Authors: Karen Booth
G
raham
Hours after the incident at the hotel, Chris, Reggie, and I were in the limo on our way to Philadelphia. Angie was traveling in the other car, making my ride an especially lonely one. Plus, Chris was really making me regret ever confiding in him about what happened that morning. He wouldn’t stop bringing up how awful Angie must’ve felt when the groupie had shown up at my door.
"You have to admit, what happened this morning was bloody awful. A really bad thing. Look at it from Angie's perspective." Chris, the incessant voice of reason, picked up an issue of
Billboard
magazine and began flipping through it.
I shifted in my seat, staring out the limo window as we closed in on Manhattan, the skyscrapers getting larger and larger in my field of vision. How had things gone from incredible to an utter disaster in such a short amount of time? I had blooming whiplash from my life.
I'd run it over in my head dozens of times after she'd left my room refusing to so much as kiss me goodbye. I wouldn't have been happy if I'd been in her shoes, but it wasn't as if I had any control over it. And it wasn't like that sort of thing was a regular occurrence. I'd never had it happen before.
"I don't think it was the smartest thing in the world for you to take Angie to bed in the first place, Graham. She's working. On a project that's very important to the band. You put everyone at risk because you can't keep your tallywhacker in your trousers." Reggie's inflection was too close to scolding for my taste.
"No one was at risk. Stop being so melodramatic. It'd be different if Angie and I didn't love each other, if we didn't have a past like we do. I didn't take a random woman to bed, I took my future wife. There's a hell of a lot of difference to that."
Chris tossed his magazine aside. I’d never seen him look so surprised. "Hold on a minute. Your future wife? Did you ask her to marry you?"
When he had the nerve to ask the question in that tone, it made it sound like I'd done something completely mad. I refused to believe it had been silly or stupid or even rash. I'd done it because it'd felt right. That was enough for me. Why wasn’t it enough for other people? "I did. Yesterday afternoon, when we went off and talked. It wasn't like I got down on one knee and popped a ring on her finger. It was more of a conclusion I arrived at. I didn't plan it." I rubbed my forehead, attempting to stop the progress of the violent headache brewing.
"Now I'm even more confused." Chris popped open a can of ginger ale. "How do you end up proposing to someone when you hadn't had any intention of doing it in the first place?"
"It just came out. I told her that I didn't ever want to lose her again. If I don't want to lose her, that means I want to stay with her forever. And forever means marriage. If we'd never broken up, we'd probably be getting married right now anyway."
Chris let out a single-syllable laugh that said he was anything but amused. He seemed more in awe of my stupidity, or that was the inference. "And you're wondering why she's in another car? Between the botched marriage proposal and some psychotic fan you probably slept with but can’t even remember showing up at your hotel room door?" He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I swear, Graham. I have done bloody stupid things when it's come to women, but you take the cake."
"I was just being honest. I love her and I don't want to lose her. That's all there is to it."
"My guess is that she was hoping for something better when you actually did the job of proposing. I doubt she wanted you to just stumble into it like it was a happy accident."
I let that tumble around in my head for a minute. Happy accident.
Bollocks.
Yet another thing I'd completely mucked up. "Unfortunately, the whole thing seems pretty damn pointless. She's convinced that my career and a long-term relationship are incompatible concepts."
"She's not entirely wrong. It's tough to do," Chris said. "Especially for us right now. If we slow down, we could lose everything. We have to keep the momentum going."
"Nobody knows that better than me." We were on a hamster wheel, the four of us, no doubt about that. And we'd climbed onto it and started running willingly. Hell, we'd wanted to be stuck here, going non-stop, no end in sight. When would it be enough? Would it ever be enough? There was a very good chance that this could be the pinnacle of our careers. The thing was, none of us wanted to believe that. We all wanted to think that there was more out there for us. But what about that mentality of
more, more, more
? Was it healthy? Or did it lead down a dark and lonely path? "I don't understand, Chris. Are you trying to talk me
out
of proposing to her properly or into it?"
Chris leaned forward and set his hand on my knee. "Look. You know I love you like a brother. I just want to see you happy. There's no question that she makes you happy. And any guy would be lucky to have her. But I understand you don't want to risk hearing an unpleasant answer to the question. No guy wants that."
I not only could imagine Angie saying “no”, I could imagine how awful it would feel to hear it. "Yeah. I know." A one-night stand with her ex-boyfriend—was that what I'd been reduced to?
"So? What are you going to do?" Chris asked as if it were the most inconsequential question imaginable.
"No idea. If I make another impassioned plea to get her back, I'm not sure it's going to do any good. But what else is there other than my feelings for her? The reality is that being my girlfriend, or my wife for that matter, comes with compromise. Maybe if I were a blooming banker or a businessman, it would be different, but I can't imagine that's what she wants, either."
"Well, you basically have ten minutes to formulate a plan," Reggie quipped, pulling out the dreaded clipboard.
"Why's that?"
"That's how long it'll take us to get to the soundstage so we can start shooting this video."
It wasn’t long before we ran into traffic, putting Reggie off with his time estimate. We were a good half hour behind when we arrived at the warehouse where we were filming the video for
Reckless and Lovely
, which the record label had decided would be the next single. They hoped to release it to radio and MTV in a month, right around the time we'd be heading to Japan and Australia. More time on the hamster wheel, not that I'd risk complaining about it.
Reggie, Chris, and I walked into the cavernous space unbothered by fans, which was quite a nice change of pace. For once, nothing about our activities had been leaked. It was such a relief, especially after that morning. If I had any chance of working things out with Angie, the thing she perceived as our biggest obstacle—the fans—would make it much more difficult. I scanned the room, wanting desperately to spot Angie so we could talk before work took precedent. She was conspicuous in her absence.
Reggie left Chris and I when he was pulled into a conversation about the production. We looked on as several people were working around a large stage set up at the far end of the warehouse. It had a glittery black and silver backdrop and an unbelievable amount of lighting aimed at it. It was cold and damp in this space, but I didn’t look forward to baking under those lights.
The plan was to shoot a bit of performance footage here, but not much, as the director, Liam Morton, had filmed us live in Los Angeles during the tour. Liam wanted to focus on what he had described as a "narrative on love in modern times", whatever that meant. This was our first time working with him and we were prepared to go along with whatever he wanted. Between his name and ours, MTV would practically have the video on an endless loop. They'd told us as much.
"Where've you guys been?" Nigel asked, walking over from the catering table. "We got here nearly an hour ago. I've already got my makeup done."
"So I see. We were stuck in traffic. Where's Angie?" I again looked around the room in hopes of spotting her. No luck.
"Ah, yeah, about that. Liam's production company had hired two models to be in the video, but I guess they got stuck in San Francisco. Fog grounded their plane or something."
"What does that have to do with Angie?"
"I was getting to that. Liam took a real fancy to Ang as soon as he met her. She and Gigi have been asked to stand in for the video. They're in make-up right now."
My brain sputtered. Standing in for some model in a music video was not something I’d ever imagined Angie doing. Ever. She was a photographer because she liked being behind the lens. She found it comfortable there. And she wasn’t the sort of girl to do something impetuous. Or unplanned. Was Angie venturing outside her comfort zone? And where did I stand in all of this? In her comfort zone, or out of it?
A
ngie
This was not at all what I was supposed to be doing. I’d made such a big deal with Graham about my career and now I was pissing that away, all because the events of that morning had left me feeling ragged and a bit reckless.
Fuck my mess of a life. Fuck planning.
I had to do something fun. For me.
"I can't believe this is happening," Gigi giggled. She'd tagged along to New York at Terence's invitation and from the sound of it, she might be joining him in England during the band's month off. I liked having a girl to hang out with, even though Nigel and I had been subjected to the most awkward limo ride in history when Terence and Gigi gave each other a thorough dental exam with their tongues and pawed each other for an hour en route to Manhattan.
I couldn't help but be jealous. Gigi and Terence were at that stage where everything was new and nobody had managed to piss anyone off yet. I loved that part. Graham and I had done a bang-up job with that part the first time around.
Hell, if Graham and I didn't have a past, I'd probably be feeling differently about the woman who'd come calling at the hotel. It would've been an unfortunate incident rather than a damning detail. I could've just let it go when Graham and I were standing in the bathroom and I was trying so hard to keep from freaking out. I could've forgiven him for the thing that wasn't entirely his fault.
Why couldn't I let it go? I knew at least part of the answer—it was one thing to know about the other girls and forgive him for that. It was something else to see the actual girl. Just like that night in Liverpool, it was seeing the other woman, hard evidence that I wasn’t the only one he’d ever wanted. It was stupid. I knew that. It wasn’t like I’d never wanted other guys, but there was this part of me that wanted to be his one and only. I wanted to be special. I wanted to be more. His everything.
You’re all I want, Ang.
If that was true, and if I was ever going to truly believe it, I needed to start living in the present and stop dwelling on the past..
"I swear, I have had nothing but the most amazing things happen to me since I've met you," Gigi said.
I laughed—at least someone felt lucky. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to feel anymore. Torn into a million pieces? Heartbroken, again? At the very least, conflicted by my apparent undying predilection for Graham Whiting? Mad at myself for overthinking all of it? Pretty much.
"First I meet Terence and we totally fall for each other and now this?" she added. "In a Banks Forest music video? My sister is going to kill me when she finds out."
A make-up artist was finishing off an eyeshadow job on me that I could only describe as excessive. I liked sparkly makeup as much as the next girl, but the Day-Glo aqua was a shambles with my hair, which had been teased skyward and pulled back in a ponytail. "I'm a little worried I'm going to end up looking like a drag queen."
The makeup artist rolled her eyes and planted a hand on her hip, addressing me in the mirror. "You'll look like you aren't wearing anything if I don't overdo it. And the director wants something very fashion-forward."
All I did was nod and smile. If I didn't get my mood in check, I'd only further annoy her and then I'd end up looking like Boy George. Plus, Gigi was right. This
was
exciting. Something I would normally never do. There were a million girls in the world who would've done anything—literally, anything— to be in my situation.
From out of the dark recesses of the warehouse, Graham and Chris approached. My pulse picked up the instant I laid eyes on Graham. Why did my body have to have such a short memory span? A few hours ago it'd kicked in with those old feelings of jealousy, the sour stomach and the emptiness in the center of my chest. I'd never thought of myself as the jealous type. After all, I hadn't had a single pang of it last night when the band was playing, witnessing the way girls looked at Graham. Perhaps it was just that things were different when they were on stage, when there was an imaginary line separating them from the audience. It was the blurring of that line that hurt like hell.
"We just found out about our lovely co-stars." Chris walked over and patted me on the shoulder, rivaling the makeup mirror lighting with his smile.
"What are you going to do about taking pictures?" Graham asked me. "I know how important that is to you. It seems odd that you would just cast that aside for a chance to be in a pop band's music video." There was a downright angry edge to his voice, one that displeased me greatly, but he wasn’t wrong.
"Liam has someone to take pictures for me. I won't get the credit on those shots, but the magazine won't care. They just want the images. Besides, Gigi and I will only be in some parts of the video. The rest of the time I can keep working." I might have made an out-of-character choice, but I hadn’t been completely irresponsible about it.
He nodded and folded his arms across his chest. "As long as you have it all worked out to your exacting specifications."
I stared at him, wanting to scream something about how I was trying to not be regular old Angie. I was trying something new. Didn’t I deserve a little credit for that?
He stared back at me, seeming as if he was waiting for an explanation. There was nothing more to it.
"You're all done," the makeup artist said to me. "Now it's the guys' turn."
I took a few photos while Nigel, Terence, and Reggie met with Liam. Gigi was my assistant, insofar as she would hand me my camera bag when I decided to switch lenses or needed to reload film. Graham and Chris soon joined the meeting of the minds.
"When does it get exciting?" Gigi whispered to me.
"Just wait until they start playing the song over and over again through the speakers. Then you'll really be bored." Of course, this was a slightly more elaborate set-up than the previous video shoots I'd been to. There was food, there were places to sit. There was even a loo. For the band's first video shoot, which was directed by a few art school students from Stourbridge, there hadn't been a bathroom with a door.
Ah, the glamourous life of rock 'n' roll.
Liam waved us over. "Angie and Gigi, you're going to be sitting on the front edge of the stage while the band plays. For a few takes, I'll ask you to act very bored with the whole thing. The guys. The music. Everything."
"In what world is that a good idea?" Graham asked. "The girls acting as if we're boring?"
"You're winning them over, Graham. That's the theme we're going for here. Don't worry. You get the girl in the end."
"So this is a fictional account of my life," Graham quipped.
Good God he was in a wretched mood. Maybe he was finally too far gone, too far out of reach. He'd done too much and I'd insisted on too much perfection. Whatever we’d untangled over the last few days felt as if it was right back where we started.
"Then we'll do several takes where it's very clear that you are completely enamored of your particular favorite bandmate," Liam said.
"Favorite bandmate?" I asked.
He nodded and eyed me in a way that made me a bit uncomfortable. "Yeah. Angie, I have you with Graham and Gigi, you're with Christopher. Then we'll shoot the more romantic stuff between each couple back in the alley behind the building, including a kiss."
The alley? A kiss? This was why I planned things. I wasn't sure what I'd expected, or even what I'd hoped for, but I knew one thing—kissing Graham wasn’t going to help me see a way for us to be together.