Authors: Portia MacIntosh
‘Are
you ok?’ Luke asks me, not even looking at Kelly. I nod.
‘Kelly
Parker, I’m a huge fan.’ Eddie takes her hand and kisses it. I think he was
trying to be charming, but he’s coming across a little creepy, bless him.
‘Thank
you. So did you win some kind of competition to come back here?’ she asks, and
without waiting for an answer we hug again and she wanders off.
‘Was
she joking?’ he asks me, and I know that she was but I don’t tell him that.
Instead I shrug my shoulders, grab Luke’s arm and head over to where Frank has
been waiting.
‘I’ve
just checked the seating plan, you’re on the table next to Dylan. Don’t worry,
they’re big tables. You probably wouldn’t have noticed but I thought I’d best
tell you,’ Frank warns me, although I suspect this isn’t much of a surprised to
him. I think he wants drama and headlines for me, when all I want is an easy
life. The shine is wearing off being a celebrity pretty quickly. I knew there
were downsides, but I didn’t realise they would overpower the positives.
Hopefully Frank is right, and I won’t notice the happy couple sitting near me.
Frank
is a massive liar. I’m practically back-to-back with Crystal, and the same goes
for Luke and Dylan. When we went to sit down I noticed Luke look at Dylan, and
there was such hate in his eyes. He’d always joked about wanting to be mates
with him - I’ll bet it’s because of me that he doesn’t want to any more.
We’ve
been sat here an hour or so, and despite their public displays of affection,
and Crystal purposefully saying things loud enough for me to hear, I am pretty
much pretending my best friend and his horrible wife are not there.
‘And
now for the Female Artist of the Year award,’ announces the host, who I vaguely
recognise as being someone from some TV show.
As
the video with the nominations plays, I feel a tap on my shoulder. It’s Dylan.
‘Where’s
your wife?’ I whisper.
‘Toilet.
I’m sorry about this, I didn’t know you’d be here.’
‘Whatever.’
I turn back around, but he grabs my shoulder. Not hard, but Luke is there quick
as a flash to remove it.
‘I
don’t want any trouble mate. I just want to talk to her before Crystal gets
back.’ He sounds panicky, like maybe he thinks Luke might hit him or something.
‘What
could you possibly have to say to me that you can’t say in front of your wife?’
I ask. ‘Unless you wanted to apologise for lying to the press about us having
sex when we didn’t.’
‘I’m
sorry about that, Nic-’
‘You
piece of shit,’ Luke cuts him off. ‘I didn’t doubt for one second that she was
telling me the truth, but hearing you say it out loud now just makes me want to
smack you even more.’
Dylan
looks at me, and I’m sure I can see tears in his eyes. ‘I just wanted to see my
kids, Nic.’ He spies Crystal making her way back through the tables and quickly
turns around.
I
squeeze Luke’s hand. ‘Thanks for sticking up for me.’
He
smiles, and we turn our attention back to the host.
‘And
the winner of Female Artist of the Year goes to...’ she pauses for dramatic
effect. ‘Kelly Parker.’
Oh
my God, Kelly won! This time last week I wouldn’t have cared, but now she’s my
friend and I'm so proud of her. She looks absolutely beautiful as she makes her
way to the stage. Her dress puts mine to shame.
‘Wow,
this is such an honour, thank you.’ She kisses the trophy triumphantly, and
then goes on to thank all the people who helped to make it possible.
‘I’ve
had a pretty horrible year,’ she says, and of course everyone knows that she is
talking about her cheating fiancé. ‘But I want to put that all behind me and
just get on with making music. I’d also like to dedicate this award to my
friend, Nicole Wilde, who is in the audience. I know how harsh the press can be
- I had to have my heart broken before they decided to like me - and I know
that once this mess is cleared up you’ll all like Nicole as much as I do. Thank
you.’ She holds her trophy high before leaving the stage.
Before
the events of the past couple of months I wouldn’t have said I was much of a
crier, but that speech went straight to my tear ducts.
‘That
was seriously cool of her,’ Luke says.
‘Some
people are so desperate for attention,’ I hear a female voice say rather loudly
from behind me, but I’m too happy to care.
You
know that feeling of relief when you’re having a nightmare and you wake up to
find it was all a dream? Well I just had that, but in reverse. In my dream we
were all at work, even Vicky, and we were all getting on great – something
which probably should have tipped me off that it wasn’t real. I woke up from my
realistic dream to read that I had resumed my romance with Dylan King. I’ve got
to hand it to the Daily Scoop, when they set out to ruin you, they really go
for it.
After
last night’s red carpet awkwardness, someone had the bright idea to dig out the
photo of me leaving Dylan’s house back when I first arrived in London - before
Crystal even took him back. Why am I making excuses? Nothing happened. I went
over to try and sort things out and then he gave that false statement. Oh God,
and I practically gave that pap his photo because I thought it might force
Dylan’s hand and make him tell the truth. Instead, I gave them ammunition. They
have a photo of my leaving Dylan’s house and I have no way of proving when it
was taken. Even if I tried, who would believe me?
Their
new and exciting twist in the tale is that I am cheating on Luke with Dill.
They dug up Scott Hale’s blog about me and the TFTR boys, and because I am
living with Luke now, in the world of journalism, that absolutely makes him my
boyfriend. So, I’m cheating on Luke with Dylan, who is cheating on Crystal with
me – what a small world. I would imagine Crystal knows Dylan and I haven’t been
getting up to anything because as far as I know, she doesn’t let him out of her
sight, but I don’t think she’ll be rushing to defend me any time soon.
The
rumours of my sex life have been greatly exaggerated. Supposedly I’ve had sex
with various members of TFTR in the space of a couple of nights on tour, I’ve
been having an affair with Dylan King, I am in a relationship with Luke Fox,
and we spend our days smoking, snorting and injecting things. So, how much of
that is true? Well, I didn’t have sex with anyone on the TFTR tour, let alone
multiple people, Dylan and I haven’t had an affair, Luke isn’t my boyfriend
(despite our night of passion before he decided to bust his head open and crack
his ribs) and when we’re not working, we spend our time watching movies and
playing video games – caffeine is our drug of choice. If you believe what you
read in the papers, then I’m having the time of my life. The reality is that I
don’t have a boyfriend, I’m scared to go out too much in case the paparazzi
harass me and I spend most of my time chained to the computer guest writing
articles for various magazines or replying to email interviews.
So,
what is happening tonight? Well, Luke is ordering pizza while I scan his DVD
collection for a movie. Then we’re going to get an early night – in our
separate beds. I wish I was having half as much fun as the press were making
out.
It
is the most wonderful time of the year, so why do I feel so crap? I have always
loved Christmas and come December I am usually down for anything remotely
festive. It was only last year that Emily and I went to visit Santa in town. I
sat on his knee and told him that I wanted Ugg boots (I got them, although they
were from my mummy and daddy) and had my photo taken with him. I thoroughly enjoyed
it – I think Santa did too, which was kind of creepy.
I
have just completed all of my Christmas shopping, but as hard as I tried I just
couldn’t get into the festive spirit. This is, to put it simply, because my
life is fucked. The grass is always greener - it’s a cliché, but it’s true. I
spent so many nights sitting in my little Leeds flat writing about famous
people and envying their lives, but now I’m getting a taste of it all I want to
do it spit it out. Here’s another cliché, be careful what you wish for. I
always thought I’d achieve my Paris Hilton lifestyle by bagging myself a
rockstar boyfriend first, making me some kind of rock WAG - details that I
should have made clear every time I wished for the high life because I may have
the fame side, but my reputation is always going to precede me, and we all know
what kind of reputation I have. That said, I do have supporters now. My fanbase
is made up of people who love me for swearing on a show watched by their
grandmother, or Kelly Parker fans – I suspect no one actually believes I’m
innocent because they certainly didn’t before my little flip-out on TV. Anyone
who was starting to believe me certainly won’t after The Scoop stepped up their
little campaign against me, making out like Dylan and I had rekindled our
romance – the one that never even started.
Oh
well. At least I have managed to stretch out my fifteen minutes of fame,
because if it wasn’t for the work Frank was getting me, I would be unemployed.
With
few friends there and no job to rush back for, I’m not going back to Leeds any
time soon - suddenly there’s not that much to go back for. Jake is forwarding
me all my post and sending me any of the junk from my flat that I might need.
Now that it’s common knowledge I’m living in London, my little flat has drifted
back into anonymity, with not so much as a drunk idiot pressing the buzzer in
the middle of the night. My flat is getting about as much action as I am –
probably more, because at least Jake is popping in and out.
As
much as I miss my flat, I’m loving living with Luke – although, it was never
going to be a long-term thing. He has been behaving, but only because at first
he was too ill to miss behave and now because I am watching him like a hawk. I can’t
be around all the time though, and now he’s back on his feet it won’t be long
before he’ll be back on the blow (heard it called that in a film we watched the
other night, can’t stop calling it that) and bringing girls home – I don’t
think I could stand it. I’ve got to get out of here, the sooner the better.
I’m
having coffee with Kelly, and I’ve told her everything about what happened with
Dylan - pretty much every last detail, what do I have to lose? As great as Luke
has been at listening to me whinge, it feels like a huge weight has been lifted
by telling Kelly. I may get on better with the boys, but some conversations
were made to have with girls.
‘So
what are your options?’ Kelly asks, sipping her coffee. I can’t quite remember
what kind it was, but it took her about five minutes to order it, probably
because she insisted on having all the fun (calories) sucked out of it. I keep
glancing down at my full-fat gingerbread latte guiltily, maybe I should be on
the low-fat, low-calorie, low-fun stuff now that I’m a super star, darling.
‘Well
I can go back to Leeds, try and find a job, my flat is still there waiting for
me. I could stay here, keep doing the crappy interviews and try find a place to
live. Although, it would be a long time before I could afford anywhere here to
be honest, and I can’t stay with Luke forever.’
‘I’m
sure. If he’s anything like his sleazy friend, you need to escape while he’s
too weak to hold you down.’
I
laugh, but jump to their defence. ‘Luke’s been great with me and Eddie is
lovely really. He was probably just trying to look cool. But I do need to get
out of there.’
I
neglect to tell her that I’d go crazy with jealousy the second I saw Luke with
another girl. One of the only things I didn’t tell Kelly about was my history
with Luke. I’m not ready to put that out there yet.
‘My
only other option is to be with my family. Throughout this whole thing my mum
has told me over and over again that I can go live with them in France if I
want to. I spoke to her this morning, and she said I could be there by tonight
if I wanted to.’
‘And
do you want to?’ she asks.
‘I
suppose I do.’
Kelly
seems almost as surprised to hear me say this as I was when I realised it was
true. I want to get out of this situation.
‘But
Nicky, you’re turning into a little star here, you don’t want to give up.
You’ve got a platform, you can do anything. Not many people get this
opportunity you know.’
‘I
know.’ I hate being called Nicky, but it’s Kelly Parker, she can call me what
the hell she likes.
I
pause to think about what she’s saying, but I’m fast reminded of the harsh
reality of my situation.
‘Let’s
be honest, everyone hates me. I’m ok for the gossip pages while the whole Dylan
thing is still raw, but pretty soon everyone will stop caring, Dylan will carry
on playing happy families and I’ll go back to being nobody with zero
credibility. I’ve got to get out of here, Kelly.’
‘Won’t
you stay for Christmas? You can celebrate it with me.’
Yet
another thing that, a few months ago, would have been music to my ears, but not
now.