Yours Remotely

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 4

I opened my eyes carefully the following morning. I was right to be cautious as I had a pounding headache. Closing my eyes again, I reached my hand towards the floor but found nothing. I opened my eyes and spotted my handbag a couple of inches away from my fingers. With a groan, I reached out towards it and got hold of the strap. I pulled the bag towards me and managed to spill half of its contents on the floor – lip gloss, wallet, mirror and a pack of tissues. I dragged the bag onto the bed and found my mobile. Trying to shelter my eyes from the brightness of the screen, I figured out that it was quarter to ten. Another glance informed me that I had received four texts. I unlocked the keypad to read delayed New Year’s wishes. One was from mum and another one from my sister, Gwen, although from Mark’s phone. The third one was Sinead’s reply to my text that I had sent when leaving Energy. She said she guessed that I had gone home and that she had left too. To my astonishment, the fourth text was from Paul. “Hi, Lea. Happy new year. I hope I’ll see more of u this year than last year.” Cute, but I had no idea what to text back. I had plenty of time to think about it; it wouldn’t do to appear overly keen even though I wasn’t.

I put the phone down on the pillow beside my head and leaned backwards.

* * *

I woke up again around noon when the front door banged shut. Although Suse was an ideal flatmate, door slamming was one of her vices and particularly annoying when she came home in the middle of the night when I was asleep - or the morning after the night before when I already had a headache.

I realised that I needed the bathroom, so I got up and grabbed my bathrobe off the hook on the bathroom door and pulled out a pair of slippers from under the bed that Gwen had bought me for Christmas. After washing my face, I felt slightly more humane, but the pile of clothes on the floor did not cheer me up. I had somehow managed to get out of my dress and shoes but still had my underwear and socks on.

I dragged myself into the sitting room where Suse was sitting at the table holding a huge mug. Her dark hair was frizzy, and she had a stripy scarf wrapped around her neck. She greeted me enthusiastically and pulled out another chair. I sat down rubbing my eyes.

“We have nothing to eat. And not a single teabag, let alone coffee. The only hot drink was this hot chocolate,” she said, pushing a hot, bubbly mug towards me.

“I know. Mum sent me back with loads of ham and turkey, but that’s all gone because there was nothing else to eat. And I’ve had a lot of tea. How was Christmas?”

“Ah, alright. Drinking champagne with rich men.” Suse laughed.

Suse had spent Christmas with her family. Her rich parents held a big New Year’s bash every year, and Suse had always attended it since turning 18. She seemed to enjoy it; after all, the invitees always included her dad’s rich business contacts, who occasionally happened to be young and handsome.

“I just had an awful cold most of the time.” She pointed at the scarf around her neck.

While we carried on talking about our individual Christmases, I pulled out a pen and paper. Somebody would have to go shopping.

* * *

Everything quickly went back to normal after Christmas. It was quiet at work, except those people who came back with faulty phones or chargers and those who just didn’t have a clue how to use their new phones. The decorations came down, the snow that had fallen on New Year’s Eve melted, children went back to school, and Christmas trees waiting for their fate were lined up on the roadsides. It was that depressing time of year when it’s not yet spring but Christmas is behind us.

Something new had happened though. Paul had been texting me throughout January and finally asked me out. I suggested going to the cinema so that our first date would be a little easier, and we had arranged to meet up on the first Friday in February. I had brought my good clothes to work with me so that I would make it to the cinema on time, and I realised I was looking forward to the evening.

It was about a quarter to one when I received a text. It was quiet in the shop, and I was alone while my boss was upstairs and my colleague, Linda, had gone on her lunch break. I read the text on the spot, having nothing better to do, and that’s when it all got complicated.

It said, “The Remotes single launch today at the Victoria Hotel. Tickets at reception.”

I didn’t recognise the number although it was a standard mobile number. I knew where the Victoria was. It was one of the oldest and fanciest hotels around and famous for being the place where celebrities stayed when in town. The text didn’t give a time or any other useful information, but I realised that I would have to go. Before I knew what I was doing, I had texted Paul and told him I couldn’t make it. I said I’d got a bad dose of the flu. I spent my lunch hour figuring out how quickly I could get to the hotel after work, but, luckily, there were several buses at that time of the evening.

Even while I was making these plans, I realised that I was not going to the launch as a fan; I was not desperate to hear the new song or even to see the band play live. I wanted to see Gary.

* * *

After five long hours, I ran out the door in my good clothes. I hurried down the wet street towards the nearest bus stop and just made it. While on the bus, I tried to estimate how quickly I could get from the bus stop to the hotel and wondered how odd it was that there were tickets for this kind of thing. I had always thought that these launches were for the press.

Once off the bus, I practically ran around half a block before I saw the yellow hotel building on my right. When I reached the door, I realised that I had never been inside the hotel. I made my way in through the revolving door and landed right in front of the reception desk. The woman behind the counter gave me a disapproving look.

“Can I help you?” she asked, wrinkling her nose to push her glasses up.

I suddenly felt silly - what if the text was a hoax? I didn’t even know who had sent it.

“I heard that The Remotes has a single launch here,” I said as quietly as possible even though there was nobody in the lobby apart from the two of us.

The receptionist gave me a gleeful smile. “It’s almost over. The music stopped a good while ago.”

Disappointment made my throat close, and I suddenly felt very tired.

“Could I not still get in?”

She shook her head. “There’s not a single ticket left, not that we had many in the first place. Most of them were given away in some competition. I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

What competition? Why hadn’t I heard anything about this before? I had travelled all this way for nothing and missed my date - and probably a good film. If Paul found out the truth about my cancellation, he would hardly give me another chance. I was such a loser.

I dragged myself to a chair opposite the counter and sat down, staring at the floor. The only thing left to do was to go home, tail between my legs. At least nobody knew what I had done. They never would either; I would make sure of that.

Then I heard excited voices from the other end of the long corridor. First in my line of sight were three approximately 15-year-old girls, two of which were wearing new-looking The Remotes t-shirts, and the third one looked all pleased with herself and her signed CD. They went out giggling loudly and took up positions outside the door.

Soon, there were more people walking towards me – important men with cameras and notepads, more teenage girls, a couple of blokes and some girls around my age and then more reporters. I was giving them all envious looks when I heard somebody shout my name. I turned towards the voice and spotted Joe.

“Lea!” he said again, just as enthusiastically. “You’re looking good today. Cool boots.” He pointed at my new, black boots, the heels of which I had been cursing only moments earlier.

“Thanks,” I said with an odd sense of relief.

I was glad to know at least someone. I also realised that Joe had been expecting me. It was Joe who had texted me although I could not remember giving him my number. On the other hand, there were many other things I didn’t remember from New Year’s Eve, and Sinead remembered even less…

“Lea, come join us at the bar. You missed a bloody good gig, I mean brilliant.”

Before I had the chance to respond, Joe had pulled me up and was dragging me towards the hotel bar. Another moment later, I had a glass of something alcoholic in front of me and I realised that I was sharing a table with two 18-year-olds. Joe was with the same friend that I had seen in Energy. He introduced himself as Tim, and they both kept ranting on about how lucky they were to have got tickets. Apparently, only about 30 fans got in and the rest had been media people. When I asked how they got their tickets, Joe excitedly explained that he had got them from work by pure chance. The tickets were meant to be given away in a competition, which had not materialised. The whole thing seemed unfair, but neither of my young companions seemed to realise how annoyed I was by missing my chance.

The boys proudly showed off their signed t-shirts and relayed every second of the gig. I found out that The Remotes had played three songs, including the new single, ‘Liar’. They also remembered to mention that the video would be available on TV from Monday when the single was released, and that we’d all have to remember to request it. They informed me that the video was supposed to have been released earlier, but there had been some technical difficulties.

Time flew by with my young companions, and since I didn’t have to pay for a single drink, I soon realised I’d had several. I needed to start making my way home and came up with an excuse. I pretended that I needed to make a phone call and left the bar for a quieter atmosphere. Joe and Tim bought this story, and I sighed for relief when I got back into the lobby. I was looking for my phone to check if anybody had missed me when I felt somebody touch my shoulder. I was about to snap at Joe, but I swung around first and realised I was staring at Gary.

“I thought you weren’t going to come.” He grinned.

I took a moment to collect my thoughts and said, “Were you expecting me?”

He shrugged. “Well, you are one of our first fans.” He looked out on to the street through the huge windows; there was currently nobody outside. “Do you want to come and see the rest of the gang? We still have some packing to do.” He pointed down the long corridor.

He turned back and threw his bottle of Coke into the air, skilfully catching it as it started its fall. I followed him. I tried to sneak past the bar discreetly, but I could see neither Joe nor Tim. At the end of the corridor, Gary turned left and then in through the first door on the right. He walked on towards the temporarily constructed stage and started helping Alex pile some cables into a box, taking occasional sips of his Coke.

I didn’t know what to do, so I sat down on one of the chairs a short distance from the stage. A big man approached Gary and mumbled something in his ear with a nod and a suspicious glare in my direction. Gary said something back with a glance towards me, but I couldn’t hear what he said.

15 minutes or so went by, and then people started bringing stuff out the side door.

“Stay here,” Gary shouted and threw his bottle of Coca-Cola at me. I managed a clumsy catch before it hit the floor.

“You can finish it,” he continued before he ran after the rest of the band.

I was left alone in the big room that was still filled with dozens of chairs. There were some type of palm trees on both sides of the door, and thick, red curtains hung on both sides of the stage. The room might as well have been the set for some boring lecture instead of having served a budding rock band only an hour earlier.

I looked at the bottle of Coke. I was thirsty despite all those drinks in the bar earlier. I unscrewed the top of the bottle and raised the bottle to my lips. Then I realised that Gary’s lips had touched that same bottle only a moment earlier, and the thought got me so flustered that most of the drink ended up on the floor and on my jeans.

I needed something else to think about, so I got up and walked towards the stage. At one corner of it was a pile of the band’s new single. The cover was a black-and-white picture of the band outside a disused petrol station. I picked up one of the cases and turned it around to read the track listing.

“You can have one or as many as you like.” Gary had come back and was stood beside me. “Saves a few quid even if it’s bad for the sales,” he said with a grin.

He pushed his hands into his pockets and looked at me from behind a long strand of hair that had fallen on his face. My knees felt weak, but I blamed it on the booze rather than on the faked innocence in Gary’s eyes when he looked at me.

“We’ve not got much time today; we have to be in London first thing in the morning for a TV interview. I should be getting on the bus.”

I was about to ask what exactly they had no time for when the big man from earlier entered the room.

“Gary, time to go.”

Gary nodded obediently and grabbed the pile of CDs from the stage. “In a minute.”

“Always have to wait for him,” the man mumbled, grabbed the bag that was sitting beside the door and walked out.

“What was it I was saying?” Gary sighed. “I really have to go. Here, take this.” He handed me a copy of the single. Then he picked his jacket up off the floor, turned back towards me and said, “See you soon.”

I was still standing by the stage when he walked out the side door without a backwards glance.

I felt my cheeks burn as I slipped the single into my handbag and started towards the front door. I walked down the corridor towards the lobby and passed the bar, not bothering to be careful. The receptionist gave me a disgruntled look, probably thinking I had spent the last couple of hours in the bar. I went out the revolving door and spotted the threesome of teenage girls outside the hotel. In a sudden burst of anger, I snapped, “They’ve gone.”

The girls turned to look at me in surprise, and when I carried on towards the bus stop, I heard one of them say loudly, “Who does she think she is?”

I smirked when I crossed the street. It was nice to think that they thought me somehow privileged, even if I wasn’t.