The pink lights of the restaurant seeped out through tinted windows. Photographers lined the pavement, dressed in black jeans and Cons, cameras like extensions of their arms. The limo door slid open, exposing us to the light. Richie grinned fearlessly and stepped into the throng, but when I tried to stand my ankles caved in the platform heels and I fell against Sam, who looked so nervous I wanted to hug him.
‘Chill out man, no-one’s going to be taking your picture,’ I said, trying to muster the bravado of Perennial Single Girl. ‘Not with what Amir’s got planned for me.’
He smiled and patted my arm. ‘You go first, then, Donadi.’
I extended one foot, testing the shoes on the ground before I transferred my weight. There was a hailstorm of white flashes, so sudden and loud I was blinded until Carter put his arm around my waist and yanked me upright. I forced myself to hold still, Perennial Single Girl smile in play. Carter smelled fresh and clean and masculine, even though he was wearing the same clothes he always wore on a night out and hadn’t spent hours in preparation like I had. For a second, I allowed myself to imagine what it might be like to be his girlfriend – to be held like this, and not just for the cameras. I leaned into him as if I had a choice – as if I wouldn’t fall to the kerb if I let go.
Behind me, Sam and Tish got out too, and the photographers went silent, then erupted with shouts of vicious delight, like this moment had just made their night. I caught sight of Tish’s flustered smile and Sam’s wide eyes, but Carter pulled me across the pavement before I had a chance to ask what had happened. The bouncer unhooked a velvet rope to sweep us past the queue and I said, ‘Bet you’re loving that.’
Carter grinned. ‘It’s the Lady Stardust effect,’ he said. The restaurant felt subdued and intimate, and I was suddenly aware of the tightness of his arm around my waist.
Amir wrenched me away, saving me from disentangling myself. ‘You come with me.’
I was careful not to tread on the diaphanous silk pants as I stepped up the stairs, still thinking about the betrayed look on Sam’s face outside. In a separate elevated section, with a direct view to a live jazz band, another bouncer gave Amir the once-over and let us past.
Addie Marmoset was sitting at a table opposite a huge guy who could only be her bodyguard. She ignored the band and scrolled on her phone as if this restaurant was no more interesting to her than her own living room.
‘Oh my god,’ I squeaked before I realised the words were out of my mouth.
Up close, she was smaller than I’d expected. Her chestnut hair was in an impossibly perfect ponytail that was so long she could have sat on it, and she was dressed in a white shirt with the sleeves rolled to her elbows and suede boots that went over her knees. She looked like a sexy pirate. My feet took me towards her before my head caught up.
‘Hi,’ I said. ‘I just … I was at the Perfect Storm concert in Reading, when you announced you were leaving the band. It was such a great gig. I’ve been listening to you since you won Quest for the Best.’
She looked behind me as if hoping security would materialise. ‘Oh ... how did you get up here?’ She clearly thought I was a crazed fan who’d broken into the VIP section. By the time her gaze landed on Amir, I was already backing away, muttering apologies, my arms locked across my bare stomach. God, how embarrassing. Why did I open with that? I had to get out now, before I did any more damage.
‘No, no, it’s OK. Don’t leave.’ She glanced at Amir again, then threw her smile at me. It was like she’d flicked on a light. ‘I was just surprised. I didn’t realise you were here with the label.’ She motioned to the chair beside her and I squeezed in, trying to pretend her bodyguard wasn’t there and wondering if I could take a sneaky photo for Phoenix. Below us, the band finished a song to polite applause. I sought out the others at a table in the main section: Richie interrogating the waiter, Tish and Sam reading the menu, Carter watching the band, his arms crossed. Addie Marmoset shifted and suddenly her knee was touching mine, lightly, under the table.
‘So, it’s Lily, huh?’ she said, as if she hadn’t even noticed the knee.
‘Yes. I’m in Lady Stardust,’ I said. Her eyes were heavy with mascara, but then, so were mine. I wondered if Melody Nelson had done a number on her too.
‘Right. “King Cutie.” That’s a dope song.’
I tried not to drop my jaw to the floor. Addie Marmoset knew my song. Also, Addie Marmoset used the word ‘dope’. And Addie Marmoset had a small freckle on her collarbone and drank amaretto sours and smelled of men’s cologne and Bepanthen, the antiseptic cream you put on tattoos – and I knew all this because I was sitting right next to Addie Marmoset right now.
‘So Lily, tell me about yourself,’ she said. She lifted the drink and I saw the new tattoo on her arm: a pattern of lace in black ink. I wanted to ask about it, but it seemed too intimate.
‘Where should I start?’ I asked.
She leaned closer to me, amusement playing in her eyes. ‘The truth, of course,’ she said. ‘Always start with the truth.’
From anyone else that would seem laughably pretentious, but on this surreal night, it wouldn’t have surprised me if she’d suddenly grown wings.
I couldn’t think of anything clever to say, so I followed her advice. ‘The truth is … I’m here because Amir wants us to hook up. Or at least pretend to.’
She nearly choked on her drink. She’d asked for honesty, but clearly this was more than she was expecting.
‘I’m a massive fan of yours, don’t get me wrong,’ I said hastily. ‘I’ve always wanted to meet you. But having a fake relationship just doesn’t feel very … honest.’
I thought about the boathouse, those joyful nights when it had been just the four of us and our instruments and the sheer love of playing, with no-one standing over us to see if we failed. I suddenly realised Addie Marmoset would understand that. ‘I didn’t get into music because I wanted to connect with people or preach a message or make heaps of money or anything. My band couldn’t even write songs at first. We just really loved making music.’
She nodded as though my garbled explanation made perfect sense. A waiter brought us matching tiny sashimi portions, but she didn’t even look at the food.
‘The truth is … this wasn’t what I thought it would be,’ I said. ‘I wanted to be successful. But it was like I didn’t know what I was choosing.’
Carter had always been upfront about his dreams – fame, adoration, more groupies than I can handle – but fame had always seemed like something for people far more genetically blessed than me: people who were confident and outgoing, who enjoyed the limelight beyond the moment they stepped off the stage. People like Carter, or the girl beside me now, who was ignoring the band and her phone and the hulking guy opposite her as if we were the only two people in the restaurant.
‘I guess I wasn’t expecting the whole machine of it all,’ I said. ‘The interview techniques, the makeover, the clothes and the hair and everything. I mean, I know we’re lucky that the single is doing so well, and to have all this attention. I wanted to make music. But now I think I’m going to have to give away more and more of myself to keep hold of it.’
The restaurant had faded. There was only Addie’s gaze and her hand on my arm and the words between us. I was talking too much, but she was listening. She squeezed my elbow.
‘So you think that if you do this thing, if you pretend to “hook up” with me, as you put it, you might lose another part of yourself,’ she said. It wasn’t really a question.
I nodded, relieved that she’d got what I’d said. ‘It’s the lying. I don’t know how to do it. I don’t know where it ends. It’s one thing to pretend to feel confident when I’m not, but it’s something else to lie and say yes, I’m in a relationship with the hottest girl on the planet.’
She smiled at that. ‘Oh, I don’t usually look like this. You should see me behind closed doors. I’m a total slob.’
I laughed, although the thought of seeing her behind closed doors made me blush. ‘I just don’t think Amir’s going to let either of us walk out of here without a brand-new fake girlfriend. And I don’t know what to do about that.’
There was a pause as I waited for her to speak.
‘Lily,’ she said slowly. ‘What if you and I came to a … like, a business arrangement? We could – if you wanted – we could get to know each other as friends. If the press want to think we’re a couple, well, I learned a long time ago that I can’t control what they think. But we wouldn’t lie to each other.’
Her words reminded me of Amir saying that the paps would leap to their own conclusions, and I considered her for a moment, wondering if she was playing me. But she seemed genuine, and I nodded. ‘All right,’ I said. ‘I’d like that.’
She broke out that smile again, and I felt her light reflected on me.