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Chapter Sixteen

I
spent the whole day clearing up the flat, taking the
opportunity
to reorganise my possessions: re-shelving books by colour-
coding
the spines, arranging DVDs by genre, folding and neatly arranging my clothes. I filled three bin bags with rubbish, got rid of everything in my drawers and cupboards that I didn’t use or need any more, put my loose photographs into albums. I changed the bedsheets, vacuumed and cleaned every surface. When I was done the flat looked better than it had at any time since Laura had left, and I felt exhausted but calm. I found a chilled beer at the back of the fridge, sweaty with condensation, and sank into the sofa with it, trying not to think about anything at all.

The intercom buzzed. Laura? I jumped up, lifted the
handset. ‘Yes?’

‘Hey, it’s me.’

‘Oh. Jake.’

I buzzed him up. As he walked in, throwing his coat onto the back of a chair, he said, ‘Thrilled to see you too, Dan.’

‘Sorry. I thought—’

‘Holy shit.’ He was spinning in a circle, his mouth agape. ‘Have you had a team of cleaners in?’

‘Actually, a team of burglars.’

‘You what?’

I explained while I made him a coffee. Jake didn’t drink alcohol, mostly because his mum was an alcoholic who had ripped their family apart with her drinking. He drank a hell of a lot of coffee though, ten or twelve cups a day, though he claimed he was naturally full of vim and energy, that his unflagging hyperactivity was not caffeine induced.

Jake was disgustingly good-looking, so much so that going out with him could be a depressing experience, girls’ eyes sliding over me and fixing on him, this wiry, mixed-race guy with the boundless energy and charisma. His mum was a former model from
Manchester
, his dad a musician from Trinidad, and Jake had
inherited
her looks and his dad’s talent.

‘Fuck,’ Jake said, eyes wide, after I’d finished telling him about the burglary. I decided not to tell him about all the other stuff that had been going on, including sleeping with Laura. I knew he’d think I was an idiot. Jake had introduced Laura and me, spent the next few years telling us that we owed him and that we had better name our first son after him. When Laura left he had been shocked and disappointed, but although he wanted us to get back together he had also taken on the role of cheerleader, telling me I needed to stop moping and start living again.

‘So what’s happening with you?’ I asked, finishing my beer.

‘What do you mean? I told you about my gig tonight. We discussed it the other day. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten.’

‘I . . .’ The truth was that I couldn’t remember. I had the vaguest memory of having a conversation with Jake earlier in the week but had no recollection of what it was about.

‘Anyway, you’re coming. You can’t sit around licking your wounds for the rest of your life. I’m worried about you, man.’

‘Where’s the gig?’

‘I can’t believe you’ve forgotten . . .’ He told me again. It was a large pub near Euston. ‘Going to be some A&R people there. This guy contacted me after checking out my YouTube channel and wants to see me live.’

I pictured myself in the crowd at the gig, all the people and noise.

‘I don’t think—’

‘Don’t say no, Dan. I don’t want to sound like a ponce but I could really do with your support. Come on, you really can’t sit around here festering forever. Come out, have fun. There will be girls there and everything. Tell them you know me and . . .’ He winked and made a
click-click
sound with his tongue.

I sighed. ‘OK. I’ll come. But I’m really not interesting in meeting another woman.’

He grinned and raised his mug. ‘Cheers. By the way, you really need to get some decent coffee. This stuff tastes like Nescafé.’

‘It is Nescafé.’

‘You know they murder babies, don’t you?’

I zoned out for a moment.

‘Nestlé,’ he prodded. ‘They –’

‘Yes, yes, I know. The baby milk thing.’ I got up and went over to the cupboard, retrieved the jar of coffee and dropped it in the bin. ‘Happy now?’

He stared at me. ‘You really do need to get out more, Dan. You look awful. And you’re acting kinda crazy. Getting forgetful.’

‘Maybe I am,’ I said.

‘Maybe you are what?’

‘Crazy.’

The pub was rammed, even though it was a frosty Thursday night in November. I sat with Jake in a tiny room behind the bar where he was getting ready, tuning his guitar and hyping himself up, getting into the zone. For years he had sung in a series of bands that had got nowhere, never quite being what record companies were looking for, frustratedly watching lesser rival bands get signed and, sometimes, have hits. There was a guy called Zack Love—not his real name—who had at one point been in a band with Jake. Zack had left the band to go on
The X Factor
, reaching the live finals and having a few big hits. Word was that he was on the verge of breaking America.

Zack’s success sent Jake into a tailspin of self-doubt and misery, but he had picked himself up and, propelled by rivalry w
ith his
former friend, started writing much better songs, working on
his imag
e and generally transforming himself. His YouTube channel had gained huge numbers of new subscriptions recently after one of his home-made videos went viral. As I left the backstage area, after giving him a good-luck hug, I could feel it. He was on the verge of a breakthrough.

As I pushed my way through the crowd I overhead a pair of girls talking about Jake.

‘Did you see the new video he posted yesterday?’

‘God, yeah. Those biceps.’ She groaned. ‘Do you think he’s got a girlfriend?’

‘No, Tara said he’s single. But don’t get your hopes up . . .
He’s mine.’

‘He’s probably gay anyway . . .’

I smiled as I passed them, tempted to give them some inside info. At the bar, I bought two bottles of beer so I wouldn’t have to queue again for a while, and found a spot close to the stage, behind another group of excited young women. There were a lot of guys here too, but many of them appeared to have been dragged along by their girlfriends.

I wondered if Jake would still talk to me if he became properly famous. Or if he’d trade me in for a new bunch of rock-star-actor-model mates. Then I’d be properly alone, with my girlfriend living in
Australia
and my best mate not wanting to kn
ow me.

I sank my first beer, drowning the encroaching self-pity.

A hush came over the crowd as the MC announced Jake, and then the girls in the crowd, and some of the guys, were whooping and grabbing each other as he came on with his guitar and, with a little smile, started to play. He was great. I’d heard tons of his songs over the years, as he encouraged me to listen to his demos and go
to hi
s gigs, but there was no doubt this latest crop was a league above his earlier efforts. Envy had worked. Barring a severe dose of bad luck, he was going to be a star.

As he played, I noticed a young woman with blonde hair standing near me. She was wearing tight black jeans and a purple top, very little make-up. She was stunning. The second time I glanced at her, she smiled at me and, before I knew it, she was standing beside me.

‘I love this guy,’ she said, her lips close to my ear, though the music wasn’t so loud that we couldn’t have a conversation. She had an Eastern European accent. I was immediately reminded of Alina and shuddered.

‘Are you OK?’ the blonde woman said. ‘You look like you saw a ghost.’

I wanted to get away but the crowd around us was too de
nse. I
 was temporarily trapped. I made a conscious decision
to rel
ax. This woman was gorgeous, and maybe I needed to heed Jake’s advice, stop being such a recluse.

I was about to tell her that Jake was my best mate but changed my mind. I could see how the conversation would go. She would be surprised, and I would try to impress her, but all she would want to know was if I could introduce her to Jake. Was this the way my life would go now? I would be known as Jake’s friend, a way to meet the big rock star.

‘He’s great,’ I said. ‘I love this song.’

She stuck out her hand. ‘I’m Camelia.’

‘Daniel. Where are you from?’

She grinned and said, ‘Belsize Park. I like your name, Daniel. Makes me think of someone escaping the lion’s den.’

‘Yeah, that’s my job. I’m a lion tamer. I ran away to join the circus when I was ten and I’ve got two pet lions in my shed.’

She smiled generously and laid her hand on my arm.

I swallowed. ‘So where are you from really?’

‘Romania. But don’t worry, I’m not a vampire.’

‘Oh.’

She tilted her head. ‘You want me to be a vampire?’

‘No. Sorry, I was just . . . It doesn’t matter.’ I paused. Her being from Romania had flustered me. It was stupid. London was full of people of every nationality and Romania was part of the European Union so its citizens could come work here whenever they liked. I could hardly go into a meltdown every time I met someone from the country where my life had changed. ‘Your English is excellent. Oh, sorry. Did that sound condescending?’

‘No, it was a compliment. So thank you. I’ve lived here for ages. Ah, I love this one.’

She turned towards the stage, nodded her head and swayed
her hip
s to the music. Her eyes were half-closed, a little smile on her pretty face. I noticed other men in the crowd watching her greedily and felt strangely protective towards her, and flattered that she had chosen to talk to me.

I lifted my beer to my lips and found that the bottle was empty. ‘Do you want a drink, Camelia?’

‘Sure. I’ll have what you’re having.’

I struggled through the crowd to the bar, Jake’s voice loud in my ears, a small pocket of the audience singing along. My blood was thrumming. After a long wait, I bought our drinks and headed back to where Camelia had been standing.

She wasn’t there. I looked around, craning my neck, but there was no sign of her. Great. I told myself it was stupid to feel so disappointed, but I couldn’t help it. There was something about her: not just her looks, but her playful tone, the energy she gave off . . . .

Oh God. Laura. I was hit by a wave of guilt, but then remembered how Laura had been that morning, the tone of her voice as she told me it was over.

‘Hey.’

I turned, flooded with relief, at the same time chiding myself for feeling so relieved.

‘Sorry, I had to use the bathroom and the line was
un
believable. I think there was a couple having sex in one of the stalls.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘So tacky. Though I guess I understand people getting carried away.’

I definitely wasn’t imagining the way she looked at me then. I was momentarily speechless.

‘It’s so hot, isn’t it?’ she said, shrugging off her jacket. Something fell out of her jacket pocket and she stooped to pick it up. It was her phone. She slipped it back into the pocket.

From the stage, Jake said, ‘Thank you. See you soon.’

‘I’d better get backstage,’ I said.

‘You
know
him?’

Damn. ‘Yes. We’re old friends.’

‘Wow. That’s . . . interesting.’

I wasn’t sure what she meant, but before I could ask, she said, ‘So are you going to introduce me?’

I sighed inwardly. When Jake introduced me to Laura I assumed she was one of his former conquests, but she found this idea
hilarious
. She said he simply wasn’t her type. ‘Yeah, he’s good-looking and charismatic and cool. But I’m not interested in those things . . .’

‘Thanks!’ I’d laughed.

Why was I thinking about competing with Jake? I wasn’t looking for a new girlfriend. I didn’t even want a one-night stand. My ego felt sore, though. Camelia had lifted my spirits, and now she was about to shift her attention to my best friend.

‘Come on then,’ I said, and she followed me behind the bar
and thr
ough to the back room where Jake sat, sweating and smiling, the guitar propped against the wall. His manager, Robin, was in the room, talking about how he’d been standing with the A&R guy, who’d been ‘creaming his pants’.

‘That was fantastic,’ I enthused. After lavishing him with praise I gestured towards my companion, whom Jake had been watching since we’d entered the room, and said, ‘This is Camelia.’

‘You were pretty good,’ she said in a cool, disinterested voice. Then she turned to me. ‘Thanks for introducing us, Daniel. Can we go now, though, do you think?’

Once again I was speechless as she took my hand and pulled me through the door. I glanced back at the open-mouthed Jake and shrugged an apology. He waved it off, a big smile on his face.

Camelia led me through the back door and out into the street. It was freezing outside, but I didn’t care. Camelia was still carrying her jacket. The cold clearly didn’t bother her. I was about to say something about this when she pulled me into a shop doorway and kissed me.

Her lips were soft. It felt good, but strange, the unfamiliar shape of her lips and the taste of her mouth, a faint trace of cigarettes. I hadn’t kissed anyone apart from Laura in years. I was so busy marvelling at the fact that Camelia was kissing me, and trying to push Laura’s image out of my head, that I was unable to relax and enjoy it.