Zoe . . . uhhh, if you stay behind at the end I’ll take you through what needs to be done next.’ Beast flashed me a brief but delicious smile that turned my blood to champagne.

Beast wanted me to stay behind at the end! To tell me what needed to be done next! What needed to be done was for him to sweep me into his arms and let me rest my thudding little heart against his mighty chest. Then after that what needed to be done was for his lovely, pouty lips to approach mine . . .

‘OK,’ he said briskly, turning away. I bore it as well as I could. I did accept that he was going to have to look at other people occasionally, perhaps even talk to them. But it was diabolically cruel of life to be like that.

‘Let’s talk about the distribution plans – Paolo?’ said Beast with a strangely restless sigh.

Matthew took a document out of his briefcase. I relaxed and tried to breathe quietly, although my heart was pounding, and my blood was bubbling and fizzing at the thought of seeing Beast on his own, afterwards. Matthew started droning on about his ideas for publicity. I couldn’t concentrate for a while: the sound of Beast breathing was so much more eloquent than Matthew talking.

Eventually my head cleared and I managed to listen. By now we were discussing arrangements for the concert itself. Beast leaned back in his chair, ran his fingers through his hair (oh, if only that was my job!) and shrugged theatrically.

‘So . . . Rose Quartz. I’ve no idea what she’s going to say next,’ he sighed. ‘So far we’ve had a yes, a no, another yes and a maybe.’

‘She’s just a spoiled bitch,’ said Charlie.

‘But we have to know whether she can be put on the poster or not!’ Beast snapped. Charlie looked a bit hurt. I wondered what it was like to be Beast’s PA.

‘Well, there’s no need to snap at me!’ she said indignantly.

‘Sorry, babe!’ Beast reached out across the table and gave her hand a squeeze.
He gave her hand a squeeze and called her babe!
My heart sank. Oh my God! What if Charlie was going to stay behind afterwards, too? What if she was going to give me a secret wink as if to say:
I’ve got Beastie Boy tamed now, Leonie, or whatever your name is: he’s realised we were made for each other
?

Now I was tormented again. It was exhausting, this lurve business. Although Beast had squeezed her hand, he had let go of it again right afterwards. But still, he
had
squeezed her hand! What did it mean? Toby has squeezed my hand literally hundreds of times. He’s hugged me practically every day for the past three years. But it means nothing, romance-wise. He’s just a cuddly friend. Was Beast just being touchy-feely or was he smitten with Charlie?

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21

I watched them closely. Charlie looked secretly pleased with herself, but that was her usual style. Beast looked stressed out and preoccupied, but that was the way he’d been since he started to organise Jailhouse Rock. He was listening closely to Matthew – a triumph of concentration, as Matthew’s voice is about as interesting as a concrete mixer grinding away.

They started talking about security, then ticket sales. Everything hinged on Rose Quartz being available.

‘I think it’s totally unprofessional of her,’ said Charlie, tossing her head. Beast shrugged. ‘She’s being really mean to you.’ Charlie looked at Beast in a way that was both challenging and sympathetic. ‘She uses her sex appeal to get round men. I wish you’d let me deal with her.’

‘OK!’ Beast kind of exploded. It wasn’t a major explosion, just a little quiet one, but Charlie looked shocked for a minute. It seemed this was territory they’d revisited over and over. A little electric moment of irritation seemed to pass between them. Maybe they weren’t an item after all! Or maybe they
were
an item and this was a lovers’ tiff. ‘You deal with her from now on,’ said Beast. I watched like a hawk, but body language can be really hard to interpret.

Charlie tried to look pleased, but you could see she was slightly anxious and trying to think on her feet.

‘You can ring her right away, as we seem to be about finished here,’ said Beast, pushing back his chair and collecting his papers. ‘It’s early afternoon in LA and that’s where she is right now.’

‘OK,’ said Charlie, trying to sound capable even though she was obviously nervous. I mean, who wouldn’t be, trying to ring Rose Quartz?

‘You’ll probably get through to her PA at best,’ said Beast grimly. ‘Or some clerk in her record company. It took me half an hour last time just to get through to her agent’s secretary’s secretary.’

‘Fine,’ said Charlie. ‘Shall I call from our office?’

‘Sure,’ said Beast. ‘I’ll be up in a minute.’ I was afraid that, once they were alone together in their office again, peace would be restored in a series of passionate clinches.

Everybody started packing up their stuff. Charlie went off upstairs. Matthew wanted to raise some dreary detail with Beast.

‘Bye!’ said Harriet and Alex, leaving with their lists of stuff to do. They looked happy. I heard him say, ‘Fancy a coffee?’ as they went downstairs. Ah, bless! I hoped they would fall madly in love. When you’re in this crazy state you want everybody else to be, too.

‘OK, Zoe,’ said Beast, with a kind of sigh. Matthew’s footsteps echoed in the stairwell. Somehow it intensified our aloneness. For me, anyway. He heaved another huge sigh, leaned back in his chair, looked at me and smiled. Sunshine seemed to flood the room even though it was actually dark outside.

‘Phew!’ said Beast, getting up, stretching and opening a window. ‘Handling people isn’t my strong point.’

‘I thought you handled it all brilliantly,’ I said, trying to sound light and airy and throwaway and not too adoring. In the room above we could hear the faint sound of Charlie’s voice, starting her transatlantic phone call.

‘It all depends on Rose Quartz,’ said Beast anxiously. ‘I hate celebs!’

‘But she might have been having a rough time recently,’ I said. ‘According to
Heat
her aunt has breast cancer. It must be really tough, having paparazzi following you everywhere.’ Beast looked thoughtful. ‘You know . . .’ I went on ‘. . . photographing you when you look worried, and selling those photos to all the magazines.’

‘Hmmmm,’ he mused. ‘Well, let’s hope she doesn’t have some kind of meltdown, because we need to put her on the poster.’ He picked up the winning artwork by R Rogers and studied it. ‘Well done for finding this,’ he said. ‘Look at the brilliant way he’s done the face looking through the bars . . .’ This was an invitation to move closer to Beast. I could smell a faint scent, not aftershave or anything, but just the hint of summer rain and citrus. I think it was the smell of his skin. My heart started to pound.

‘Look at those eyebrows,’ he murmured, moving his fingers across the painted face. ‘Sad . . . He’s got it perfectly.’ I wasn’t looking at the painting. I was looking at Beast’s hands.

I think the moment I fell for him, back in Newquay in the summer, was when I was looking at his hands, the night Tam had to go to hospital. His hands are so square and strong and beautiful. I’d longed to touch them then, and I felt exactly the same now. My legs started to tremble.

‘Look at the way he’s used the word “Amnesty” as if it’s the make of guitar,’ said Beast, with an appreciative smile. ‘That’s so clever. We’ll get on to the school tomorrow morning and congratulate them. It’s somebody in Charlie’s mum’s class apparently.’ Charlie seemed to have her finger in every available pie. Her uncle ran Major Events and Matthew had told me that the reason Rose Quartz was willing to top the bill was that Charlie’s uncle had been flatmates with Rose’s manager twenty years ago at uni. Charlie was unbelievably well connected.

‘And the palm tree in the background softens the whole thing,’ mused Beast. I wanted to stand here talking about the artwork all night, even though I was hardly looking at it at all. But eventually Beast gave a satisfied sigh, and handed it to me.

‘OK, Zoe, what I want you to do now,’ he said, resuming a businesslike tone, ‘is to take this to the printer tomorrow morning, if you can. Drop it off on your way to school. I’ve got to go off at the crack of dawn to try and raise more sponsorship. But the printer is right around the corner from where you live. Gutenberg Printers, you know?’ I nodded.

‘Pete’ll add the graphics and send us a draft copy for us to OK, and then we’ll get them printed, I hope by the middle of next week.’ Beast looked nervous. ‘I have to get Rose Quartz to commit by Friday.’

‘Beast!’ Charlie suddenly called from upstairs. ‘Can you come here a moment? I’ve got Nancy Schmidt on the line.’ He was instantly distracted. Our moment together, which had been kind of private and almost tender, was over.

‘Gotta go,’ said Beast with a busy shrug. ‘Thanks so much!’ He was gone. I put the artwork in my satchel and went downstairs.

It was getting windy in the street, and I was happy it was dark. I walked along, heading for the bus station and enjoying the wind buffeting me – my heart soared like a kite. I felt like laughing and crying at the same time. On the corner of Wordsworth Street I met Jess and Fred. They were fighting, but laughing at the same time so it couldn’t be serious.

‘Hi, Zoe!’ grinned Jess. ‘How are you?’

‘What’s going on with you guys?’ I asked.

‘Fred’s being a drama queen about going to the dentist!’ said Jess.

‘God!’ I commented. ‘If only I had a mere dental appointment to worry about. Men are such cowards. My dad’s exactly the same.’

‘So what’s cooking with you?’ asked Fred. ‘Moving swiftly on from the dodgy topic of dentists towards what I hope is a real crisis.’

‘I’ve just come out of a Jailhouse Rock meeting,’ I told them. ‘We’re having the poster printed with Rose Quartz’s name topping the bill, but will she show up on the night?’

‘Oh, are you getting involved in Jailhouse Rock?’ asked Jess. ‘Brilliant! How is poor Beast? He was so stressed out about the poster design last time I saw him.’

‘Oh, the poster’s sorted,’ I assured them. ‘In fact, I’ve got the winning artwork in my bag right now.’

‘Oooh, let’s see!’ demanded Jess. I opened the satchel and got out the artwork.

‘We had a competition among the primary schools,’ I explained. ‘You know how amazing little kids’ art is. I think this is absolutely –’

But before I could embark on my praise of R Rogers’s winning painting, a violent gust of wind snatched it clean out of my hand and it went soaring up into the air and away, over the rooftops of the distant houses and into the dark.