Starstruck (37 page)

I
plonk myself down on a bench. It’s only then I realise how blooding freezing it
is, and that my coat is still inside. I try and imagine how things could
possibly be any worse and, to be honest, I can’t. If my mum were here, she’d
probably tell me that at least I had my health, and that there were people far
worse off than me in the world – although I suppose after I walk across London
in the freezing cold my health will take a hit too.

I
put my head in my hands and try my hardest not to cry – if only because my
tears will freeze on my face.

‘Nicole,’
I hear a female voice call out. Looking up, I see Kelly Parker with my bag and
coat in her hands.

I’m
speechless.

‘Here.’
She hands me my things, and I quickly slip my coat on. ‘I went to the dressing
room to see you and they told me you’d been escorted straight out. I grabbed
these for you, figured you’d need them.’ She smiles.

‘I
don’t know what to say. Thank you.’

‘No,
thank you. Everything you said about that show was right. I only went on
because I’ve got an album to promote, but I would have sat there and listened
to her crap about affairs. You stood up to her, that’s pretty cool.’

My
life is so weird, I wish I was keeping a diary. Dear Diary, today I swore on
daytime TV, and then pop princess Kelly Parker told me I was pretty cool.

‘Well
people already think I’m a homewrecking bitch, it’s not like my reputation can
get any worse.’ I laugh, but I know it’s true.

‘Not
that it makes any difference, but I believe you. And I’m sure others out there
do too.’

‘Really?’
I’m gobsmacked. Someone believes me, and that someone just happens to be a
superstar.

‘Yes.
Look, I have to go, but let’s swap numbers. Are you in London for a while?’

‘Indefinitely,’
I reply.

‘Wicked,
well we’ll meet up. Go for coffee or something.’

‘Great,’
I say, coolly. I never thought I’d be playing hard to get with a woman, but
this is Kelly Parker! I so want to be her friend!

We
swap numbers and she disappears back inside the studio. As I take my phone out
to punch in her number - should I lose the piece of paper with it written on
which, let’s be honest, is highly likely - I see that I have sixteen missed
calls from Frank. Another one comes through as I attempt to add a new contact,
and I accept the call straight away by mistake. It’s Frank again.

‘Nicole,
where are you?’ he asks, without as much as a hello.

‘Outside
the studio.’

‘Turn
left, and walk down the road. There’s a coffee shop, I’ll meet you there. I’m
on my way now.’ He hangs up.

Oh
dear. I think I might be in some sort of trouble.

I
took the liberty of ordering Frank a drink. That’s the sign of a true bad girl,
the instinct to try and sweeten the person you are in trouble with. When I was
at school my parents always knew when I had done something wrong because it was
the only time I was helpful without being prompted. Like that time when I was
eleven and old Mrs Atkins from down the road told me off for playing outside
her house... so I called her a bastard. My parents knew something was up the
second they saw me doing the dishes. Of course, they would have found out
anyway because Mrs Atkins came over to tell them – a conversation that was
particularly hilarious to listen in on, I have to admit. Do you think maybe I swear
too much?

Frank
walks in and scans the room for me. He’s got a concerned look on his face. He
spots me and hurries over to the table.

‘Have
you spoken to anyone yet?’ he asks.

‘What
do you mean?’

‘I
mean, have you spoken to anyone yet?’ he repeats the questions. ‘Since the
interview.’

‘Only
Kelly Parker, she came out to see me, said thank you for standing up for her.
We’re going to meet up,’ I tell him excitedly, but my smile quickly fades as I
remember I’m in bother.

‘You
befriended Kelly Parker?’ he asks. I wish he just get on with bollocking me so
I can go somewhere and cry.

‘Sort
of.’

‘Nicole
Wilde, you’re pure gold.’ He rubs his hands together and a huge grin spreads
across his face.

‘Erm,
what?’ Now I really am confused.

‘First
of all, you have a go at a TV legend, and if we’re being honest you only said
to her what thousands of others wanted to, you swear – you can’t buy the kind
of publicity we’ll get from this. Oh, and the best bit, the icing on the cake,
you make friends with Kelly Parker. The nation’s sweetheart. We all know how
she feels about cheaters, so if you’re ok with her, you can’t be that bad. This
is going to show you in a very good light, Nicole. Well done.’

Did
I just get praised for swearing and cheeking my elders? I’ve come a long way
since I was eleven. This is possibly the greatest day of my life.

‘Are
you up for doing more interviews?’ he asks. Not only can I not really think of
a reason to say no, but if people are coming around to the truth then I’ve got
to stick with the plan. What choice do I have?

So,
it’s official - I am a Z list celebrity. After my little flip-out on national
TV, I appear to have divided the nation – well, the nation of people who give a
shit. It’s not exactly fifty-fifty, but there are people on my side now. The
Scoop is still running crap about me, and they’ve managed to take a couple of
the things I’ve said out of context and made up stories to go with them, but I
expect no less of those bastards. I’ve spent the past week doing interviews,
which is the strangest thing in the world. In all my years of being the one who
asks the questions, I’m finally getting a taste of what it’s like for the other
person. My verdict? It can be quite fun if the person likes me, or is on my
side at least – Goss, one of the weekly showbiz mags, have started a little
campaign on my behalf which is really nice of them – but when I get someone who
has decided I am guilty before they have even walked in the room, then I know
it’s going to be a bumpy ride. I’m toughening up, though. I don’t go to the
toilets and cry half as much as I used to.

It’s
amazing how quickly you can take to being a “celebrity” - for starters, being
paid while someone takes up a tiny bit of my time to talk to me is probably the
best thing to ever happen to me. Oh, and who knew photo shoots were so much
fun? One magazine had me dressed up like Shania Twain, surrounded by half-naked
musicians, “Man! I Feel Like a Woman” style.

Frank
is working really hard to get me some good press. He’s a top man, although he
is getting his cut. Luke is doing much better, too. Luckily his ribs weren’t
too badly broken and they are healing nice and quickly. He’s moving around like
normal, although he’s been advised to take time off from performing. Apart from
a few TV appearances, he isn’t missing out on much work so he’s taking the
opportunity to rest before the big European tour next year.

Tonight
we’re actually going to an event together – a big, fancy music awards ceremony.
They’re actually going to let me walk down the red carpet. I’m under no
illusions, I know I'm not really a celebrity, but a girl could get a big head
over the treatment I received today.

I’ve
been given a proper make-over, and a dress that I really don’t deserve to wear,
and the Two For The Road boys are all suited and booted. Poor Eddie is still in
plaster, there’s no chance of it getting him down though. He is absolutely
loving the attention, and his cast looks amazing – he’s had some famous tattoo
artist doodle all over it. Apparently he’s a pretty big deal in the tattoo
world, or so he told me. As soon as he realised I wasn’t impressed by ink, he
soon got bored of talking to me.

It’s
been nice spending the day with the guys. We all shared a car to the ceremony,
and on the way there I told them all about what’s been happening to me. Either
they’re really good actors, or they all believed me when I told them it was all
lies. It was nice to have people believe me without any extra effort on my
part.

Finally
pulling up outside the venue, Frank talks us all through the procedure. This is
as new to the band as it is to me. In a way, it feels quite nice that I have
Luke to share this with, if only because I can follow his lead. Frank must have
realised I’d be scared, so we’re all going to stick together, even for the
photos.

‘Luke,
I’m bricking it,’ I whisper into his ear, proving that it doesn’t matter how
pretty and expensive the dress is, there’s no hiding a foul-mouthed Yorkshire
girl.

He
offers me his arm to link up with. ‘Just hold onto me and you’ll be fine. Don’t
let go, smile at the cameras, we’ll be inside in a matter of minutes.’

I
take one last deep breath and we begin our journey along the red carpet. Before
we even reach the photographers, the flashes make me feel dizzy. The band stop
to sign a few autographs, but I keep hold of Luke’s arm rather tightly.
Somehow, he still manages to sign things and pose for photos. I’m used to
seeing girls all over him, but this is insane. I usually only ever experience
this kind of hysteria when I’m with Dylan, the girls (and quite a lot of the
guys) go crazy for him.

As
we approach the photographers we pause while they finish up snapping photos of
whoever is in front of them. It’s only as we’re standing still waiting for our
turn that I realise they’re taking photos of Dylan and Crystal. How stupid of
me not to consider that they might be here - Frank must have realised, then
again he was probably hoping for something like this to happen.

Willing
them to hurry up and go, I grip Luke’s arm a little too tightly. Realising
something is wrong, he only has to follow my trail of sight to work out what’s
bothering me. Crystal looks tacky as ever, she’s dressed like a Barbie doll and
is around the same size as one. I can tell she’s had new hair extensions put in
- they’re not bad, but I can tell. That’s the thing about having long hair that
is real, you learn to spot the fakes a mile away – or about 10ft away in this
case.

Dylan
looks over in our direction, maybe he’s just seeing who is next, or maybe he
can feel my eyes burning into him, and it isn’t long before Crystal catches
sight of me too. The filthy look she shoots me is enough to alert the
photographers to something, and one by one they turn to face me. They instantly
start snapping photos of me and shouting my name to try and get my attention.
Dylan and Crystal disappear and, sensing drama, Frank ushers me away from Luke
and the guys, hurrying me into the building. As he does this, I hear a few of
the photographers shouting horrible things at me to try and get a reaction, or
my attention at least, but I don’t look back.

‘You
knew they would be here,’ I say to Frank once we are safely inside.

‘You
didn’t?’ he replies. ‘They’re music awards, he’s one of the biggest musicians
in the country.’

If
I knew where the toilets were, I would go and cry in them. Instead I wait for
Luke so that I can latch back onto him and I’m not letting go until we are back
in his flat.

‘Nicole?’
a friendly female voice calls out. ‘I thought that was you.’

As
Kelly Parker greets me with a big hug, I catch site of Frank over her shoulder,
rubbing his hands together, pound signs rolling around in his eyes.

‘I’ve
been meaning to call you, I’ve just been so busy,’ she says sincerely - I
think. ‘You’ve been busy though I see.’

‘She
has,’ Frank interrupts. ‘You could be too if you sign with me.’ He winks at
Kelly, who ignores him.

‘Nicole,
are you alright?’ she asks, obviously realising I haven’t spoken a word yet.

‘Dylan
was outside with Crystal, it was weird. She looked at me like she wanted to
kill me.’

‘Babes,
I’ve seen her in magazines, that’s her day-to-day face.’ She laughs briefly,
then she looks at Frank and her expression changes to a serious one.

‘Could
you give us a moment?’ Frank obliges. ‘Thank you.’

‘Do
you want to sit with me? Let’s kick up a fuss,’ she says, and I feel tears
rolls down my cheeks. It means a lot to me to have her believe that I didn’t do
anything wrong, especially after all she’s been through.

‘Don’t
cry.’ She takes a tissue from her tiny clutch and dabs my face in a way that
doesn’t affect my make-up.

‘I’ll
be fine. Don’t worry, you don’t have to babysit me.’ I smile, truly grateful
for the offer. ‘I’m here with some friends, I’m just waiting for them to come
in.’

‘Two
For The Road?’ she asks. ‘I’ve read about you and that Luke guy, are you two,
y’know...?’

‘We’re
just friends.’ I smile. I’ve missed having a female friend to chat like this
with.

‘As
long as you’re sure you’re ok, I’m going to go inside. We will absolutely meet
up in the next couple of days, promise me?’

‘I
promise,’ I say, although I’m not sure what Frank has lined up for me.

She
hugs me again as Luke and Eddie walk over, or limp over in Eddie’s case.