The Celeb Next Door (13 page)

L
ast night, Sky went out with a jacket she didn’t wear any more and came home with two new tops. I went out single and came home with a boyfriend.

‘Oh my God!’ she squeals, when I call her to fill her in. ‘I’m so excited! So what happened?’

‘That’s the thing,’ I say. ‘Nothing happened. We ate dinner, talked with the others, and that was it. Everyone automatically thought Max was my boyfriend – including Max – so I just decided to go with the flow.’

‘Oh, I see,’ she says, though it doesn’t sound like she does.‘I guess that’s good. I didn’t want to say anything, but all your um-ing and ah-ing was getting a teensy bit
boring. For everyone. So … did you kiss him?’

‘God, no,’ I say.‘Just a friendly peck on the cheek, when I left. I was the first one to go – as usual, thanks, Mum – and I gave everyone a quick kiss goodbye, Max included. We were all still in the garden. I was hardly going to have my first snog with Max in front of the whole of Fieldstar, was I?’

She ponders this.‘I’m sure tons of people snog in front of them at their gigs. They’re used to it.’

‘It’s not the same thing, and you know it!’

‘Hmm.’ She and Rich can’t keep their hands off each other, so she’s probably finding this difficult to understand. ‘Anyway, did you get their autographs for me?’

‘Er, no, sorry.’

‘Oh Rosie, I knew you’d forget.’

‘I didn’t forget, exactly.’ I say, although the truth is, I did, until it was practically time to leave, and then I couldn’t bring myself to ask. ‘It just seemed a bit weird. You know, pass the salt and, by the way, could you sign your autograph for my friend Sky?’

‘Fair enough, I guess. But now you’re Max’s
girlfriend
, I’m sure you can get them for me sometime. As well as all the insider gossip.’

‘OK,’ I say.‘I’ll ask Max to ask Rufus to ask them for you.’

‘Cool. So have you talked to Vix yet?’

I sigh.‘Not today. But she’s barely speaking to me. It’s horrible.’

‘I know,’ she says.‘She mentioned it last night. She’s not so much upset about Max, she’s hurt about the way you told her. Or didn’t tell her for so long. And she’s mad you dropped us all last night to go to Rufus’s. She thinks you’re being really shallow.’

That hurts, even though I already know what Vix thinks. For some reason, hearing it from Sky makes it feel worse. ‘I’m not,’ I say. ‘Honestly. You know that, yeah? I wouldn’t normally do that – it was just an amazing opportunity. And as for not telling her, I was just trying not to upset her. Now I’ve got to tell her we’re actually going out, it’s gonna be even worse.’

‘Hmm, glad I’m not you,’ Sky says, unhelpfully.

‘Cheers, Sky!’

‘Sorry,’ she says.‘But what can I do? I’ll stick up for you as much as I can, but in the end it’s between you and her, isn’t it?’

‘Yeah…’

‘And I’m off to India next week, remember, so I won’t be around to help.’

Sky’s mum is taking her whole family to a yoga retreat in Goa for a month. Sky doesn’t want to go. She says it will be all meditation sessions at five a.m. with nasty smells, weird noises and hideous food. She asked if she could stay with me instead, and my parents were OK with it, but her mum put her foot down and said she had to go. Apparently, it will be good for her spiritual
growth, whatever that means. Sky says it will serve her mum right if she runs off with a gap-year hippy. On an elephant.

‘Bummer.’

‘Yup. So when are you seeing Max again?’

‘I dunno. I guess he’ll call me.’

‘Ooh, stop it, Rosie, I can’t take your enthusiasm! You’re, like, soooo excited!’

‘Don’t be sarcastic. I just need to get used to the idea.’

‘He’s a hot guy, Rosie. It shouldn’t be that hard.’

‘I know. I’m getting there.’

‘OK. But I probably won’t buy a hat yet. Or a turban, in Goa.’

‘Eh?’

‘For your wedding.’

‘No,’ I say. ‘Please don’t do that. Anyway, I don’t think Fieldstar play weddings. And I’m not planning to get married until I’m at least thirty-five.’

I see an image of myself walking down an aisle somewhere, wearing a vintage beaded wedding dress that, naturally, I picked up in the market. Rufus is the best man, Amy Winehouse organised my hen night, and the paparazzi flashes are popping so manically they’re blinding me. ‘Rosie Justice’ has a nice ring to it, I think. The only problem is that I can’t ever imagine wanting to marry Max. Not unless I could just shake his hand after the vow part.

Vix isn’t around when I call her, so I leave a message asking her to ring me back. I’ve told Sky not to say anything; I don’t want Vix to think she’s the last to know again. Then I decide to call Max. I should show willing, right? As the phone rings, I repeat the words ‘Max is my boyfriend’ out loud, to try to drill the idea into my brain. Sky’s mum calls that a mantra. Apparently, if you say a phrase enough times, you can make anything seem normal.

‘Max is my boyfriend. Max is my boyfriend. Max is my boyfriend. Max is my boyfriend. Max is my boyfriend. Max is my boyfriend. Max is my …’

Max is picking up the phone. ‘Hellloooo,’ he says, sounding incredibly pleased to hear from me. ‘How are you? Wasn’t last night great?’

‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘It was. I had a brilliant time.’

‘Great! The Fieldstar crew all really liked you,’ he says. ‘You fitted right in.’

‘Really?’ I am beaming.‘That’s amazing.’

‘Yeah. So, they said, if you want to be my “plus one” at any of the after-show parties at the gigs this summer, starting with the G Festival in a few of weeks, you’re in.’

‘Fantastic.’ Oh my God! ‘Definitely.’

I haven’t asked Mum and Dad if I can go to the G Festival yet, but I’ll worry about that later.

‘Listen,’ he says, taking a deep breath. ‘I hope you weren’t embarrassed about the boyfriend/girlfriend
thing. They just sort of assumed.’

‘Er, yeah.’ I feel my face flush, and I’m glad he can’t see.

‘So we’re all right, then?’

‘Sure we are.’

‘And we are, er, boyfriend and girlfriend? Going out?’

‘Uh, yeah, I guess we are. If that’s what you want to call it.’ Oh dear, that doesn’t sound very enthusiastic. Maybe I should make out I’m just being cool.‘Who needs labels?’ I add.

‘Great. So, I was wondering, do you want to meet up tonight, have our proper second date? The cinema, maybe?’

I hesitate. It feels too soon for me. And I really do need to sort things out with Vix.‘I’m sorry, Max. I can’t. It’s not that I don’t want to, but I should see Vix tonight. I kind of bailed out of something I was supposed to be doing with her last night, and she’s a bit upset.’

‘Oh, right, of course.’ He sounds disappointed.

‘Tomorrow would be good, though.’

He brightens.‘OK, tomorrow it is.’

By the evening, Vix still hasn’t returned my calls, so I decide to turn up at her house unannounced. I feel weirdly nervous about going, even though I must have been round a million times in my life. I take round one of the dresses I might have donated to last night’s clothes swap. It’s a shift dress from the Sixties, with a green paisley
pattern on it. Vix has always admired it and, now that she’s lost a little bit of weight, it should fit her perfectly. It’s my peace offering. Instead of swapping it for her clothes, I’m swapping it for her forgiveness.

But Vix isn’t in. When her mum opens the door she looks surprised to see me.

‘Oh, sorry, Rosie, but Vicky’s not here. She’s gone out with one of your friends from school. Katy, I think. Anyway, you should be able to get her on her mobile.’

‘Right,’ I say. I shuffle from foot to foot on the doorstep, unsure what to say or do.‘I’ll, er, call her then.’ I don’t want Vix’s mum to know I’ve already tried, and Vix isn’t returning my calls.

Maybe she’s guessed. Or maybe Vix has said something about falling out with me, because her mum looks at me with a kindly, sympathetic expression. ‘I’ll tell her you came round if you like. Get her to call you when she comes in.’

‘Thanks. And will you give her this from me?’ I hand over the plastic bag containing the dress.‘It’s a sort of gift.’

Vix’s mum smiles. ‘Of course,’ she says. ‘Take care of yourself, Rosie, and see you soon.’ She moves to close the front door.

‘Actually,’ I say, holding out my hand to stop her, ‘maybe I should leave a note with it.’ I fish in my bag for a bit of paper and a pen and then, in my neatest scrawl write:

To Vix
,

A pressie for you to say sorry for everything
.

Call me!

Best friends, always
,

R xxxxx

I fold it over twice and hand it to Vix’s mum, who drops it inside the carrier bag with the dress. It’s only later that I realise I’ve written the note on the back of a napkin from Marine Ices. That could seem a little insensitive. I hope Vix doesn’t notice.

S
o wt film do y want 2 c?

The text is from Max. It’s five o’clock in the afternoon and our date is only a couple of hours away. I’m not sure that going to the cinema is such a good idea now. The more I think about it, the more I think that Max only wants to take me there because it’s dark inside, and he plans to kiss me. If that weren’t the case, he would have suggested seeing a specific film, wouldn’t he? Instead, he’s leaving the choice up to me, saying he’s not bothered what we see, which I guess is code for:
I’m not planning to be looking at the screen very much. Nudge. Nudge
.

Oh God.

I can’t blame him for trying, really. Strictly speaking, this is date number three, and all he’s had is a peck on the cheek. If it were the other way around, I’d be starting to wonder if he really fancies me. I wonder if he is starting to wonder that. Or if he thinks I’m just taking things super slow.

I study the Camden Odeon listings online. There are five films showing tonight: a romantic comedy, some weird Japanese film with subtitles, an action film about the war in Iraq, a nasty horror with gruesome torture and a cartoon about a giant dog with superpowers. Something for everyone, it seems. But which one is most suitable for me, the girl who doesn’t want to be kissed? I read through the list again, and sigh. There’s only one film that I actually want to see, the one I’d plump for without question if I were going to the cinema with Sky or Vix tonight. The romantic comedy is based on a book I’ve read and stars an actress from my favourite American series. It sounds great. But, for obvious reasons, I cannot see anything romantic with Max. It might give him
ideas
.

So it comes down to this: which film is the ultimate turn off? I consider the horror (no one normal wants to snog while people are being tortured, do they), but rule it out instantly. Mainly because I’m a wuss and when I feel scared I tend to reach for the nearest hand – or leap into the nearest lap – which would again give Max completely the wrong message. But scary’s out anyway – the film has
an eighteen certificate. Which leaves action movie, cartoon or weird foreign film.

The action movie (no one normal wants to snog while people are being blown up, do they?) would have been good, except it’s three hours long and I’ve promised I’ll be home early tonight. The cartoon could work. The screening will be full of annoying kids with their mums, who’ll disapprove if there’s any kissing action going on. But the last showing is at six p.m. So that’s out too. Which leaves just one option: weird Japanese film with subtitles it is, then.

Max picks me up at seven-thirty. He seems more nervous than usual, and his palms are really sweaty. I find this out when he grasps my hand as we walk down Camden Road towards Parkway, where the cinema is. I pretend not to notice. But when he drops my hand to press the button on the pedestrian crossing, I ever so discreetly wipe it on my jeans.

‘You’re full of surprises, Rosie,’ he says, as we approach the cinema. ‘I had no idea you liked Japanese films.’ He sounds pleased with my choice.

‘Oh yes,’ I say. ‘Japanese films are the best. Not that I’ve seen many, but the ones I have seen are, like, really good. Very … er … Japanese.’ I wrack my brains, trying desperately to think of another Japanese film I’ve sat through in my lifetime, so I can say something intelligent about it. I can’t. The truth is, the only Japanese thing I
know anything about is
Hello Kitty
. When I was six, I used to have a
Hello Kitty
pencil case, notebook and bag. I glance up at Max. Should I tell him this? Will he be impressed?