Portia MacIntosh - How Not To Be Starstruck

‘It would have been quite the scoop for the magazine though, wouldn’t it?’ she says cannily, but I know she doesn’t really mean it. She’s right, but not only did I promise their tour manager that I wouldn’t blab, I don’t really want to be pissing off a band that I will probably want to interview again in the future. They may not be very nice guys, but they pull the hits and that’s what I need.

‘We need to keep our heads down, Em. Trying to ruin the reputation of a huge band like Plastic Rap would probably just get us sued. Right, I’m at my door. I trust we’ll be keeping this little discovery between us?’

‘Say no more. See you in the morning and try not to be late, yeah?’

Cheeky bitch. Then again, I am always late.

Chapter Five

The Indecent Proposal

It’s good to be home, and I’m so glad I escaped the teeny orgy as I much prefer my own bed, and I don’t get on that well with kids. The kettle goes on and so does my laptop because, as soon as I get some caffeine in my system, I’m going to make a start transcribing tonight’s interview. I’m very much a night person which is proving really inconvenient because people expect me to wake up in the a.m..

Kicking off my shoes and abandoning my gig outfit in the middle of my living room, I wander around in my underwear until I eventually find my dressing gown which, for some reason, is plonked on top of the cooker. It doesn’t really matter because my cooker is super-clean – not because I am a domestic goddess but because I never, ever use it. Living in the city centre, there is a restaurant or a takeaway everywhere you look – who needs to know how to cook these days?

My butt finally hits the sofa at 1 a.m. I know I’ve got to be up in seven hours (five and a half if I want to wash my hair, which I probably should because I have post-gig frizz going on), so maybe I won’t be typing up the interview tonight after all.

I’m just about to shut down when a message from Luke Fox pops up on Skype. Just seeing his name makes me go all weird and, at twenty-five years of age, I still feel like a lovesick schoolgirl whenever I see him.

Luke is, you’ve guessed it, in a band and I have had a crush on him pretty much since the day we met. Unfortunately he is a bit of a tart, so despite our flirty banter I have mostly just stood back and watched him sleep with anything female that crossed his path.

It was Luke’s band, Two For The Road, that I used to tour with in my teens and now they’re a proper signed band in the middle of their first headlining UK tour – this is the band that I’ll be doing a few tour dates with later this week. I’m making out like it’s a magazine feature – and it will be going in the mag – but, to be honest, I have been on every tour with these guys since we met, I’m not about to stop now they’ve hit the big time. It’s amazing how things have changed. I used to sleep in the back of their van, now they’re being driven around in a huge tour bus.

Touring can really take its toll on your body. I’ve developed tinnitus from all the loud music (it turns out your ears need protection too, something I learned a little too late) and tendon damage from a particularly high pair of heels that I wore for too many days in a row, and while thankfully I’ve managed to protect myself from the cocktail of sexually transmitted diseases that I know several of my band friends have dipped their straws into, my priority has always been to protect my heart – no, I’m not talking about exercising on a regular basis and taking aspirin, I’m talking about not getting too involved with the boys. With Luke, this has always been a struggle.

It would be the biggest understatement of the century to say that I have a slight crush on him – I am crazy for him. I haven’t wanted to be anybody’s girlfriend since Robbie Williams ripped off his clothes (and then his skin) in the ‘Rock DJ’ music video back in 2000, but I could quite easily believe in monogamy for this man – something which troubles me because I’m not a commitment kind of girl and he certainly isn’t a commitment kind of boy.

He’s tall without being lanky, his dark hair is effortlessly perfect with his fringe falling over his gorgeous brown eyes and he always seems to smells so nice, even when he’s all sweaty after a show – see what I mean, I sound like a fifteen-year-old girl. The bottom line is that he is gorgeous, but I’m not the only one who thinks so. He has an even bigger female following since hitting the big time and I can’t compete with semi-naked, drunk chicks that operate as a team.

Luke: Nicole?

As the message pops up on my screen, the butterflies in my stomach start fluttering like crazy, it’s ridiculous. When we see each other at gigs, we get on so well and we flirt constantly but that’s just the way he is. He definitely doesn’t know about my little crush on him. It would be stupid of me to interpret his flirting as real feelings because he’s such a ladies’ man and a total charmer. He’s the kind of guy your mother would warn you about and your father would want to kill – actually, he could probably charm your mum too.

After what feels like several minutes of panicky excitement, I manage to compose myself enough to type a reply. He tells me that he is currently sat in a hotel room, all alone and bored out of his mind. After we get past the hello-how-are-you stuff, things start to get interesting.

Luke: No party tonight. This is not what I signed up for.

Nicole: Well I’ll be with you in a few days, and I’ll make sure we have a messy one.

Luke: Looking forward to it. Are you seeing anyone at the moment?

Am I seeing anyone at the moment? That’s a laugh. The truth is that it’s been years since I had an actual boyfriend. It’s not that I’m lacking male attention, far from it, but my type happens to be musicians.

When you’re on the road, all relationships are short, even friendships. You take ‘relationships’ where you can find them and they require about as much commitment as a pet rock. Having a guy ask you to be his girlfriend in the ‘real world’ is the equivalent of a band boy actually remembering your surname. But that’s the way I like it. The sad truth is that I’d rather have two nights with a rockstar than two years with your average bloke.

The fact that Luke is even enquiring about my love life is enough to make my heart race.

Nicole: Nope. Are you?

Luke: No, I’m single too.

I knew that. Luke totally subscribes to the musician way of life and a girlfriend would only cramp his style. Before I have chance to worry about what to say in response, Luke sends me another message.

Luke: Can I ask you something?

Nicole: Sure.

I’m trying to sound cool, like I’m not really bothered what he says next – I am though. This is so high school, I cannot believe that I am still playing these games.

Luke: You know that I fancy you, don’t you?

If I’m being honest, I’m waiting for the punch-line.

My first guess is that it isn’t Luke at all. It could be Eddie, the TFTR front-man, messing with me. Or maybe it is Luke, but he’s drunk. Then again, if he’s drunk how come his typing is so accurate? And Eddie being sober, or alone, at this time of night after a gig is about as probable as me using my cooker for something other than storage.

Nicole: You fancy everyone, ha-ha!

Luke: No, I really fancy you.

If this isn’t a joke then I am gobsmacked. I’ll have to reply with something or he’ll think he’s scared me away. Not only is this guy my crush, but he’s a proper celebrity these days. He might not be a super-star like Dylan, and TFTR aren’t as big as Plastic Rap yet, but he’s big enough to have an album in the impressive end of the Top Forty at the moment.