Page 20 of I Knew You Were Trouble

‘Totally. And to think the judges didn’t even want him to make it.’

‘And what about the “Shame About My Face” song? What’s happening with that?’

‘They’ve filmed ninety per cent of the video already. It’s a one-off release, not on any album yet. It’s not really an album kind of a song.’

‘And it’s a song about the infamous tweet? The one the girl in New York wrote about Cal?’

‘It’s not just about Bianca Lawson’s tweet. The boys all wrote it together. It’s about valuing beauty over substance. It’s a great song. But they’re behind on the video, hence they have to shoot the remainder over in Seoul, because the release is due soon, whilst they’re in Australia.’

When the boys enter the room, there is screaming. Meredith warned me about the shrieking that follows Rebel Heart everywhere they go, but to my ears, it’s on quite another level to what I’d anticipated. Duncan and I exchange glances, silently chalking it up as another thing we are going to have to get used to.

I watch the boys carefully, mainly through the viewfinder. Despite the initial screaming, the meet-and-greet is tame, passing without a hitch, the boys all smiles and hugs, signing their names on posters, taking photographs, putting their arms around complete strangers and grinning for the camera. I watch, a little stunned, as Aidan behaves like a gentleman, all smiles and perfect teeth. He wears a backwards cap, jeans and a T-shirt, making him look younger than he did on our walk this morning. The walk that seems like a lifetime ago.

By the time the show is set to begin, together with Duncan, I’ve set myself up underneath the main stage, where, it soon becomes apparent, the boys are set to be raised up through coffin-shaped holes into the centre of the arena.

Underneath the stage is quickly swarmed with unfamiliar faces. When I see Rebel Heart gathered in the far distance, I bring Duncan further towards me, indicating he should gently move back as they approach. In front of me, with raging screams above my head, I watch as they fall into a loose formation, Aidan on one side, Caleb in the centre. Their clothing is identical: black military-style boots, baggy black parachute pants, bare chests with black, open overcoats over the top, wide collars raised up, stage make-up and live vocal mics. When they come to a halt, metres from my camera lens, I’m struck by the singular focus exhibited by all of them. That the deafening screams above their heads seem to bounce off them like rubber bullets, their faces calm, almost impassive. When they huddle together, I indicate to Duncan that he should circle them with the camera. I hope the mic is powerful enough to pick up what’s being said. When the boys finally raise their heads, they fan out, taking positions on raised platforms marked with yellow and black hazard tape on the concrete floor. Ravi comes my way, offering me a grin into my lens. I glance over at Aidan, trying not to notice his sculpted chest, and glorious abs. My lens drops as I catch myself staring. Fortunately, he doesn’t seem to notice, his focus on what is about to take place.

Upstairs, the music has shifted into a kind of rumble. The screams increase in volume, if that’s even possible. I glance over at Meredith, who has paused to push a pair of ear plugs into her ears, like she knows what’s coming. The boys all raise their right arms, a sound man on a walkie-talkie barking orders that their mics are ready to be switched on.

Moments later, I am filming as the boys are raised to the stage, met with screams loud enough to raise the roof. A resounding beat starts up. I look to Duncan, pointing upwards. Inexplicably, I’m eager to get upstairs to watch the show.

The after-party is taking place at a club in central Shibuya, known as ‘Womb’, on the opposite side of the Meiji Shrine to the hotel. I glance across at Duncan as we enter a bar area cordoned off with a velvet rope, on a balcony overlooking the main dance floor below. The stairs are watched over by two security guards whose job it is to check all entrants have the right credentials, everything bathed in neon blue light. Duncan and I are both wearing spy cameras concealed inside our clothing, cameras I’m well-versed in using for my previous documentary projects. My plan had been to use them in sweatshops, not inside a Tokyo nightclub where champagne and fresh sushi circulates on trays held by polished hostesses in mini dresses.

‘I’m not sure why Meredith felt the need to go back and get changed.’ I raise my voice at Duncan over the throb of club beats, after he’s failed to order a beer from a passing waitress and instead helped himself to a couple of salmon maki from a platter. I help myself to a glass of champagne and we linger at the bar, with a wide view of the seating area.

‘Probably wants to impress the band,’ Duncan says with his mouth full. ‘You know, make one of them her boyfriend.’

I screw up my face. ‘She seems a little too strait-laced for that. Don’t you think?’

‘What you asking me for?’

‘Because. As usual, apart from Meredith, you’re pretty much the only person I can talk to on this trip. Plus, I’ve seen you staring at her a few times.’

‘Shut the hell up. You have not.’

In the dim light it’s impossible to tell if he’s blushing. His body language suggests he’s uncomfortable. I tilt my head from side to side, trying to sound encouraging. ‘What? She’s single… you’re single…’

A barman delivers his beer and Duncan downs the first half of the bottle in one swig. ‘You’re a pure goon, man. I haven’t had one single thought about Meredith.’

A wave of awkwardness washes over me. ‘Dunc—’

‘Aye?’

‘You’re not… I mean…’

He looks away, embarrassed. I think I see him wince as he masks it by swallowing more beer. ‘You know I love working with you. But that’s all,’ he says. ‘I mean… if you’d have had me, maybe things would be different. But I know you, Lex. You don’t let any guy get too close.’

Our conversation is cut short by the band’s arrival. There is a commotion to my right. The boys are all freshly showered, hair still damp, and changed out of their concert clothes. Ziggy’s making a fuss of them, shooing away some of the girls I recognise as being the backing dancers from the concert. Miller has grabbed one of the girls by the hand and is already leading her away to a darker corner of the bar area. Cal has settled into one of the sofas with two Japanese girls, one of whom I recognise from the previous evening. While J.B. talks to Ziggy, Ravi stands with the young South-Asian guy from the hotel from earlier. When my gaze drifts to Aidan, I find he’s already looking my way, hands tucked into the front pocket of his hoodie, dark hair falling into his eyes. He offers me a simple nod. I return the nod, without smiling, and wonder if this is the sign of a truce between us.

‘You wanna watch him,’ Duncan says in a low tone.

‘Apparently he’s my nemesis.’

‘You’re not careful, he could mess this up for you. I asked around. Boy’s got influence. Watch your back.’

‘What do you suggest? Try to make peace?’

He takes another drink. ‘Maybe try and keep him on side. That might grease the wheels for us a bit. Wouldn’t wanna give him the wrong idea, mind. Eejit’s probably used to the lassies throwing themselves at him all the time.’

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