I've been driving my car for a good forty minutes before I finally manage to get my palms to stop sweating and my heart to stop feeling like it's about to explode out of my chest. If you'd have asked me this morning, when Harry pulled up in his flashy rental car, how today was going to pan out, I'd have gone through a thousand guesses – most of which would have included me making a twat out of myself in some way or another. As is usually the case when I'm around him. Before I landed on the bombshell that Harry so kindly dropped on me as we stood next to my battered old Micra in the hotel car park in Birmingham where I'd abandoned it just a couple of days ago.
The journey itself went rather well, I thought. I managed not to spill a single drop of my coffee on to the plush leather seating, or myself or on Harry for that matter. We discovered a mutual love for Kings of Leon and vintage rock music as we cruised down the motorway at over seventy miles an hour in the car that made you feel like you were barely moving at all, singing our hearts out.
We laughed, we joked, we got to know one and other. And I think I can officially now say that Harry Styles is not only my boss, but he's also my friend. As much as that thought gives me a delightfully fuzzy feeling in the pit of my tummy that I can't quite explain, nor do I want to investigate too closely right now, to be honest. Never in a million years would I have expected him to have gone so above and beyond so early in our friendship. But I guess that is the difference between ordinary people and Rock Stars, something so monumentous to me, is nothing more than a phone call to him.
"So, erm, do you have any plans on Thursday?" Harry had asked me apropos of nothing as he hefted my suitcase out of the boot of the beautiful Maserati and pushed it into the rather sad looking boot of my Micra. I said a silent apology to my guitar as I placed it on the back seat, back to reality I'm afraid. No more riding in style for us today. Style haha... Forcing myself to focus, I straightened up to respond to Harry, narrowly missing bashing my head on the door frame in the process.
"Well I'm planning to stay at my flat whilst we're down South, actually sneak in a good nights sleep or two ya know? So I guess I'll probably pop over to my parents maybe, or catch up with my brother. Why do you ask?" I queried.
"Ok look, don't be upset ok? But I might have kinda... sorta... set up a meeting for you in London." He said, the last part in a rush. More quickly than I've ever heard him speak and stopped walking a few feet away from me. Choosing to lean back against the car instead, his tattoed arms folded across his chest, muscles bulging. My car of course, not his posh rental, god forbid he leave an arse print on that!
"Er, ok... what kind of meeting? Please don't tell me that my position as the crew dogs body is being extended to running random errands for you outside of the venues. I'll be needing a raise if that's the case." I teased him
"No, actually this is something for you. I might have sent the video of you singing the other night, the one that Sammy took? On to an associate of mine, and, well, they want to meet with you." He said, his eyes focused firmly on the floor, refusing to look at me.
"WHAT! Fuck, Harry, that's...." and that was as far as I got. All the hundreds of thousands of words I had learnt since I first started speaking at ten months old dropped out of my head, and I stood there like an idiot with my mouth hanging open. Staring at Harry as though he'd just grown another head.
"Ok, I'm just going to close this for you." He said with a slight smirk, reaching out and pushing my jaw closed with the tip of his index finger. "The meetings at one in Soho, I'll text you all the details you need, just, maybe try and remember how to speak before then. Deal?"
I nodded mutely, completely unable to form a sentence or even a coherent thought. Shit!
"Are you going to be ok to drive?" Harry asked me, and the concerned look in his eyes finally snapped me back into something slightly resembling a human being. I managed to respond, with actual words and everything, go me.
"Yes... Harry, this is, you didn't have to do... What I mean is..." I trailed off again.
"Maddie?"
"Um-hmm"
"Just say, thank you."
"Thank you. You called me Maddie." I observed like an idiot
"You called me Harry first, don't get used to it Trouble." He replied.
As he pulled away from our now familiar goodbye hug routine, I felt his soft, warm lips press against my forehead. Lingering there for just a moment. A quiet sigh I couldn't entirely control slipped from my lips in protest when he pulled away, and he flashed me one of his trademark superstar smiles. The ones, I am convinced, he only pulls out when there are cameras around, or he's truly happy about something. I felt myself grinning stupidly back at him as he turned and made his way over to his car.
"Drive safe Trouble" He called as he closed the door, and drove off, leaving me standing there in the near-empty car park like a complete prat, still wondering what on earth had just happened.
It took me a good five or ten minutes to actually move and get into my own car, and for the first time in years, I wished I still smoked. Just so I'd have something to do with my shaking hands. It wasn't until a guy in pristine looking chef whites came out of the back door of the hotel holding a large black bin bag and gave me a questioning look, that I finally snapped back to reality and decided it was time to get back on the road.
So now, here I am, zooming down the M40 in a complete daze, trying to figure out the answers to the hundred questions fluttering around my brain. Firstly, what the fuck am I supposed to wear? Secondly, is this just a meeting? Or more of an Audition? Should I take my guitar with me? And if they ask me to sing, what should I play? And Thirdly, and possibly most mind-bogglingly, why has Harry set this up for me? Surely given the position he's in, he must get badgered to set up meetings or send off demo's or work with wannabe singers every other day. So what would make him decide to help me? When I hadn't even asked him to? When I'm really nothing special?
These thoughts, amongst others, plagued me all the way down to London. By the time I reach my small studio flat just on the outskirts of town, I am absolutely exhausted, and to be honest, I am starting to wonder if I dreamt the entire conversation. I have barely been sleeping, after all, maybe I'm just overtired and imagining things? Or it was part of a half-remembered dream I had? But a quick check of my phone proves that it was, in fact, real. As promised, the message icon is flashing away, and when I open it, I see the name and address of a man in Soho who I am to meet on Thursday afternoon at one o'clock. Wow. Without thinking, I hit the reply button and send him a message.
Maddie:
Why me? X
Harry:
Because you deserve it. Your voice is amazing Maddie. I've never heard anyone sing like you before. Even in the car, today prating about you sounded like a cross between Stevie Nicks and Whitney Houston. It would have been more stupid of me NOT to send on that video H xx.
I read the text four times through before his words finally started to sink in. Although I'm reasonably sure he's exaggerating, comparing me to two of the most famous female singers that have ever lived. The compliment and his faith in me still make me smile.
Maddie:
Thank you. I'll try not to let you down x.
Harry:
Trouble, the only way you could let me down would be if you turned up late, or not at all. Trust me. You'll do great. H xx
I spend a bloody wonderful nearly sixteen odd hours at home in my flat, enjoying the peace and quiet. I even manage to pack up enough clothes to last me for the upcoming trip to Scotland and Ireland. Which is all I really need right now as I'll be back here for a day or two before we head off to Australia next week. And! I only had two, ok.. maybe three... major meltdowns over the meeting.
After pulling pretty much every item of clothing out of my wardrobe and trying on at least ten different outfits, I finally settle on wearing my stylishly ripped black jeans, knee-high lace-up boots and a white off the shoulder top. Deciding it portrays the kind of image I want to put across. I smooth the items out and position them carefully across the back of my sofa, reminding myself not to go near that area of the flat with any food or drink for the next day or so.
By the time I have to leave to head to the O2 in Greenwich on Wednesday afternoon, I think I have finally come up with the perfect way to get Harry back for his little stunt at the bar at the weekend. Sure he's done a nice thing in arranging this meeting for me and all.
Still, I haven't forgotten how he set me up that night, and nor am I going to let him get away with it either. Especially when I still don't know what the consequences of me singing in front of Jeff were. Although I've not been fired yet, so that's got to be a good sign right? I walk into the venue and try to hide my smile as I seek out Sammy and start setting up for the night.
"Did you hear H has sorted us all tickets for tonight?" Sammy asks me as we're putting the last section of the barrier together in front of the stage.
"No, I didn't! That's great, I've been hoping to catch another show" I reply
"Yeah apparently as its a 'homecoming' gig of sorts, he decided he wanted us all to be in the audience. Kinda cool huh? I've not seen a show since opening night in Switzerland," she tells me
"At least this time I'll have more of a clue what's going on and won't be blindsided by his fans and their shockingly impressive lingo. What even is a Larrie anyways?" I ask her, but we are interrupted by Harry and the band starting up their soundcheck and conversation becomes nearly impossible over
the sounds of the various instruments and Harry's husky voice.
As usual, after Mabel's set, me and several other crew members run around quickly, dismantling her stage set up so that it can be replaced with Harry's. Everyone's rushing here, there and everywhere trying to get everything done without falling over each other, before Harry's carefully chosen playlist finishes. I'm just tidying away a stray cable when I spot my target, a tall lady in her thirties across the other side of the stage called Amy, who I've seen bringing out the countless amounts of water bottles that they have scattered around the stage during the set, and I make my way over to her.
"Hey Amy, you look rushed off your feet! Why don't I get the water bottles for you? Save you a job?" I ask her sweetly with a smile as she bends to mop up a small puddle of water on the stage. She looks up at me, quizzically for a moment before answering. Her big brown eyes seeming to bore deep down into my soul trying to work out if I have an ulterior motive, and I am careful to keep my face as blank as possible.
"Erm, sure, it's Maddie, right? That'd be a big help actually, thanks." She says in a harassed kind of tone "The bottles are in the fridge in the kitchen, ask Sarah to show you if you get lost," she adds quickly before turning her attention back to the puddle.
"Will do!" I chirp and make my way backstage. On my way to the kitchen, I make a quick stop off at my backpack which I left on top of what seems to be an old dis-guarded speaker backstage and fish out my crew issue 'Treat People with Kindness' water bottle, giving it a little shake.
"Let's see how you like it when the jokes on you, eh Styles?" I mutter to myself and head off to collect the other water bottles from the kitchen.
An hour or so later and I am perched on the edge of my seat, well... figuratively at least as I've not actually sat down since the start of the show, but you get the idea. We're seated in the stands just off to Harry's left, where two long rows have been reserved for the various members of the crew. Even Jeff has come to join us, and everyone seems to be having a great time. The show has been excellent up until now, but I'm distracted. Every time Harry goes to take a sip of water, I wait on tenterhooks to see if he'll pick up my booby-trapped bottle. But, much to my dismay, he sticks to the annoyingly sealed plastic ones that I couldn't tamper with for the first half of his set.
It's not until he has just finished playing "Anna" Which has quickly become one of my favourites as its such a fun happy song, that he reaches out and his fingers wrap around the correct bottle. I watch intently as he puts it to his lips, taking a large gulp, collapsing instantly into a fit of coughing, before pulling back and sniffing its contents and pulling a face, and I start to laugh. In fact, I laugh so fucking hard that I am seriously scared I might break a rib. Clutching myself around the middle, I pitifully attempt to keep myself in one piece as Harry looks over towards us and sticks out an arm, his index finger extended, pointing straight at me.
Shit. He's not smiling. Have I gone too far? I may not have been here long, but I know how professional he is, he never touches a drop of alcohol until after his shows, even though I've seen all his band have a glass of wine or a beer beforehand. God Mitch has a bottle of wine next to him on stage most nights which he sips away at happily as he plays, still, never missing a note. I really must see if I can convince him to give me a lesson or two on the guitar.
After a few seconds of pointing and scowling at me, Harry's face finally cracks into a small smirk, followed by a slow nod of acceptance. He knows he deserved it. Not one to miss out on a moments gossip, Sammy tugs hard on the sleeve of my T-shirt to get my attention.
"What was THAT all about?" She asks loudly, eyebrows raised.
"Ha! Nothing! It was just time for a little payback after his stunt on Sunday night that's all" I say as I finally manage to calm my giggles.
"What did you do!" Sammy shouts over the next track as the rest of the crew around us obliviously sings along. Clearly, my excitement is infectious as she's got a massive grin on her face and she's bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet.
"I might have switched out his water bottle with mine. That's all," I say with a wink "And mine might have had a something just a little bit stronger than water in it!" I admit, which causes me to start laughing again.
"Oh my god, you didn't!! That's amazing! No one ever pranks H! Damn you're either seriously brave or incredibly stupid!" she laughs
"Ahh, probably a mixture of both to be honest. Besides, it was only a bit of Vodka, and he knows he earned it." I say, and as Harry's eyes catch mine again, I raise my wine glass to him, thinking, that's one point to me Styles. Your turn.
He throws me a quick smirk and turning back to the audience, immerses himself in putting on an excellent show. As always, he's funny and charming, making jokes and interacting with the fans, and it dawns on me all of the sudden that, if this meeting tomorrow goes well, that could be me in a couple of years. The thought makes me shudder with a mixture of anticipation and delight, and I throw back the rest of my wine before I have to head backstage during The Chain to prepare for take-down. I need to get out of here as early as possible tonight, so I can get home and get my beauty sleep before I head to Soho.