they said what they mean – ‘for ever’ – no one would ever go to an AA meeting.
‘And you are still OK with the no sex thing?’ he asks. I detect concern in his voice.
‘Yeah. Cool.’ Actually, not having sex with Fern is hard work. The novelty is beginning to wear a bit thin; that’s the thing about novelty. But I’m too stubborn to concede a challenge.
‘Do you know what, son, if you want my advice, I’d shag her, asap.’
‘Nicely put.’
‘You’ve made your point now, you’ve known the girl three weeks and you haven’t shagged her. You not shagging someone after you’ve known them a few weeks is a bit like anyone else taking permanent Holy Orders.’
‘I made myself a promise,’ I point out.
‘But Fern is gagging for it.’
‘I know, I am too. But I hate giving up on stuff. I’ll make it worth her wait.’
Mark sighs and looks weary. His flat bulldog face constricts with concern. ‘Thing is, Scott, as you are currently off drugs and booze I’m worried you’re over-doing the abstaining thing.’
‘You’re scared I’ll break,’ I say flatly.
He won’t answer me directly. ‘Having sex with your fiancee will not damage the record label, getting high or pissed will.’
‘I’m OK.’
‘Is this your latest addiction? Are you now addicted to not having sex? God, things have really changed since my day.’ He shakes his head wearily. I stay silent and he knows better than to try to argue with me. ‘All right then, we’ll have to make sure you are
‘Yeah, and I’ll exercise more.’
‘Fine.’
‘What about Fern?’
‘Oh, she’ll be easy to distract. There’s the wedding to plan, and besides, she’ll soon have her mate to keep her amused.’
‘Ben.’
‘Yup. He’s the perfect best mate for her to have. Women are jealous, heterosexual men always try their luck with pop stars’ girls, we don’t need the hassle. Homosexual best friends are a manager’s godsend,’ says Mark.
‘OK, so sounds like a plan. Studio and gym for me. Dresses and wedding cake and things for her.’
‘Sure you wouldn’t rather just fuck her?’
‘Thanks for your concern but I think I’ve got it under control.’
‘OK. Sure?’
‘Sure.’
‘OK. Great.’
‘Great.’
50. Fern
‘First Class and a chauffeur! Pinch me!’ cries Ben as he flings himself into the back of the Bentley. I do. ‘Ooch!’ He playfully swats me away but then immediately pulls me back towards him, enveloping me in another enormous, effervescent hug. About the tenth he’s given me since he came through customs. I feel the slight scratch of his sandpaper stubble on my forehead and can smell the aeroplane on his clothes; even so his hug is delicious. It’s so fantastic to have him share all this with me!
‘Wow, look at you! You’re glowing. Posh clothes suit you. And I love what you’ve done with your hair,’ gushes Ben.
‘Thank you. Scott’s staff are engineering a re-vamp.’
‘What fun!’
‘Can be. Or can be a bit intimidating,’ I admit.
‘The knack with these people is to appear appreciative and show respect for their professional experience but don’t allow anyone to bully you.’
‘How do you know this stuff? Will you help me?’
‘Of course.’
‘Today I have an appointment with my clothes stylist. Will you come?’
‘You have a lovely little waist, we ought to make more of that.’
‘And my nutritionalist.’
‘You look so skinny. How much have you lost?’
‘I’m not sure. The scales in my old flat were always dodgy because the floor sloped and so I couldn’t get a proper reading. However much I’ve lost Joy keeps saying I need to lose more.’
‘Who’s Joy?’
‘Scott’s beautician. She seems to hate me. She lives her life as though she’s eternally auditioning for the part of wicked stepmother in the Christmas panto.’
‘She probably had a thing for Scott.’
‘Probably.’
‘Have they slept together?’
‘I don’t know. There’s no reason for me to think they have,’ I reply, taken aback by the suggestion.
‘There’s no reason for you to think they haven’t. It’s Scottie Taylor we’re talking about here,’ says Ben calmly.
Ben fusses about the car’s air-con; he insists that it’s icy and has it blasting on our calves. He comments on the towering palm trees lining the streets and then asks, ‘So how is the sex?’
‘Ben!’ I try to sound shocked.
‘I promise I won’t tell a soul, Scout’s honour, or should that be Scott’s honour,’ he grins, tickled by his own pun. ‘Tell! I want to know, I’m only human.’
‘I don’t know yet,’ I admit.
‘What?’ Ben looks as though I’ve slapped him.
‘We’re saving ourselves until our wedding day,’ I explain simply.
‘You’re kidding.’ He’s aghast.
‘Deadly serious.’
‘But why?’
‘Scott and I want to do things properly. It’s important our relationship is completely different from anything else Scott has ever known.’
‘How very romantic,’ he mutters, not really bothering to hide his dismay.
‘Not my idea. It’s a nightmare, actually. I think I’m going to explode with lust,’ I confide.
Ben looks sympathetic; touched by my frankness, he tries to comfort me. ‘Well, only about a month to go and it’s not like you are stuck for things to do. We’ll just have to keep you very, very busy. How’s the wedding planning going?’
I’m happy to move on to a less frustrating topic. ‘It’s in good hands. The wedding planner, Ms Colleen Lafontaine, born in New York and bred in LA, seems perfect for the job. She came very highly recommended, as she’s planned a number of high-profile Hollywood weddings; she understands the security requirements and the complications of working with slash keeping at bay the paparazzi.’
‘Marvellous, I can’t wait to make friends with her. I am here to encourage your inner Bridezilla, not that it needs much encouragement. We are going to have endless conversations showered with words such as sparkle, vintage, memorable, expressive and wow factor.’ I laugh at Ben’s excitement. ‘This wedding can be so much bigger than anything you could possibly have perceived of when you were with Adam,’ says Ben as a matter of fact. I shift uncomfortably on the seat. I haven’t allowed myself to say Adam’s name in my head let alone out loud for some
