Remember My Name (12 page)

His fingers lingered on the side of my face, touching my cheek gently, looking at me as if he still couldn’t believe I was actually there, in front of him.

I felt exactly the same, and we both started to grin like idiots—idiots behaving like easily amused teenagers. Because when we were together, that was still what we were—it was like the intervening years hadn’t even taken place. It was the most relaxed, the most happy, I’d felt for … well, years. Having Daniel back felt like a missing puzzle piece was slotting into place, and that everything in the world would be much better with him in it.

We might have changed—he certainly had, which I hoped I’d stop noticing very soon—but at heart, we were still the same. Still friends. And boy, did I need a friend.

‘Listen,’ I said, breaking the moment, ‘I’m completely
knackered, but do you want to come to mine for a bit? Because guess what—I live above a kebab shop, and I get free donners whenever I want them!’

He opened his eyes in fake amazement, and let out a slow whistle of appreciation.

‘Well, looks like you’ve really lucked out there, Jessy—and yeah, I’d love to … you know I could never resist a free kebab.’

‘Brilliant!’ I said. ‘I’ll just nip to the staff room and get my bag. It’s been a confusing night—I’m all over the place. Give me a sec.’

I dashed to the door, keen to grab my gear and run. I wasn’t sure if I was Jess the Waitress, or Jessica the Singer, but I did know one thing—I was definitely just Jessy with Daniel, and that would be good enough for me. At least for the next few hours.

Before I could leave, the door was pulled open in front of me. I did a rapid hop, skip, and a jump to avoid falling over as my hands grasped in thin air for a handle that was no longer there, and possibly uttered a few of the kinds of words I must definitely never, ever use with reporters around.

I steadied myself, and looked up to see Jack smiling down at me. Jack. My kind-of boyfriend. My definite lover. My potential career-maker. The man who I knew I owed everything to.

Just then, though, I realised that I wasn’t happy to see him. The usual rush of affection and excitement I got when he walked into a room was missing in action; and the grin that
would normally be making me weak at the knees right about now wasn’t hitting its mark tonight.

In fact, it felt wrong, him being there at all—I just wanted to climb in that time machine with Daniel, and enjoy a ride all the way from our shared past back to the future. Plus, I was a bit worried he was here to give me a tongue lashing about my last interview, and that Patty might follow him in with a cat o’ nine tails to give me an actual lashing.

‘Jess!’ he said, scooping me up into a hug. ‘Well done! Patty’s just been chatting up the room, and we can expect some great coverage tomorrow. You did a superb job, and …’

His voice trailed off, and I felt his hold on me slacken. I knew exactly what had happened—he’d noticed Daniel standing behind me.

Which must have been weird for him. I mean, there’s this mysterious big shot record producer you’ve invited down to London to chat up. And there’s your kind-of girlfriend, definite lover, who’s just given an impromptu show in front of some of the most influential people in the music industry. And the two of them—who, as far as you know, have never met—are having a chinwag in the backstage dressing room.

‘Wellsy, hello again,’ he said, pulling away from me and walking instead towards Daniel. I waited, wondering if Daniel would ask him to use his proper name—his ‘real world’ name.

He didn’t. Jack was obviously firmly marked off as being from his fake world.

He stood up and shook Jack’s hand, suddenly looking a lot less relaxed than he had moments ago, when we were on our own.

‘I see you two have met?’ Jack said, glancing between us, eyes trying to assess the situation and its weirdness levels.

‘Yeah,’ I replied, walking over and poking Daniel in the stomach. ‘We met when we were one, and his parents moved in next door to us. We lost touch years ago, and tonight was …’

‘Your big reunion?’ asked Jack, giving us both an easy smile, full of charm. ‘That’s fantastic. Jess, I think you’re going to wake up to a very different life tomorrow—and maybe Wellsy, if he agrees to join us, will even be able to work with you. It’d obviously be the perfect match.’

And, I silently added, knowing he would be thinking it, a fantastic media story: high-school friends back together to conquer the music world.

I cast my eyes at Daniel, who now had his hands shoved in his jeans pockets and had adopted that slightly awkward stance I always associated with him. The one that said ‘leave me alone’ just as clearly as it would if it was printed up on a T-shirt. It was his retreat position—the one he used most of the time as a kid, protecting himself from the pressure of the social life going on around him, from people he didn’t like and didn’t trust.

I’d never been part of that group of people—and I desperately didn’t want to be now.

‘Maybe that’s something you can talk to Da—I mean, Wellsy, about tomorrow, Jack. I’m pretty wiped out, and was planning on going home. Is there anything else you need me to do?’

He turned back to me, and reached out to hold my hand. He raised it to his lips and gave it a kiss, and I must confess
to feeling a tiny bit of a jiggle down below. Jack knew exactly what buttons to press, and much as I wanted to head out to Kebabsville with Daniel, I found myself staring into the deep brown of Jack’s eyes, trying to read the signals. That certain look he always gave me—a half-smile, a raised eyebrow, a wicked gleam of very white teeth—that, translated, said, ‘Hey, babe, would you like to be reduced to orgasmic rubble tonight?’

It was there. The quirk of the lips, the slight pressure of his fingers holding mine. It was there, and it was hard to resist.

I was still trying to resist it—trying very hard—when Daniel walked towards the door.

‘Jessy,’ he said, giving me a little salute. ‘It’s been awesome, as usual. And we will catch up, soon, I promise.’

‘But, what about the kebab?’ I spluttered, trying to pull my hand away from Jack’s and finding that he was holding on to it, just a little bit too tightly.

‘Tempting, but not tonight. I’m sure you’re exhausted, anyway. Huge congrats, though—looks like you might save the planet after all, Jess. I’ll give you a call, okay?’

‘You don’t have my number! And I don’t have yours! I might not see you again for another five years!’ I bleated, knowing that I sounded pathetic.

I was trapped—physically and emotionally—between the two of them. In other circumstances, being sandwiched between the smooth, chocolate-drop sexiness of Jack and the brand-new, movie-star-hot Daniel would have had its appeal—but just then I wasn’t feeling it.

‘Don’t worry,’ said Jack, finally letting go of my hand,
‘I’ve got both numbers, and I’ll pass them on. As long as you promise to tell me all the gossip about Jess as a teenager, Wellsy.’

Daniel gave him a small smile, nodded, and left.

I
woke up the next morning with a throat like sandpaper, and hair that closely resembled something you might enter for the Turner Prize.

It had been near to four by the time I’d made it back to my flat, dozing away in the back of the cab I’d ordered from Jack’s place. He had, indeed, reduced me to orgasmic rubble that night—even more energetically than usual.

We’d both been wired, and high on the adrenalin, and had channelled it all into the wildest sex we’d ever had. As soon as we walked through the door to his place, he had me pinned up against a wall, kissing my neck and murmuring delicious filth about what he wanted to do to me into my ear.

One hand was tugging my blouse out of my skirt, and the other was sliding to the tops of my stockings, probing and stroking and edging ever upwards until I was incapable of doing much more than sigh and squeal.

By the time he carried me into the bedroom with my legs wrapped around his waist, he was minus his T-shirt and my blouse was minus its buttons. My bra was hanging off the light fittings, and any inhibitions I may have ever had were
completely blown away by the urgent way we made love to each other.

We both seemed more desperate than usual; more savage—as though all that energy had to go somewhere. It has been near to four by the time I’d made it back to my flat, dozing away in the back of the cab I’d ordered from Jack’s place. He had, indeed, reduced me to orgasmic rubble that night—even more energentically than usual. And I’d been glad of it—despite my exhaustion, there was still so much adrenalin running through my veins, I was completely pumped up. I suddenly understood how performers could go on from a show and party all night—it was so hard to switch off after a high like that. I could also understand—though I promised myself it was a route I would never go down—why a lot of them ended up doing drugs.

Drugs to keep them up, drugs to bring them down, drugs to keep them steady—I got it, I really did. I felt like I was trapped on an everlasting roller coaster—reliving the insanity of the night, the show, the interviews, seeing Daniel again, over and over.

Going back to Jack’s penthouse was probably my equivalent of doing the drugs, if I’m honest—but hopefully with fewer side effects, and no need to worry about my nostrils exploding.

He’d been as hyped up as I had, thrilled with my triumph, zooming along at a hundred miles an hour with plans for my future. He’d always believed in me—but now it was all stepping up to a brand new level. It was all becoming real. He was talking about getting me in to do some extra vocals on
Vogue’s new single, ‘Midnight’, so it could be released as a ‘Vogue featuring Jessica’ deal, capitalising on my new-found fame until they could find me my own songs, and get my own tracks recorded.

I’d felt a moment of discomfort at that idea, wondering if it would piss Vogue off, and knowing that that was the last thing I wanted to do—because much as Jack had believed in me, she was the one who had believed in me enough to make it happen. I didn’t know her well, but I liked her, and trusted her, and didn’t want to do anything that would damage her. Still, I let him go on about it, knowing that it was a conversation for another day.

As, it seemed, was the conversation about our entire relationship. We’d been lying together, tangled in his silk sheets, both coated in sweat, when the most tragically needy part of me had decided to emerge. I should have felt like a goddess just then—but instead, I felt a tiny bit melancholy. A bit hollow. Possibly it was just because I hadn’t eaten since scoffing a handful of salmon twists hours earlier, and my body was running on empty. Possibly it was just part of the natural comedown after a night of crazy highs—that roller coaster ride had to come to an end at some point.

Possibly, I had to admit to myself, it was because of Daniel. Seeing him again had been so utterly, unexpectedly brilliant—but instead of spending the night with him, catching up and reminiscing and getting to know each other again, I’d ended up here, in Jack’s gym-muscled arms.

That wasn’t a bad place to be for any red-blooded female—but once the sex glow started to fade, my mind had begun
to drift. To wonder what Daniel was doing; if he was still in London or if he’d disappeared back off to his mysterious countryside castle. To wonder if he’d just fade away again, and the next time I saw him would be at some showbiz party, where he’d be Wellsy and I’d be Jessica, and Daniel and Jessy would be buried under the reality of our current lives.

I could feel everything shifting, changing—and although it was what I’d always wanted, I wasn’t sure I was ready for my new life.

All of which might possibly explain why, as we were lying there, Jack stroking my shoulders and looking as content as a kitten who’d just disappeared head first into a vat of cream, I asked him what was going to happen with ‘us’.

In fact, what I actually said was: ‘So—can we go public now, Jack? Now nobody will think you’re taking advantage of the hired help, can we stop all this sneaking around?’

He didn’t reply straight away, but I felt a sudden jolt in his breathing, and the effort he made to calm it back down. Fairly typical male reaction to anything verging on the ‘where is this going?’ talk, in my experience, and I screwed up my eyes and forced myself to stay quiet for a moment instead of gabbing on and embarrassing myself even more.

‘There’s nothing I’d love more, Jess,’ he eventually said. ‘But I still don’t think the timing is right. If this thing takes off like I think it will, you’re going to wake up famous tomorrow. Everyone will be interested in you—and saddling yourself with an old git like me won’t do anything good for your image. I’m sure Patty has plans for you, and they’ll probably include you being single—at least in public. I’d just get in the way.
So … for now, let’s keep it our own, delicious secret, okay, sweetheart?’

I snorted at the very thought of anyone describing Jack as an ‘old git’, and felt a tremble of fear at what Patty’s plans for me might include. But part of me got it—understood what he was saying, and why he was saying it. He was seeing the bigger picture—and the ability to do that was one of the reasons he’d made it as far as he had in this industry. I sighed, and snuggled into him—a bit disappointed, but accepting it. As ever, I just had to trust him—and that had worked out all right for me so far.

After a few more minutes of hazy conversation, Jack had fallen asleep, softly puffing out cute little snores as he drifted off into dreamland. I, however, still felt horribly awake—my eyes popping so wide, it was like they’d been propped open. My body was completely knackered—but my brain just wouldn’t shut up. It yammered on and on and on, leaping from one subject to another, refusing to rest.

Eventually, I gave up on even trying to sleep, and wriggled out of his arms as quietly as I could, not wanting to disturb him. I glanced back down at him, his usually perfect hair skewed over his forehead, his very appealing torso bare and glistening, chugging away like a snoozy pig. Like I said, cute.

I decided to make my way home—I’d only wake him up if I stayed here, tossing and turning and thinking out loud, and anyway, I suddenly felt like I needed a bit of time on my own. Time in my own territory, even if it was a crappy bedsit above a kebab shop. I needed to try to relax, switch off, get a bit of shut-eye—tomorrow, I knew, was going to be
a weird one. And I needed to call my parents and tell them everything as well—not just about the show, but about seeing Daniel again. They’d be as made up about that as they would about my tentative steps into stardom, I suspected. Mum in particular had always adored him, and not-so-secretly always hoped we’d end up together.

I gathered up my clothes from where they’d ended up randomly scattered around the bedroom, and made my through into the lounge. Wearily, I pulled on my waitressing skirt yet again—I’d been in and out of it all night—and, as I did it, noticed Jack’s phone and keys lying on the coffee table next to the wine glasses we’d used earlier to celebrate our victories. We’d drunk quite a lot of wine, enough for two bottles to be sitting there next to the glasses.

I bit my lip slightly as I stared at the phone, knowing I was considering doing something I really shouldn’t do, and attempting to mentally talk myself out of it. After a few minutes of mouth-gnawing while devils and angels danced on my tired shoulders, I reached out and picked it up.

I wasn’t going to turn into one of those crazy women who checked their boyfriend’s text messages—because, let’s face it, we’ve all been there and it never leads anywhere good—but I really, really wanted to talk to Daniel again. Jack had said he’d swap our numbers, but when I’d asked for it earlier, he’d brushed it aside with a vague ‘Yeah, I’ll do it in a minute …’ type comment, before pouring more wine.

I flicked on to Jack’s contact list and was faced with a sea of names, some of them so mind-bogglingly famous that I was half tempted to jot them down as well—I mean, who wouldn’t
want to call Cheryl Cole for a late night chat about the latest
X Factor
contestants?

I restrained myself though, and scrolled down to ‘D’. I felt a momentary swipe of disappointment when it wasn’t there, before I had to give myself a slap around the head and a great big Homer Simpson ‘D’oh! ‘—of course it wasn’t filed under ‘D’, which in my case would have stood for ‘Dumbass’. It was under ‘W’ for Wellsy—both a mobile number and an email address. I quickly tapped the details into my own phone, and noticed that Vogue’s was just above it—so, while I was already violating the sleeping prince’s privacy, decided I might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb and typed that one in as well. I most definitely owed her a great big thank-you message.

After that, I felt so guilty I called a cab straight away—leaving Jack a note scrawled on the back of a Thai takeaway menu, explaining that I’d gone home to try and decontaminate my hair.

Once I finally made it back to the flat in Kentish Town, after a dream-like drive through the dark London streets, I didn’t even have the energy for that. I dragged myself up the stairs, inhaling the familiar smells of stale kebab, and collapsed straight into bed, just about managing to get changed into a reindeer onesie that Ruby had given me last Christmas.

*

That, I realised as soon as I looked in the mirror when I woke up, had been a big mistake. I hadn’t even taken my make-up off and, after a night of energetic bonking, it was sprawling all over my face in a post-coital stupor. Seriously, my make-up
was so relaxed, it wanted to light up a cigarette. My mascara was streaked over my cheeks, and the layers of caked foundation were flaking off. My hair was completely glued into a shape that looked like something from a science-fiction film, and at least one of the lilies had hung on for the whole of the night. I pulled the hood of the reindeer onesie up over it, watching the little felt antlers bounce around.

I also had a wicked hangover from drinking way too much wine back at Jack’s place, on what was essentially an empty stomach. My head was thumping, and all I could do was stagger to the fridge, and get to work on a large bottle of water.

I was rooting through the drawer in the kitchen, searching for paracetamol, when I heard my phone buzzing. I didn’t have a landline, and it took me a couple of frantic seconds to locate my mobile, skittering away on my bedside cabinet. My first thought was, ‘I wonder if this is Daniel?’ and my second thought was, ‘Don’t be so bloody stupid, he doesn’t even have your number.’

I glanced at the caller ID and saw that it was Becky, my sister. I quickly answered it, mumbled a hello, then paused to swig down the painkillers. My body would thank me for it later. I didn’t hear the first few sentences that she squawked at me, and had to ask her to repeat herself.

‘I said,’ she drawled, sarcastically, ‘what the fuck has been going on with you? Luke woke us all up this morning, saying there was loads of stuff about you on his Google alert.’

I could hear the sounds of screaming toddlers and hyped-up kids in the background, which told me she was at work, at the soft play centre she managed.

‘This morning?’ I mumbled, confused. ‘Isn’t it still morning? And Luke has a Google alert set up on me—why, so he can take the piss?’

‘It’s almost one in the afternoon, sleeping beauty. And I’m sure Luke would like to take the piss, but he’s too excited right now. I’ve just been over there, and everyone is buzzing about it. That show you did last night is all over the internet … the YouTube clip already has, like, a million hits, and your Twitter account’s gone insane. Since when did you have two hundred thousand followers?’

Uhh. Since, never. I barely even used my Twitter account—it was something I’d set up to promote the Princess-party business, and I cringed as I realised there was still a profile picture on there of me as Cinderella. Yet another thing I needed to get fixed, before Patty skinned me alive.

‘Wow, that’s weird …’ I muttered, feeling as though my whole life was suddenly making no sense at all. ‘I mean, I know there were a lot of media people there, but I didn’t think it would all happen quite this quickly. I was planning to call you lot this morning and tell you about it, just in case.’

‘Well, you didn’t!’ she snapped, sounding a bit huffy. I didn’t really know why—I mean, I know I should have texted her last night, and let her know, but it had all been so hectic. Crazily hectic.

‘And,’ she carried on, still sounding frosty, ‘we’re also wondering why you’ve changed your name to Jessica with a K?’

‘Ummm … what do you mean? Like, Kessika?’

‘Oh God—you’re hungover as well, aren’t you?’

‘No!’ I said, a bit too loudly. It made my non-existent hangover hurt just that little bit more.

‘Yes, you are, I know the signs. Anyway, no, not
Kessika,
you idiot, Jessika—with a K where the C should be. That’s how it’s spelled, everywhere. Not just on one website, which could have been a mistake, but everywhere. It looks daft—like that hairdresser’s at the top of the road called Krazy Kutz.’

I took a few more sips of water, and tried to wipe some of the mascara crust out of my eyes. This was all a bit too much. Plus, it was the afternoon—I should have been in the office hours ago.