Page 43 of Going Solo (The Brent Boys #2)

Chapter Twenty-One

W e heard the screams first. From inside the broadcast van, Nick and I watched the stampede towards the arena’s stage door. A horde of fans in pursuit of a pop star is truly a spectacle to rival wildebeest crossing the Serengeti.

“Our guest is on his way,” I said as Kenneddicts swarmed Cole and his security detail. They were being followed by a camera crew. “Not sure how long it’s going to take him to get here, mind you.”

From the other side of the studio glass, Nick gave me a thumbs up. We were live on air. A package of interviews we’d recorded with fans in the street earlier in the day was playing out.

Nick’s voice came through in my cans. “Let’s play ‘Genevieve.’ If he’s in the seat by the bridge, we’ll go straight into the ninety-second career recap. If not, let’s buy ourselves three minutes with ‘Young, Dumb, and Numb.’”

It was my turn to give Nick a thumbs up.

Cole was signing autographs and posing for selfies, slowly but surely drifting towards us. He looked every bit the rock star. The swept-back hair, the sunglasses, the leather jacket over a vest. To be honest, he looked like he’d self-consciously dressed in exactly what he’d been wearing the first day we met. It felt like a power play, and I wasn’t having it.

Cole’s entourage arrived at the van door. I didn’t move. Nick looked at me.

“Are you going to make Britain’s prince of pop knock?”

I shrugged. In the end, Fiona did the knocking. I opened the door, and Fiona and Cole stepped inside.

“Where do you want me?” Cole asked. It was flirty and that annoyed me. I pointed to the empty seat. Cole sat down, grabbing his headphones. I sat opposite him, the studio desk between us. I put my cans on and fiddled with some knobs, giving him zero chat. On the other side of the glass partition, Nick was offering Fiona a seat. Outside, the WebFlix camera that had been following Cole around was pressed hard up against the glass of the van, filming. It was the only camera allowed inside the security cordon. I’d drawn the line at letting it inside the van, citing health and safety, as there was as serious risk I’d strangle Cole with the cable.

Cole was saying something. I pretended I hadn’t noticed, which was incredibly petty but felt so good . He waved a hand in front of my face, and visibly annoyed, I slid one of my headphones slightly behind my ear.

“Just lining up the promo,” I said. I wasn’t.

“Doesn’t the computer do all that for you?”

It did. I stumbled. “It’s pretty old tech in here. I don’t trust it. I like to double-check everything.”

“Perfectionist, huh?” He grinned. “I guess you guys really do take… pop… seriously.” Cole said it exactly how our promos say it—and I realised he must listen to the show. My body tingled with a numbness normally only achieved around forty seconds after a killer puts a plastic bag over your head. Outside, a ring of security guards held back Cole’s fans. An enormous crowd had gathered. A gaggle of photographers and reporters leaned over the railings. They’d been salivating for this moment for a decade. This was the first time Cole and I had been seen together in public not just since Make Me a Pop Star , but since they knew our truth. My heart thumped so hard I could feel my butthole pulsing against the chair like it was trying to eat it. Teenage Toby and professional Tobias were crashing together irreparably, live on air, and I despised Cole for that.

I pressed play on the ninety-second promo. Cole and I listened to it go out—the early audio from Make Me a Pop Star , Dorinda Carter announcing the Go Tos winning the show, the chorus of their first single, “My Daydream Girl.” Cole smiled, enjoying his trip down memory lane. Nick’s pre-recorded voice-over shifted from the early hits and tours through to Cole’s troubled years. I watched as the light faded from his eyes, disappearing into memory, and I knew in that instant that Cole had been to some dark places. Then, the gear shift. A grab of “Genevieve” and a voice-over about Cole coming out and becoming a successful songwriter. The smile returned. Then, finally, Cole going solo, and the release of “Reborn”—the soaring synthesised strings of the song creating a wall of sound in the studio.

“Good work,” Cole said. He turned and gave Nick and Fiona a thumbs up. “Good work,” he repeated.

I pointed at Nick, who leaned back and flung open the van door. “Let’s have a bit of noise!” he shouted to the crowd. They obliged. Tap. I turned our microphones on and drifted up the fader on the external atmosphere mic, so the audience at home could hear the Kenneddicts going wild over the end of the promo.

“Cole Kennedy, welcome to Pop Review ,” I said over the crowd, putting a smile that wasn’t there into my voice. Outside, the fans continued to go bananas.

“Thank you, it’s special to be here. I’ve been looking forward to today for a long time.”

“The start of your first solo tour?”

“Well, that, of course. But no, I mean coming on Pop Review .”

That wrong-footed me for a second. “That’s right, this is your first time on the show.”

“It’s amazing, when you think about it,” Cole said. “I was in the biggest pop band in the world for ten years, and somehow, I haven’t managed to get back on Pop Review since you took over as host.”

Cole smirked. He was playing with me. Like a cat. In my studio. Oh, I wasn’t having this.

“Well, you’re a busy man with a busy schedule. We won’t hold it against you. You’re here now. And with a hit debut single, a bestselling album, and a sell-out world tour. You seem to have done OK without Pop Review ’s help.”

Nick glared at me through the glass. His voice came through my cans. “Play nice.”

“Are you ready for tonight?” I asked Cole.

“Of course. The team and I have been working hard on this show for the fans, and I think?—”

“You rehearsed much later than expected last night. Are you confident everything will come together? The bit I heard sounded well sketchy.”

Cole raised his eyebrows. Touché, they said. And possibly Game on.

“Absolutely. We worked hard to get everything nailed down last night, to make sure the show is perfect for the fans. I wish you could have come along to watch the rehearsal. I think even the exacting Tobias Lyngstad would have been impressed.”

Cole sipped from his cup of water, maintaining eye contact throughout.

“This is your first tour since going solo,” I said. “How different is it this time, being on the road without your little friends?”

Cole spluttered into his water, and it dribbled down his chin. He wiped at it with the back of his hand. It was incredibly satisfying.

“I absolutely love Joey, Yosh, Taylz, and Chase. They’re my best friends. I hope they’ll get along to one of my gigs on this tour, but I know they’re busy. Of course, it’s different without them, and I miss them. We’ve been through a lot together. They’ve seen me at rock bottom. They supported me through everything. You don’t forget how people treat you in important moments like that, Tobias. It’s moments like that you know who your real friends are.”

This was all-out war.

“You came out five years ago now. Why did you finally decide to stop lying to your fans?”

Nick was in my cans again. “For fuck’s sake, behave, you daft bawbag.”

“I owed a lot of people the truth,” Cole said. “Including myself. I’d only begun to explore my sexuality when the Go Tos happened. I wasn’t sure of who I was. But as time went on and I became more certain about who I was, I wanted to share that with the fans. I pulled the trigger on the truth gun, and I have no regrets. The fans have been super supportive.”

Outside, the fans cheered. I cleared my throat to ask my next question, but Cole got in before me. “Some of them even think I’m still marriage material.” He gave a thumbs up and a smile to the crowd outside. A scream went up. This was a drive-by shooting. An execution. My heart literally fell out of my arse and rolled across the floor in search of a place to hide.

I heard the click in my ears that told me Nick was about to speak. “You had that one coming, you nugget.”

I returned to Cole. “Tell me about the album,” I said, reading a question from the approved list to help get things back on track. “It’s more of a rock sound than we’re used to hearing from you.”

“You’ve listened to it?” Cole’s eyes lit up.

“I’m paid to listen to it.”

“What did you think?” He looked like a kid seeking approval from the deadbeat dad he only sees every other weekend.

“I think this is probably what happens when you ‘let Cole be Cole,’” I said. “I suspect this is the album you always wanted to make.”

Cole smiled, his eyes alight. “It is. You know it is, Tobias. I always wanted to write my own songs and share them with the world. This album sounds like me , you know? I’ve been on a journey of self-discovery these past few years. Learning who I am. Coming out was a part of that story, and so is this album.”

I couldn’t stop myself. “Imagine the decade of music we could have had if you hadn’t found yourself a part of the Totally Records sausage factory.”

Nick glared at me. Fiona had her head in her hands. I’d so nearly got it right.

“I learned a lot with the Go Tos,” Cole said. “I will always be enormously thankful to Make Me a Pop Star and Totally Records for the opportunity and for the platform they’ve given me. I wouldn’t be the same artist without them. I wish them nothing but the best. And, Tobias, you love the sausage factory. Don’t pretend. I listen to this show. You’re as much a part of the sausage-making machine as I am. We’re just a couple of silly little sausages, whether we admit it or not. And I think we’ve been very silly for a very long time.”

It took me a second to recover my balance. “Nevertheless, ‘Reborn’ seems like a clear two fingers up to everything the sausage factory stands for.”

“I think you’ve missed the point of the song. ‘Reborn’ is about freedom, about finding your voice. It’s about self-expression. Identity.”

“In which case I’m not sure I have missed the point of the song.”

“It’s a positive song. It’s looking forward. Your interpretation is backward-looking and negative. You’ve got it turned about.”

“How can you sit there and pretend the song isn’t about escaping your contract with Felicity Quant?”

“Because I choose joy, Tobias. And if you’re wallowing in the past, you’ll never find it.”

Our eyes were locked across the desk. A thousand things passing between us, unsaid.

Behind him, Nick gave me the wind-it-up gesture. I blinked, looked at my screen, and lifted a fader up.

“Well, good luck tonight,” I said. “I’m sure it’ll be a memorable gig for everybody here in Glasgow.”

“You’re coming along, yeah?”

“Of course.”

Cole smiled. “Great!”

“I’m being paid to go.” I couldn’t help myself.

Cole rolled his eyes.

“Cole Kennedy, thank you for being our guest on Pop Review .”

“Taking… pop… seriously ?” Cole said, sarcasm dripping off the last word.

Tap. I hit the button on a three-second sweeper that would play straight into “Reborn.” I turned off our mics, and the red on-air light went dark. Fiona opened the studio door.

“I’ve half a mind to bang your bloody heads together,” she said, sounding every bit as no-nonsense as Orla would have.

“That goes for me too,” Nick added.

The light on the studio phone started flashing.

“I have to get this, I’m sorry,” I said, picking up the receiver, my finger hovering over the button.

“Enjoy the show,” Cole said. He looked deflated. Victory. As Britain’s prince of pop and his sister walked out of the broadcast van, I pressed the phone line button. It was Denzil.

“What the fuck was that, bruv?”