Ex in the City, page 15
Joey ponders this for a moment.
‘I’m going to call Ellie,’ he says. ‘She loves Tay Magenta. She would be so sad if she missed her.’
I smile.
‘Okay, let’s go call her, quick,’ Jessica says, leading Joey away to go call his sister, before she misses the show of a lifetime.
‘See, they’re not all bad,’ Dylan tells me as he smiles widely, clearly getting one hell of a serotonin and dopamine hit from his good deed. ‘I still want some kids of my own, you know. I think about it a lot.’
‘Me too,’ I dare to admit. ‘I do actually really like looking after Archie and Ned. When I was younger, I always felt pretty certain I didn’t want kids, but now that I’ve seen what it’s like… boring life isn’t so bad after all.’
Dylan smiles.
‘I’m starting to see that,’ he replies. ‘But boring life doesn’t have to be boring. You’re about to attend the world’s smallest Tay Magenta gig – she played the O2 arena last week.’
‘There is that,’ I reply with a laugh. ‘But perhaps boring life is boring, without you in it.’
‘Yeah, I’ll drink to that,’ Dylan chuckles. ‘Well, I would if I wasn’t at a kids’ party in a village hall.’
I can’t help but grin like a maniac as I look at him. It is moments like these that remind me just how great Dylan is. He really would make a good dad one day – is it weird that makes him seem even more attractive?
25
I’m in London again which, if I’m being honest, I could seriously get used to.
I’m only here for a few hours, with Dylan and the rest of the band, but I very much feel like I’m back in my old shoes and I’m loving it.
Oh, and I’m quite literally in my old shoes. I’m currently admiring the shiny black pair of Louboutin heels that are gracing my feet. They’re not mine, although, if I keep them on any longer, I could be tempted.
‘These would go great with my outfit for the fundraiser,’ I tell Dylan.
‘I love that you’re going as Cher,’ he says. ‘She’s an icon. I’m not sure who to go as.’
‘I mean, the theme is celebrity, and you are one,’ I point out. ‘Surely you go as yourself.’
‘Well, that’s boring,’ he says with a laugh.
We’re in a private dressing room area of a huge department store, where Dylan, Mikey, Jamie and Taz are meeting with a stylist. It’s not by choice, obviously, this is something their management has organised for them. It just seemed like a funny thing before but, now that we’re here, the stylist seems to be implying that she’s here to make them cool again – to get them with the times.
Tara, the stylist, has a reputation that precedes her. Still, you can be as great as you want, but when you’re in a room with rockers who don’t like to be told what to do, I’m wondering how far she’ll even get with them. I’m surprised they’ve taken it seriously thus far.
I’m only supposed to be here for moral support, for Dylan, but with a mixture of clothes and shoes – many of them just my style – it would be rude not to get involved.
Tara looks like a stylist, you can just tell by how effortlessly trendy she looks. She wears oversized cat-eye glasses and has long, dark hair that cascades in loose waves down her back. Her outfit is a mix of vintage and modern, with a chic black turtleneck, high-waisted jeans and a statement belt. She looks like she just stepped out of a fashion magazine – a French one – so it’s clear she knows her stuff. If the boys don’t want to take tips from her, I certainly will.
So far we’ve been gathered around while Tara explains to us what’s cool and trendy at the moment. She’s mentioning fabrics, patterns and styles – things these guys do not care about. There are racks upon racks of clothes behind her, each filled with a wide variety of outfits. Tara keeps emphasising the need for a fresh look, something that will help rebrand the band, and take them to the next level. I see the boys wince every time she says it, because to them they are cool, they are top level, and a belt isn’t going to change that, right?
‘All right, guys,’ Tara says with a confident smile. ‘So, I’m going to take a quick break, but I want you to try on different pieces and experiment with your new look. Let’s say goodbye to the old and hello to the new. I’ll be back to see your creations shortly.’
As soon as Tara leaves the room, the boys waste no time doing what she suggests – of course, not one of them takes it seriously. They eyeball the racks of clothes with a mischievous gleam in their eyes. The four of them, always up for a laugh, start rifling through the array of garments, and not one of them grabs anything they would actually wear.
Taz picks out an outrageously patterned floral shirt and holds it up to himself, smirking as he poses for the others.
‘What do you think, lads? Can you see me behind the kit in this?’ he asks.
Jamie, in his quest to push it even further than Taz, heads straight for the women’s rail where he spots a neon-green dress with feather boa straps hanging from a hook.
Without hesitation, he drapes it in front of his body, parading around as if he’s on a catwalk.
‘That actually suits you,’ Mikey tells him. ‘Perfect for helping a forgettable bassist stand out.’
‘Ooh, someone thinks that, just because he’s been on the telly, he’s a big shot now,’ Jamie teases him in return. ‘I suppose you’re too good to try on something silly – I bet you do this sort of thing all the time on TV.’
You’ve got to love how Jamie is using Mikey’s success to mock him. That’s a special talent.
‘Well, that’s where you’re wrong,’ Mikey replies as he grabs a pair of tight-looking leather trousers.
He heads behind the curtain to change, but within moments, we hear muffled swearing.
‘Uh, guys, I think I’m stuck!’ Mikey’s voice calls out in a mild panic from behind the curtain.
‘Yeah, all right, pull the other one,’ Dylan calls back. ‘We’re not falling for that one.’
Mikey whips open the curtain and the sight of him standing there, in a pair of leather trousers that are too small to fasten, with a solemn look on his face, is enough to send me into hysterics. The other boys are loving it too.
‘I thought you had to keep trim for the telly,’ Jamie teases.
‘I am,’ Mikey insists. ‘It’s just… I guess these are women’s trousers?’
Well, that just makes everyone laugh harder.
‘Can you help me out of them, before the stylist comes back?’ he begs.
‘Yeah, hang on, just let us take a photo,’ Taz says, looking around for his phone.
Mikey closes the curtain again.
‘Nicole,’ he calls out from behind it. ‘Will you help me – please?’
My eyes widen with horror.
‘Erm… okay?’ I reply, not sounding all that into the idea.
I step into the small cubicle with Mikey. He smiles at me pathetically.
‘Okay, have you tried wriggling?’ I ask.
‘Yeah, it’s not working,’ he replies.
I hear sniggers from the outside.
‘What if I grab them, and you jump up and down?’ I suggest.
‘Mmm, yeah, grab it,’ I hear Jamie moan in a sex voice.
Mikey grunts as he jumps.
‘My balls,’ he practically cries.
The boys roar.
‘Careful with his balls, Nicole,’ Taz calls out.
It makes what I’m trying to do all the more difficult, having a bunch of comedians behind the curtain.
‘You just hold super still,’ I tell him. ‘I’ll yank them.’
I, of course, instantly regret using the word ‘yank’ because Jamie is straight in there with the obvious joke.
‘That’s it, that’s it,’ Mikey says as I make progress, and I do wish he would try a little harder to make this not sound sexual. ‘There we go!’
And… they’re off.
My God, I’m roasting now. I quickly whip back the curtain, to get some air, only for Tara to see the two of us emerging, both red-faced, Mikey all sweaty and – regrettably – without any trousers on.
‘I understand people in your industry have… these urges,’ Tara says through gritted teeth. ‘But can you please… not… thank you.’
Her voice gets higher with each word.
‘Don’t worry about the rest of us,’ Jamie tells her. ‘This just classic them – they do this all the time, can’t take them anywhere.’
My eyes snap in Dylan’s direction. I can see his jaw clenching and he’s fidgeting, tapping his thumb with each of his fingers, but worst of all is the fact that he can’t even look at me right now.
There’s an awkward conversation Dylan and I need to have, about what happened between me and Mikey, and I know what you’re thinking but it’s not that. It’s quite the opposite really.
I walk over to Dylan.
‘Can we go for a quick walk?’ I ask him quietly. ‘I need some air.’
‘Sure,’ he replies.
We duck out and head down a few stairs, eventually popping out on the homeware floor. For a minute or two we browse, over in a quiet corner where no one seems to be looking – I suppose the stuff over here is kind of kooky. I pick up various large candles, all of them in what have to be purposefully phallic shapes, as I wonder how I’m going to say what I need to tell him.
‘Okay, we need to have an awkward conversation,’ I say.
‘Which one?’ Dylan asks as he carefully places down the unusual ornament he was just examining – probably trying to work out what it is supposed to be.
Because of course there are two awkward conversations we need to have.
‘The Mikey one,’ I clarify.
Dylan takes a deep breath. I brace myself.
‘Look, Nic, it’s fine,’ he tells me, not exactly sounding like it’s fine. ‘Do I love that you were with my brother? No, obviously not, because – well, it doesn’t matter why now. But it was a long time ago. We’ve all grown and changed and all that shit. When we had the chat, about the band getting back together, Mikey and I decided that we just wouldn’t talk about the past. I figured you and I could do the same.’
‘Okay but, here’s the thing, I wasn’t completely honest with you back then,’ I confess. ‘And you’re right, we’ve all grown and changed, so I’m hoping you’ll understand.’
Dylan stares at me, an almost terrified look in his eye. It feels like it takes me a lifetime to start talking again. I just need to blurt it out.
‘Dill, nothing ever happened, between Mikey and me,’ I tell him. ‘We both lied to you.’
His terror changes to confusion. His brow wrinkles and his jaw drops slightly.
‘Nic, I’m not a baby,’ he insists. ‘And I’m over it. You don’t need to pretend it didn’t happen for my benefit.’
‘I only pretended it did happen for your benefit,’ I go on. ‘Right, just listen to me for a second, hear me out until the end.’
I need to explain, from start to finish, and I need to make sure I recap every last detail for him, because I don’t know how sharp those memories are for him now.
‘It was just before you guys called it quits with the band,’ I explain. ‘We had our… we went on our holiday, after our respective break-ups.’
‘Awkward conversation number two,’ he says.
‘Yep, awkward conversation number two,’ I reply, laughing just a little. I love that, even when he’s serious, he’s still funny. ‘When we got back from holiday, and with all the bad press you were getting – Dill, you were in a really bad way. You were a mess, you were drinking probably the most I’d ever seen you drink, you didn’t care about the band, or yourself, or anything. You and I were in a bad spot, and there was so much tension building between you and Mikey, and every gig you did only left your fans feeling disappointed. The Burnouts were over, no matter what I did, and I see that now but, at the time, I just felt like I needed to do something. We were all talking about you, all the time, any chance we got, trying to work out what to do with you. That night, on the last tour, Mikey and I were talking, trying to figure out how we could get you into a rehab. People kept walking into the dressing room, so we went into the bathroom.’
‘And then I walked in,’ he says.
‘And then you walked in,’ I confirm. ‘And you were drunk, and the first conclusion you jumped to was that something was going on between me and Mikey, that we were carrying on behind your back. So I just thought, seeing how bothered you were about it, that I would tell you that you were right, that me and Mikey were together, because I knew how much you always hated coming second to Mikey – I thought it might shock you into doing something – and Mikey went along with it. And I guess it worked in a way, because you did go to rehab soon after, but you also didn’t speak to either of us ever again until, well, now.’
Dylan looks at me with suspicion.
‘But I walked in on the two of you at it in the bathroom,’ he says.
‘We were just talking,’ I tell him. ‘You were wasted.’
‘No, that last night, we were in Liverpool, and I came to find you after the soundcheck and—’
‘Dill, we were in Birmingham,’ I remind him. ‘You were wasted.’
‘But it doesn’t make sense,’ he says. ‘I spoke to Mikey briefly, maybe five or six years ago, and you were still together – you must have been together for years?’
I shake my head.
‘I was so sure – I’m sure someone said your name,’ he replies, racking his brain, looking frustrated that he can’t remember.
‘His wife is called Nicola, right?’ I point out. ‘And their eldest is at least four…’
‘Oh my God, I’ve been such an idiot,’ he says. ‘I thought it was you. Mikey called me up one Christmas out of the blue, years ago, and said that his girlfriend thought she had overheard my voice in the background of a phone call – I assumed it was you, encouraging him to reach out, to reconnect with me, but the last thing I wanted was to see the two of you together, so I never met up with him. I even told the people around me that I’d figured stuff out with him, and with you, just to stop talking about it all, to bury it at the back of my mind again. I don't think he even said your name, I think he just said “girlfriend” and I assumed the worst, that his girlfriend was you. Did I torture myself over nothing?’
Poor Dylan. It must be awful to realise that you’re not exactly a reliable narrator, not even when it comes to talking about your memories.
‘I’m guessing that was Nicola. Dylan, I owe you a huge apology,’ I tell him. ‘I honestly thought that my meddling would help. Needless to say, I’ve worked on my methods a lot since then. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for lying to you, I’m sorry I hurt you… I’m just sorry. I just wanted to help.’
He turns to face away from me and composes himself for a second. I feel sick with nerves as I wait to hear what he has to say. God, I hope he isn’t furious with me. I really was only trying to help him. The tears that have been threatening to fall, that I’ve been trying to hold back throughout my explanation, finally find an escape.
Dylan turns around, grabs me and pulls me close.
‘I’m the one who is sorry,’ he tells me as he hugs me. ‘I’m sorry for what I put you all through, I’m sorry you felt like you had to do anything about it. You did help me. You stopped me making one of the biggest mistakes of my life because, honestly, I really thought I was doing better then. I thought I was drinking less, I thought I was behaving, and I really thought I was going to win you back. But I would have ruined your fucking life, and that would have been too much for me to take. But look at us now, that’s all that matters. You did the right thing, okay?’
He relaxes a little, letting me move back so we can look at each other.
‘I’m sorry you had to go through all of that alone,’ I tell him.
‘I think I needed to go through it alone, to do it for myself,’ he reassures me.
I can see every single emotion behind his eyes. The sadness, the relief, the gratitude.
Dylan places a hand on my face and wipes away a tear with his thumb.
‘You’ve had that bottled up for a while, hmm?’ he says with a smile.
‘Just a bit,’ I say, laughing with relief, happy to see that he’s okay.
‘I get why you did what you did and, looking at it through “present eyes”, which is probably the only other rehab thing I remember – aside from the obvious one – I’m actually glad to hear it,’ he says.
‘Yeah?’ I reply.
‘Yeah,’ he says, the picture of casual coolness again. ‘I thought you were my brother’s ex. Now I know you’re not, that changes things.’
‘It does?’ I say, my breathing quickening.
‘It definitely makes awkward conversation number two a lot less awkward, right?’
I laugh.
‘Maybe,’ I reply.
‘Oh my God, you’re Dylan King,’ a voice screeches.
We quickly part and turn to see a gang of four women, all with Dylan firmly in their sights. I worry for a second, that they’re going to notice the crying girl standing next to him, but then I realise that they’re all crying, all so overwhelmed to be in Dylan’s presence, so I fit right in.
As Dylan poses for photos with each of them, I take a step back. I feel so relieved – I don’t think I’ve ever known relief like it. I was stupid, at the time, thinking I knew best, that I could somehow trick him into becoming a better person. Since then, I’ve tried harder to help people, to genuinely make them better people, rather than just to spin things so they look good. Pretending to date his brother – the one he always wanted to be more like – felt like the only way out of a bad situation at the time.
I’m so happy it’s all out in the open now. The only thing that is left to worry about is awkward conversation number two. But we’ll save that one for another day.
26
My life, at the moment, is very much divided into two halves.
