you to worry about that. You’re totally safe. I’ve never stalked anyone in my life. Well, who does? Well, some people do, I know that, but I’m not one of them. My crush isn’t a serious one. That would be crazy at my age. Far, far too old for a crush. Not that I’m old. I buy my boyfriend Kylie’s calendar. It’s a couple thing, you know?’
Maybe I was in a better place when my mouth was clamped shut and I had a search party out looking for my tongue.
‘I’m here with my boyfriend actually. He’s your assistant stage manager,’ I add in an effort to make myself sound normal. Then I realize I might have just landed Adam in a whole load of do-do. Who knows if this Scottie Taylor is some sort of megalomaniac control freak? ‘He’s not going to get into trouble because I’m wandering about, is he? He doesn’t know I’m in your dressing-room. I was bored watching him do his thing on stage and I was just killing time. It’s not his fault, so don’t sack him because he’d be devastated. I didn’t think you’d be here. I just wanted to see if you keep M&Ms in your bath or anything.’
I finally stop twittering. For which Scottie Taylor is probably offering up prayers of thanks to all the heathen and traditional gods. Have I ever behaved like such a total imbecile in my entire life? Was it absolutely essential to blab all that? I steel myself to look at Scottie.
He’s grinning. My pathetic verbal incontinence amused him, at least.
‘So the lucky guy is that dark, tall bloke. Adam Cooper, right?’
‘Right.’ I’m stunned Scottie Taylor knows the name of his assistant stage manager.
‘Yeah, I know him. He’s good. I won’t sack him.’ I risk a small smile as I am an itsy bit proud that Scottie has noticed Adam and rates him; maybe what Adam does is part of a great symphony after all. ‘I’ll expect you to have sex with me by way of recompense, though,’ adds Scottie.
‘Really?’ I ask, part horrified, part delighted. Certainly more delighted than is respectable.
‘No not really, you silly sod, what sort of place do you think this is?’
This time Scottie’s face breaks into a really wide, genuine smile and I feel as though I’ve just nose-dived into a warm lagoon of beauty and possibility.
‘Scott Taylor,’ he says, holding out his hand for me to shake.
His gesture is sweet. There was never any doubt as to who he was. It’s pleasantly self-effacing that he’s pretending we’re just a couple of normal people saying hi for the first time. I place my hand in his firm grip and bolts of sexual lightning fire through my body, scalding every single nerve ending. We lock eyes and I wonder if he felt anything too.
‘Can you play cards?’ he asks.
10. Fern
Scottie’s room is considerably more impressive than the band’s. The look the interior designer has gone after is nightclub verging on brothel. There’s red flock wallpaper and thick red shag pile carpet so the walls and floor seem to meet, leaving me feeling deliciously cosy, irresistibly woozy. There’s a purple suede chaise longue and a number of enormous gold leather beanbags. There are a lot of mirrors with ornate bronze frames reflecting my stunned image right back at me, and whichever way I turn there are masses of enormous vases of gallica roses; a rich, velvety, purple rose which gives off a particularly heady scent.
Scottie flings himself on the chaise longue next to a low purple smoked-glass coffee table and I grab a beanbag and sit down to face him. He starts to deal.
‘What stakes shall we play with?’ he asks.
‘Well, it has to be coppers because even if you play with tenners, it’s coppers to you but not to me which would make the game uneven,’ I say, without thinking whether it’s crass or not to mention that he’s a squillionaire. But then this is the man who signed a multi-multi-million-pound deal with his record company and announced to the world’s press, ‘I’m rich, I’m obscenely rich. Isn’t that fucking great!’ At the time the tabloids and even a couple of the qualities had got sniffy and said that it was vulgar of him to be so publicly chuffed with himself but I thought he’d got it right. Being filthy rich must be exciting, and if he hadn’t admitted as much people would have complained he was taking himself too seriously.