Johnny Be Good (9 page)

Johnny passes Christian a whole bottle of whisky and steps up onto the fibreglass frame. He doesn’t take his shoes off. He falls down onto his back next to me, and Christian and I both groan as the mattress moves beneath us again. Johnny holds out his hand for the whisky and grins.

‘Cheers!’ He chinks our bottles and takes a swig from his before passing the bottle to me.

‘Urgh, no thanks,’ I respond. ‘I don’t know how you can drink it straight like that.’

‘I’m hardcore.’ He grins. ‘So what did you think of the gig?’

‘Fucking excellent, mate,’ Christian says.

‘Really, really good,’ I add.

‘Yeah? You liked it?’ Johnny turns to face me. He pushes Christian’s sock out from in between us. ‘Mate, get your smelly foot out of the way,’

Christian instead presses it onto Johnny’s nose.

‘Ew, that’s disgusting!’ Johnny exclaims, violently shoving it away. Christian does the same to me. His sock is now slightly sweaty and I squawk in disgust as it brushes my lips. Christian finds that more hilarious than ever and soon Johnny starts laughing too. Christian prods me in the ribs with his foot again and I squeal, which is all the encouragement Johnny needs to get involved. Propped up on one elbow with the whisky bottle in his right hand, he hovers above me and starts to tickle me in the ribs with his left. I scream and bat him away as hard as I can as my top starts to ride up. He and Christian guffaw like a couple of
teenagers as opposed to the grown men that they actually are while I lie there panting, trying to recover. Johnny stays propped up on one side and looks down at me, his green eyes laughing.

‘Whisky, Meg?’ He offers me the bottle.

‘Fuck off,’ I tell him. Both he and Christian laugh again. I adjust my top and wipe my eyes to rid myself of more mascara smudges.

It’s then that I notice the crowd outside. The bar is absolutely packed now–all around the pool area, people are standing and sitting–and the vast majority of them are looking at us. Humiliation washes over me and I hurriedly try to sit up. Johnny’s still lying down and seems unbothered about the fact that he’s the centre of every guest’s attention. I glance back out at the crowd and watch as dozens of pairs of eyes dart away from us and surreptitiously dart back again. It’s obvious they’re trying not to look. It’s not cool to stare. Like a bolt out of nowhere, my feelings of embarrassment are replaced with pride. I’m where every single one of those people is dying to be. I look back at Christian, happily.

‘You need another beer, Meg?’ he asks.

‘I’ll get them,’ I reply. ‘You look so comfortable, I can’t bear to make you move,’ I add, jokingly. ‘Anyway, I need the loo.’

Johnny holds out his hand to take my empty bottle while I crawl across to the opening. He pushes on my bum.

‘Oi!’ I shout at him.

‘I’m just trying to help!’ he exclaims. I carry on with my crawling and he pushes my bum again.

‘Stop it!’ I laugh. I reach the fibreglass opening and ungraciously climb out, sliding my feet into my high heels. I turn back to take the empties.

‘You want anything else?’ I ask Johnny.

‘Nah. Still going.’

As I try to walk with confidence from the shiny red pod, I make eye contact with a couple of gorgeous girls and can’t help but feel smug as their lips purse with jealousy.

This is fun!

I arrive at the loos and check my reflection as I wait in the queue. The mascara damage isn’t too bad, thankfully. I smooth down my hair and apply some lipgloss.

On my way out I notice the two groupies that Johnny gave passes to. They’re hovering a few metres away from the pod.
Our
pod. I feel a wave of dislike for them as I grab another couple of beers from a waitress and make my way back to Johnny and Christian. I’m annoyed to find a couple of moody members of the band have encroached on our little party. But they nod at me and even manage a half-smile of recognition as I slip off my shoes and hand Christian our beers before climbing back up onto the waterbed. Johnny is still lying in the middle of the mattress, while Lee and TJ, the drummer and bassist, are leaning against the side, like Christian. I suddenly feel a little uncomfortable about placing myself in the centre with Johnny, so I crawl across to Christian and he edges himself right to make room for me. He hands me back one of the beers.

‘Your groupies are just outside,’ I say to Johnny.

What the hell? WHY did I just tell him that?

‘Really?’ He raises an eyebrow in mild interest, then adds, ‘What do you mean? What groupies?’

I’m sure he knows exactly who I’m talking about, but I play along. ‘The ones you gave passes to at the gig.’

‘Oh, you saw that, did you?’ he asks, amusement lacing his voice.

‘It was pretty hard to miss, mate,’ Christian chips in. ‘In fact, I bet Meg a bag of sweeties that you’d give them aftershow tickets.’

‘Did you, now,’ Johnny says, sardonically, and takes a swig from his whisky. He cranes his neck and glances outside. I follow his gaze. Sure enough, the girls are still standing a few metres away, trying to look sexy. Johnny collapses back down onto the mattress, ignoring them.

‘Shouldn’t really have done that,’ he says, grinning at the four of us in the pod.

‘Yeah, where is Serengeti?’ Christian asks. ‘I thought she was coming tonight.’

‘She’s doing publicity for her new flick,’ Johnny answers. ‘She’s back on Saturday.’

‘I’ll miss her, then,’ Christian says.

‘Why?’ I ask.

‘I fly back to Britain tomorrow.’ He looks down at me.

Oh. I was getting used to Christian’s company. I don’t like the thought of him leaving.

‘That was a short trip,’ I comment, unable to keep the disappointment from my voice.

‘Short and sweet,’ he replies.

‘Did you get enough material for your book?’ I ask.

‘Enough to make a solid start, yeah.’

‘And now he’s got to get back to his girlfriend,’ Johnny adds, in a sing-song voice.

‘And my job, mate,’ Christian is quick to point out.

I want to ask about the girlfriend, but settle on a job question instead. ‘I thought this was your job? Writing the book?’

‘No, this is a spare time jobbie,’ he replies, and laughs at
Johnny’s mock offended face. He turns back to me. ‘I’m a journalist. Music journo. Freelance now, but I do still have deadlines to meet.’

‘So how is Clare?’ Johnny interrupts.

‘Fine,’ Christian replies, a touch abruptly.

‘Say hi to her from me,’ Johnny adds.

Christian’s response is to yawn loudly. ‘Fuck me, I’m jetlagged,’ he says. ‘How’re you feeling, Meg?’

‘Not too bad, actually,’ I reply.

‘Hey, Lola!’ Johnny’s attention is suddenly distracted by a girl walking by. She turns around and pokes her head inside the pod.

‘Hey, Johnny,’ she drawls in an American accent. ‘Been a while.’

Lola’s dark hair is tied up into a high ponytail and her fringe has been backcombed and pinned back. She’s absolutely stunning.

Johnny pats the mattress next to him and asks her to get in, but she hesitates.

‘Come on,’ he urges. ‘Come and meet my best mate, Christian. I’ve known him all my life. He’s flying back to the UK tomorrow. And this is my new PA, Meg,’ he adds about me, almost as an afterthought. ‘You know TJ and Lee.’

She scans the rest of us and a small smile forms on her dark-red lips.

‘Come on,’ Johnny urges again.

Why is he so desperate for her to join us? I think to myself, irritably. We were having such fun just the three of us. Well, okay, five of us, but TJ and Lee have barely said a word since I got back so they don’t really count. Actually, are they stoned?

Never mind that now, it appears Lola has been swayed.

Johnny gets up onto his knees, looking a million times cooler than Christian or I did when we tried to do that earlier, and edges his way towards the pod’s opening while Lola takes off her shoes. Johnny holds out his hands to her and gently helps her into the pod. She doesn’t laugh like we did, and she doesn’t look ungainly getting in, either.

I feel intimidated by her.

‘Come and lie in the middle with me,’ Johnny says.

‘No, I’ll sit up against the wall,’ she replies, crawling–actually quite sexily, goddammit–to the side and turning around to face us. Johnny follows her and settles himself beside her.

‘So, how do you like LA?’ Lola asks Christian. ‘Have you been here before?’

‘Loads of times,’ he replies.

‘Can’t get rid of ya, can I, mate!’ Johnny jokes.

Lola doesn’t laugh. ‘Have you worked for Johnny long?’ she asks me.

‘Only about a week and a half,’ I reply.

‘Good luck with that,’ she says, drily.

‘Oi!’ Johnny slaps her thigh. ‘Enough of that. Did you watch the gig?’

‘No. Had band practice.’

He narrows his eyes jokingly, but I can tell he’s disappointed. ‘Lola’s the lead singer of Spooky Girl,’ he explains to Christian and me.

‘Ah,’ Christian nods, impressed. ‘I thought I recognised you. I’ve heard some of your stuff. Really cool.’

‘Thanks,’ she replies. ‘You should come to a gig next time you’re over.’

‘I’d love to,’ he says.

‘You too,’ she says to me. ‘Anytime you want.’

‘Great!’ I reply, overenthusiastically. Did that sound as forced as it felt?

Johnny laughs. ‘Meg, you’re hilarious,’ he says, shaking his head. ‘You wouldn’t know a Spooky Girl song if it leapt out of the stereo and whacked you round the bazookas.’

I blush, furiously.

‘That’s not very fair,’ Lola says, defending me. ‘We haven’t really taken off overseas yet…’

‘Even if you had, Meg wouldn’t know about it. She’s into Kylie.’

‘Kylie’s cool,’ Lola replies, nonchalantly. ‘Nothing wrong with that.’

Hmm, maybe she’s not so bad after all.

‘Can we smoke in here?’ she asks.

‘Dunno,’ Johnny replies, but digs into his pocket and pulls out a crumpled packet of fags anyway. He offers her one, but she declines.

‘Got my roll-ups,’ she says.

‘Suit yourself,’ Johnny responds, shaking out one of his own cigarettes and popping it into his mouth. It hangs on his lower lip as he turns to light her roll-up first, before seeing to his own. He shoves the packet and lighter back into his pocket.

I watch as Lola smokes her cigarette. Her fingernails are cut short and painted the darkest red. I glance down at her toenails and notice they match. Her feet are slim and tanned, and she’s wearing a short, metallic silver dress with a belt wrapped around the middle.

I realise I’m staring and quickly look away, hoping she hasn’t noticed.

‘I think I’m going to call it a night soon,’ Christian says to me. ‘You want to hitch a ride? Save Davey doing two trips?’

‘Mate, you’re not talking about leaving, are you?’ Johnny moans, eavesdropping.

‘Yep, I’m ready to call it a night.’

‘Hey, hey!’ Bill’s face appears at one of the entrances to the pod. ‘This is where the party’s at, is it? Room for a little one?’ He grins, patting his rotund stomach with both hands.

I really don’t want to stay without Christian. But I’m not sure I’m ready to leave yet.

Christian exits the pod and turns back. ‘You sticking around?’ he asks me.

‘Um…’ I look over at Johnny, who has twisted himself slightly to face Lola. I’ll only feel left out if I stay.

‘Yes, I’m coming,’ I decide.

There are not as many eyes on me as I leave the pod behind this time. Most people are staring in at Johnny. And Lola, I realise. The groupies are standing by too, looking a little desperate now, and I feel a wave of pity for them. I don’t think they’re going to get what they came here for. Not tonight, at least. Although I might be wrong. I still don’t really know Johnny at all.

Bollocks to swimming. And bollocks to Fruity Pebbles. But yay to Ibuprofen! Lots of it!

Yes, I have a stonking hangover. And what did I expect? Whisky, beer, champagne…Whoops. The thought of any alcohol at all makes me want to throw up.

We didn’t get home until 3 a.m. last night. And at six, I got a call from Johnny asking me to get him a suite at the Standard. I felt like my eyes had been doused in vinegar so I went back to sleep. Now it’s ten o’clock and I’ve just woken up. I don’t know how I’ll get any work done today.

Somehow I manage to drag myself downstairs to the kitchen. Rosa’s cheerful voice hurts my head, but her coffee helps it. I go into the office and get started on my emails.

Christian appears an hour later.

‘Is your head as fucked as mine?’ he asks.

‘Yeah. Do you know what?’ I laugh. ‘I’ve never known anyone to swear as much as you.’

He chuckles, then grimaces. ‘Ouch, don’t make me do that. I
used to work in a magazine office and we swore like troopers,’ he explains. ‘My favourite swearword is cu—’

‘ARGH! Don’t say that one!’

He laughs at my outburst. ‘No, the girlfriend doesn’t like that one, either.’

I smile. ‘So, are you all packed?’

‘Yep. Well, I never unpacked in the first place,’ he admits. ‘Too bloody lazy for that.’

‘Johnny stayed at the Standard last night,’ I tell him.

‘Really?’ He gives me a knowing look. ‘I might not catch him before I leave, then. I’ll come and say bye before I go. I’m going to give Johnny a call.’

He doesn’t come down again for some time, and when he does, his notepad is in his hand.

‘He alright?’ I ask.

‘Bit rough.’ Christian grins. ‘I don’t think he’ll be making an appearance here anytime soon. Right, kiddo, you look after yourself.’ Christian comes round to the side of my desk with his arms open. I stand up and he engulfs me in a warm hug. ‘Don’t let that boy push you around. If he does, he’ll have me to answer to.’ He smiles down at me. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out his wallet and flips it open, easing out a business card.

‘My contact numbers and email address are on there. Get in touch if you ever need anything.’

‘Aw, thank you,’ I say.

‘I mean it,’ he insists. ‘Anything at all. And I mean it about Johnny, too. Don’t let him push you around. Keep your feet on the ground. Don’t get swept up in any showbiz crap.’

‘Don’t worry, I won’t.’

The buzzer goes.

‘There’s my ride. Take care. And see you soon!’ He leans down and gives me another quick hug, and walks out of the office. I hear him call out his goodbyes to Rosa and then he’s gone.

I feel surprisingly sad. The place just won’t be the same without him.

Oh no! I forgot to buy him that bag of sweets! Next time.

The day passes by slowly. I’ve got a better idea now about which publications Johnny approves of and which to avoid. As journalists call about last night’s gig, I’m able to decipher which photoshoot and interview requests to tentatively accept, and which ones to gently let down.

At six o’clock I get a call from the man himself.

‘Hi!’ I say. ‘How’s it going?’

His voice sounds as rough as sandpaper. ‘Would you call room service and order me bacon and eggs? And some fresh towels would be good, too.’

‘Of course,’ I tell him. ‘You want me to book you in for another night?’

‘No, I’ll be home soon. In fact, can you get Davey here for eight?’

‘Consider it done.’

‘Thanks.’ He hangs up.

He doesn’t actually arrive home until ten o’clock that night, after keeping Davey waiting for two hours. I’m struggling to keep my eyes open, but I stay up in case he needs me to microwave something from Rosa’s meal stash.

‘No, you’re alright, Meg. I’m having an early one,’ he says, making his way groggily up the stairs, still in his outfit from the night before, but with the addition of sunglasses. I feel anxious as I watch him leave, and then hit the sack soon afterwards myself.

The next morning is Saturday and, according to the manual, that means I’m entitled to a lie-in. All being well, of course.

The house is silent–Rosa doesn’t work on weekends and I presume Johnny is still in bed, recovering. I wonder if Christian had a good flight home.

I can’t be bothered to swim my laps this morning so I try calling Bess, instead.

‘Did you go to his gig, or what?’ she immediately butts in.

‘Yep.
And
the aftershow party. Oh, it was such a laugh. There were these waterbeds and Johnny and Christian were tickling me and everyone was looking…’ My voice trails off. It sounds like I’m boasting.

‘Who’s Christian?’ she asks.

I tell her.

‘Nice?’ she queries.

‘Very. Not like that,’ I quickly add. ‘I mean, he’s nice-looking and stuff, but I don’t fancy him.’

‘Just like you don’t fancy Johnny,’ she says, teasingly.

‘Oi! Will you stop it? He’s my boss. I don’t fancy him. And anyway, even if I did it’s not like anything would ever, ever happen. God, this is so embarrassing–imagine if he overheard me talking like this. I’d bloody well die! Anyway, he’s a bit bizarre at times.’

‘Go on…’

‘Yesterday evening he called me from the hotel he was staying at, asking for room service and fresh towels.’

‘So?’ Bess queries.

‘He called
me
rather than the front desk,’ I explain.

‘Oh, right,’ she says. ‘How funny. So come on, then, when can I come and visit?’

‘Ohhh,’ I moan, ‘I really don’t know. Maybe if he goes away sometime you could?’

‘What’s the point in that? I want to meet the sex god!’

‘You can come and visit soon,’ I answer, a little uncomfortably.

After we hang up, I head downstairs to the kitchen. Rosa has left enough food to feed a small army for the weekend and I check the fridge now to see if there’s anything I fancy for a fast-approaching lunch. I hear a noise and turn around to find Johnny at the doorway.

‘You alright?’ he asks, yawning. He’s wearing only a white T-shirt and boxer shorts.

‘Yeah, good thanks.’ I look away. ‘Just thinking about lunch. You want anything?’

‘What is there? I haven’t even had breakfast yet,’ he says.

‘I could make you something? Bacon and eggs? Cereal?’

‘Don’t give me any of that crap you and Christian were eating.’ He grins at me, sleepily.

I smile. ‘How the hell did it end up in your house anyway, if you don’t like it?’

‘Dunno,’ he replies. ‘Paola probably bought it. She was into freaky shit like that.’

I don’t like the thought of Paola and me having the same taste. I already feel a bit like her ghost is hanging over me every time I read her manual. I want to make changes and put my own stamp on the job, but apart from forgetting to cross out Penelope Cruz’s name under Tom Cruise’s entry in the Rolodex and adding Katie Holmes and Suri instead, Paola seems to be the epitome of organisation.

‘So did Christian get off okay?’ Johnny asks. ‘No, don’t worry, Meg, I’ll just have whatever you’re having,’ he adds, seeing me opening cupboards to check what other cereal might be on offer.

‘I was thinking I’d have some of Rosa’s lamb stew,’ I say.

‘Sounds good.’

‘Yes, Christian got off okay,’ I answer his earlier question.

‘Was he pissed I wasn’t here to say goodbye in person?’

‘No, I don’t think so,’ I reply. ‘I forgot to buy him his Skittles.’

Johnny looks confused for a moment then realises what I’m talking about.

‘Ah, your little groupie bet.’

‘Yes, our little groupie bet.’ I smile. ‘So did you get lucky that night?’ I don’t know why I suddenly feel comfortable enough to have this conversation with him, but for some reason I do.

‘Nope.’ He shakes his head and scratches his stomach, showing off his navel again.

‘Not even with Lola?’ I stir the stew and attempt to look indifferent.

‘Ha!’ He lets out a little laugh. ‘Not bloody likely. She wouldn’t go near me with a bargepole. Sadly…’ he adds, cocking his head to one side.

I feel a spike of jealousy again.

‘So when’s Christian coming back?’

‘Why?’ He eyes me somewhat suspiciously.

‘I’m just curious.’

‘Dunno,’ he shrugs. ‘Depends on his work, I guess. And whether Clare lets him out of her sight.’

‘Has he been with his girlfriend long?’ I ask, leaning against the countertop.

‘Couple of years. Why?’ Again, suspicion.

‘I’m just curious!’ I overemphasise. Surely Johnny doesn’t think I fancy Christian, does he?

‘Humph,’ he responds.

I serve up the stew and slice some bread, bringing it and the plates to the table, along with some butter.

‘What’s she like?’ I ask.

‘Who? Clare?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Why do you want to know so much about Christian’s girlfriend?’ His green eyes confront me across the table.

‘I liked him,’ I tell Johnny, pedantically. ‘No, not like
that
,’ I add when I see his face.

‘I don’t know,’ Johnny answers. ‘I haven’t met her.’

‘You haven’t met your best mate’s girlfriend and he’s been with her for two years?’ I’m incredulous.

‘No.’ His reply is blunt.

‘Why not?’

‘Jesus, Meg, quit with the questions!’

I’m about to challenge him, but then I remember my place, which is not to argue.

‘Sorry.’

We eat in grumpy silence for a few minutes. Finally Johnny speaks. ‘So what are you up to today?’

‘I don’t know.’

My iPhone rings.

‘Excuse me,’ I say to Johnny and put it to my ear. ‘Meg Stiles?’

‘Meg! It’s Kitty!’ comes the reply.

‘Hello! How are you?’ I put my fork down on my plate and turn away from Johnny. He continues to eat his food.

‘Great! Can you talk?’

‘Um…’ I glance across at my boss. ‘We’re just having some lunch.’

‘Lunch with Johnny?’

‘Mmmhmm.’

‘You are soooo lucky…’

‘Anyway!’

‘Anyway, anyway, I won’t keep you from him, I just wanted to ask if you were up to anything tonight?’

‘Oh. No, I don’t think I am.’

‘It’s just that Rod’s out of town and I kinda fancy a night out. Do you want to come?’

‘Let me check that’s okay.’

Johnny looks up at me, enquiringly. I cover the phone’s receiver with my hand and tell him. He nods.

When I hang up. Johnny’s looking at me with interest.

‘Where are you going?’

‘Oh. I forgot to ask.’

‘I’m sure she’ll know all the hip places,’ he comments.

And she does. Kitty is taking me to the Skybar, which is the residents’ bar at the Mondrian hotel–but it’s not just any hotel bar. It’s a hang-out for countless celebs and is up in the hills with spectacular views overlooking the city. It also has a swimming pool and is conjoined with Asia de Cuba, the restaurant Johnny took Serengeti to the other night. I agree with Johnny: they should have sat out on the terrace. It’s much nicer.

The doorman recognises Kitty immediately and ushers us in. It’s still warm and sunny, and we head in the direction of the pool, past a group of gorgeous young socialites, who are chilling out on sunloungers, even though they’re fully dressed.

Kitty and I perch upon a gigantic cream ten-foot-square beanbag, and a waitress comes over and takes our order. We opt for Mojito cocktails.

This city clearly has an inclination towards vertically challenged
furniture, because, just like the waterbed the other night, it’s not easy to sit upright on this beanbag thing. But the atmosphere is relaxed, so we lie back and prop ourselves up on our elbows to talk.

There are three guys sitting opposite us who look like they could be in a rock band. One of the guys strips off his white vest to reveal a tattooed, tanned torso.

Kitty sighs. ‘You’ve gotta love LA,’ she says.

‘Is this where you’re from?’ I ask.

‘No.’ She rummages around in her Gucci handbag and pulls out a pair of designer sunglasses, slipping them onto her face. ‘I grew up in Chicago. My family are all still there.’

‘Do you miss them?’

‘Sometimes.’ She shrugs. ‘But Rod keeps me so busy it’s hard to miss anyone or anything.’

‘What’s he like to work with?’ I ask.

‘He’s good fun. He bought me this bag,’ she says, lifting it up.

‘Wow!’ I exclaim. ‘Was it your Christmas present or something?’

‘No, for Christmas he got me a car.’

‘No way!’

‘Yes way. He got me this,’ she holds up the bag again, ‘because I fibbed to his fourth wife for him.’

‘Oh.’ I giggle, awkwardly.

She shrugs. ‘I knew she’d find out about his latest affair sooner or later, anyway. And she did,’ she adds. ‘They just got divorced.’

That’s right. I remember her telling Charlie this at Serengeti’s premiere party.

‘Is he a bit of a lech, then?’ I ask.

‘No, not a lech. He’s always been the perfect gentleman to me,’ she clarifies, just in case I was wondering, which I was…‘He just loves women. And can’t keep his hands off them.’

A busty Asian girl in a skimpy gold bikini and heavy dark eye make-up walks down the steps into the pool. She submerges herself, tilting her head so her long black hair falls slick and wet down her back.

‘I can’t imagine going for a swim here in front of all these people,’ I remark.

‘No, me neither,’ Kitty replies. ‘But if I had a body like that, I would.’

‘You’re not far off,’ I say. I’m not actually lying. She’s super-slim.

She laughs. ‘Thanks.’ She turns to me, eagerly. ‘Hey, shall we order some nachos?’

I always thought everyone in LA would be a diet nut and gym freak, so it’s refreshing to meet someone who’s actually normal when it comes to food.

We call the waitress over and order a couple more Mojitos to go with our nachos. Then we lie back and enjoy the scenery in the last of the day’s sunshine. The Asian babe is now leaning out of the side of the pool flirting with the shirtless rock star guy.

‘Hello, hello.’

I follow Kitty’s gaze towards the door. Isla Montagne has just walked in, closely followed by a group of girls, one of whom I recognise to be Charlie.