No, I’m single too.I knew that. Luke totally subscribes to the musician way of life and a girlfriend would only cramp his style. Before I have chance to worry about what to say in response, Luke sends me another message.
Luke: Can I ask you something?
Nicole: Sure.
I’m trying to sound cool, like I’m not really bothered what he says next – I am though. This is so high school, I cannot believe that I am still playing these games.
Luke: You know that I fancy you, don’t you?
If I’m being honest, I’m waiting for the punch-line.
My first guess is that it isn’t Luke at all. It could be Eddie, the TFTR front-man, messing with me. Or maybe it is Luke, but he’s drunk. Then again, if he’s drunk how come his typing is so accurate? And Eddie being sober, or alone, at this time of night after a gig is about as probable as me using my cooker for something other than storage.
Nicole: You fancy everyone, ha-ha!
Luke: No, I really fancy you.
If this isn’t a joke then I am gobsmacked. I’ll have to reply with something or he’ll think he’s scared me away. Not only is this guy my crush, but he’s a proper celebrity these days. He might not be a super-star like Dylan, and TFTR aren’t as big as Plastic Rap yet, but he’s big enough to have an album in the impressive end of the Top Forty at the moment.
Nicole: Is this really you?
Better to ask than to make a total tit of myself and have the rest of the band tease me about it for the rest of time.
Luke: Of course it’s me. You don’t believe me?
Nicole: Are you drunk?
Luke: Yes, but that’s not why I’m telling you. I can’t get you out of my head, especially when I’m alone on the bus ;-).
He’s taking a bit of a risk with our friendship here, but he is a musician. He oozes confidence and probably thinks every girl in the world finds him attractive – then again, they probably do. Luke can easily get away with hitting on his female friends and using tacky emoticons in his messages.
Luke: Am I making things awkward? I’m sorry.
Nicole: You’re not making thinks awkward, don’t worry.
Luke: We flirt all the time, why do you seem so surprised?
Nicole: Again, because you flirt with everyone!
Luke: Wait until I see you, we’ll talk in person and then you’ll know that I mean what I say.
I agree before changing the subject from Luke’s declaration of lust and we carry on chatting for a while. Before I know it, it’s nearly 3 a.m., which means I should definitely be in my bed by now. I don’t want to go, but I don’t want to be late for work again either. I am both relieved and devastated when Luke says that he had better get some sleep, so we finish the conversation by saying that we’ll see each other on tour in a couple of days.
Finally climbing in my bed, I rest my head on the pillow and try to get some much-needed sleep. My conversation with Luke is replaying in my head and I can’t help but wonder how things are going to play out when I see him.
I’m so going to be late for work in the morning.
The Fan-bang
Despite the exciting events last night, not only am I at work on time but I am also the first one to arrive.
I am in a fantastic mood today and my work is reaping the benefits. In fact, I am so busy flying through the emails that I don’t even hear Jake arrive. I’m surprised I couldn’t smell the coffee as he was coming up in the lift.
He makes me jump by dropping a copy of the Daily Scoop newspaper on the desk in front of me. Plastic Rap are on the cover accompanied by the headline: ‘We’re having a fan-bang’. Not only am I amazed by the speed these tabloids operate at, but I’d give anything to have been the person who came up with that pun.
‘Oh my God...’
‘I take it you left before this went on?’ Jake enquires.
‘I did. Minutes before, actually.’
‘You’re probably too old for them,’ he jokes.
‘Oi, you! Sam gave me his number if you must know.’
‘For what exactly? In case he needs a babysitter?’
Jake is so funny. He’s not really that into the kind of music we write about, but he is so good at his job and he keeps us all in stitches while we’re working.
I take a long, unladylike swig of my coffee and grab the paper to have a proper read.
It doesn’t say who their source is, but they must have been at the hotel last night because they saw exactly what I saw. I can’t believe this has made the front page.
I read the article out loud as Emily and Vicky arrive together.
‘Plastic Rap, the squeaky-clean teen sensation, are proving to be just as artificial as their name. There has never been any scandal in the press about band members Sam, Carl, Mike, John and Simon, all aged between twenty and twenty-two...until now, that is.’ Looking up to make sure that I have Emily and Vicky’s attention, I carry on reading: ‘At a gig in Leeds last night, the band members sent one of their people out into the crowd to bring them back a couple of fans each. Our spy estimated the age of the fans to be ‘about fifteen or sixteen’. The band, who market themselves as being teen-friendly, should know better – these girls probably had school in the morning.’
I’ve read enough. I wonder who leaked the story to the press – it certainly wasn’t me, I was far too preoccupied last night, but I don’t remember seeing anyone else in the room. It must have been one of the fans, maybe one of them realised how wrong it was and decided to tell the press. Well, good for her – whoever she was – and she didn’t even give her name so she’s clearly not just after the fame. Poor Em has a concerned look on her face, I didn’t realise she was so appalled by the story when I told her about it last night.
‘Nicole, I’m going to go pick the new camera up. I’ve had a message to say that it’s ready,’ Jake informs me, before turning to Vicky and asking her if she wants to go with him – it is for her after all. Vicky jumps out of her chair and heads to the door. She doesn’t even say goodbye to us, the girl is that rude. I’m just glad to get her out of the way so that I can talk to Emily properly about the headline and about Luke.
‘I saw that paper on the way to work this morning, I thought maybe you’d tipped them off,’ she says as soon as we’re alone.
‘Come on, Emily. You know me better than that. As if I’d give trash like the Scoop my story. Anyway,
