Читать книгу How Not To Be Starstruck - Portia MacIntosh, Portia MacIntosh - Страница 20

Chapter Eleven

The Slut

The sun is shining brightly in Birmingham today, it’s a shame it is so damn cold. As a result of waking up on the sofa yet again today, my back is killing me.

I don’t know where everyone is. Eddie is asleep next to me, although with me leaning on him I doubt he could move even if he wanted to, and Mark is still sat in the same place, glaring at me again. I wonder if he’s moved at all.

Thank God, we are finally here. I don’t know my way around Birmingham (don’t act like you’re surprised) but I’d really like to get to a decent clothes shop and get something to wear. The novelty is starting to wear off my bright orange tent-dress.

‘All right, Mark?’ I ask brightly, giving him another chance to put what happened behind us.

‘Yeah, fine. Worming your way in with Eddie now, are you?’

‘She’s been in with me for a long time, you grumpy fucker,’ Eddie says sounding half asleep, his eyes still closed.

‘I’m going for a shower,’ Mark informs us, storming off.

‘What’s his problem?’ Eddie asks me as soon as Mark has gone. ‘You knock him back last night or something?’

‘Not exactly,’ I reply, hoping that will be the end of it.

‘No way!’ he shouts, sitting up straight and suddenly wide awake. ‘You knocked him back? Tell me everything!’

‘It’s nothing really.’

‘I’m going to get you so drunk tonight, you’re going to tell me everything,’ he laughs.

‘Yeah right, you’re going to be less drunk than me? Remind me, who had to be carried to the taxi last night?’

‘Don’t put that in your magazine,’ he laughs. ‘The chicks won’t go for that.’

‘It was only today you told me that I could write about anything,’ I remind him.

‘Yeah, anything but that. Write about how you knocked Mark back though.’

He’s clearly finding this hilarious and I have to admit he’s cheering me up.

‘Oi, stop saying that!’ I nudge him in the ribs. As funny as it is, I don’t want anyone to hear – especially Luke.

‘Anyway, I’m beginning to think it’s the other guys who can’t handle their drink,’ Eddie tells me.

‘And why is that?’ I ask. This should be good.

‘Because when Luke and Ben carried me to the taxi last night, they dropped me twice,’ he jokes. ‘And as for Mark, he had to be smashed if he thought he had a chance with you.’

The minute the tour bus pulled up outside the venue, the plan was for me to go and pick up something to wear tonight. I’d hoped we’d be in the city centre but I’ve been told that we’re nowhere near a clothes shop of any description. I had a little wander down the road but, not wanting to get lost, I had to admit defeat. Tonight, Matthew, I’m going to be...an orange. I am just going to have to come to terms with the fact that this is the outfit I will be wearing to the show tonight. I’m either going to look like a crazy fan or a skanky groupie and I’m not sure which is worse. This is also the outfit I am going to be wearing when I try to seduce Luke – a hideous orange T-shirt, branded with the name of his band. If he’s vain enough, that will probably do the trick. Eddie keeps making dirty comments about how he’s always wanted to get it on with a girl wearing his band’s merchandise. I think he’s joking but you never know with Eddie. Some poor cow will probably be dressing up in the works for him tonight.

We are ushered from the bus, into the venue and straight to backstage room, and what a dump it is. The dressing room is small, with no windows, bare walls and a bare floor. Walking over to the table where the food is laid out, I grab a can of Coke and a bag of salt and vinegar crisps and plonk myself down on one of the battered old sofas, trying to ignore the suspicious stains on the cushions.

The boys are fussing around and getting changed, apart from Eddie who is studying the food carefully. He’s upset because apparently there are things that were on the rider that are not on the table, and he’s shouting at Mick to do something about it. It doesn’t matter that the table is covered with food and drink, what Eddie wants Eddie gets. Some poor venue worker is sent out to get the missing items. Maybe things would change if I were famous, but I can’t imagine kicking off because someone forgot to buy me some ketchup.

When it is finally my turn to have a shower, I make it snappy before slipping my T-shirt back on. Now that I’m hanging around the backstage area, I have to have my Access All Areas pass on show which leaves me no choice but to wear it around my neck. There’s no doubt about it, I look like a total nerd.

All alone backstage, I examine the table of food again. I didn’t eat much yesterday and I’ve decided that was the reason I got so drunk last night (although it probably had more to do with the fact that I just drank way too much). I make myself a sandwich and, suddenly starving, I take an over-enthusiastic bite. Just my luck, Luke walks back into the room as I’m struggling to chew a huge mouthful of food. I have managed to make myself look like an even bigger loser, but at least I’m making him smile.

‘Bitten off more than you can chew?’ he asks.

He doesn’t know the half of it. He waits patiently for a reply.

‘Done,’ I say victoriously, putting the rest of the sandwich to one side because suddenly I’m not that hungry any more.

‘Well check out that super-cool laminated pass hanging around your neck. Are you with the band?’ he asks. He’s obviously not done teasing me just yet.

Now is my chance. Toying with my lanyard, I give him my sexiest look, but as I take a step towards him I catch my foot on a guitar lead and fall into him, face first. Luckily, he catches me and doesn’t let go.

‘Easy, tiger,’ he says with a laugh, before leaning in closer and whispering into my ear. ‘At least wait until I’ve got you in my room.’

With his face still just inches from mine, Luke starts gently kissing my neck and it’s fortunate that he is still holding me because my legs instantly turn to jelly. Next thing I know, we’re kissing on the lips. I don’t want to sound all lame and high school again, but this is our first proper kiss and all that’s missing is the firework display. As he pushes me back onto the tatty old sofa, I wrap my legs around his waist. I can’t believe this is actually happening. Just as our kisses get heavier, I faintly hear the door open and things come to a sudden stop. I smile and try to look innocent, something that I have perfected over the years to get myself out of tricky situations. With that said, even the most innocent of innocent looks couldn’t make this situation look like anything other than what it is because my legs are still wrapped tightly around Luke’s waist and locked at the ankle. If it’s anyone other than Mark then I might be able to live this one down. I dare myself to look towards the door and, of course, it’s Mark. He glares at me before wandering over to fridge.

‘Not interrupting anything, I hope,’ he says, grabbing a can of something and plonking himself down next to us.

‘Actually, mate...’ Luke begins, but Mark doesn’t let him finish.

‘Good, because I need something to eat and Eddie needs you on the stage. Now.’

Luke looks at me and gives me that cheeky smile I love so much. He plants a peck on my lips and manages to free himself from my grasp, pulling up and fastening his jeans as he leaves the room – I didn’t even realise he’d undone them, what moves he has! It’s just me and Mark now, and as long as he doesn’t speak to me then I’ll happily keep out of his way.

‘I knew you were a groupie, but fucking hell. You could at least wait twenty-four hours between shagging each band member. Bloody slapper.’ he snaps at me.

I like to think I’m a pretty chilled lady, a lover not a fighter and all that, but I can’t keep my temper under control any longer and I snap back.

‘Excuse me?’ I ask, standing up and trying to subtly pull my dress back down over my lower half. ‘First of all, I haven’t shagged anyone,’ I yell. ‘And second of all, I was very drunk last night, and you knew that, and I didn’t want to kiss you, and you knew that too. OK, I might have kissed you back for a second but, as drunk as I was, I still came to my senses. Get the fuck over it!’

It’s amazing how a little bit of anger brings out my inner northern monkey.

Mark looks gobsmacked. Friend or not, I probably shouldn’t upset the celebrities, but how dare he call me a slapper? If I had shagged him down that alley, he probably wouldn’t be calling me any names.

‘Do what you want, write what you want, shag who you want!’ he shouts, leaving the room and slamming the door behind him.

There are hundreds of girls queuing up outside the venue right now and, despite being a podgy arsehole in need of a good wash and a shave, he could probably have his pick of any of them. Why waste his time getting angry at me?

My eyes start to feel heavy and a huge tear falls from my right eye, rolling down my face and stripping my skin of every ounce of make-up that dares to stand in its path. I wipe it quickly and grab my foundation from my bag. I can’t let anyone see me crying.

I should be buzzing after kissing Luke. Instead, I am sitting in a backstage room, all on my own, sobbing because some C-list bassist just called me a slapper.

As I smarten myself up and retouch my make-up, I take yet another long, hard look in the mirror. Tonight is going to be a long night.