‘This is a more badass direction for you,’ said Saskia as the tailor finished sewing me into the dress. It was so tight it compressed my ribs and so short that if my dad had been here, he would have asked where the rest of it was. I hoped I could sing in it.
In the hotel lift, I relayed her comment to Carter as his hands slid down my bare back. ‘I hate to tell you this, Jim, but you’re about as badass as a kitten in a cardigan,’ he said.
‘I don’t see you complaining,’ I replied.
The lift doors dinged open and we scattered to opposite sides – unnecessary, as it turned out, since the crowd of music journalists and fans was already out on the beach. As we left the gold-plated lobby, a hot Ibiza wind whipped around my legs.
In the two days we’d been on the island, Addie and I had Skyped three times, Carter had learned how to order drinks in Spanish, and he and I had agreed to keep whatever it was we had between us a secret from the others.
I’d sent Phoenix a postcard, partly because that was easier than talking to them about Carter and partly because I thought writing ‘I’m about to launch Lady Stardust’s first album!’ might make it less surreal.
Our album launch was meant to be the celebration of everything we’d worked for: all the gritted fights in the boathouse and the drawn-out jam sessions at Richie’s; all the long hours in the studio, the whirlwind interviews and make-up rooms and early training sessions. Carter was treating it like any other party, but I knew what the album launch really meant: reviewers would write about our album in the press, and I wasn’t ready to read what they had to say. When we’d been spinning the songs from thin air, we could always go back and change them. Now they would be out in the world and there would be nowhere to hide.
The sun was setting over the ocean and everyone else was already inside a white marquee, including Addie, who’d flown in from London that morning. Tish had arrived yesterday with a suitcase full of swimsuits; I’d caught Sam eyeing them for structural integrity.
Outside the tent, Carter pulled me into him again. ‘I can’t believe I’m not allowed to touch you tonight,’ he breathed into my hair. ‘And I’m meant to just stand there and watch you being fondled by Addie Marmoset.’
‘No-one is fondling anyone. You know Addie’s just here for the press.’
‘If you say so, babe,’ he said. He kissed my neck, and I felt it on my skin long after we entered the marquee.
Inside the tent, my brand-new Explorer and Carter’s Telecaster were ready for us, watched by a burly security guy, and there was a table of fried finger food, which Saskia definitely wouldn’t let me eat.
‘Hey, you,’ Addie said and wobbled over to me in her stilettos, pulling me into a hug even though there were no cameras.
Richie was at the drinks table, already necking Champagne, his hair slicked into a quiff. Carter made a beeline for him and Sam glanced over as if he thought he could slow them down with nerves alone. I clutched Addie’s arm to stay upright as my cage heels sank into the sand, and tried to ignore the guilty knot I got when I glanced at Carter. Lying to the press about being with Addie was bad enough. If I didn’t tell her about me and Carter, was I lying to her as well?
‘Come on, everyone!’ Amir called out. ‘It’s time for a toast! Let’s all raise our glasses – someone get Lily a glass – good, thank you – you too, Carter, nice and high! To Lady Stardust and their fantastic debut album, The Dreamers of Dreams.’
Carter smiled the way he always did when anyone mentioned the title, and as we clinked glasses I wished I could kiss him, but Addie’s arm was tight around me.
•
Sam’s shoulders were set as I followed him onto the stage. The noise from the crowd hit me like a gust of wind, so loud I almost couldn’t make out the thrashing waves behind them. Reaching the microphone, I thanked everyone for coming, and the minute I started speaking they fell silent, as if I were the Messiah.
What could I possibly say? Better to just play. I lifted the Explorer, nerves rising in my throat, and played the opening bars to the first song, startled as the feedback leapt at me from behind. Sam kicked in the drums, then there were two more bars of guitar lick. Sidestage, Addie was wide-eyed with delight, as if she could feel it, too: the magic of four instruments combining, four voices, four people, four minds, all of it feeding off the energy of the crowd. Having a number one single was nothing compared to this.
After the gig, we waved to the crowd and descended the stairs. ‘That’s what it’s all about, Donadi,’ said Sam, tucking his drumsticks into his back pocket. His face was open, and I laughed with joy and hugged him.
Now that the sunlight had faded, the tent was as soft and quiet as a cocoon. Addie was already seated at the trestle table, which had been dragged into the middle and sadly swept of finger food. She leapt up to hug me.
‘I knew you’d nail it! What a show! You guys were so great.’
I glowed with her praise. Carter took the seat beside me, resting his arm along the back of my chair like he didn’t care who got the wrong impression. Saskia showed in the first music journo and I shifted slightly towards Addie.
The reporters had ten minutes each. Saskia beeped a stopwatch at nine minutes and if they asked anything she didn’t like, she twirled a finger and sang out, ‘Next question, please!’ Everyone tried to draw Addie into the conversation with questions about her solo album and the fallout from leaving Perfect Storm, but each time she would just smile, touch my arm and say, ‘We’re not here to talk about me tonight.’ I wondered if Saskia had taught her this interview technique as well, or if she was just a natural.
I set my Champagne on the table and resolved to stay clear-headed. Addie noticed and edged her glass of iced mineral water closer to me. Carter topped up his own glass between each interview as if he had to make up for my caution.
‘I think you’ve had enough,’ I said as Saskia ushered out the fifth reporter.
‘Come on, Jim, it’s free Veuve. I can’t help it if you don’t have a sophisticated palate.’
‘It’s not that I don’t like it,’ I hissed. ‘There’s just a lot of press here tonight.’
‘Oh, live a little, Liliana,’ Richie laughed. ‘It’s our party!’
It didn’t feel like a party. It felt like a particularly grim speed dating night with a revolving door of reporters who all asked the same questions.
When we were finally let loose from the tent, the DJ was halfway through her set. Dancers thumped on the sand and a few drunk guys had already stripped off and charged into the Mediterranean.
Carter wrenched me away from the group. ‘There’s got to be a bar around here,’ he said.
The crowd hadn’t noticed us yet, but it was only a matter of time. ‘I can’t go out there,’ I said. ‘And Addie definitely can’t. She’ll be torn apart by rabid fans.’
‘Well, maybe Addie can go up to her room and let me be alone with my girlfriend.’
I flinched. We’d never talked about what we were and this wasn’t the way I wanted to have the conversation. ‘Carter.’ I glanced out at the crowd, then to the side of the tent, where Addie stood chatting with Sam and Richie. His hands at my waist were very tight. ‘I don’t want to do it like this.’
‘Fine.’ He released me and went back over to the others. I watched him laugh at something Richie said and then they stepped into the throng, girls touching them, introducing themselves, asking for autographs. Carter put his arm around one and leaned down to hear her without a backward glance at me, and jealousy simmered in my chest.