I Was Born for This(31)

It probably doesn’t help that Lister’s only wearing his boxers and smells quite badly of weed.

I shoot Lister a look that says ‘please go away’. He stares at me and then turns and leaves the living room.

I didn’t really sleep much last night. I locked the door, I looked under my bed and in my wardrobe and in my en-suite, I searched on my chest of drawers and in the corners of the ceiling for hidden cameras. I didn’t find anything, but that doesn’t mean nothing was there. I lay in bed and tried to rest but I couldn’t relax. It never really felt like home here in the first place.

I was woken up this morning by Rowan throwing one of the house phones at a wall, because his and Bliss’s relationship is out.

It was Dave, obviously. The evil interviewer. Because we fucked up that interview, he decided to run the story he wanted. And he had everything. Photos from various parties they’ve attended together, photos from private family gatherings, even photos back from the charity thing where they first met.

Bliss Lai is the number-one trend on UK Twitter.

Okay. What do you do when people are upset? What do people do when I’m upset? I’m usually the one who’s upset so I never normally have to deal with this. I don’t think I’ve ever heard Rowan scream at someone before. He doesn’t seem like himself. He hasn’t all week, really.

I walk over to him and put my arm round him, but he just shrugs me off and says, ‘Just fucking leave me alone, Jimmy; there’s nothing anyone can do about this.’

He slumps down onto a sofa and starts trying to call Bliss again. Okay.

I walk away into the kitchen and start making three cups of tea, despite knowing it’s probably only me who’s going to drink any. The kitchen clock reads 12.36 p.m. How did this happen in the space between going to sleep and waking up? How did the entire world find this out in the space of a few hours?

I hear a strange whining noise and it takes a few seconds for me to realise that it’s Rowan crying quietly into his hands. Sort of makes me want to cry too. Sort of want to hug him but I don’t think he wants that.

‘How did that interviewer get all the photos?’ I say to no one in particular. Rowan doesn’t answer.

We can’t trust anyone.

We’re being stalked. Watched. Followed to private events, parties, everywhere. They’re selling photos of us to the press. Sharing them on private gossip blogs and group chats.

Someone got into our house. They’ve been here. I can smell them.

‘Jimmy,’ says a hushed voice – Lister’s – making me jump and turn towards him. Thankfully he’s put a hoodie on.

‘What?’

‘Cecily had someone drop this off this morning.’

He hands me a wad of paper. The top of the front page reads:

This contract (hereinafter referred to as the ‘Agreement’) executed and effective this _______ day of ___________, 20___, by and between THE ARK (hereinafter referred to as the ‘Artist’) and FORT RECORDS (hereinafter referred to as the ‘Company’):

It’s our record contract.

‘Oh,’ I say. ‘Have you read it?’

To my surprise, Lister nods. I don’t think he’s read a book since GCSE English. ‘It’s a bit confusing to read, but … yeah.’ He makes a face. ‘It’s all just … more.’

I glance back at Rowan, who is still sitting, head in hands, on the sofa.

There’s nothing I can really do to help him right now, I guess.

I open the contract and start to read.

Some of it seems normal. Or at least, what I assume to be normal. I never fully read our first and only contract; we were fourteen and a little clueless, and we just had our parents read it (in my case, Grandad) and a lawyer.

But a lot of sections catch my eye: sections asking us to do more interviews, go on longer tours, write music faster.

It takes me a full twenty minutes to read it all.

I knew that we’d have to spend more time on the band, on publicity, on music, but this is extreme. I knew all of this already, but seeing it here, written in such official, complex, legal language, it’s all so much more than I thought it would be. It’s all so much more real.

I’ve barely had any time to myself as it is. I barely see Grandad more than once every couple of months.

‘What’s Cecily doing about this?’ I say.

Lister shrugs. ‘Nothing, as far as I know.’

We’ll be internationally famous, but what’s the point if you have to give up everything else in your life to get there?

‘We can just say no,’ I say, starting to ramble. ‘We can just have a similar contract to what we have now. This one’s been fine.’

‘And give up breaking America?’ asks Lister. ‘We won’t get big in America unless we take on this contract.’

‘Then we go with a different record company.’

‘It’ll be the same wherever we go, Jimmy. At least people at Fort Records know us and slightly care about us. Everyone else just thinks we’re a money machine.’

I look at Lister. He’s sitting at the breakfast bar, staring blankly at the cup of tea in front of him. I didn’t know he’d even been thinking about this stuff. Rowan is quiet now, sitting totally still with his head in his hands.

‘It’s not fair,’ I whisper.