‘Did you get to see much of the show?’ he asks.
I nod. ‘We stayed until the end. Duncan and I were both filming a lot of the time.’
‘So what did you think? Did you like it?’
I was surprised at how much I’d enjoyed it, watching five young guys sing and dance their way energetically around the stage, all pyrotechnics, back-flips, sweat and naked chests. ‘It was loud. I think I knew it would be, but… wow, some of those girls have a real set of lungs on them.’
I cringe at my own words. A smile touches Aidan’s lips, hands going back into his pockets. ‘Wait till we get to America.Thosegirls will burst your ear drums.’
‘Do you ever get used to it?’
He shrugs. ‘It’s like white noise for me now. How long have you and Duncan been working together?’
‘About three and a half years. He was the only one who agreed to come and work for no money. At least now I can pay him.’
‘How did you guys meet?’
I’m hardly going to reveal to Aidan McArthur how I met Duncan. Or what happened after that. ‘I needed a cameraman. A mutual friend put us in touch.’
‘You seemed joined at the hip. Did you get some decent footage?’
‘Some. Next time you do that thing where you huddle together before the show starts, I’d like to be underneath.’
His eyes flash. ‘Oh, would you? Underneath?’
‘With a camera, of course. What do you say to one another? Before a show?’
His lips twist. ‘Maybe you’ll have to get underneath to find out.’
We’ve turned a corner to a well-lit main street. I look up to find his eyes are still dancing in the shadows caused by flashing neon light. In that moment, neither of us speaks and warm tingles zing down my spine. I check myself, remembering I’m a professional, and not the sort of woman to get caught up in any hysteria.
Up ahead, the night sky glows with the luminous lights of Shibuya.
‘Am I allowed to know how everyone reacted?’ I ask. ‘To the interview idea.’
‘Miller’s reluctant to do it.’
‘Why do you think that is?’
He shrugs. He checks his watch. I wonder if he regrets coming out with me. ‘All part of his bad-boy persona. Wouldn’t want to harm his image.’
‘Do you think I can talk him round?’
Aidan checks his watch again, quickening his pace. I struggle to keep up.
‘Depends on how persuasive you wanna be. I looked up your dad’s movies by the way. I’d seen some of them.’
Aidan seems talkative, yet any mention of my father usually sends me into an emotional spiral. He is officially classed as my least favourite topic of conversation.
‘How old were you when your parents split?’ Aidan asks when I don’t comment.
I clear my throat, my voice sounding strangled when I speak. ‘He walked out when I was eight. He and my mother were having a screaming match, which wasn’t uncommon. I was in my room. Then I heard the front door slam and that was it. He didn’t even say goodbye. I didn’t see him for another three years after that and they divorced in that time. He married someone else almost immediately.’
‘How often do you see him now?’
‘I saw him seven months ago. Before that it had been ten years. He sends me emails now and then. I think he wants us to have a better relationship but… I don’t know, I can’t forgive him. I’m better off alone.’
‘Independent type.’