My Secret Rockstar Boyfriend (16 page)

For some reason when I was getting ready, probably to remind my treacherous self that my boyfriend is actually in this band, I decided to channel a 70s groupie look for the evening, in a tight
top and painfully high-waisted jeans that are definitely threatening a camel-toe situation. I look quite tarty, but it’s supposed to be kind of a comedy look so I have smeared on some red
lipstick and am using an afro comb I found knocking around in Nishi’s room to do a bit of crazed backcombing. I’m worried I look way over the top, but I don’t have anything else
to change into and it’s too late to go home and start again from scratch. So instead I have opted for just avoiding looking in the mirror again and forgetting about the whole thing. I hope
people realize it’s a joke and don’t think
I think
I actually look hot.

‘You look nice, girls!’ Nishi’s stepmum exclaims cheerily, not looking as though she means it at all. Bless her.

‘Have a good evening,’ her dad chimes in. ‘Hope the band are rad!’

‘Da-ad!’ Nishi glowers.

It’s actually a shame that Nishi’s parents are already heading out for the night, because I really like them. Nishi’s dad is a psychologist and her stepmum is a primary-school
teacher. They are so new age and touchy-feely it’s untrue. This combination is basically the reason why Nishi has become very adept at hiding her emotions.

When Nishi came out to her parents, she told them flatly that she had a girlfriend and that was it. They were pretty delighted and wanted to talk about her feelings for hours on end, but Nishi
just yawned and asked what was for dinner. She told her dad that if he was in any way surprised by this news then he must be a really crap psychologist, and she didn’t really have time to
talk because there was something she wanted to watch on TV. She then phoned me and we both laughed about it for at least ten minutes.

Ever since Nishi got together with Anna, her parents have been so sweet and pleased, trying to make Anna feel welcome and include them both in ‘family activities’. For a while Nishi
was so happy that she almost forgot to be annoyed by them. She hasn’t told them yet that she and Anna have broken up – she doesn’t want to talk about it, and even I still
don’t know exactly what happened between them to cause this, except for Nishi making a few dark mutterings about ‘bloody girls and all that bloody talking’.

‘Bye, girls!’ both her parents chorus. ‘Have fun!’

As soon as they’re out the door, Nishi immediately starts taking advantage of the situation. In the absence of her overly interested parents, she decides to try to drown her feelings and
raids their dining-room cabinet.

This is really unusual and I wonder if I ought to be alarmed by it. It’s not like we’re deliberate teetotallers, but my little gang and I are definitely not big drinkers in the usual
course of things – Nishi in particular is practically straight edge. It’s something I’ve always admired – she does her own thing and won’t give in to peer pressure;
she generally has loftier things on her mind. She has been heard to say with total seriousness that she wouldn’t like to jeopardize a possible future career in politics by indulging in
‘clichéd teenage indiscretions’ that might come back and haunt her later.

So it’s a surprise – and not altogether a good one – to see her this evening. She’s blasting Hole’s first album out and swigging alternately from dusty bottles of
Galliano, amaretto and crème de menthe. I don’t even know what those drinks actually are and, judging by the look on Nishi’s face, they are not delicious.

‘I’ll just take whatever looks oldest from the back of the cupboard, so they won’t notice anything has gone missing,’ she explains with her usual impeccable logic.
‘It would make them so happy to see me indulging in such tediously predictable teenage rebellion behaviour that I don’t want to give them the satisfaction.’

‘So . . . why are you?’

‘Don’t you want a bit of crème de menthe?’ she asks, totally ignoring my question. ‘We could be like normal teenagers for once. We can hold each other’s hair
back while we puke in the bushes or something. Isn’t that what we’re supposed to do? It might be fun.’

I shake my head while trying to make a non-judgemental face, and stick to my orange squash in a large coffee mug. I feel that if Nishi’s going to get drunk, and she seems hell bent on
doing exactly that, then I ought to stay in a fit state to look after her if I need to. I quite like the idea of being the sensible one for once.

‘No, thanks,’ I say brightly. ‘It looks seriously rank. Why don’t we just go?’

The pub where the gig is being held is only about fifteen minutes’ walk away. Where we live, everything is pretty much only a short walk away, which is both a good and a bad thing.
It’s such a nice warm evening that the fresh air doesn’t really sober Nishi up as I had hoped, particularly as she brings the last dregs of the Galliano with her in an empty Coke
bottle.

‘So, are Seymour’s band actually, like, any good?’ she asks me, kicking the kerb with unnecessary force as we cross the road into town.

‘Yeah, you’ve heard them – of course they are,’ I say automatically, hackles up.

‘Well, I haven’t seen them live in ages and that blog you wrote about them today was a bit crap. You’ve got to admit.’

I don’t
have to admit
anything. I can tell she’s being antagonistic on purpose; she gets this hostile tone that I’ve learned to recognize and ignore. I think part of
the reason why Nishi and I have managed to stay friends for so long is that I’ve learned not to always take her personally – she can be pretty mean, but it’s usually to do with
her own insecurities so I don’t allow myself to mind too much; this time she’s inadvertently hit a very raw nerve and I don’t like it one bit.

‘Well, I never claimed to be the best writer,’ I say, slightly avoiding the issue. ‘I just thought it would be nice to get Seymour’s band out there. Do my bit, you know.
I like to support my friends, that’s all.’

‘Well, that’s the funny thing. I
know
you’re not necessarily the best writer, but usually your blog is good because it’s about the things you’re passionate
about. In that post, you didn’t even sound as if you
like
Seymour’s band that much. I thought it was a bit lukewarm, that’s all. I’m not criticizing you, so
don’t get defensive – I’m just saying it came across as a bit arbitrary.’

Nishi can have such a mean way of putting me down and then making me feel like I’m the one being oversensitive. She claims I can’t take criticism, and usually I don’t think
that’s true. I’m determined not to rise, but this time I have a nagging feeling that she might be right. She’s too clever for her own good sometimes – she just doesn’t
realize that what she is saying has a whole world of secrets and meaning behind it. Thank goodness.

Luckily we are outside the pub and so we don’t have to continue this discussion, as I don’t think any good is likely to come of it. We have the whole distraction of joining the short
queue, getting our hands stamped and heading inside.

It’s a pretty standard place – just a regular pub with a stage in one corner. It’s not packed but there’s a decent crowd, and I recognize a few people from college, who I
wave and say hi to.

I lose track of Nishi and suspect that she’s already disappeared off to the bar. I’m totally on my own and look like a complete loser among a sea of cool people, all in their own
little groups. While I wait for her, I look around for Seymour. When I spot him, I find that – rather than relieved – I feel unexpectedly shy. I have met his band before but I
don’t really know them and am definitely not a part of their little gang – I’ve always thought it’s important for him to have his own thing, and I’ve never wanted to
be the sort of girlfriend who interferes in stuff like that. I know my music history; I’ve read enough about Yoko and Courtney to make sure I keep a polite distance. Now the wisdom of my
policy feels questionable, as he is surrounded by a big group of people I don’t know, and I am too embarrassed to approach him. I certainly don’t want to be ‘that’ kind of
girlfriend, but the only alternative is to stand around feeling like a total spare part at my own boyfriend’s gig.

I try to look preoccupied – like I’m thinking important thoughts. I wish I was better in situations like this – people seem to think I’m so confident, but I’m
really not. I don’t know why; I know it’s stupid to stand around feeling like this, but I can’t control it sometimes. As I glance over at Seymour again, for a second I think he
sees me, but I’m obviously wrong as he just turns back to his conversation with his band and all their assorted friends. Right now the lesser of the two evils is just standing here on my own
with no mates, so I do that.

‘What are you doing?’ Nishi asks impatiently as she barges her way back to me. ‘Seymour’s over there, you know.’

I notice she has bought a drink for herself but didn’t ask me if I wanted anything, and I resolve not to start getting petty over it.

‘Oh, is he?’ I say to hide my embarrassment, feeling like even more of a loser. ‘I didn’t see him. I was just waiting for you.’

Nishi steamrollers straight over to him, me lagging behind.

‘Oh, hey,’ he greets us coolly and goes back to his conversation.

He is talking to Futoshi, his drummer – whom I have met the grand total of about twice – and some other people that I don’t recognize. Everyone shuffles to make room and smiles
generally around at Nishi and me, and they all seem pleasant enough, but Seymour doesn’t introduce us and nobody involves us in the conversation. This is fine, really – although perhaps
mildly embarrassing. I can sense Nishi getting annoyed, although she just carries on drinking her pint and generally looking disgruntled. So rather than talk to her I pretend to be listening
intently to the conversation on my other side, even though I am slightly too far away to make out what’s going on.

Fortunately it’s not long before it’s time for Terminal Ghosts to go onstage. Seymour picks his way out of the group and steps up on to the raised platform. He busies himself
fiddling with pedals and his microphone stand.

‘Ooh, get you with your rockstar boyfriend!’

Nishi nudges me in the ribs as we position ourselves nearer the stage – although something stops me from elbowing my way right to the front – and I’m not sure if she is being
sarcastic or not. Either way, it makes me feel utterly crap.

It’s weird to see Seymour in ‘band mode’. They don’t play in public that often, and I don’t always go along if it’s not local. So I find it tricky to
reconcile this Seymour with the one I’m used to.

He looks different. He’s a bit swaggery, which I would have thought in theory might be attractive. I’m not quite sure why it isn’t. Maybe if I didn’t know him I would
think he looked cool – I tell myself that it’s only because I know him too well that the unfamiliar expression on his face is making me cringe slightly.

Still, the overhead lights have been dimmed, the crowd has fallen mostly quiet and – in spite of myself, just for a second – I feel a little thrill of excitement in my stomach when
Seymour leans in and speaks into the microphone. It’s great that he’s doing something he’s passionate about. The small pub is quite full. People have come out and paid money to
see him do the thing he loves. This reminds me of why I liked Seymour in the first place – having amazing and inspiring people around me like him and Nishi, with her fierce intellect and huge
ambition, is a great thing and makes me want to be a better person. I’m lucky.

‘Hi, we’re Terminal Ghosts and this is a new song we wrote called “The Skies Above” . . .’

Once they get going, the room fills up with sound and they begin a set that’s about three-quarters covers, with a few songs they’ve written themselves.

I try to get swept away in the music and enjoy myself – but it just doesn’t seem to be happening. There’s a thought building in my head, getting bigger with each song, and it
won’t go away, even though I am trying my absolute hardest to squash it down. I don’t want to think it. It would make my life much, much easier if I could ignore it . . .

Seymour’s band are simply not all that good. I never, ever want to have to admit this out loud. I am horribly disappointed; I want so badly to be able to mean it when I tell him afterwards
– as I have to – that he was great.

I’m not generally a fan of bands doing covers, but I have to admit that in this instance it’s preferable to Seymour’s songwriting efforts – I’m pretty sure he just
rhymed ‘sky’ with ‘high’ with ‘fly’. All in a weird, fake Cockney accent.

I start to realize what it is that seems off to me about Seymour’s new frontman persona. All of the band seem to suffer from the same problem. They are coming across like they are trying a
bit too hard. I don’t know if anyone else in the room senses this, but I feel embarrassed for them regardless. Generally, in life, I am of the opinion that trying is good. I could probably
never be considered truly ‘cool’ because I am always visibly
trying
. But in a rock band, this is not a virtue. It’s supposed to look effortless.

Nishi’s watching the stage with an impassive look on her face and I have no idea what she’s thinking. Then there is a pause and Seymour starts talking.

‘I’d like to dedicate this next song to a girl called Tuesday. Yes, that’s her real name. It’s a song I know she’ll recognize as it’s by her biggest fan . .
.’

This is so cryptic, or maybe I’m being wilfully ignorant, that for a minute I think he’s going to play a song of his own. Like he’s saying that he’s my biggest fan. Which
would be incredibly sweet and lovely of him.

As he plays the opening chords, the song is immediately recognizable. It’s not by Seymour. It’s by Jackson Griffith.

‘
If you want me to be someone else/maybe you should be by yourself . . .’

‘Be Someone Else’ was one of Sour Apple’s biggest hits a few years ago and it’s not lost on me that the lyrics are a bit weird, at least for a song that you dedicate to
your girlfriend. In public. The narrative theme is a bit mean, but I tell myself that this is just coincidence. My guilty conscience again, et cetera. Maybe I should be finding this hilariously
funny right now.