The car pulled up at the rooms that had been hired out, and Paul insisted on helping Siobhan out of the car, as he had done at the hotel where they had dropped their bags off. He slid his arm around her shoulder and walked her into the building, speaking briefly with the bodyguards at the entrance. They entered the hired room and were immediately met by loud trance music, darkness and smoke. Siobhan clung closer to Paul.
           “Hey, Babe, it’s okay.”
           “I hate this type of so called music.”
           “Do what I do. Put some nice Prince or Manson in your head. It makes you look like you’re not all there.” He tapped his head. “But at least you feel better than you would otherwise.” He smiled, and looked past her shoulder to wave at someone. She turned and saw Christian making his way over, looking at the pair of them curiously.
           “Hi Paul. Hey Siobhan.” He called over the incessant throb of the synthetic bass. Siobhan smiled and waved back, while Paul leaned closer.
           “Hi Chris! Why’s the music so loud? It’s supposed to be background music.”
           “I dunno.” Christian shrugged. “Why are you here with Siobhan? She’s supposed to be with Mark.” He shoved a bottle of beer into Paul’s hand. Paul shot him a look, and spoke as quietly as possible into Christian’s ear. While Paul was explaining himself, and necking the bottle as though the beer inside was water, Siobhan looked around the room. For an industry with few people in, there was a hell of a lot of people around. She was still scanning the room when she locked eyes with Ben. His eyes narrowed, but she glared defiantly back, and was surprised when, instead of turning his head in disgust, he signalled for her to go and talk to him. She wriggled out of Paul’s clasp and went to see what Ben wanted. Paul broke off his conversation with Christian to watch her leave, tapping his now empty bottle.
           “How could you do it Paul?” Christian re-insisted as Paul grabbed another bottle.
           “She’s a mate, you weirdo.” He downed his second bottle without coming up for breath.
           “Yeah, but for how long?”
           “Up to her, innit?” Paul asked rhetorically as he grabbed a third bottle.
           “So where’s she gone now?” A new voice asked. Paul turned to see an enraged Mark.
           “Hey Read, how’s it going?” Paul grinned, and tipped back his latest drink.
           “It’s not funny Paul. I saw you come in together, and I saw her walk off. Where is she?”
           “She’s . . . she’s gone to speak to Ben.” Paul grinned as he grabbed his fourth drink, swaying slightly as he was already tipsy from downing three others in ten minutes.
           “You let that happen?” Mark asked, fury flashing in his eyes.
           “Yeah, because I trust her.”
           “But what about Ben?”
           Paul grabbed another drink and shrugged.
           “Paul, slow down.” Christian pleaded, trying to stop Paul draining his fifth drink like he had the others.
           “That’s it! I’m proving to you that I know what I’m on about!” Paul snapped as he wrestled free of Christian.
           “What, by getting completely pissed?” Mark challenged.
           “No, I’m going to show you both that she wants me and she’s totally over Mark.”
           “She still wants me, I know she does.”
           “Yeah? So why on the plane did she snog me and say yes to going out with me?” Paul finally located his sixth bottle.
           “She wouldn’t.”
           “She would and did.”
           “Stop giving out all this crap Paul.”
           “That’s it! That’s denifinately it! I’m making an ouncement!” Paul shoved past Mark and Christian, grabbing yet more alcohol.

           Ben pushed her into the corridor, and along to a small room, obviously used for conferences.
           “Well?” He asked, taking a seat. She still stood by the door.
           “Well what?”
           “Well sit down! I want to talk to you.” She took the seat next to him but one. He leaned onto the table and looked at her. “So what the fuck is going on?”
           “Going on with what?”
           “Don’t play dumb! What’s going on with you and Paul?”
           “Paul? He’s a friend.”
           “Doesn’t look like that to me.”
           “Well . . . I-um . . .”
           “Let’s not beat about the bush. Do you wanna go out with him?”
           “Does it matter if I do or don’t?”
           “Yes. So do you?”
           “I dunno. I guess I do. But . . . but he’s not Mark.”
           “Meaning?”
           “Look, if he hadn’t asked me out I wouldn’t be thinking about it. I still want Mark.”
           “Why?”
           “Why?!”
           “Yes, why do you still want Mark?”
           “I thought he was your friend?”
           “So?”
           “So you don’t need me to answer, you can do it for yourself.”
           “What specifically?”
           “I dunno. I guess I wasn’t around him long enough to find out. I’d probably know if I was still with him.”
           “And you think you’re good for him?”
           “No-because he’s too good for me.”
           “At least we agree on something.” Ben’s face softened a little. Siobhan dared to speak her mind.
           “Ben? What are you really afraid of?”
           “I’m not.” He rolled his eyes.
           “You are. But, well, whatever it is about me that you dislike,” She took a deep breath in. “I hope you realise that hurting you and your friends is the last thing on my mind. I’m here as Paul’s friend. And I think it’s pretty sweet that you’ll stand up for Paul and Mark like this.”
           “Are you coming onto me?” He raised his eyebrows and folded his arms as he sat back in his seat.
           “What? NO! Gross! No offence, but I prefer men with an edge . . . or at least some facial hair. You’re a pretty boy, I ain’t ever gonna swing in your direction! Besides, I’m mates with some of your fans-I’d be killed for the thought!” She looked insulted, and her accent dipped from borderline posh to complete Essex, missing half the ‘t’s, making her ‘th’s sound like ‘ff’s and drawing out the vowels as only someone from Essex could. (If you need help imagining this, listen to Busted’s ‘year’3000’-you’ll see what I mean heehee “’e sed I’ve beeen to the year free fousaaaaand”) Ben blinked, obviously not expecting the reaction, and let down his guard.
           “So what you’re saying is?”
           “Ben, I want Mark, but he hurt me so much with what he did. And he still is. Paul’s been there for me through it all. He’s given me a chance when he didn’t have to and he’s willing to stand in the middle of mine and Mark’s mess. Being here for him when he asks for it is the least I can do in return, and if you can’t accept that, then I have nothing more to say to you. Ever.”
           She turned, about to stomp out, when he put his hand on her shoulder.
           “You’re not using Mark?” He double-checked. She turned to face him.
           “I bloody well ‘ope not. I’m not doing it intentionally if I am.”
           “So what you said to Toni about Paul-”
           “It was a joke, to make him feel better.” She caught his eye. “I’m always making crap jokes and being sarky and giving words double meanings and stuff. It’s just the way I am. You’re buggered if you believe half the shit that usually flows out me gob.” The Essex accent was in full flow, and so, for once, was she. “For God’s sake, when someone asks me something I’ll always say no and everyone usually gets that I mean yes.”
           Ben looked her over.
           “But Toni said-”
           “Toni’s wrong, okay? We may be friends, she may be totally sweet and thoughtful, but at the end of the day she knows sweet fuck all about the real me. No one at school does. Now just leave me alone and let me suffer the crap music in there as a thank you to Paul.”
           She looked as though she was about to cry as she turned away.
           “I’m sorry.”
           She looked back at Ben suspiciously.
           “You what?”
           “I’m sorry, okay? Maybe you’re right, maybe I heard Toni wrong.”
           “What are you up to?”
           “I’m trying to accept you.”
           “Oh. Well . . . thanks.”
           “No problem. Want a hug?”
           “Oh . . . okay.” She conceded, and walked over to him. She put her arms loosely around his waist for a moment and moved away quickly; though not fast enough to escape the bear hug he caught her in. He smooshed her into his chest for a while before allowing her to breathe.
           “Go on, back to Paul. And I hope you and Mark sort things out-I mean it.”
           “Thanks . . . which room were we in?”
           Ben smiled, and led her back. About halfway down the corridor, Ben struck up another conversation.
           “So . . . we mates now?”
           “Urgh! God no! Why’d I wanna be mates with you?”
           He smiled again.
           “That means yes, right?”
           “No, it means you’re almost as smelly as Paul. Can’t stand either of you.”
           “Good, I can’t stand you either.”
           She looked at him as he poked out his tongue, and then shared a smile before re-entering the hired room. It took a few moments for them to realise something was wrong. The music had stopped, the lights were on, and Paul was standing on a table near the centre of the room, all eyes on him as he argued with a sandy-haired man.
           “Paul! You’ve had too much to drink, you’re probably stoned too, now get down off that goddamn table!”
           “Nope!” Paul smiled stupidly. “Got ‘nouncement.”
           “Ben, who’s that?” Siobhan whispered.
           “Paul. My bandmate, your friend-been hitting on you?”
           “No, the guy arguing with Paul.”
           “Tim.”
           “Tim Byrne?”
           “Yeah.”
           “Wow.”
           “You know of him?”
           “Know of him? He’s amazing! He’s the whole reason I gave your music a chance. I wanna be just like him and Vicky, you know, after uni.”
           “Want me to introduce you? Once he’s sorted Paul out?”
           “Are you insane? I wouldn’t know what to say.”
           “YEAH? WELL TIM, I QUIT!”
           “PAUL, FLUSH YOUR HEAD AND SOBER UP! YOU’RE SPOUTING RUBBISH AND EMBARRASSING YOURSELF, THE BAND, THE MANAGEMENT AND SONY!”
           “SONY CAN GO TO HELL! WHERE’S SH-SIOBHAN? SHE’LL BACK ME UP! SHIIIVOOOOOOOOON!”
           Siobhan hid behind Ben, desperate to remain a nobody.
           “THERE’S NO ONE HERE CALLED SIOBHAN!”
           “YES THERE IS! SHE’S MY MATE! WENT OUT WITH MARK FOR A WEEK, THE LUCKY SOD! BEN WENT TO MASSACCRE HER!”
           Everyone turned to look at Ben. He leaned back.
           “Here’s a great chance for you to thank Paul, and prove once and for all that there’s no ulterior motive.”
           “Okay, but I’m scared for Paul. It sounds like he’s bloody drunk.”
           “Absolutely hammered. Now go, Tim Byrne and all that.”
           Siobhan peeked out from behind Ben. Paul saw and waved emphatically, beckoning her over. She joined him cautiously, aware that everyone’s focus was now on her. At the table, Paul yanked her up and hugged her hard.
           “SIOBHAN! GREAT TO SEE YOU! AND YOU’RE STILL ALIVE!”
           “Paul, get down!” Siobhan hissed, wishing she were invisible.
           “NOPE! GOT TO TELL EVERYONE WHAT I TOLD YOU!” He squeezed her shoulder. “BUT FIRST I NEED EV-ER-EE-BODY TO LOOK AT ME!”
           “Don’t worry about that Paul, everyone’s looking. Well, staring. Get off the table, tell them, and then please, sober up!”
           “ANYTHING FOR YOU BABE!” He leaned over a planted a kiss full of saliva on her cheek. She turned crimson as she tried to wipe it off. “ANYWAY, I’VE BEEN THINKING FOR A WHILE, AND I GOTTA LEAVE THE BAND!” He grinned heroically.
           “Paul, are you done?” Siobhan asked. He nodded happily. “Let’s get off the table yeah? Go put you to bed.”
           “I like the sound of that!” Paul grinned, as she helped him get down from the table. Siobhan and Tim shared the briefest of looks before leading a stumbling Paul out to get a car to the hotel. While they waited, Tim peered over Paul’s head at Siobhan, as Paul began to quieten down.
           “You’re the girl Paul was talking about on the table?”
           “Unfortunately.” She sighed.
           “Yes, if Paul had used my name in that fashion, I’d be reluctant to admit a connection with him. I can’t believe he got so rat arsed so quickly.”
           “Well, I guess he couldn’t help it-he’s had a lot on his mind recently. He probably thought it’d help him forget it.”
           “That sounds like Paul. So-are you the Siobhan Mark doesn’t shut up about?”
           “I guess I must be-how many Siobhan’s can they know?”
           “True. So what happened between you and him?”
           “I never really found out. And I’d rather not talk about it.”
           Tim nodded understandingly and helped her and Paul into the car before getting in himself. Paul groaned and lay across them. Siobhan started playing with his hair.
           “I don’t know how you’re going to top tonight Paul.” Tim prodded him.
           “Mmmurr!” He groaned in reply.
           “Honestly, saying you’re leaving. I think someone spiked your drinks.”
           “He meant it.” Siobhan sighed, looking out of the window.
           “What?”
           “He told me when he was sober.” She looked at Tim. “I just hope he’s still in music after.”
           Tim looked at her, and bit back the response he was creating in his mind.
           “You really care about him, don’t you?” She nodded. “It’s not going to be right without him. I hope he remains signed to me though.” Tim sighed, and looked out of his window.
           “Well, why wouldn’t he? You do a fantastic job, and you seem so much better than some managers out there-I should know, I’ve met Louis Walsh.”
           “Thanks, but Paul’s not one to do what’s best for him.”
           “He only has to look at the benefits he has with you to know he should stay.”
           Tim smiled at her.
           “I can see why Mark fell for you. Well, here’s the hotel. I have to go back-will you be okay with the alchy?”
           “Yeah, I’ll be fine.” She smiled, and Tim helped her pull Paul out of the car.
           “It’s nice to have met you.” Tim held out his hand to Siobhan. She took it while Paul draped himself over her.
           “You too.”
           “Look, if Paul’s too much trouble, give me a call, okay?” Tim passed her a business card, before climbing back in the car. Siobhan watched him go, and turned to Paul.
           “Wanna go in the hotel now?” She whispered. He nodded, and tried to slip his hand up her top. “Oi, Marazzi, wanna keep that hand?” He removed it. “Do you think you can walk to our room without my support?” He shook his head tiredly. “You aren’t going to puke, are you?” He shook his head again, and nuzzled into her. She made her way into the hotel, holding onto him tightly, and got to their room.
           “Paul? Key?”
           He passed her the key card, and she fumbled it into the door, and heaved Paul’s semi-conscious body in and onto the lone bed in the room.
           “Paul? Are you okay?”
           “Tired.”
           “Well, get changed, and I’ll change in the bathroom.” He shook his head, and closed his eyes. She sighed, and pulled his top off as best as she could, then wrestled his trousers off, before shoving him under the covers properly.
           “I must really care about you Marazzi, to put up with this.” She sighed, before grabbing her pyjamas from her overnight bag, and going into the bathroom, oblivious to the smile on Paul’s face. She returned a few minutes later, and flung her day clothes on her overnight bag, before crawling into bed next to him. They lay away from each other in silence for a few minutes, then,
           “Siobhan? I’m sorry.”
           “About what?”
           “Ruining tonight.”
           “Well, it’s not like it was a major thing I’d gotten excited about, I knew it’d be dull. You certainly livened things up.”
           “You’re mad at me. Tim’s mad at me. He just didn’t let you know how mad he really is in the car. He’s always getting mad at me, and the stupid things I do.”
           “I’m not mad at you. And maybe Tim’s just trying to act for your best interests. You getting this drunk is obviously a big concern of his.”
           “Maybe. Hey, if you’re not mad, why aren’t we hugging?”
           She smiled into the darkness, and wriggled over on the bed until she made contact with him. He immediately wound his arms around her, and she followed suite.
           “See? I’m not mad.”
           He squeezed her gently, and buried his head into the nape of her neck, his eyes able to see down her pyjama top.
           “Paul?”
           “Yeah?”
           “Why wasn’t Mark there?”
           “He was.”
           “I didn’t see him.”
           “I did. While you and Ben were talking. He wasn’t going to bother you though.”
           She nodded miserably, and leaned her head against his, aware that he was trying to play footsie, and she was obliging, still confused by her feelings for him.
           “Siobhan?”
           “Mmm?”
           “You’re not wearing a bra.”
           “Paul!”
           “What? You’re not!” He ran his hand up her stomach and chest inside the top to double-check.
           “I know I’m not!” She hissed as she squirmed under his fingers. “Sleeping in your bra increases your chances of breast cancer okay? And it kinda matters-”
           “When you have big boobs like you and Toni?” Paul grinned. His fingers were still playing in her top, but she couldn’t get them out, he was moving too fast.
           “Paul! You’re drunk, it’s late, and my boobs are fine. If you don’t want me mad then stop it!”
           His hand froze, and she pulled it out of her top and around her waist once more. His foot stopped moving too.
           “I wasn’t having a go, I just-”
           “I know. Sorry. We can still hug, yeah?”
           “Of course!” She smiled, and found his cheek to kiss it. He pulled her back for a small kiss on the mouth, before they tightened their hold on each other and fell asleep.