To the Beat of My Heart

Heartbeats

Twenty-thousand people will fill into this stadium, this tiny little corner of Greenwich Peninsula. All for him.

Tommy is back for the #TourBusLife, though we have to switch buses in August when we head to Amsterdam. All across the UK and then Ireland before we get on a flight to the Netherlands. I have to say, the 02 is definitely one of the most impressive places we've performed at.

Uh, not we, I mean... Clay, the guys. I'm just...

But legit, the 02 is this entire complex shaded by the old Millennium Dome, with the arena right in the centre. The crowds were enormous, so we had to go around a side road to the VIP entrances. Jaz joined us on the bus and listed off all the hotspots: a cinema, clubs, bars, restaurants... Kai immediately takes out his phone at the mention of clubs, sitting forward in his seat, Googling the place he'll hit up tonight. He shows his phone to Clay and Clay nods.

Ansel is on the opposite sofa with me and Jaz, sitting with his arms folded across his lap, looking a little stiff. We slow at a pair of lights.

Outside the window, I can see the Thames looping around us, a system of ferries carrying people across from central London to the 02. The area is in a state of reconstruction and rebirth. The scaffolding of houses, schools, offices... It's always so easy, isn't it? Change, destroy, cover up what we don't like. Put on a new face.

The bus stops in a narrow alley behind the venue. Our usual crew is smaller today. Every show is a gargantuan effort from a lot of people, a lot of hardworking, unsung heroes who do their job so well you never notice they were there. From the lighting, setup crew, sound, catering, electricians, stagehands... the list goes on. Our crew tonight has at least a thousand people working on it. These people are only here for a day and night and miracles they will create.

Clay is giddy when we push on through the VIP entrance, talking excitedly about how the Spice Girls reunion gig happened here. He said it sold out in thirty-eight seconds.

"Do you think I'd ever sell out that fast?" he asks, with a slight tremor in his voice. Kai pushes past and I smile awkwardly at Clay.

"Twenty-thousand, babe. That's one show. Europe will love you. Fuck yeah, you'll sell out in seconds!"

Clay grips the doorframe, leaning in to kiss me. Ansel coughs and the moment of butterflies fades. We let him through. I look at Clay and take his hand. On we go.

Usually, you get your standard set of dressing rooms tucked away in the labyrinth that is each venue. Concrete tunnels where crew flit through in a perfect working machine. You retreat to the dressing room after the show and that's all she wrote. This is different. The 02 sports a hub for big-name performers. We find ourselves bathed in luxury in our VIP lounge.

Violet lights danced on the polished wooden floor and cubes dangled in concentric patterns from the roof. Apart from that, it's as snazzy and modern as most places we go to. The bar is the real attraction and there we find a small entourage of smartly dressed people, some of whom belong to the Clay Hudson enterprise.

After an exchange of greetings with the venue's manager and some sponsors—most of which Jaz fends off, we are left to ourselves. Jaz lets us off our leashes, for a couple of hours at least. At three we've got a rehearsal and at six, an hour till showtime, things go from intense, to Jaz barking like a military commander, crushing our spirits and bending us into order, till it's the smooth running of a well-oiled machine, an illusion created by many hands.

Ansel finds a seat at a table and Kai eyes the bar, asking Clay to come with him. Clay looks to me, asking if I want anything. I say anything's fine.