My heart sinks. She’s not deterred by an STD in the slightest!
Apparently, she’s amassiveTommy Rains fan. Something I found out when we were doing our make-up and getting ready in her room. There were pouting posters of him plastered all over the walls. And she’s had a silly smile on her face ever since we got here. It’s hugely weird watching my mum fangirling over my dad.
Ash appears, pushing his way through the crowd. He catches my eye and grins. ‘Hey!’
‘Hey,’ I return.
Like Sebastian, Ash met us at the entrance but grabbed his ticket and took off to the press area to get a lanyard. He’s been shooting some photos for the magazine as he’s going to be writing a four-page special feature. Holding his Canon SLR up to his eye, he takes a few ground-level shots of the stage since ‘it’s right there’. My dad is literally going to be a few feet away from me. Prancing around in tight leather pants. Yikes.
My arm is given a sharp nudge, and I glance at Kiki. Her blonde hair is crimpier than usual, and she’s wearing dangly silver lightning streak earrings. When she leans close to me, I smell hairspray and bubblegum.
‘Who’sthat?’ she whispers, nodding towards Ash. He’s recovered from his brush with cocaine and looking sharp tonight in skinny black jeans and a dark-green shirt with the sleeves rolled up. His inky blond-tipped hair is perfectly gelled, and he’s wearing a small gold hoop earring in his left ear.
‘Ash, myPopTraxcolleague.’
‘He’s flipping gorgeous. Introduce me!’ she hisses, tugging her stretchy pink-and-white boat-neck top further down to reveal a sparkly shoulder. Paired with denim cut-offs, she looks adorable.And innocent.I’m not sure I want the office sleaze getting his hands on her.
She kicks me with her canvas high-top, and I sigh. Damn, I didn’t think he’d be her type. Turns out I was wrong about that too.
‘Ash, this is my flatmate Kiki. Kiki, Ash is on special features at the magazine,’ I say when he’s finished taking photos. His eyes rove over her face casually, and I can’t tell if he’s interested or not.
‘A pleasure,’ he says. ‘So are you going to be throwing your knickers at Tommy like every other woman in the VIP area?’
I roll my eyes. It’s a typical Ash thing to say, but Kiki replies smoothly without missing a beat, ‘I would—if I was wearing knickers.’
Ash’s eyebrows rise, and a flicker of interest passes over his features.
Oh no. Now I’ve got two flatmates to keep an eye on!
The stadium suddenly plunges into darkness, and the crowd roars. A single spotlight appears on the stage; and Tommy Rains steps into it, head bowed, his raven hair covering his face. He’s wearing his shiny red suit jacket with the sleeves pushed up, a plunging white net tank top that shows off most of his hairless chest, and, yup, black leather pants so tight you can see exactly what you’re getting, gonorrhoea notwithstanding.
Girls all around us start screaming, ‘I love you, Tommy!’ as he slowly raises his head gazing out over the packed arena; and the punchy opening chords of one of their popular hits begin to play on the synthesiser. An electric guitar strums, followed by a drumbeat courtesy of Leo; and a chill runs down my spine as my dad glances down at the front row, checking out the girls on offer. He’s wearing as much kohl eyeliner as I am, and it’s a bit like looking in a mirror. Surely my flatmates will see the resemblance?
I glance over at Rach. She’s staring up at Tommy, transfixed, bobbing her head so her ponytail swings, swaying her hips to the music, and mouthing the words as he walks past, singing, his voice resounding clear and confident across the stadium. She loves him or the persona of him. That much is obvious, and I can see why—he’s got the ’80s X factor. I’d probably be in love with him too if he wasn’t my no-hoper alcoholic father who’s made a mess of his life.
I’m so busy keeping an eye on Rach that I start when a pair of strong hands wrap around me, and I’m pulled backwards into a warm wall of muscle.
‘I’m just making our relationship look more authentic,’ Sebastian whispers in my ear as he gyrates his hips gently against mine. ‘But don’t worry, I know I’m just afriend.’
It’s strange being at a concert without mobile phone screens lighting up the darkness for the slow songs. Everyone is focused on listening to the music.
Sebastian nuzzles my earlobe and draws small circles on my hip as we sway together to one of Echo Ministry’s ballads. I really wish he wouldn’t. It’s extremely distracting, and I have to keep focused, even though the concert is nearly finished. But I suppose it would look weird if I acted like I hated him. And when he sings off-key in my ear, it makes me smile. He’s so ridiculous. And I don’t hate him. Well, only a little bit.
He seemed really upset that I called him a ‘friend’. But I’m not too sure what else to call him, and I’ve got too much on my plate at the moment to worry about his feelings. Like getting my mum to like someone else so I exist in the future.
I watch as Rach elbows her way to the very front of the crowd and tracks Tommy with her eyes. He’s ditched the jacket and is now swanning around in the net tank top. We’re so close to him that I can see droplets of sweat glistening on his pecs. ‘Keep a close eye on Rach after the concert,’ I murmur to Sebastian. ‘She’s vulnerable and liable to act in ways she wouldn’t normally.’
‘Does that apply only to Rach?’ Sebastian enquires.
‘Yes.’ I am most certainly not talking about myself. ‘I don’t want my father to be some loser she shags in the car park because she’s desperate.’
‘Aye, aye, cap’n,’ he says, nestling his chin in the top of my bird’s nest hair.
Ash and Kiki are bopping around in front of us, having fun. He even lifted her onto his shoulders at one point until a crowd of women behind us booed as they couldn’t see Tommy. I thought maybe I could get Ash interested in Rach by mentioning she was a great cook, but he seems content hanging with Kiki. And Rach is too enamoured with Tommy to pay him much attention. It’s kind of shit that I’m not going to exist in the future and I’m going straight to hell, but at least my mum will be saved from a horrible life.
‘Thank you, London! We love you!’ Tommy shouts to the crowd, waving a hand, and there’s a collective bellow of approval.
The band exits the stage, but the stadium stays dark. Everyone knows what that means. A slow, steady stomp starts up in time with the cry of ‘Encore! Encore! Encore!’