The one good thing, Emma thought as she sat in the first-class lounge at Heathrow with a glass of champagne, was that when Mega! had you travelling last minute and in an emergency, they let you travel in style. She took a sip and wrinkled her nose as the bubbles popped up out of the glass.
She should call her mum and dad. She called them individually every Sunday, like clockwork. It was in the calendar, part of her way of dealing with them pre-emptively and she could pretend that she had a normal family. She could remind them that she existed not just when it was convenient for them.
Maybe she could miss calling them this week? She took another sip of champagne and leant her head back in the seat and starred at the ceiling. No, much as it was tempting, if she left it, that was when things started to unravel, when she didn’t stick to the routine, to the schedule. If she left things to fate that was when uncertainty took a foothold.
She scrolled through her contacts and with a sigh pressed the number to talk to her dad.
‘Hi Dad,’ she said. It was the last thing she said except for a few hums and uh huhs until he said goodbye five minutes later. Not that he said much, mostly telling her how wonderful Janice was and how Boopsie, his stepdaughter was such a talented singer, and surely Emma could find someone to sign her. She shivered. Boopsie had been the bane of her life when they’d been kids, always around when she visited her dad. She was still always around when she saw him even though she was a year older than her. Being a music star in the making meant mostly mooching off her mother.
Emma checked the time. Still too much time before boarding. She was exhausted already and she hadn’t even started working yet.
‘Do it, just do it.’ She whispered to herself as she stared at her mother’s number. This was so much easier when she was at home. Gee on the sofa opposite her, sending her good vibes. Being her centre. She thought of how he usually smiled crookedly while she did this, but with his brows all frowny and concerned. She closed her eyes, took a breath and imagined him beside her, the smell of him still on her clothes from where he’d held her. She pressed the call button.
***
‘No, Mum. No. I don’t think the Pyrenees would be a better place for Christmas than the Alps.’
‘But I want to show support for those poor Catalans.’ Her mum sounded as if at any moment she was going to wail in anguish.
‘I’m sure the whole of Catalonia appreciates your support but I’m not sure spending Christmas trying to free political prisoners is quite what they want.’
What was it with her mum’s need to save everyone but the person she should be saving?
‘Look, I have to go. They’re calling my flight,’ she lied. ‘And you and Derek will be spending Christmas with me as we discussed.’
‘But those poor Catalans,’ her mother wailed.
‘Bye Mum.’ Emma hung up.
She got up and poured herself another glass of champagne, knocking it back in one. The bubbles burned their way down her throat. She then poured a third glass.
Sinking back in her seat, she could feel her shoulders relax. That would hold them for another week. And there was no way that they could do too much damage between now and next weekend.
Okay, now back to her life. She shifted her head from side to side, lessening the tension in her neck. She checked her texts.
He’s locked himself in his room and he isn’t coming out was the latest from Amanda, the Mega! management person on the ground in LA.
Surely, we can block room service and he’ll run out of food? she wrote back.
I think they stocked up for the duration.
They?
Yeah, they’re all locked in there with him. They are saying it is all for one, and one for all.
So now they thought they were the four musketeers.
More like the four Mouseketeers. Maybe she should take a quick detour to Disneyland?
I bet Disney never had this much trouble with Justin Timberlake and Ryan Gosling, she thought. Maybe when she was wandering through the Magic Kingdom she’d buy them those silly hats with ears and their names embroidered on the front. Or maybe just Jackasses One, Two, Three, and Four.
She glanced up at the departure board.
Crap. They were really calling her flight.
Downing the third glass of champagne and coughing as it hit her throat, she grabbed her backpack, stuffed her laptop into it and loped out of the lounge. She ran quickly down the escalators trying to avoid the wheelie suitcases and hoped that the tram to the concourse wasn’t going to be late.
***
‘Where are they?’ Emma croaked twelve hours later, her throat dry from the recycled air on the plane. Her eyes were blurry from lack of sleep. She squinted down at her phone. It was now Monday morning in the UK and she’d been officially up now for over twenty-four hours.
Her phone beeped at her as a handful of texts from Gee suddenly downloaded when her phone decided to finally connect with the local service provider.
Her finger itched to check them, get a taste of home. No, she had to concentrate, it would be her present for when she had this untangled.
Slumped against the registration desk at the hotel, she frowned at Amanda, then squinted. She was so tired, the woman was coming in and out of focus, and it was making Emma feel a little sick.
‘They’re all camped out in room twenty-three hundred,’ Amanda continued. ‘And they say they won’t come out if Ed has to do a pap walk at the Frozen Yogurt place we chose. Then he was drowned out because all I could hear was Will singing some song about how they were all lactose intolerant.’
Emma wanted to rest her head on the desk, maybe they’d lend her one of those velvety pillows that were on the sofas strategically placed round the lobby. She should’ve guessed that Will was at the centre of all the problems. Why was he making this so difficult? They only had to put up with this for three to six months, that was it, then it would be done. The band would be better known due to all the extra attention the fauxmances would bring. It was baffling why he kept making problems.
Okay, think Emma. Think. But any ideas seemed to be just out of reach. She stared down at her phone hoping that it would miraculously tell her what to do. Instead it beeped, and flashed up a photo Gee had texted a few hours ago of him sleeping in her bed.
Suddenly all she wanted was to be back there, not curled up next to him, of course, but home. In her own bed. She hoped he’d wash the sheets. These bloody spoiled brats were ruining her life, she could’ve been having a nice lazy weekend but for them. Anger flared up from inside her and burnt away her tiredness. They weren’t taking any more time from her. Not today. Not yesterday. Or tomorrow, or whenever. Time was still fuzzy to her.
‘Okay, Amanda, this is what we’re going to do. They have rehearsal for the concerts tomorrow morning, yes? If we can persuade them to actually turn up, then we can contact Frankie’s team and make sure she is there too. We’ll at least have her and Ed in the same post code which will be something.’ Amanda looked baffled. ‘I mean, zip code. Look, they will be at the same place at the same time. Then by hook or by crook we’ll get them to stand together and get some blurry but suggestive photos, we’ll photoshop if necessary. Then we’ll have some imaginary crew member release them. In fact, let’s set up that imaginary crew member’s social media now, they’ll come in handy later.’ Her mind was pinging round, the last bits of energy making it zip faster.
‘Who’s going to tell them?’ Amanda asked. She looked at Emma hopefully.
Oh. Buggering hell, this was why she’d really been sent here. Her job was to be the bad guy.
All she wanted was her own bed, without the Monster Munch crumbs Gee had probably dropped in it. But that was thousands of miles away, and she got the feeling the one reserved for her here wasn’t going to be used any time in the near future.
‘Fine. Take me up there,’ she said pushing herself upright and wobbled on tired legs.
‘Don’t you want to drop your bags in your room?’ Amanda asked.
She did, but Emma knew if she went anywhere near her hotel room she’d collapse on the bed and not get up. Probably until Tuesday.
And that had job endangerment written all over it.
She suddenly felt a yawn take over her body, and her mouth widened so much that she shivered and her teeth chattered as she closed it.
She clenched her jaw. No, she couldn’t let anyone see that she wasn’t on top form. She needed to wrangle control here. Because that is what she’d been sent to do. She was the general in this campaign and they were going to follow her plan, whether that was A, B, C, or Z.
‘Work first, then bed,’ she said, dragging her case towards the bank of lifts.
Trying to stay upright as the lift climbed upwards, she staggered as they got out at the right floor and were met by big burly security guards who advanced with purpose. She was too tired for this, she thought, leaning against a wall. She went into what felt like standby mode as she let Amanda sort it all out.
‘Emma, this is Paul, their tour manager. Paul, Emma is here to sort this out.’ Amanda introduced one of the large blokes now surrounding them.
‘Good luck, you’ll need it. Bunch of eejits.’ He said it affectionately but also as if he was exasperated. She supposed he had been taking the brunt of it.
She wheeled her suitcase until they came to room twenty-three hundred.
Okay, it seemed like everyone else had failed to get through to them and probably annoyed them, it was probably best if she did this alone.
‘Why don’t you let me do this on my own?’ She gestured for Amanda to leave.
‘Are you sure?’ Amanda looked worried.
‘Yeah, it’ll be fine,’ Emma lied. ‘It’s a boyband, how much trouble can they really be?’
Amanda moved back towards Paul and security with a dubious expression that said that they could be a lot of trouble.
‘I’ll just be over here.’ She gestured down the hall.
Emma nodded. Okay, she could do this and the quicker she did, the quicker she could sleep. Propping her suitcase against the wall, she knocked on the door.
‘Who is it?’ The voice through the wood was muffled but had a distinctive Irish accent.
‘Sean? Its Emma Woodhouse, can you let me in?’
There was muffled talking and muttering from the other side of the door.
‘What do you want?’ he asked.
‘I just want to talk,’ she said, resting her forehead on the wood. It was remarkably comfortable there. She closed her eyes.
The murmuring of voices from the other side rolled over her like a lullaby.
There was the sound of locks undoing and she leant back just in time to stop herself falling face first into the hotel room.
‘Hey,’ she croaked at Sean. He ushered her in. She left her suitcase outside but hauled in her backpack. She didn’t think they’d try to hold her hostage but she didn’t like to have her laptop too far away.
It turned out that room twenty-three hundred was quite large. But it looked like a small storm had ripped its way through it, spewing and strewing clothes over every surface. Empty food boxes and wrappers spilled from overflowing bins and decorated the tables. The massive king-size bed was rumpled, and a sofa bed was pulled out, with sheets twisted over it.
She stood in the doorway, and Sean closed the door and walked around her. He joined Amit who was sprawled at the foot of the main bed. In the centre, Will was propped up against the headboard. He looked like the king of all he surveyed, and at the moment he was surveying her and the look on his face said he wasn’t impressed. Yup, she had been right, Will was at the heart of this group, he had been the instigator of this strike, she was sure. She wouldn’t get anywhere unless she had him on side.
And as he looked like he was only holding back from getting one of the boys to frisk her for a concealed wire or a gun, this would be an uphill battle.
Beside him, almost curled into his lap, was Ed. He was scowling at her.
‘I’m not doing it,’ he said, before she could say anything.
She watched as Will reached out and ran a hand through Ed’s hair, gently tugging at the curls that sprang up. Amit had his head pillowed on Will’s thigh and Sean was curled round Ed’s feet.
She sighed. Why hadn’t she left this till tomorrow morning? But she knew why. They were on a tight timetable and everyone was relying on her to get them compliant so that all the narratives she’d invented held up.
‘Look, Ed…’ she began.
‘No, you look, give me one good reason why should he do it?’ Will demanded.
And that was the crux of it really, why should he? And she knew Will didn’t want to hear all the usual bullshit about all the legal reasons why he had to do it. They’d all signed contracts and now someone else was in charge of their public persona. All for the good of the band. Legally if Ed didn’t do it this time, then there would be some other event or pap walk he’d have to do. And if he still fought it… well, there were ways he’d be personally penalised for not co-operating. It was business after all.
Looking at the stubborn faces in front of her, she could feel her heart ache. Didn’t they get that she was a professional, the whole team were. Their job was to sell the boys, and part of that was their ‘personal lives’, real or imagined. And she was trying to do this in the least offensive way she could.
‘Look, I get it. It sucks to have to be out there pretending something isn’t real. But think of this like being an actor. When you walk outside just think of it as walking on a stage, you know it’s make-believe. It doesn’t stop you being Ed or Will or Amit in private, just in public you put on a mask. Come on guys, it isn’t that hard?’
‘It isn’t like you have to pretend every time you walk out the door, is it?’ Will said scathingly.