Playing Along (31 page)

The night has been incredible. Jay Z was amazing and Fanny Arundel gave a performance that made even Lady Gaga look tame, wearing nothing but iridescent underwear and twenty lollipops sprouting out of her beehive hair.

Russell appears to have recovered from his earlier trauma and has been chatting to Gabe most of the evening. George is sitting across the table from her and keeps catching her eye and grinning. She can’t believe that she has wasted so much time imagining George to be the arrogant, womanizing rock star that he obviously isn’t. It appears that Duncan is the one member of the band who is fully embracing that stereotype. He has stood up and is swaying back and forth like a precariously unstable tree.

“Sooo,” says Duncan, holding an empty glass above his head. George is worried about him. He has managed to circumvent Fanny for the entire night, but he saw Duncan falling all over her backstage. He’s definitely high on something, most likely supplied directly by her.

Duncan waves the glass in the air, “I’d like to say bottoms up and tits up to us all for being such talented fuckers!”

“Hear hear!” says Simon.

“And congratulations to us for getting engaged!” pipes in Stacey, who is even louder when drunk.

Lexi only has to hear the words ‘engaged’ and her stomach drops.

“Hear, hear, hear!” repeats Simon boisterously.

“Are we making toasts?” Fanny Arundel, in her outrageous ensemble, has suddenly appeared at the table, licking one of the lollipops previously balanced in her hair. She drapes an arm theatrically around George’s shoulder.

“Want a lick?” she says, sliding the lollipop seductively down her tongue.

George is horrified. He needs to get her away immediately. “The show is over, Fanny,” he says, hoping she’ll get the hint.

Lexi considers Fanny to be one of the most intimidating creatures she has ever seen, even though without her comically high shoes, she’s probably not much taller than five feet.

“My show’s just beginning, Georgie. Don’t you want everyone to toast
our
happy news?” All George wants to do is take Lexi’s hand and run. Everyone at the table is listening.

“You’re pissed, Fanny.”

“Oh—not pissed, George—not in my condition. I’ve been trying to reach you for weeks but you’ve been so very, very busy. I just thought you might like to toast this as well…” She pats her stomach several times while tilting her head to one side and smiling. George feels the blood draining from his face. He bites down hard on his lower lip.

“That’s right, Georgie,” Fanny says holding out the slimy lollipop, “you’re going to be a dada.”

George closes his eyes tightly.

Lexi opens hers wider.

“Splendid!” says Russell. “This calls for more champagne!”

10:20 p.m.

How wrong Lexi was, thinking that George might be the one to break her heart, when in fact Fanny has done the job for him, grinding her spiky heels in and twisting them around ruthlessly. Everyone is moving and making noise around her but she can’t really take any of it in. George has hurriedly moved Fanny away from the table and is talking to her as intently as he was talking to Lexi only two hours ago. Apparently there is a lot they need to fill each other in on.

Lexi needs to leave. She turns to Russell, “You go on to the after parties. I’m going back to the hotel to see Lance.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” says Russell, sounding a bit lost. “The atmosphere appears to have soured slightly.”

“That’s rock and roll for you,” Lexi says lamely.

“I think I prefer
our
line of work.”

“I agree. Shall we go then?” Lexi takes one last look over at George, who is still entangled in a heated conversation with Fanny. Even though they’ve only shared one kiss, it now feels far too much to walk away unscathed. And besides, her imagination has been busy with him for months, despite having convinced herself she had lost interest. Since first seeing the video, George had always been there in the shadowy corners of her mind, composing lyrics, slipping off his shirt, sliding his hands under hers. Lexi thinks back to the giddy exchange she’d shared with George outside the studio. The easy rapport between them. The thwarted first kiss. The actual first kiss. Was that really only this morning?

Gabe walks towards them both looking extremely anxious. “We did promise you an unforgettable evening!” he says self-consciously.

“And I’d say you delivered on that, Gabriel. Luckily, all we have to do is consult on the band’s environmental issues rather than their love lives. We’ll leave that up to you,” says Russell.

“Yes, indeed. Well, thank you both for being here and let’s talk before you go.”

“Of course,” says Russell.

“And Lexi,” Gabe takes her hand and squeezes it, “Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” says Lexi, mystified, as Gabe walks away. She follows Russell through the auditorium towards the exits. People are still making their way out, tripping and laughing and singing drunkenly. Lexi, in contrast, feels somber.

“That’s odd,” she says, “why would Gabe be congratulating
me
?”

Russell looks flustered, “Oh dear, Lexi. I think I may have spoken out of line. I mean the Chablis was flowing plentifully tonight and I unintentionally let it slip about your engagement. It’s only that I think poor Gabe is rather interested in you and I didn’t want him to get the wrong impression.”

Lexi sighs, “But I’m not engaged, Russell.”

Russell looks surprised. “Lance said you accepted?”

“That wasn’t a
yes
for
him
. That was a
yes
for
you
knocking at the door. I told him after you left, it’s just too soon. I can’t…” In fact, the exact words Lexi had said to Lance were, “I can’t rush into marriage… we need to slow things down. It’s early stages. We’re just mixing in all the ingredients. The cake is nowhere near ready to be baked.”

“No cake?” Lance had said pathetically.

“Not yet.”

Lexi had hoped this would give her a bit more breathing space—a chance to see George again and make a decision. But none of that mattered now. George was gone. Off into the bleary sunset with a deranged girl/woman who was carrying his baby.

She remembers again the concert and how foolish she’d felt when Meg and the girl next to her had both said they thought George was staring at them. How could she have been so naive? The same feeling of shame envelops her now, except this time it is blacker and far more corrosive.

Lexi crosses her arms tightly in front of her chest. “It doesn’t matter anyway,” she says to Russell, as they walk away from the massive building and into the crisp London night. “Let them think I’m engaged.” Perhaps this might even work in her favor. If George hears the news, she will have managed to detonate her own device, without even any planning involved. Russell is looking around for a taxi. The tears begin to fall from Lexi’s eyes, and it is so cold outside that she imagines each teardrop freezing, forming glistening, frozen crystals on her skin.

GEORGE
17
^th
February, 2010
Primrose Hill, London, 6:30 a.m.

George is back in his spot on Primrose Hill watching a pale orange sun trying to break through a misty sky. He’s been up all night. There is nothing suitable about this dawn. He is all alone. Again. The night had unfolded like a suffocating dream. What was he to do? Fanny might well be pregnant with his child, after all, he was the moron who had slept with her.

“Come on, Fanny, how do you know it’s mine?” George had insisted on asking last night, as soon as he had veered her away from the demolition she had already caused. He couldn’t bear to look at Lexi. Was there any amount of damage control that could fix this?

“Because I know. I don’t sleep around with just anyone, George. I’m very selective. I tried to explain to you—Sebastian and I chose you. Don’t you understand?”

If George could have ripped out every lollipop from her hair and shoved them down her throat, he would. He’d never felt so full of fury.

“No, Fanny. I don’t understand! I didn’t choose you. I didn’t choose this.”

“Well, you might have thought of that before you fucked me in Vegas.”

George had attempted to control himself, “That’s questionable, isn’t it, Fanny? You see because I don’t even know if that actually happened.”

“Well, it did in LA.”

She had him there.

“But we used a condom,” he had said in an angry whisper.

“It must have had a hole or something. It happens, George. Sebastian wanted this for us.”

“What?!”

“I’ve been trying to let you know. I’ve already had a scan. We’re having a boy. It’s Sebastian’s last chance at rebirth. He’s coming home…” It was then that George knew it was a losing battle. Sebastian might be getting a final chance to give life another go, but George’s number was up.

“Fanny, I need some time to let this all absorb,” George had said, shaking his head. “Let me call you tomorrow, okay?” George hadn’t known what the hell he was going to say to her, but he needed to get to Lexi and he couldn’t wait a moment longer.

“Fine, but you better call me. We have a lot to discuss. I want to give birth on the beach in Devon… I’m thinking about doing a live Internet feed for our fans.” This had to be the most atrocious conversation he would ever have in his life.

“Wow. Yeah… a lot to discuss.” George had turned around then and looked towards their table. He wished with every fibre in his body that he could press rewind. The room was clearing out and everyone had dispersed. Lexi was gone. The only person left was Gabe, standing back dutifully, waiting to assess the wreckage.

George walked towards him looking stunned.

“You all right, George?” Gabe had put his hand protectively on George’s back.

“Not exactly.”

“We’ll figure it out.”

“No we won’t, you don’t know the half of it.” He had looked around at the empty table. “Where’s Lexi, Gabe? I need to talk to her.”

“Lexi? Why? I wouldn’t have thought you’d be in the mood to talk business.”

“It’s not business.”

“You too, huh?”

“Gabe, I think I’m in love with her.” It was the first time he’d spoken the words out loud. He pictured a caption above his head, bold black letters and lots of tiny red hearts.

“Okaaayy…” said a shocked Gabe, “didn’t see that coming. But guess this is the night of the unexpected. So you can add this to the list—turns out you were right—she
is
engaged.”

“Excuse me?” George had said, beginning to feel numb.

“Not to Russell. She has some high flying boyfriend who swooped in and proposed to her this afternoon. He gave her a big rock and everything.”

“But…” And that was where it had ended. There was nothing to follow the but. Nothing that George could have said to explain how something so intricately configured and cared for in his imagination for the last four months could, without warning, disintegrate into a pile of papery ashes.

The sun is fighting its hardest to break through the early morning fog. George speculates he doesn’t have much more fight left in him. What’s left to salvage? Lexi thinks he’s an arsehole. He
is
an arsehole. Lexi lied to him. Even if she broke off her engagement, why would she entertain a relationship with him? Destiny was crueller than he thought. Crueller than his mocking sister. Crueller than the most savage review. This was his fate. This bench. This cold morning. Fame but clearly not love.

LEXI
February 17
^th
, 2010
Metropolitan Hotel, London, 6:30 a.m.

Lexi wakes up in Lance’s arms. His left leg is wrapped around her, trapping her beneath it. He’s fast asleep and breathing with his mouth open. The events of last night begin to fuse together, revealing a picture she would like to tear up into a thousand ragged pieces. Lance starts to stir. Lexi looks down at him and wonders if she really could love him one day as much as he loves her. Perhaps once she gets some urgently needed distance from George and London and all the dreadfully confusing events of the last forty-eight hours, perhaps then she will arrive at some clarity. He opens his eyes slowly.

“You’re back.”

“Yes, I am.”

“I wasn’t sure if I should have left.”

“You shouldn’t have. I’m glad you stayed.”

“I don’t do things in half measures, Lex, but I’m willing to be patient. All I want is for us to be together.”

“I know.”

“So—we still are—together?”

Lexi takes a deep breath. If destiny brought George into her life then it also brought her here to this moment with Lance. Maybe this is really where she belongs? “Yes, we are.”

“Lance and Lexi?”

“Lance and Lexi
Jacobs
.”

Lance kisses her cheek, “Jacobs for now, until I can persuade you to take my name.” Lexi smiles but inside she feels agitated. Take his name? She hates the idea of changing her name. She won’t do it. Even if they eventually get married. And honestly she doesn’t even know if she wants to get married at all. To anyone. Ever.

“Shall I run us a bubble bath then?” says Lance, pulling a t-shirt over his broad shoulders.

“Okay,” says Lexi, noticing her clothes from last night thrown on the floor in a wrinkled heap, a reminder of the mess that is George Bryce. Her heart feels horribly bruised. The lyrics of “Under the Radar” are still in her head, floating around like nomadic helium balloons.

how could I have missed you

left someone else to kiss you

you slipped under the radar

I was looking away

GEORGE
17
^th
February, 2010
Camden, London, 9:00 p.m.

Nothing was on the schedule for today. What could have been a euphoric day off with the woman he loves, has instead turned into one long empty hour after hour—most of them spent walking aimlessly around north London. George has eventually ended up at the studio, where he is now at the piano feebly attempting to write something. Anything to release this slow building pain. He called Fanny at 12:30. He’d reached her voice mail, “Hi, it’s George. Look, I hope you’re feeling okay and everything. We need to talk about this… this… situation. I’m sorry I didn’t return your calls. Call me.” It’s not that he wants to speak to her. He wouldn’t care if he never speaks to her again, but he knows that he needs to do the right thing. The press will have almost certainly picked up on it by now. No doubt
The Sun
has a headline along the lines of
FANNY KNOCKED UP! GEORGE COCKED UP!