Logging - Nick Spalding Page 0,32

right.’ Lucas looks a little grossed out by this.

‘Then there’s the muscular aches and pains. I feel like an old man some mornings.’

‘OK.’ Now he’s slightly leaning away from me.

‘And the headaches! Boy have they been a nightmare. I just get these bad headaches, Lucas. Really bad.’

‘Do you?’ Lucas actually gulps nervously as he says this.

‘Yes! And all of it drags you down psychologically, you know? Makes you feel . . . I don’t know . . . less. Like you’re not being the person you should be. You know what I mean, Lucas?’

‘Um . . . it sounds . . . difficult.’

And he sounds slightly terrified.

‘Oh, it is. It really, really is.’

‘Mmmmm.’

‘But then I think to myself – is feeling better really worth losing such a massive part of my life?’

‘OK.’

‘Am I giving up too much of who I am? Am I letting go of the things that make me . . . me?’

‘You, you?’

‘Yes. Me . . . me.’

‘You, you.’

‘Me, me. That’s it, Lucas.’

‘You get headaches, and you don’t think you are who you are.’ Lucas’s eyes have gone rather wide.

‘Yes, that’s about it.’

Right, what the hell is going on here?

I’ve only just met this bloke, and yet here I am talking to him like he’s a long-lost friend.

No wonder he keeps shifting around in his seat awkwardly and staring out of the window like he wants to smash right out of it to get away from me.

Then it hits me – I’m talking to this complete stranger like I know him well, because part of me thinks I do know him well. The part of me that’s checked his Instagram feed every morning, noon and night for months. I’ve read all about Lucas La Forte’s thoughts on the world, and seen him in a variety of exciting sitting positions. I’ve developed a relationship with him – even though I’ve never actually met the poor guy before today.

But as far as he’s concerned, I’m just another one of his hundred thousand followers, and he does not want to hear all about how hard it is for me to have a poo!

Oh for the love of God, Andy. Just clam up, and give the poor man a rest.

‘Sorry, Lucas. You don’t need to hear all about my problems,’ I say, trying to mitigate things somewhat.

‘Turn here!’ he replies, pointing down a street to our left. ‘My mother’s house is just along this road.’ There’s an air of urgency in his voice that suggests I’ve already gone way too far. He’s obviously got me pegged as some kind of crazy fan he needs to get away from, before I start telling him I love him and have baked him a pie with my pubic hair in it.

I’m never going to see that penthouse up close and personal now.

Part of me has probably been harbouring a fantasy that Lucas La Forte and I would become the best of friends. That he would invite me on to his yacht. Maybe let me wear one of his suits.

We could have been Instagram buddies and—

Oh, bugger. No. That wouldn’t have happened, would it?

Sigh.

Never mind.

Looks like I’m not getting to be best friends with an Instagram millionaire any time soon.

‘Pull up here,’ Lucas says, his hand already hovering over the door handle.

I do as I’m bid, and the Volvo has barely come to halt before he’s opening the door and sticking one leg out.

‘Herbert!’ a woman’s voice screams. I look past Lucas to see a very angry lady in her sixties come marching down the front garden path of a semi-detached house, making a beeline straight for my car. ‘Herbert! You get over here right now!’

‘Oh God!’ Lucas La Forte cries, and immediately slams the car door again. ‘She’s not supposed to be home yet!’

The woman, clearly enraged about something, is now right outside my car, brandishing a credit card. She knocks on my passenger-side window with it repeatedly, giving Lucas a look of absolute fury. ‘You get out of that car now, Herbert! You get out now and tell me why you’ve maxed out my bloody credit card . . . again!’

WTF?

What’s the hell’s going on here?

‘Who is she, Lucas?!’ I ask him, wincing as the woman continues to bash the credit card against the window. I hope she doesn’t scratch it. ‘Why is she calling you Herbert?’

‘It’s my mother!’ he replies, cowering.

The transformation that Lucas La Forte has undergone is nothing short of miraculous – if God was in the habit of performing