My Secret Rockstar Boyfriend (28 page)

Unfortunately our favourite haunt Macari’s doesn’t stay open in the evenings – so I have to go to a rubbish generic cafe on the high street. The sort of place where a coffee
costs twice as much and you know the atmosphere has been focus-grouped.

But that’s the least of my worries. I hang around outside, looking like some kind of weirdo stalker, until I can make them out at a table tucked away in the corner. I wave until they spot
me. Nishi rolls her eyes and turns away, but Anna does a tentative thumbs-up behind her head.

I open the door and step inside, but my feeling of dread does not go away. Not even when Anna gets up and hugs me. I can see Nishi glowering behind her.

‘I should have known you were behind this, Tuesday,’ she says darkly.

‘Nishi,’ Anna snaps, ‘stop underestimating me!
I
was behind this. It was my idea. I told Chew to come and meet us.’

‘Look, I’m sorry,’ I interject. ‘Thanks, Anna, but this was obviously a bad idea. Nishi, you were right and I’m really sorry. I’ll leave you both
alone.’

‘Tuesday,
sit down
,’ Anna thunders.

Nishi and I look at each other in utter disbelief. I cannot believe that this sound has actually come out of Anna’s body.

‘Nobody is leaving until you two are friends again. Do you understand? We’ve all been idiots. You two are the best friends I’ve ever met in my life. So deal with it.
We’re not going anywhere.’

I’m almost afraid to look at Nishi for fear of her reaction. Then I realize that she is laughing.

‘Blimey! I kind of like it when you’re strict. Who’d have thought it?’ She looks at me – only sideways, but it’s a start. ‘Seriously, Chew – this
cinnamon vanilla spice mocha hot chocolate is insane. I’ve never tasted anything so bloody delicious in my life. We’re going to start hanging out here. Get used to it. I suggest you go
up to the counter and get yourself one immediately.’

She’s right, as always. It tastes like heaven in a branded mug. And, just like that, we’re friends again.

‘I can’t believe you two went to Glastonbury without me!’ Nishi exclaims. ‘I’ve always wanted to go and I missed out. How about we all go to Reading in August to
make up for it?’

‘No way,’ I reply emphatically. ‘It turns out Anna hates festivals. And I’ve had enough of them to last me for years. I wouldn’t go again even for Jackson
Griffith.’

‘And you’re lucky,’ Anna says to Nishi, ‘because if Tuesday hadn’t seen him first, I swear even I would consider turning for Jackson Griffith. The man is a golden
god, a higher species of man. Total weirdo, mind – but bloody gorgeous. I can totally understand why Chew went a bit loopy about the whole thing.’

‘Well, thanks for that, but it doesn’t matter any more,’ Nishi says piously. ‘Chew and I are cool. Right, Chew?’

‘Yes, thank goodness. So now that’s cleared up, I really should leave you two alone. You
are
back together, aren’t you?’

‘Yes, so leave us alone – not all of us are fans of snogging in public and getting on the front page of the tabloids!’ Nishi cackles.

I can still hear them both laughing as I leave.

To: Tuesday Cooper

From: jackson evan griffith

Ruby Tuesday,

I’m so sorry about how I left things with you. I should never have let you go off on your own like that. Straight away I wished I had gone back to London with you. I had such a great day
(and night) with you before that.

I don’t know why I always have to wreck everything. It’s a sick kind of self-harm, I’m not even kidding. I’m so bad at being happy. I like the idea of a simple life, I
really do. Girlfriend, house, dog. The whole package. But I can’t seem to live it.

Anyway. Enough of my own personal pity party. I guess you heard what happened. I even gave myself a scare when I woke up in that hospital, and I don’t scare so easy. I dunno yet if I can
call it my very own ‘rock bottom moment’. Seems like I’ve had a few of those already in my time.

So, here I am in rehab again. I’m gonna try and do it properly this time. Maybe it’s even for the best – who knows?

I have my guitar here, and some books I’ve been meaning to read since forever, but mostly I’m doing a lot of sleeping, to tell you the truth. I’m a binge sleeper (I’m a
binge everything-er) and maybe I needed to catch up. I’m eating like a fiend as well. The food here’s pretty good. I’m gonna come out of here lazy and fat. Hope so, anyway. Sounds
good to me right now.

As you can probably tell, I have a lot of time on my hands, so please excuse my rambling. Having computer privileges is kind of a big deal here. It’s taken me a week to be allowed on my
email. Then nearly that long to remember the password! My brain is fried!

I’d have been in touch sooner otherwise. Actually that might be a lie – I’ve been pretty self-involved. Who knows? Who knows what might have happened if I’d just come
back to London with you? I know it’s the road to madness, man! Thinking like that, I mean.

This may not be news to anyone except for me, but it turns out I have a lot of problems.

I think you are an awesome girl. I’m sounding cheesy now, but you’ve been a little window of sunshine in my life. I don’t often meet girls like you any more. You have a very
unique style and you are one hell of a writer (as they say). Keep writing! If you do one thing, keep writing. I am not much of an advice giver but that one’s a no-brainer. You don’t
need me to tell you anything. I wish I had more to offer you.

I hope our paths will cross again. I wonder if we will keep in touch. Let me know what you think, if you are so inclined. I hope you will keep writing to me.

Hey, I also want to add that I really wish we’d had sex in the tepee! That would have made my perfect night even better. Although I am very bad at sex – and the way you’re
supposed to treat people after you’ve had sex with them – so if we had it might mean that you would hate me more than you already maybe do.

Glastonbury seems to be a bad place for me. I’m sorry that you had to be around for some of it, and I’m not proud of myself. But while you were there, those were probably the best
times I’ve ever had in that place. Seriously. I had a great time with you. What a fun night. Hey, I guess what happened in that crazy Elvis tent (from what I can remember of it?!) means that
we are ‘Glastonbury-married’ – if we ever get there again, I’m totally holding you to it, Glastonbury Wife!

Well, Ruby Tuesday – seriously, whatever else, we’ll always have Glastonbury. I’m glad. I hope you are too – but for me you came along at just the right time, when I
needed a friend around who wasn’t part of the bullshit world I always seem to get myself mixed up in.

Oh, and Jeremy Kyle – I’ll never forget it was you who did me the great favour of introducing me to Jeremy Kyle and Greggs cheese ’n’ onion pasties.

I might look him up on YouTube. Like I said, I’ve got a lot of time on my hands.

I hope all was OK for you when you got back home. I know being associated with me is not always the best. I hope you considered it worth the hassle.

Love, Jack xx

PS Sadie says hi – she comes in to see me on a Sunday and brings me grapes, if you can believe it!

To: jackson evan griffith

From: Tuesday Cooper

Dear Jackson,

I’m just glad you’re OK. And you will be really OK. I think you’re a truly beautiful human being – who sounds cheesy now, eh?

While we’re on ‘what ifs’ . . . I wonder what if you were just some nice normal (but gorgeous and insanely talented, obviously) boy who I met at college and really got on with.
In some strange time machine that could never exist, I’d like to make us the same age and to be full of potential together. What if we could just hang out in Macari’s (that’s an
accidentally retro cafe I like to go to in the dull small town where I live) and you could come round to my mum’s house for dinner. I think it would be really lovely actually.

I wonder this because I don’t think I’m destined to be a pop star’s girlfriend . . . If there’s one thing you’ve done for me (and in fact there are quite a few
things), I think you’ve made me realize that I want to be the VIP, not the tag-along who goes to my boyfriend’s gigs and sits on the sidelines. Even if I never become a VIP in my own
right, I want to try to be a writer and do cool stuff myself.

I was so ridiculously flattered when you got in touch with me on my blog and then carried on paying attention to me. I mean, to an unhealthy degree. I really shouldn’t need that kind of
validation! I didn’t even know you (not then), but I projected all sorts of importance on to it. Like if someone as ‘special’ and important (i.e. famous – let’s face
it!) was interested in me, then I must be ‘special’ too. Ego, man!!

I hope we can stay in touch, like you said. Probably not all the time, but I am glad that we will both think of each other fondly. By the way, I think it’s a very good thing that we did
not have sex in the tepee, no matter what you say! Although I did a few things I’m not necessarily proud of in retrospect, I feel really good about that night.

I think we will be far-off friends, and (in my ideal dream world) hopefully you can always be a tiny bit in love with me but we will never have sex, and even when we are 90 I will be going,
‘Phew – thank god we just stayed friends and he didn’t ever mess me up!’ Then I will bore my grandchildren stupid by playing them (again!) the beautiful song that a famous
pop star with a kind heart and a rare talent wrote for me when I was eighteen years old.

And I’ll tell them about the time we went to Glastonbury and in a weird sort of way it was kind of perfect. And it taught me a lot. Etc., etc. . . .

I will keep writing if you promise me that you will do your very best to look after yourself and your voice. I mean it when I say that you have a rare talent. There is something about you that
changes the temperature of the room. You don’t need me to tell you that, but I think you need to remember that you are a good human with a beautiful voice. You are.

With love from your friend and once-upon-a-time fake wife,

Ruby Tuesday XXX

It’s almost, but not quite, as if nothing happened. My mum and I are getting on fine again. Nishi and I are closer than we’ve ever been; she and I plus Anna are
back to all of our old routines of hanging out constantly together in charity shops and weird cafes, especially now exams are over and we have blissful time on our hands. Jackson and I email each
other, sporadically but sometimes for pages at a time, and I even get the occasional message from Sadie Steinbeck.

Then I remember that I’ve ruined my whole life all by myself. I’m dreading the results; I know there is no way they’re going to be good.

Still, after weeks of texting him and asking if we can at least meet up and talk, Seymour has finally relented and said I can come over to his house this afternoon. I’m pretty sure he just
wants to get me to shut up and leave him alone, but I’ll take it. I totally understand why he wouldn’t want to speak to me, but it’s really important to me that I see him and at
least try to explain.

Weirdly, as I walk up the gravel driveway to his house, I don’t feel as nervous as I used to when I would go round there for Sunday lunch and it was all supposed to be so friendly and
civilized.

Seymour barely says hello to me when he answers the door, but I am mostly just relieved that nobody else seems to be at home. Perhaps he had to wait until everybody else was out as Elaine
wouldn’t let me over the threshold.

‘Thanks for letting me come over,’ I say.

Seymour shrugs in reply. We stand in the hallway and don’t look at each other.

‘Shall I make us a cup of tea?’ I suggest.

This is probably against the etiquette of the house, but one of us has to do something. He shrugs again, so I take this as a green light to lead the way into the kitchen and fill up the kettle.
It’s one of those fancy but annoying Brita filter ones, so I have to stand there for about five minutes while the water trickles through. I wanted to wait until we were sitting down with a
cup of tea before I launched into my lengthy apology-slash-explanation, but the silence is getting a bit awkward.

Seymour beats me to it.

‘You’re not going to try to get back together, are you?’ he blurts out, seemingly from nowhere. ‘Because I don’t know why else you’re here and it’s not
going to work. The answer’s no.’

‘What? I don’t think we
should
get back together,’ I reply, trying to hide my total shock. ‘That’s not why I’m here at all. But we were friends
before we ever started going out. It seems a real shame for it to end without us ever even talking to each other again. It just wouldn’t be right somehow.’

Again the shrug. Usually Seymour is so articulate he runs rings around me when he wants to; even under the circumstances, I don’t understand why he is being monosyllabic to the point of
sulky. It’s kind of more disconcerting than the tongue-lashing I expected. Maybe he just wants to make this as difficult for me as he can. Who could blame him?

I automatically make Seymour’s tea as weak as possible, barely squeezing the bag, and with two sugars – just how he likes it. As I leave mine to stew for as long as possible and beat
the living daylights out of it with a teaspoon, I reflect that I should have known we were always ill-suited.

‘Mostly,’ I continue, ‘I wanted to apologize, face to face. I owe you that at least. I’m sorry. I really, truly am. I did a crap thing. I got carried away and I did a lot
of really crap things. So . . . I’m sorry.’

‘Does your new boyfriend know you’re here?’ he sneers.

‘Jackson knows I’m here, but he’s not my boyfriend any more.’

‘He
did
dump you then. I knew it.’ Seymour laughs with no humour whatsoever.

‘Well, it’s a bit more complicated than that. It turns out we’re better as friends.’

‘Funny that, what with him being a total nutcase and all.’

‘Look, Seymour – that’s not the point. You’re entitled to your opinion, but I just want you to know I’m sorry . . . Anyway –’ even now I can’t
resist trying to make a feeble joke – ‘your mum must be happy about how things have turned out at least!’