into a pony-tail to get it out of the way when we were done. Jas had fallen about laughing when he’d seen the end result. It was my ears. They were—well, of the sticky-out variety, which is why I kept my hair medium to long and down. Always. Thus, the second nickname—Charles.
I realise my face must have fallen a bit when he mentioned it again because Jas touches me on the arm. ‘No. It’s great. Just different, that’s all.’
I shrug. ‘I’m growing it. I had to have it short. It was damaged.’
‘Damaged?’
‘Um, over-processed, actually.’ I roll my eyes and take another bite of biscuit. ‘It was the only option. Hair extensions cost a fortune, you know.’
‘Tell me about it.’ He shakes his black hair at me.
I realise then that he probably does know. ‘You’ve had yours cut too,’ I say. It’s a lot shorter than I’ve seen it in all the magazines and on TV.
He nods and picks a bit of hair off his jacket. ‘Only this morning. Hated it. That’s why I was late.’
I notice something then—hair lying on Jas’s right shoulder, the one next to me. Without thinking, I reach over and dust it off. ‘It’s all over you! I don’t know how you could get on plane after a haircut. I always have to rush straight home and jump in the shower.’ It’s only as I reach the end of my sentence that I catch on to what I’m doing. Slowly, I pull my hand away and look up to meet Jas’s eyes. He’s staring at me again. ‘Sorry, I can’t believe I just did that.’
His eyes don’t move and I get that feeling again. The one where I wish I could just sink down and disappear. This time into my plush first class seat.
But then something unexpected happens. Jas laughs. ‘Hair might be different, but you haven’t changed a bit, have you?’ he says, starting to laugh even harder.
This makes me pause. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ He laughs away. ‘Hey!’
‘Sorry. Just funny seeing you again, that’s all.’
I raise my eyebrows at this one. ‘Funny seeing me?’ I halt for a moment before I decide it’s OK to go for it. After all, it’s going to have to come up some time, isn’t it? ‘Funny seeing me?’ I repeat. ‘It’s been pretty funny seeing you in all your get-up, that’s for sure.’
Jas moans. ‘Ah, man. Knew that’d have to come up sooner or later.’
‘Really? Did you? And here I was, almost forgetting the fact that you’ve been tramping around for approximately two years posing as a devil worshipper, eating live animals and seducing young boys.’
‘A guy needs a hobby.’
I snort delicately so that apple juice doesn’t fly out of my nose—who says I don’t belong in first class? I could handle that pale pink pashmina. ‘No, really, tell me the whole story.’
So he does.
And it goes pretty much the way I’d imagined it. Jas had gone to Sydney and met up with his contact in the industry at exactly the right time. One of the big record companies was putting together a ‘let’s go for maximum shock value and freak the public out’ kind of band, and he’d gone along and auditioned. Apparently they liked his ‘look’—tall, dark, pale, thin. But not so much that they decided to leave him how he was. Instead, he was signed up and kitted out in a full black leather bodysuit. A few weeks, a stylist, publicist and hairdresser later, he was Zamiel and Spawn was on the road. Apparently it was just a bonus that he could actually sing.
‘I couldn’t believe it the first time I saw you on TV.’ I’ve listened to the story open-mouthed.
‘Not surprised.’
‘But it’s great, isn’t it? It’s what you always wanted?’
Jas pauses. ‘No. What I always wanted to be was a songwriter. You know that.’
‘But you write Spawn’s songs, don’t you?’
‘Course,’ he laughs. Then, looking around furtively, ‘No,’ he whispers.
‘Oh.’ There doesn’t seem to be much more to say to that, so I move on. ‘So why the trip to London? Are you going to see your, um, boyfriend?’ I mumble the last word.
‘Boyfriend? What are you on about?’
‘You know.’
‘Yeah?’
I say the actor’s name.
Jas laughs. ‘You’re kidding me, Charlie. You, of all people. You don’t actually believe all that stuff?’
‘Well…’
‘Come on—tell me that you think I worship the devil, that I eat live animals, that I got town planning to change my house number to 666.’
‘I never said I thought it was all true.’
‘You think I’m going out with piglet-face?’
‘Piglet-face!’ I laugh, then cover my mouth with my hand. It’s not very nice, but he’s right. The actor does have a bit of a piglet-face. He is a bit of a Babe.
‘It’s his nose.’ Jasper puts one finger on the tip of his nose and pushes upwards.
It’s highly realistic. I laugh a bit louder.
Standing a few rows in front, Jessica gives me a dirty look and instantly I remember the Eleventh Commandment—there shalt be no rowdiness in first class. I cover my mouth with my hand again.
‘You really think I’d go out with him? You crazy? I do have some taste, you know. Wouldn’t go out with a guy like him.’
‘He had his tongue down your throat on TV one night. Or do you let just anyone do that now?’ I regret the words as soon as they come out of my mouth, as they remind me of That Night, our last night in the apartment together, but Jas doesn’t seem to notice.
‘That? All him. No idea he was going to do it. Amazing what you can make something seem like when you cut it down to ten seconds of footage.’
‘What do you mean?’ I’m confused.
‘What really happened—he grabbed me, mauled me as I was coming out of some club. Wasn’t expecting it. Didn’t even know he was there until after it all went down. Guess I knew he had a bit of a thing for Zamiel, but I didn’t think he’d actually pull a stunt like that. Used up a whole perfectly good bottle of Listerine that night. Think he’d just eaten Indian for dinner or something.’
I make a face at this. ‘So you’re not going to see him?’
‘Cross the road not to see him.’
I wait expectantly for further explanation about his trip, but I don’t think it’s coming. ‘Well…?’ I try, wondering if he’s being deliberately evasive.
‘Right.
