Page 23 of Going Solo

I didn’t even glance at Cole as we silently crossed the lawn. I stood at one end, Cole the other.

“No, I gave you the order,” Indira barked. “Toby, move around next to Cole, please. Everyone shuffle up.”

I moved, my heart sinking. Everyone shuffled. Cole’s shoulder gently brushed mine—the briefest connection sending a charge of electricity through my body. Robbie Johnswagger walked onto set and sat down in his director’s chair. A camera was trained on him. Two more were trained on the six of us, and a fourth on the remaining group of nine boys. Robbie announced which of us would be doing which parts, and we started singing. Two verses in, Robbie cried for us to stop.

“Boys, this is a song about being so madly in love you want to do something crazy. Run off and get married. Haven’t any of you been in love before?”

My arms went rigid at my sides. Cole didn’t move. Duncan raised his hand.

“Duncan, what does being in love feel like?”

Duncan was a Scouser in his mid-twenties and had a steady girlfriend at home in Liverpool.

“You know the film28 Days Later?”

Robbie frowned. “The zombie film?”

“They’re not proper zombies,” Duncan said. “The people aren’t dead, they’ve caught this terrible virus that, like, takes over their brain and makes them insane and, like, incredibly violent and stuff.”

Robbie was shaking his head.

“Like, imagine Friday night in a really rough Wetherspoons, but a thousand times worse. Blood and guts everywhere. But it’s the virus doing it. It controls the people’s minds and their bodies and, like, every action and thought and reaction.”

Cole’s shoulder jerked against mine, and I realised he was trying not to laugh.

Robbie had his head on his hands. “Where are you going with this?”

“Love,” Duncan said, as if it were obvious. “The virus is love. Once you catch it, it’s like your brain and your whole body have been hijacked. You’re not in control anymore. You’d do anything for the person you love. They’re all you can think about, every waking moment. Everything you do, you do for them.”

I recognised that kind of love. My heart pounded in my chest.

“Only, generally, when you’re in love, the army doesn’t round you up and shoot you,” Duncan said. “I’d hope.”

“Jesus Christ,” Robbie Johnswagger said, knocking back his drink in a way that suggested it definitely wasn’t water.

Cole’s shoulder rested briefly against mine. I desperately wanted to look up at him, to catch his eye, to tell him that’s how I felt about him—like I’d lost control of my mind and body. But the cameras were trained on us, so I stood still.

“OK, reset,” Indira said. “Guys, can you all turn towards each other in pairs. Yoshi and Chase, you’re singing together. Then Duncan and Paul. And Cole and Toby.”

Shit. My stomach sank. The producers were taking the piss. Cole and I turned to face each other. He looked terrified. The music started, and we began to sing in our pairs. I’d been such a melt. Everything we’d done had been completely pointless. The producers had us over a barrel. They could make us do whatever they wanted. This was a game, and they made the rules. Now they had footage of Cole and me together, singing a song about being madly in love—and there was nothing we could do about it except sing our hearts out like the virus made us do it.

* * *

By the eighth day, the producers were clearly ready to lock in their decision. I knew for sure because Felicity Quant had turned up. We were by the swimming pool in the back garden of the enormous house where we rehearsed during the day. Felicity and Robbie Johnswagger were sitting in garden chairs in front of us as Cole, Joey, Chase, Yoshi, and I sang an a capella version of “Dream Fantasia”—a song that had been a hit for Robbie in the eighties, after he’d split from Buzzsaw. My heart was pounding. With Quant here, everything rode on this performance. Our group felt solid. A good mix of voices that harmonised well. A pick-and-mix collection of non-threatening, cookie-cutter-gorgeous teenage boys. And me. The ten lads not in our group were standing off to the side with a separate camera trained on their every reaction. Cole, of course, had been given the opener and took the lead on the chorus. He was by far the best vocalist and the most musically talented. If this boy band was going to be a cultural Christmas present to Britain, Cole was the big gift tied with ribbon, while the rest of us were stocking filler. But the third verse was mine, and I had rehearsed the hell out of it. I thought it went well. As Cole’s last note left his lips, everyone around us erupted into applause. I felt both relief and exhilaration. I was standing on the precipice of all my dreams coming true. Keeping to the plan as far as we could, Cole and I refused to look at each other. Silence fell over the garden.

“What do you think?” Robbie said, turning to face Felicity. He sipped his cola.

With her sunglasses on, Felicity’s face was unreadable. She sat back in her chair and put a finger to her mouth, one long fuchsia-pink nail tapping at her lips. She looked at the five of us. She looked over at the leftovers group. She looked back to us. After the longest thirty seconds of my life, she finally spoke.

“Taylor,” she said, plucking the name of a lad in the other group as if from the air. She didn’t even look at him. “Swap with Toby.” She pointed her fuchsia fingernail in my direction. “Toby, you go stand with the others.”

My heart fell out of my arse, skittered across the paving, and rolled into the pool, where it was dragged under by the weight of my despair. Barring some miracle, this was the end of the ride for me. Felicity was mugging me off. I had no idea what I’d done wrong. I left the line-up, circling around the back of the boys and taking a place with the other lads beside the pool.

My face was burning, and I knew it would look blotchy and red on camera. As I looked over at Cole, hoping for reassurance—knowing a moment’s eye contact would give me the strength I needed to hold it together—I felt a camera right in my face. Cole blanked me. In the line-up, Taylor Knight had slipped seamlessly into my spot.

“Taylor, do you know the words?” Felicity asked.

“To the greatest rock ballad of all time? I think I can manage it.” Taylor winked at Robbie. The creep.

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