CHAPTER TWO #2
That was how it started: friends with benefits. Then, just when I’d realized perhaps there was more – at least on my side – she ran off with her co-star. I didn’t know what hurt more. Her leaving me, or the cliché of it all.
I couldn’t do that again.
Derek was smiling uneasily. ‘Look, Patrick, it’s your name we’ve got to rehabilitate.’
I swore under my breath.
‘You’re the frontman. The lead singer. You’re the most visible member of the group,’ he said in a rush. ‘You’re the one everyone remembers –’
It didn’t help that I was our main songwriter. It was my words we sang up there every night on tour, my words the crowds sang back to us – some fans had even tattooed my lyrics on to their bodies, which made me slightly uncomfortable.
I thought they were good, obviously … but even I hadn’t imprinted any of them permanently on my skin.
Besides, no good lyrics had come to me in weeks. I wasn’t panicking about it – just quietly anxious. Because there was always another album needed. Another chart-topper the label was waiting for.
‘Fine,’ said Derek with his hands up. ‘What about a compromise?’
I looked up. Derek had that pleading look on his face. Hell. ‘What kind of compromise?’
Whatever it was, it couldn’t be worse than another Celine situation.
‘Hokapp,’ Derek said triumphantly.
There was only one appropriate response to that. I swore.
‘What, the celeb-only dating app?’ Ben said, looking up from his phone for the first time, curiosity tinging his voice.
Trust Ben to only be interested when a dating app was mentioned. This was much more his playing field than mine.
‘Look, you’ll join Hokapp, you’ll find someone with a great profile, huge social media following – but it will be organic, you can pick the person you like the most. Hell, it doesn’t have to last long – just till the Songwriter Awards, that’s nice and public, and it’s only next month.
All you have to do is sign up.’ Derek made it sound so easy.
‘Come on, Patrick. I don’t think they’re asking for much – they had been talking about hosting auditions for this new woman of yours. I know you wouldn’t like that.’
My stomach rolled. I really wouldn’t. ‘So, I just sign up to a dating app? That’s it?’
‘That’s it!’ Derek said with a desperate smile. ‘Just think about it.’
I looked around the recording studio. The nice, easy day I’d planned to have sorting our equipment had vanished into thin air.
TIME PASSES STRANGELY IN a recording studio. With no windows, no sense of the sun moving, it’s easy to forget there even is an outside world – especially with Matt and Wes experimenting with some new melodies. Like this, I could forget all about Hurricane Derek and his demands.
‘And here, the bridge – Ben, will you cut it out?’
‘Sorry,’ Ben muttered, looking not even slightly apologetic. ‘It’s my sister. She’s complaining about this new guy she’s started seeing and wants me to hook her up with –’
‘Absolutely not,’ Matt said with a grin. ‘Not going to date your sis–’
‘Do you think I’d let you?’ Ben was always so easy to get a rise out of. ‘She’s too good for you, and I already spend way too much time with you idiots.’
‘What happened? I thought she was excited about this one,’ I asked distractedly. Emma had joined us for our last show in New York and flown back with us. She’d spent the whole time messaging back and forth with some guy.
‘Yeah, but she says he’s started flaking on her ever since they came off the app –’ Ben broke off abruptly and I looked up – to see him grinning at me.
‘What?’ Nothing good ever came from a smile like that.
‘Butterflies. That’s it – that’s how you get out of this relationship crap with the label.
’ Ben carried on looking at me, phone forgotten.
‘Emma met this guy on Butterflies. It’s a dating app one of her old friends launched recently.
She begged Emma to join, said she wasn’t getting enough engagement or something.
I’d join it too, but Emma said she’d throw up if she ever saw my profile on a dating app.
’ He laughed. ‘It’s a new app, anyway – you probably won’t even get a match. ’
Wes glanced at me curiously. ‘It’s actually not a bad idea.’
I paused, a cable half-twisted in my fingers. He was right. ‘Well, I guess I didn’t promise Derek I’d use Hokapp, did I? If he asks, I could always say I’d joined an app.’
Ben slung his arm around my shoulder. ‘Don’t worry, Paddy boy, no one’s even heard of it. It’s the perfect app for you.’
‘If Emma’s thinking about ending it with that guy, think you could put in a good word for me?’
Ben turned to glare at Wes, who had a smirk teasing at his lips. ‘The hell I will –’
The argument – well, bickering really – echoed about me. I wasn’t paying attention. Ben’s words were ricocheting around my head. I pulled out my phone and tapped in a quick search. It took a couple of scrolls on the app store to even find what I was looking for. Perfect.
There – Butterflies. A nondescript icon that looked out of place next to the slickly professional logos surrounding it. Thank you, Ben. Before I knew it, I had the app downloaded and was faced with an empty profile.
Right, then: no mention of the band, just generic statements that could apply to anyone.
I like … music. I like cats. I like coffee. All true.
Ben glanced over my shoulder. ‘Don’t forget to choose old or bad quality photos of you. Last thing you need is some fan stalking you on there.’
Where was that shot that Wes took of me in Saint-Tropez last year?
The white glare of the sun had left exposure spots all over the image – conveniently placed over half my face.
You could barely tell it was me. And I’m sure I had a pic somewhere of the time I’d let my beard grow out of control, before Derek had insisted I go back to being clean-shaven for the tour.
And what about that one of the four of us at the top of the Empire State Building, backs to the camera …
there we go. Upload photos … crop carefully …
There. Profile complete.
I scrolled through it one last time. Boring, sparse and not the least bit interesting. No one in their right mind would bother matching with me.
This was fine. I could do this. All I had to do was put up with a few conversations that would always fizzle into nothing.
After a couple months, I’d feed the label some bullshit about not finding any connections, which would be true.
After a couple months they’d forget about it all, and I wouldn’t have to endure the embarrassment of another failed fake relationship.
Most importantly, Derek would be happy and keep bringing me coffee.
DAY HAD SLIPPED INTO night while I was in the studio, which had saved me hiding my face as I walked round the corner to my flat. It wasn’t quite a home yet, but it was better than nothing.
Pizza, then bed. Tomorrow I could wake up with absolutely nothing to do for weeks, a blessed relief after –
Ping!
I checked my phone.
Butterflies: You and Jessy just matched!