‘This is so great!’ Ash lopes along beside me with a big grin on his face. ‘A private interview.’
‘The manager didn’t actually say it was an interview. My d—I mean, Tommy wants to talk about Rick Astley,’ I warn.
We enter the impressive black-and-white tiled lobby, where there are indeed a few girls with Madonna hair, outlandish earrings, and rah-rah skirts milling about and accosting journos. We slip through to the lifts without them seeing.
When we’re in a lift heading to the eighth floor, Ash leans against the wall and asks the question I’ve been dreading.
‘So who the fuck is Rick Astley?’
It’s kind of ironic that we’re in a lift since if it were in the future, we would quite possibly be having an instrumental version of his hit single tinkling away in our ears. Why did I have to go and say that one? I should have chosen ‘Like a Virgin’. Now I need to make up some shit about Australia’s burgeoning music scene and let him know that it’s not all about Olivia Newton-John.
‘Ah, my cousin is Australian and heavily into pop music. She writes me letters about different artists she’s into. Sometimes she sends me mixtapes of different up-and-coming artists from down under,’ I explain, the lies rolling off my tongue.
‘Right,’ says Ash, sounding impressed. ‘Well, whoever this Rick guy is, your quick thinking has just scored us a one-to-one withtheTommy Rains. This is the best!’
I glance at him and note that his eyes are bright and his cheeks are flushed. A little of his excitement rubs off me, and I’m kind of glad that he can have this experience. I suppose it is cool that we’re being given the VIP treatment. Maybe I can put aside thefact that I’m Tommy Rains’s daughter and enjoy the experience of being in the presence of pop royalty. Before it all goes tits up.
22
JADE
I’mnotsurewhat’shappened to the maid service, but the hotel room is in chaos when Tommy bids us enter with a flourish. Luckily, the room is large enough so the strewn clothing, trays of half-eaten food, liquor bottles, and overflowing ashtrays are marginally contained.
Tommy flops down on the unmade bed, pushing aside sheets so tangled it looks like a wrestling match has taken place. I try not to think about which groupie he’s been horizontally wrestling.
He waves us to a cream sofa with gold trim, piled with items of clothing, atop which sits, incongruously, a slim light-blue book titledShakespeare’s Sonnets.
‘Just move all that stuff,’ Tommy says languidly, propping himself on his elbows. I glance at Ash, and he shrugs. Resisting the urge to push it off in one fell swoop, I lift it all gingerly to the floor without managing to dislodge anything.
‘Do you guys want something to drink? I think there’s a kettle around here somewhere, but not sure exactly where.’ He looksaround vaguely and even lifts the edge of a duvet and peeks underneath as if it’s hiding in there.
‘No, we’re fine—’ I say, but Ash interrupts me.
‘Actually, I could do with some water and a leak,’ he says.
Tommy gestures with his chin towards another door.
‘Bathroom has some glasses. I think they’re clean but can’t promise the loo is. The maid got a little distracted. Oh, and if you find some other treats in there, feel free to help yourself. Take as long as you need.’ He winks and does a quick fist-pump hand gesture to Ash, who grins and lopes off.
My stomach tightens with unease at seeing this. What the fuck was that about?
Left alone with Tommy (aka my dad), we sit there in silence. He props himself on one elbow and scratches his stomach lazily, looking at me. This feels extremely uncomfortable. I mean, he has no clue who I am, but he’s a pop star who’s used to having women fall into his bed at the mere lift of an eyebrow. It’s inevitable that he’s going to try something ...
Tommy unbuttons the top of his ruffled shirt and says casually, ‘Is it hot in here, or is it just me?’
Oh no. I’m starting to think the invitation to his room to talk about Rick Astley was a ploy. The whole fist-pumping thing with Ash is boy code. I caught Tommy’s attention, and he’s singled me out for some afternoon delight.While Ash is in the bathroom. Ewwww!
Shit, this weird situation just got even weirder. I need to get this interview back on track and keep it professional.
I glance at the closed bathroom door, hoping that Ash isn’t going to dump me in this like I have a bad feeling he is. He was so keen to talk to Tommy! Or was that an act, and he’s pimping me out?
‘What’s taking him so long?’ I ask nervously, pulling my jotter pad out of my bag. ‘Maybe we should start without him.’
‘Indeed,’ Tommy drawls, patting the mattress beside him. ‘Why don’t you sit here and tell me all about Rick Assley?’
‘It’s RickAstley. And I’m perfectly fine where I am.’
Tommy frowns and opens his mouth, no doubt to insist I join himinthe bed, when there’s a knock on the room’s interconnecting door.