Yours Remotely

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 10

I felt like such a fool when I walked into the Victoria Hotel. I hoped that the receptionist I had dealt with a year earlier would not be on duty as I didn’t want to be recognised.

I had no idea what to say. I could come across as a particularly obsessive fan or as a prostitute, possibly even a journalist. I couldn’t decide which would be worse, but I knew I’d end up mortified.

I walked up to the counter and waited for the woman behind the computer to look at me. She looked sour enough to begin with. I cleared my throat.

“Could you please tell me if Gary Rockall is staying here?” I tried to come across as more knowledgeable and official by pronouncing his last name properly.

The receptionist gave me a meaningful look up and down before she returned her gaze to the screen and responded, “I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to divulge such information.”

Of course not. I had heard such stories. On the other hand, I had also heard stories where people rang up a hotel and asked to speak to someone even if they didn’t know if the person was staying at that hotel. That was of no help to me. I was still standing at the counter, and the receptionist looked at me over the rim of her glasses as if to ask if she could do something to make me go away.

“Well…” My cheeks went red before I had even asked the question. “Do you have a room in the name of Woods?”

“First name?”

“Lea.”

Holding back a sigh, the receptionist typed my name on the computer. She was still not convinced.

“Have you got ID?”

I had never been asked for ID in a hotel, but I produced my driving licence from my handbag. She compared the photo to my face long and hard and, eventually, handed back my licence without a word.

“Room 23, second floor. Right at the elevator, and the room is first on the left.” She put a key card on the counter.

Another even more problematic question was forming in my mind. I didn’t have much money, and payday was a while away yet.

“Would you like me to pay now or can I pay on check-out?”

I didn’t understand where I would come up with enough money for a hotel room of that calibre, particularly as Gary would be out of the picture by check-out time.

The woman clicked on the screen.

“This room has been paid for.” She looked at me again, this time with interest. “A double room for two, all paid for. Except the minibar, room service and phone calls, of course.” She pushed the key card closer to me. “Everything has been taken care of, Miss Woods. All you need to do is find your room.”

I couldn’t help but notice how her tone changed when she realised that I was an honest customer – or at least a customer. I grabbed the card and headed for the lift.

“Enjoy your stay,” the receptionist called after me.

Strange how money had influence – in my case, someone else’s money.

I found the room easily and threw my handbag - doubling up as an overnight bag - on the bed. There was a bag in the corner already, presumably belonging to Gary. The room itself was enormous and the poshest hotel room I had ever seen. In addition to the huge bed, there was a large desk and two armchairs next to a small coffee table. There was an extra chair and two bedside tables. In the bathroom was a bathtub deep enough to drown in and a pile of soft looking towels.

I glanced at my watch. It was only a few minutes past eight. The gig hadn’t even started yet, so I had plenty of time. I turned on the taps of the tub and started to undress. Gary might not get to see me naked, but I could still strip off and relax in the largest bathtub I had ever seen while I waited for him.

* * *

I woke up to a weight on top of me. Still half-asleep, I wanted to scream but was unable to. I struggled to free myself, and I flailed my arms about but couldn’t get a hold of anything. Terms of endearment entered my consciousness, but I didn’t believe them. I smelled alcohol, beer to be precise. Then I was blinded by an unexpected source of light. I was forced to calm down for a moment.

“Lea, it’s me. Gary.”

I averted my eyes from the ceiling to my feet, and I saw Gary sitting on top of my legs, careful not to put weight on them. He looked at me with a worried but amused expression. I remembered getting out of the bath, getting dressed and making myself a big pot of tea before sitting down to watch TV.

“It’s just me,” he repeated, “Who were you expecting?” He chuckled at his own question.

Recovering from the shock brought on by the sudden brightness, I had another fit, except, this time, it wasn’t alarm but rage.

“Hands off me! Get away!” I shouted while dragging my knees up to my chin and tugging the duvet up to my ears. Gary didn’t budge.

“I said get off me!” I shouted again.

Gary looked startled and got off at the end of the bed where he remained, looking bewildered. “What’s wrong?”

“Stay away from me!” I warned him while I sat up on the bed.

Gary frowned. “My presence has never been a problem before.”

I had made myself somewhat comfortable on the bed. “You can’t treat me like this. You can’t leave me waiting like this. I’ve waited here,” I glanced at the time on the TV screen, “for six hours, and now you grace me with your presence. You knew I’d be here.”

I bent to pick my boots up from the floor and started to pull them on, cursing their laces while I did so.

Gary ran his fingers through his hair.

“Well, we got to the hotel a couple of hours ago and went to Mick’s room for a few… That’s all.”

“Gary, let me tell you how it is. I’m tired of waiting. I’m tired of waiting for you to call, waiting for you to come and see me. Waiting for you to have time to see me and for you to be in the area.”

Having recovered from his initial surprise, Gary spotted the minibar and grabbed a ridiculously small can of beer that he started to open.

“And don’t you dare open that!”

He put the can down on the desk and put his hands up in surrender.

“I just wanted to tell you that I’m done waiting. It’s over.” I tightened the last knot in the otherwise loose laces.

“So, you’re really trying to tell me that you’ve waited here for six hours to tell me that you’re done waiting?”

Gary had crossed his arms over his chest. He was right, of course; it didn’t make sense.

“I don’t belong here,” I muttered and reached for my bag from under the bedside table.

I stood up to get to my coat from the rack, but Gary stopped me between the desk and a corner of the bed by grabbing my wrist. I tried to get free and lashed at him with my free hand, which allowed him to grab that one too. After a moment’s struggle, I fell on my bottom on the bed. My thrashing was pointless since Gary had a firm hold of both of my wrists. Despite his own tiredness, he seemed to have no trouble holding me still. Even if I didn’t want to look at him, I thought I could sense an amused smile on his lips.

“Don’t do anything stupid, Lea. Don’t do anything you might regret.”

He loosened his grip a little, and when I didn’t object, he sat down on the bed next to me, still holding one of my wrists. I tried to pull away to make my intentions clear, but I couldn’t get very far.

“Let me go,” I said and looked into his face for a few seconds. Everything would have been so much easier had he not been so darned cute in his slightly tipsy state.

“And where would you go at this time of the night?”

“Home.” Why did he have to act so stupid?

“And how would you get there?”

I sighed in exasperation. He asked too many questions and of the wrong kind, considering that I was trying to break up with him.

“By taxi of course.”

“Did you consider that it could be difficult to get a taxi at this time of the night?”

I clenched my teeth so as not to lose my temper. He was right; it would be difficult to get a cab.

“Well, you always have access to some sort of a vehicle,” I said and lifted my chin proudly.

Gary laughed out loud at that, which added fuel to my fire.

“I have,” he said with strong emphasis on the first word, “you haven’t.”

Nothing was going according to my plan. I tried to release my left wrist by prying his fingers off it but to no avail. Gary put up his free hand as if to shield himself and to calm me down.

“Could we not talk about this in the morning? When you have calmed down,” he suggested.

“And when you’re sober.”

Gary nodded pensively, clearly not agreeing on how much he had had to drink but not wanting to start another argument.

“You’ll stay far away from me,” I said, surrendering to the fact that I would have to spend the night in his hotel room. “Don’t even dare to try anything.”

“As you wish.” Gary finally let go of my wrist and stood up.

Eyes firmly on him, I got out of my boots again and dove back under the duvet. Gary walked around aimlessly for a while, looking like he had completely forgotten about me being in the room. Then he grabbed the can of beer from the corner of the desk and sat down in one of the armchairs. He opened the can with a small hiss but stayed there staring at it without taking a single sip.

He looked so lonely that I had to close my eyes.

* * *

When I woke up around ten the following morning, the room was silent. I let my eyes wander around the room, but there was no one in it. The curtains were still drawn. I leaned on my elbow and glanced at the other side of the bed. It had clearly been slept in even though I had no recollection of Gary getting into bed.

Then I heard a noise from the bathroom. I pricked my ears and heard the shower, which was turned off in that instant. It was too late to escape before Gary got out of the shower. I remained in bed and hoped that he would leave the room.

A few minutes later, he appeared in my line of sight. He didn’t even glance at me but walked to his bag and pulled a small music device out of the front pocket. He was fully dressed in dark jeans and a white t-shirt underneath a khaki, short sleeved shirt. He hadn’t bothered with shoes or socks. It looked like he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. His barely towel-dry hair was dripping and leaving wet patches on his shoulders.

He sat down in the same armchair where he had sat the night before with his can of beer. He got comfortable and tapped on the device while adjusting the earphones into place. The room fell silent again, apart from the tapping of his fingers against the armrest in time to the music.

I considered my escape route. Because his back was turned on me and he was listening to music, he wouldn’t notice if I got up and sneaked out the door. The only problem was my coat which hung within his view.

When had I become such a coward? Why couldn’t I just go over to him and tell him the truth? I wasn’t a hostage and leaving the room wouldn’t help me. Gary still had my phone number, and he knew where I lived. He would hardly give up that easily.

I sighed and sat up. I could only imagine what my hair and clothes looked like after the night, but there was nothing I could do about them. I put my boots back on while keeping an eye on Gary. He hadn’t budged. I grabbed my handbag and took a deep breath. All I needed to do was walk over to him and say goodbye. Easier said than done, but I would have to, for my own sake and to save my friendship with Sinead.

I walked over to the chair and stopped in front of him. He said nothing and didn’t move but looked up at me. He didn’t even remove his earphones or stop the music. I barely suppressed the need to clear my throat. I wasn’t about to give a speech.

“I’m off then. Like I said, I don’t intend to see you or talk to you again. It was nice to meet you. All the best.” I offered him my hand.

This had to be the most pathetic break-up attempt in history, but one thing I hadn’t learned in school was how to break up with a rock star.

Gary stared at my hand for a while before getting up, careful not to touch me as he did so. He pulled the earphones out and stuck the iPod into his pocket. Then he walked over to the window and pulled the curtain open a little.

“Do you see those people outside?” he asked without looking at me.

I hesitated. I still wanted to leave, but I couldn’t be so rude as to exit without reacting to his question. I walked over to the window and peeked out from behind the curtain. On the street outside the hotel stood a dozen or so young people, mostly teenagers.

“I do.” I couldn’t help but look at him.

He let go of the curtain and turned back towards the room. “Do you know why they are out there?”

I didn’t see what he was getting at. People stood on the street all the time, and I had never considered it my business to ask them why.

“Because of you?”

Despite everything, Gary managed a smile.

“And Mick, Jamie and Alex. And do you know why they are standing out there because of us?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Because they’ve seen us on TV, in magazines, on the internet, heard us on the radio. Because it’s not enough for them and they need to see us face to face.” Gary was quiet for a moment and carried on, “Do you know what they’d be willing to do to be where you are right now?”

I stared at the beige carpet. Then a random thought crossed my mind. “But some of them are blokes?”

Gary rolled his eyes. “Them too, and some would want to be in your shoes for different reasons than others. Anyway, in their eyes, you’re extremely lucky.”

Silence descended again while I tried to understand what all this meant. If Gary meant that our casual affair should continue so that people could envy me, he clearly didn’t know me at all.

“You’re different, Lea. You could be out there on the street waiting for us too, but you’re not. You’ve always thought of me as an ordinary person and acted like it. It’s hard to find.”

He took a step towards me and put a hand on my cheek.

“It’s so hard to find that I’m not going to let it go that easily.”

For an instant, we looked into each other’s eyes, and then he kissed me. Slowly and gently, as if he had all the time in the world. In my head, I fought like a demon – this wasn’t supposed to happen – but my body had other ideas. Gary was an excellent kisser, and the strong attraction between us did the rest. I couldn’t tear myself away and leave the room dramatically like my brain was shouting for me to do.

I found out that morning that Gary, who – as well as he treated me – could be rough and seemed to think of s*x as a power struggle and a feat, could also make love slowly, tenderly and at length.

* * *

After a good breakfast, Gary said it was time for him to go. A nearby church bell had struck 12, which meant it was time to check out. Gary packed up his few belongings, and I got back into my tricky boots for the third time. We left the room together after I had checked that there was nobody outside. We took the lift down to the ground floor where Gary grabbed my arm. He glanced around and gave me a peck on the lips.

“I’ll carry on on my own from here. You know how it is,” he said with a shrug. “See you soon.” He brushed my hand and disappeared around a corner.

I picked up what was left of my pride and walked over to reception. A different woman was behind the desk this time, a chubby and cheerful one. She greeted me enthusiastically, and when I had handed her the key card, she asked me if the minibar had been used. I gritted my teeth. I knew it had, but I had no idea to what extent.

“At least one can of beer,” I replied, annoyed. Could Gary not have enough manners to at least pay the full bill?

“One beer, OK. Is that all?”

“As far as I know.”

She gave me the amount – a lot for such a small can – and I reluctantly paid. She explained that any other usage would be billed to the person who had paid for the room.

After checking out, I glanced outside through the large windows. There was a crowd on the footpath. The fans hanging outside the door had got what they wanted. Through the revolving doors, I saw Gary signing autographs for a couple of young girls and Mick posing for pictures. Jamie and Alex seemed to get less attention but looked busy and satisfied all the same. Then I spotted Biggo next to the minibus parked at the kerb. He started urging the band members to board it, and grudgingly, the fans let them go, except a girl aged 16 or so who had been the last one to get talking to Gary. She clung to his sleeve like a leech even though he tried discreetly to make his way across the footpath to the bus. The tearful fan didn’t seem to listen to what Gary had to say. Finally, Biggo went over and pulled an irritated Gary away from the girl. She looked offended and burst into tears. Her friend came to the rescue and threw her arms around her.

I was sad too. Not because of the girl and not even because the minibus containing Gary disappeared out of sight, but because I realised something unpleasant. I was a bit like a library customer. Gary was public property, and I only had temporary rights to him.

Feeling sorry for myself, I moved to the doors and pushed them open. I had barely made it out when I heard someone calling me. I turned to face the slowly dissipating crowd and recognised Joe and his friend, Tim. Joe’s even longer hair was still sticking up and started to look like a mohawk. He was dressed in all back, but his outfit was brightened up by a red-and-black-plaid pair of shoes and a similar scarf around his neck. Tim was dressed in a similar fashion but a little less colourful. They both erupted into excited chatter and asked if I had met the band. I told them I had spoken to Gary, which was true, if not the whole truth. The boys kept talking and started going on about the concert. I had nothing to add to that because I hadn’t seen the show, but I didn’t have to tell them that. I kept half an eye on the crying girl who was looking at pictures on her camera. Her friend was trying to cheer her up and point at the good ones, but the girl was wallowing in self-pity and grew even more desperate. I got angry. Was it not enough for her to get great pictures, signed stuff with her name on it and to talk to her idol? What else did she want? At her age? I would have said something rude to her had Joe not got there first.

“Some people have no sense. Nothing’s enough.”

The crying girl’s friend cast us an evil look and started to lead the cry-baby across the street into a café.

The front of the hotel had emptied of people, and I realised that I was alone with Joe and Tim. Joe suggested that we should get something to eat too since they’d had no time for breakfast, but I lied that I had to get to work for the afternoon. Joe and Tim were nice guys, but they seemed to talk about little else except The Remotes – not that I was any better, possibly worse. Their conversations mostly revolved around the band as a whole, whereas most of my thoughts circled around Gary.