Chapter Fourteen: Boys will be girls

It’s 5:30 p.m. and we haven’t found Dylan. Not only have we not found him, we’ve no leads. It really is game over now.

Finally defeated, Troy and I get back in the lift to head up to the room I was supposed to be sharing with Dylan. He might not be on the bus at 6 p.m., but at the very least I can make sure his stuff is. I imagine anything we leave in the rooms Mrs Williamson will have passed on to an exorcist so she can thoroughly cleanse her hotel of us ‘festival people’.

‘No one can say you didn’t try, Nicole,’ Troy assures me, but I feel like I’ve let everyone down. ‘Not only has he had sex with everyone in town – female and male – but he’s been all over the place and you’ve followed him everywhere. At the end of the day, you’re just his friend. This isn’t your problem. If I did this, I wouldn’t expect my friends to have to track me down, that’s what his tour manager is for.’

I think about Claire and how mad she is going to be when she realises Dylan isn’t on the bus. Dylan is the front-man ‒ sure the charity gig can go on without him, but what’s a band without a front-man? All music and no lyrics.

As we step out of the lift, I take the spare keycard that Claire gave me from my bag.

‘I’ll give you a hand,’ Troy says, following me along the corridor.

‘Are you sure?’ I ask. ‘Don’t you need to go pack your things?’

‘My tour manager can do it, he works for his money.’

I look at him and laugh – because if I didn’t laugh, I’d cry – and as I go to push the door open Troy grabs me and kisses me passionately, ushering me through the door and into the room with the skill of someone who does this all the time. As he pushes me back onto the bed I can’t help but notice how uncomfortable it is. It’s only as we stop kissing for a second that we realise the bed is moving – no, it’s not a ghost, someone is in it. Am I in the wrong room? This is the room Claire told me to come to. Still on top of me, Troy pulls back the covers and sure enough there is someone underneath me, and that someone is Dylan. In his own room, in his own bed, alone – well, until Troy and I joined him.

‘Nic, please don’t have sex on me,’ Dylan groans, pulling the covers back over his face.

‘Oh yeah, because you’d never do that to me.’

‘That was one time,’ he replies with a chuckle, wiggling free from underneath us.

Troy and I stare at each other in amazement for a movement. We’ve found Dylan in the one place we never would have considered looking for him.

‘Dill, I’ve been looking for you all night, what are you doing here?’

‘I was tired,’ he replies.

‘Yeah, I’m not surprised,’ Troy chimes in.

Dylan sits upright in his bed and glares at Troy.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ he asks defensively.

‘This poor girl – your friend – has been chasing a trail of tail all over town to try and find you.’

‘I can’t help it if the ladies love me,’ Dylan says smugly with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

‘Yeah, and the men,’ Troy quips.

Dylan, who didn’t look that healthy to begin with, goes ghostly white as he realise that we know about Lola.

‘You’re lucky this girl cares about you,’ Troy continues, ‘because without her you’d be in big trouble right now, and can you imagine the headlines if she sold your secrets? Don’t take her for granted.’

‘What headlines?’ Dylan persists, not knowing to quit while he’s ahead.

‘Take a wild guess, Dylan Queen,’ Troy replies.

Dylan jumps out of bed and goes for Troy, but I step between them.

‘Come on, boys, crisis averted, there’s no need to fight.’

Dylan points a finger right in Troy’s face. ‘Fuck you, X Factor boy,’ he yells as he backs down.

‘Dylan, be nice to Troy, he’s spent all night helping me find you. Now quick, pack up your things and let’s go, we’ve got twenty minutes to get you to the tour bus.’

Dylan does as instructed, and while we have a little time alone together Troy and I say goodbye.

‘Well, it’s certainly been fun,’ he says.

‘It has – in places. Mainly the places with you.’ I smile.

‘Nicole, can I ask you a question?’

‘I do,’ I sing in reply to the marriage proposal I knew he was never going to make.

Troy laughs and shakes his head.

‘Seriously, Nicole. I’m touring in a few weeks. Can we see each other again?’

‘I’d like that,’ I tell him honestly.

Troy pulls me close and kisses me again.

‘Get a room,’ Dylan says, dumping his bags by the door and shooting me a look like I’m the one holding things up. ‘Preferably not one that I’m sleeping in.’

Way to ruin the moment, Dylan.

As the three of us make our way to the lift, things feel a little awkward.

‘Troy just invited me to one of his gigs,’ I say to fill the silence. ‘You should come too, Dylan.’

‘Ha! Can you even sing, X Factor boy?’

‘I wasn’t on the X Factor and, yes, I can sing.’

‘Course you can.’

I don’t know if it’s because Dylan and Troy are bickering or if it is because we’re running out of time, but this is one of the longest lift journeys of my life. The silence doesn’t last for long before Troy starts singing ‘Lola’ by The Kinks, a song about a romantic encounter between a young man and a transvestite.

It doesn’t take Dylan long to work out what Troy is getting at.

’Oh, very funny,’ Dylan admits, a smile starting to spread across his face. Thank God he can see the funny side.

Down in the lobby, Troy kisses me on the cheek before going back to his room, leaving me with a generous fifteen minutes to get Dylan to the tour bus which, thankfully, is just outside.

‘Here,’ Dylan says, handing me a small paper bag. ‘I bought you something.’

I carefully open the bag and tip the contents into my hand.

‘They’re pleasure beads,’ he tells me. ‘They–’

‘Oh, I know what they do,’ I laugh. ‘Thank you.’

‘You’re welcome. Although I’m not sure you need them,’ he says, nodding in the direction Troy just walked off in.

‘None of your business,’ I reply. ‘Now, let’s get you to the bus.’

‘Not so fast,’ Dylan says, putting an arm out to stop me. ‘What about our tradition?’

‘Dill, we’re late, balls to tradition.’

My friend fakes a gasp, but he’s right to. When we started this little tradition we said we’d always stick to it, no matter what.

‘Come on, I saw one outside, it will take us five minutes.’

‘OK,’ I say, following his lead. ‘Tradition is tradition.’

As we head towards the exit, I take one last look around the lobby, safe in the knowledge I won’t ever be coming back. Mrs Williamson is still behind the front desk, just like she has been for the past twenty-four hours. I wonder if she ever sleeps, or if she’s some kind of robotic hotelier that they’re trying out – if so, they need to tweak the personality settings. Our eyes meet for a moment, and grumpy Mrs Williamson gives me a wink. I think she’s going to miss me.