being stamped to death by hysterical women or at the very least sustaining a serious injury from a bony elbow or someone who is body surfing. I have to admit, Adam’s job has its advantages after all. Right now, decent seats to a Scott Taylor gig trumps private health plans and even a company car, the sort of perks Lisa’s Charlie enjoys.
‘You’ve really gone the extra mile tonight, Jess. Have you made all this effort because it’s my birthday?’ I ask.
Lisa interrupts, ‘You’re kidding, right? She’s done up to the nines because after your brief encounter with Scottie Taylor this morning she’s now harbouring a secret fantasy of her own.’
‘I’m not adverse to sloppy seconds in this instance,’ laughs Jess.
Jess looks like Snow White (and the magic mirror did say that Snow White was the most beautiful woman in the land). She is tiny, only about five two, and her similarities to a doll don’t stop there. She has creamy, flawless skin, bright, deep cobalt blue eyes and jet black shoulder-length hair. She always wears ruby red lipstick – it’s her trade mark. Despite (or perhaps because of) her exceptional beauty Jess is often single. I don’t think I want Scott bumping into her because even the pink, glittering cowboy hat – that she insisted on buying off a tout – can’t detract from her beauty.
Mentally, I punch myself. What am I thinking? It’s none of my business who Scott Taylor talks to. I have a boyfriend. What do I care if Jess gets her chance to play strip poker with Scott too?
I’d tear her hair out.
Just kidding.
Sort of.
Suddenly, red lights start to pulse across the stage and the crowd’s chant reaches almost hysterical levels; everyone is up out of their seats. The band members run on and take their places. As they pick up their instruments the screams of anticipation reach a near violent pitch. ‘Scottie Scot-tie.’ A sea of arms sway, claw and clap. The noise and the flesh become unrecognizable and indistinguishable; almost inhuman and yet utterly human in their basic longing for this one man. The lights go white and then green for go. And he’s here; striding on with a warmth and confidence that grabs every single member of the audience by the throat.
He’s wearing a dark suit which is lined with a red fabric – the devil’s colours – an acknowledgement that everyone wants to get naughty with him. Everyone would sell their soul in an instant if he asked them to. And he’s wearing sunglasses, which hint at a mafia connection that is somehow thrilling and the right side of dangerous. He takes off his shades and women start to literally swoon; paramedics slip between the crowds to rescue fainting damsels before they are carelessly trodden underfoot.
Then, in a flat northern voice, he says, ‘Hello, glad you could all make it. I am Scottie Taylor. And I’m here to give you a good time. Are you ready for me?’
They are. They scream, and yell, and jump and weep. And I’m part of it. I’m not in the least bit cool. I’m screaming louder than anyone. Up out of my chair, I’m shrieking, leaping, swaying. The air is so charged with hope, excitement and lust that I can almost feel my body being thrown about. His first track, ‘Funk Me’, is a catchy number with a strong beat and a risqué lyric; the entire audience are bouncing up and down on their feet, clapping hands and enjoying the party. I’m surrounded by teeth and tits, they’re all enormous. There is no sign of cynical boyfriends who have been dragged here by their lusty girlfriends. Nor any spotting of the ‘yet to be convinced he’s really special, I’m just here with my mate’ types; everyone is already converted, we’re all fans. The place is alive with a special sort of energy. Good will – uncommonly short on the ground nowadays – is suddenly everywhere; you can bathe in it.
After just one song no one cares that it will take them six hours to get out of the car park later on, or that the loos are awash with crap and the beers cost a fortune and are warm and flat. Everybody is happy. Every man wants to be him, every woman simply wants him. He weaves a special sort of spell across the entire stadium. Every single person there feels unique, despite the obvious – which is that they are thinking and feeling exactly the