Between a Rockstar and a Hard Place (7 page)

‘You’re
lucky this girl cares about you,’ Troy continues. ‘Because without her you’d be
in big trouble right now, and can you imagine the headlines if she sold your
secrets. Don’t take her for granted.’

‘What
headlines?’ Dylan persists, not knowing to quit while he’s ahead.

‘Take
a wild guess, Dylan Queen,’ Troy says with a laugh.

Dylan
jumps out of bed and goes for Troy, but I step between them.

‘Come
on boys, crisis averted, there’s no need to fight.’

Dylan
points a finger right in Troy’s face. ‘Fuck you, X Factor boy,’ he yells as he
backs down.

‘Dylan,
be nice to Troy, he’s spent all night helping me find you. Now quick, pack up
your things and let’s go, we’ve got twenty minutes to get you to the tour bus.’

Dylan
does as instructed, and while we have a little time alone together Troy and I
say goodbye.

‘Well,
it’s certainly been fun,’ he says.

‘It
has – in places. Mainly the places with you.’ I smile.

'Nicole,
can I ask you a question?'

'I
do,' I sing in reply to the marriage proposal I knew he was never going to
make.

'Hey,
I just met you-'

'And
this is crazy, but here's my number, so call me maybe,' I interrupt, never one
to be able to resist a sing-song.

Troy
laughs and shakes his head.

‘Seriously,
Nicole. I’ll be in Leeds in a few weeks. Can see each other again?’

‘I’d
like that,’ I tell him honestly.

Troy
pulls me close and kisses me again.

‘Get
a room,’ Dylan says, dumping his bags by the door and shooting me a look like
I’m the one holding things up. 'Preferably not one that I'm sleeping in.'

Way
to ruin the moment, Dylan.

As
the three of us make our way to the lift, things feel a little awkward.

‘Troy
just invited me to one of his gigs,’ I say to fill the silence. ‘You should
come too, Dylan.’

‘Ha!
Can you even sing, X Factor boy?’

‘I
wasn’t on the X Factor, and yes, I can sing.’

‘Course
you can.’

I
don’t know if it’s because Dylan and Troy are bickering or if it is because
we’re running out of time, but this is one of the longest lift journeys of my
life. The silence doesn’t last for long before Troy starts singing.

‘Well
I'm not the world’s most physical guy but when she squeezed me tight she nearly
broke my spine, oh my Lola, lo-lo-lo-lo Lola. Well I'm not dumb but I can't
understand why she walked like a woman and talked like a man, oh my Lola,
lo-lo-lo-lo Lola.’

It
doesn’t take long for Dylan to catch on that Troy is singing Lola, that song by
The Kinks about a romantic encounter between a young man and a transvestite.

‘Oh,
very funny,’ Dylan admits, a smile starting to spread across his face. Thank
God he can see the funny side.

Down
in the lobby, Troy kisses me on the cheek before going back to his room,
leaving me with a generous fifteen minutes to get Dylan to the tour bus which,
thankfully, is just outside.

‘Here,’
Dylan says, handing me a small paper bag. ‘I bought you something.’

I
carefully open the bag and tip the contents into my hand.

‘They’re
pleasure beads,’ he tells me. ‘They-‘

‘Oh,
I know what they do,’ I say, laughing. ‘Thank you.’

‘You’re
welcome. Although I’m not sure you need them,’ he says, nodding in the
direction Troy just walked off in.

‘None
of your business,’ I reply. ‘Now, let’s get you to the bus.’

‘Not
so fast,’ Dylan says, putting an arm out to stop me. ‘What about our
tradition?’

‘Dill,
we’re late, balls to tradition.’

My
friend fakes a gasp, but he’s right to. When we started this little tradition
we said we’d always stick to it, no matter what.

‘Come
on, I saw one outside, it will take us five minutes.’

‘Ok,’
I say, following his lead. ‘Tradition is tradition.

Chapter Fifteen: Is he a pig? He sure eats like one

 

When
you're on tour with a band, as surprising as it may seem, you end up with this
little family unit. Everyone takes on a role and finds a way to live together.
As immature and as rubbish at being a woman as I am, I sort of take on the
female roles - I certainly end up playing mum to Dylan all the time. Sometimes
it's mum, sometimes it's part-time wife (although not with Dill) and sometimes
you're like an annoying sister, winding the boys up about their hair or the
dumb girls they bring back to the bus. Whatever role you take on in the family,
you are a family, with an unrelenting, unconditional love for one another and
lots of weird and wonderful traditions. When I visit my parents at Christmas we
always watch It's A Wonderful Life on Christmas Eve because it is tradition.
When I'm on tour with Dylan we also have our traditions... only they're a
little different.

Dragging
me out of the hotel by the wrist - and not in the direction of the bus - Dylan
leads me along the pavement until we are out of sight of the front door.

'I
told you I'd find one. Spotted this one last night at some point,' he says
proudly.

'Oh,
so you do remember parts of last night?' I tease.

'Only
some, but I'm working on it,' he replies, swigging a bottle of beer that he
didn’t have five minutes ago when we were in the lobby, so God knows where he
got it from.

We
are standing in front of a large map of the town. You know, the ones they put
up for tourists that usually have a "you are here" sticker on them.
We are standing here because one of our traditions is to, how shall I put it,
decorate them with a few family heirlooms. I'm not sure how it started, but I
know where. We were in Glasgow for a gig and for some reason (we were hammered)
we ended up decorating the "you are here" map like a Christmas tree -
with our underwear, hooking it on the fancy corners of the metal frame. We
ended up taking photos of ourselves posing in front of the sign, and then when
we were in Manchester a week later we thought it would be funny to do it again.
A new tradition was born. These days I don't wear fancy pants when I go places
with Dill because I know I'll be ditching my draws at some point. No one knows
about this little tradition, not even Dylan's band mates. I don't think anyone
would understand why we do it - I don't really know myself, it's just a silly
drunk tradition, but it's our silly drunk tradition and I'll do it until I run
out of underwear or we get arrested, because I’m starting to think it might be frowned
upon by the authorities.

Dylan
removes a pair of black boxer shorts from his pocket and waves them at me. No,
he didn’t removed them in advance to make this quicker and easier, they were
probably just holding him back last night and cutting into his sexy time.

'Did
you leave yours in Troy's mouth?' he teases me. 'I can wait here while you go
and get them.'

I
fake a laugh before impressively removing my thong without taking off my new
shorts. We check to make sure the coast is clear and that there are no cameras
on us - because we're pros at this now - before swiftly leaving our mark on
this weird little town and snapping a few photos.

Like
nothing happened, we stroll back along the pavement towards the front of the
hotel. Another one for the family album.

'You
there,' a man's voice calls from behind us.

I
feel a wave of panic wash over me - did someone see what we just did?

'Dude,
I didn't forget you,' Dylan calls back.

Dylan
wanders over to a homeless man and empties out his pockets, dropping a variety
of sweets into the man's lap. The man is clearly delighted and Dylan looks all
warm and fuzzy because he did a nice thing for someone other than himself.

As
the homeless gentleman tucks into his Skittles with real enthusiasm, Dylan
turns to me.

'Nic,
check it out, we're like E.T and Elliot.'

'Dylan,
he's a man not an alien,' I whisper.

'It's
the same, though. Can he come on tour with us?'

At
this, the homeless man stops chewing and looks up, he's clearly up for a little
partying.

'Oh,
you know it would be ok with me,' I lie, them both staring at me expectantly,
Dylan like a child asking his mum if his friend can stay for tea. 'But it's up
to Claire, she's in charge.'

The
homeless man looks back down at his Skittles, clearly disappointed.

It's
not because he's homeless that I don't want him tagging along, it's because he
could be anyone - a murderer, a psycho, a Steps fan - it's just too much of a
risk. It's funny because I'm not even going with them, and yet Dylan asks me
for permission. I know Claire will say no, though.

'Let
me go run it by my manager,' Dylan tells the man excitedly.

As
we hurry in the direction of the bus I look at my watch and realise it is
actually ten past six - ten minutes after Claire told me the bus would be
leaving. As I worry about how Dylan is going to react to being marooned by his
own people in a crazy town where he has slept with almost everyone, we turn the
corner and there is the tour bus, with Claire standing outside.

I
link up with Dylan and, moving my lips as little as possible, warn him, 'Do not
ask Claire if you can bring some random man on tour with you. Oh, and be nice
to her, you mistook her for a fan earlier.'

He
laughs, neither trying nor wanting to hide his amusement.

As
we approach the bus, Dylan jumps on first.

'Please,
I'm just trying to do my job, if you want an autograph write to my fan mail
address,' he teases Claire as he passes her. She doesn't look amused, but at
least she waited.

'You
didn't leave at six,' I say to her once Dylan is inside.

'I
knew you'd be late. You're always late, Nicole.'

We
laugh together. She is absolutely right, I am always late.

'I
knew you'd get him here though,' she continues. 'You've always been able to
control Dylan, I wish you'd teach me.'

'It's
a gift and a curse. Well, I'd better head to the train station.'

I
wave at the blacked-out windows of the bus, just in case anyone is looking out
at us.

'You
got much work over the next couple of days?' Claire asks me.

'Not
much, just typing up yesterday's events - from the gig, that is.'

‘Did
Dylan cause trouble last night?’

There
is no sense in telling Claire the truth, so I shake my head.

‘I
found him, he was in his bed. He was in bed for most of the night, actually,’ I
reply – because that is technically true.

'Sure
he was. Well we've got the charity gig tonight, Sheffield tomorrow and then
Leeds the day after that. Tag along. We can drop you right at your door.'

'You
just need someone to look after Dylan,' I reply with a laugh.

'True,
but you're a part of the team and I hate being the only girl on this stinking
bus.'

Before
I get chance to reply the driver approaches us.

'If
we're going to get there on time we need to leave now.'

'Well,
Nicole,' Claire prompts. 'Are you up for a few days on the road?'

Am
I up for a few days on tour? With no clean clothes (or any clothes of my own
for that matter), no knickers, little make-up and a dying phone battery/no
charger? I open my mouth to speak but we are interrupted again, this time by
Dylan.

'Come
on, wild thing.' Dylan grabs my arm and pulls me onto the bus. 'You can help me
start a rumour about how small that X Factor kid's cock is. I'm thinking via
Twitter.’

And
just like that, I'm hitting the road for a few days. Never mind the fact that I
have an actual job, and people who will expect me to turn up for work in the
morning. It's a good job I was going to say yes to Claire, isn't it? But I'm
sure the office can manage without me for another day or three...

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