My Secret Rockstar Boyfriend (17 page)

Seymour obviously thinks he’s being smart, and this is just a well-known song. Then again, he can be a bit passive-aggressive at times.

I’m watching him so closely that I am nearly knocked off my feet when Nishi suddenly pushes past me and through the crowd towards the loo. I’m almost glad of the distraction as I am
forced to follow her.

When I burst into the ladies’ loos, both of the cubicles are engaged but Nishi is standing by the sinks, leaning against the wall with her arms up by her face. The walls are slightly
sweaty and scratched with crap graffiti, and the whole room is damp and smells of wee – she must be really out of it.

‘Nish, are you all right?’ I ask her soothingly, putting a hand on her shoulder and rubbing slightly – as she’s obviously ill, I think this gesture will be appreciated
rather than brushed off for once. I like having my back rubbed if I feel like I’m going to puke. ‘If it’s an emergency, do you want me to see if I can get someone out of the
cubicle?’

Her response is so muffled I can barely hear it. To be on the safe side, I prepare to shout through the flimsy doors that someone needs to get out of there quick before my drunk friend vomits in
the sink. I give Nishi’s shoulder another quick rub for good measure as I do so.

‘Didn’t you hear me?’ she says, more loudly this time. ‘I
said
leave me alone. Get out of here.’

As she turns to face me, I realize with agonizing, face-palming slowness that she is not ill but crying. Uncontrollably.

‘Go away,’ she continues, trying and failing to stop sobbing, and furiously wiping away a thick rivulet of snot. ‘I can’t stand to be around you at the moment. If it
wasn’t for you, Anna and I might still be together. Now I’ve got nothing and you’ve still got your stupid, good-looking boyfriend. Well, I hope you’re happy. I just
can’t look at your face right now. Leave me alone, OK? I mean it, and not just tonight. I’ve got to get out of here.’

Nishi flees the room, sending the door swinging after her. I can hear waves of bass rumble flashing in and out. I’m still standing there in the toilets, completely flabbergasted, when one
of the stall doors opens and a pretty girl about my age comes out to wash her hands – having heard the full conversation she obviously thinks I’ve done something heinous to break up my
friend and her girlfriend and shoots me a dirty look as she barges past me. Maybe she’s actually right – I wish I knew. Maybe if Nishi ever talked to me about anything important,
I’d have some idea. If I thought it was worth following Nish, then I would, but I know it would not only be hopeless but probably make things worse.

I feel guilty all over again when I see that Seymour’s set has finished. He is standing by the stage talking to a girl I don’t recognize. Fortunately he doesn’t seem to realize
I missed the end, as he looks cheerful enough and waves me over to join them.

‘Hey, Chew,’ he says with a slightly twisted smile. ‘This is Sophie – she’s Jack, our bass player’s, sister. Sophie, this is, um, Tuesday.’

‘Hi.’ I smile at her, as they both go awkwardly silent.

‘Did you enjoy the set? It went really well, didn’t it?’ He doesn’t wait for me to reply. ‘Now of course you can see why I can’t just give up on the band like
my mum wants me to. What we’re doing is really important.’

‘Definitely,’ Sophie agrees. ‘I mean, I totally agree.’

‘By the way, Chew?’ Seymour goes on, smiling at me in the same weird way. ‘I wanted to talk to you about something. You know that blog post you did about Terminal
Ghosts?’

‘Oh, I’m glad you saw it already. I just thought it would be a cool idea to—’

‘Yeah, I’m sure you did – and it
was
a nice thought. It’s just, maybe you could ask me in future before you do anything like that. Jack and Futoshi – and
me, to be honest – well, we weren’t sure you really get what we’re trying to do. I mean, we’re trying to build up a brand and it’s really important that any press
reflects the right influences and that kind of thing.’

‘Oh. I just thought . . . Never mind. OK. Sorry.’

‘I know you probably didn’t think, because it’s just such a small blog and hardly anyone reads it, but we still need to make sure it sends the right message,’ he ploughs
on. ‘Maybe next time you could do a proper interview with us and we could have copy approval first.’

If Seymour had talked to me about this on my own, then I might have tried to argue. But Sophie is looking at me like I’m a total idiot and she feels sorry for me, which makes me just want
to get off the subject as quickly as possible. I wonder if that might be why he chose to bring it up in front of some random girl, and if that’s why he’s looking so shifty about it.

‘Anyway, well done tonight,’ I tell him. ‘It was great; you were really good. I’ve got to run though. Nishi’s waiting for me outside – we’ve got to go,
and I’m staying round at hers tonight. So I’ll probably see you at college on Monday. I’ve got an English paper in the afternoon.’

Once I’ve escaped outside into the street I try my best to build up some sort of righteous anger to power my walk home. It doesn’t work and I remain slow and heavy; I only quicken my
pace through necessity when I come to the end of the brightly lit high street and realize that it was stupid to walk home alone at night just because I’m in a bad mood.

Then, as I reach the safety of my road, a horribly guilty thought hits me and the whole thing seems far, far worse. I’ve heard Seymour’s band before and thought they were good. Maybe
the difference isn’t them. I mean, it’s unlikely that they’ve suddenly got worse at playing their instruments. Maybe the problem is me. I used to like Seymour’s band because
I used to like him
. Once this thought has entered my head, I can’t unthink it. I wish I could. I really, really wish I could. My own treachery is making me into a horrible person
– here I am picking holes in Seymour’s musical ability, when I’m the one who doesn’t even want to go out with him any more. I’m the one in the wrong, yet I’m
inwardly snarking at him for not being as good a songwriter as Jackson Griffith. I am the worst human being possible.

When I finally make it home, I let myself in quietly, glad that the house is empty and in darkness. My mum’s out on another date with Richard Jenkins tonight and it’s still pretty
early, so I’ve got the place to myself. I’ll probably eat some cereal and watch TV for a while.

As I switch on the sitting-room light, there is an ear-piercing scream and a commotion that gets me all disorientated. My first crazed thought is that it must be burglars, but then I realize
that my mum and a man who is presumably Richard Jenkins have sprung up off the sofa.

Thankfully –
thankfully –
they are both fully clothed, but my mum’s dress is unbuttoned halfway down the front and Richard Jenkins is hastily wiping lipstick off his
face. I stand there and wish that the earth would swallow me whole.

‘Oh, Chew!’ my mum exclaims in a high-pitched symphony of humiliation. ‘I thought you were staying at Nishi’s tonight. I mean, of course it’s fine that you’re
home. What I mean is, we were just having a little lie-down. Oh god, this is embarrassing – you’re a legal adult, for goodness sake. Sorry. You caught us out there. Tuesday, this is
Richard. Richard, this is my daughter, Tuesday.’

‘Hello,’ Richard says, understandably not quite meeting my eye.

‘Hi.’

‘Now –’ my mum laughs with admirable aplomb – ‘after that legendarily awkward introduction, let’s all be civilized and sit down and have a drink
together.’

She scuttles into the kitchen where, as well as getting us all a drink, she is hopefully going to do up her dress. I’m not exactly desperate to hang around making polite conversation with
her new boyfriend after seeing him groping my mum on the sofa, but it would be too rude and immature to run upstairs immediately after that.

‘So . . . good evening?’ Richard asks me.

‘Yes, thanks. I went to see a gig in town.’

I really don’t want to elaborate any more than that. Richard seems OK; he’s actually not bad-looking – for a middle-aged person, I mean – and he is being perfectly nice.
But I’ve got too much on my mind to want to make small talk with strangers in my own house. Besides, who knows how long he’ll hang around? Getting attached to my mum’s boyfriends
is something that I learned a very long time ago not to do – it never ends well.

‘So, you’re taking your A levels at the moment, I believe.’

‘Yes, that’s right.’ I smile very tightly.

Fortunately my mum comes in then with three cups of coffee on a tray.

‘Good evening, darling?’ she asks, and again I nod vaguely.

‘You?’

‘Fabulous, thanks. We went to that new Spanish bar in town, which was lovely.’

‘Great. Listen, it was really nice to meet you, Richard; thanks for the coffee, Mum. But, um, I’ve got a lot of revision to do and I don’t want to cramp your style, so I might
just take mine upstairs, if you don’t mind.’

‘Good idea, darling. Oh, before you go – I just wanted to run something by you. Richard and I were talking tonight, and you remember I said we were thinking of going on a mini-break
to Bruges? Well, we’ve found a great last-minute deal. The only thing is, it’s next weekend. I know your last A level isn’t until the following Monday – so we’ll leave
on Thursday and be back on the Sunday night in time for your final exam. Does that sound OK?’

‘That sounds great, Mum. I know you’ve always wanted to go there. Actually, it’ll probably be good to have a quiet house for some last-minute revision that weekend.’

‘Well, I know how serious you are about English, so I don’t mind leaving you alone for the weekend. I know I can trust you to be an adult about it. I’ll be around to give you a
lift into college on the Monday – you don’t want to have to worry about walking or getting the bus when you’ve got your important exam to think about. That’ll work out fine
then!’

‘Definitely. Thanks, Mum. Night-night.’

As I close the door firmly behind me and walk up the stairs with my cup of coffee, I wonder whether this really is a sign or if I just have an evil mind.

To: Tuesday Cooper

From: jackson evan griffith

I saw your website tonight. i don’t wanna get all macho on you and kick up about this. I know it’s not my right and the thing I like best about you (actually one of
many, to be accurate) is that you are so much your own person.

But I gotta admit . . . it felt like a kick in the teeth. It’s my own fault. I’ve gotten ahead of myself and I know I have a real tendency to think I’m the centre of the
universe. I know I’m an egomaniac and I’m sorry.

It’s just . . . I was starting to think there was really something between us. I kinda forgot about your ‘boyfriend’. I just assumed you weren’t together any more. I
guess it was wishful thinking . . . ?

I’d still love it if you wanted to come to Glastonbury. You haven’t said, so I’m not holding my breath. Please?

Yours,

J xxx

To: jackson evan griffith

From: Tuesday Cooper

One word. Yes.

Glastonbury – let’s do it. I’m in.

I’m sorry. The world has become very strange. I’m probably not handling it all in the best way. No excuses, but I’m not used to all this. I’m always doing things because
I think it’s for the best and I want everyone to be happy, but at the moment I only seem to make things worse.

But the stars have aligned. I am throwing caution to the wind. How can I not?! I don’t want to get carried away with myself either, but you’re right. There is something between us. I
don’t know what, but . . . I don’t want to embarrass myself here, but it’s not like anything I’ve ever experienced before.

Most of all, I just really want to go. (I would also like, more than anything, to see you again.)

If you’d still like me to, I’d love to come with you. Let’s talk and make a plan – ring me when you can, OK?

RT
⁶
xxx

I feel like I’m on a secret date. All right, like I’m on
another
secret date. This time, there is no grey area: I really do feel as if I’m cheating.
That’s probably because I am. I intend to, anyway.

I’m sitting in Macari’s, watching the door like a particularly paranoid hawk. When she walks in, I’m surprised at how nice it is to see her.

‘Anna, I’ve missed you!’

‘Oh, Chew – me too. I’m so glad you texted me.’

I stand up to greet her and we fall into each other’s arms. We squeeze each other tight and hang on, not letting go for at least a full ten seconds. Although I’m usually proud of the
fact that Nishi and I have (had?) a less typical female friendship, I have to admit that it’s lovely just to have a proper squishy hug from a real friend. We’re both a bit damp-eyed but
also grinning by the time we break apart.

Anna still looks as pretty as ever, but she’s not in the best shape I’ve ever seen her. Her eyes are tired and I suspect she might have lost weight, even though – unlike me
– she didn’t really have any to lose in the first place.

We order milkshakes and chips and settle into a tucked-away booth at the back. Luckily the place is quiet.

‘How are you?’ I ask her.

‘I’ve been better, to be honest. And you?’

‘Snap. To be honest,’ I reply carefully.

‘How’s Nish?’ Anna asks quietly.

‘Well, that’s the thing. I don’t know. We had a big fight last Saturday night; ever since then I’ve been trying to catch up with her at college, but she’s totally
avoiding me.’

‘
What?
’ Anna looks genuinely shocked. ‘You two are such best mates! I don’t understand it. First she dumps me and then she dumps you. What the hell has gone
wrong with that girl?’

‘Hang on. What did you say?
She
dumped
you
? She’s been acting all crazy and she told me you guys had broken up, but then she refused to talk about it – but
she’s been so upset I just presumed it was you who broke up with her. Oh, and she blamed me, by the way.’

As I add this last sentence for good measure, I am ashamed to note that I’m pleased to see Anna looking appropriately shocked and furious.