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The Complete Fic Directory
- All I Do Each Night Is Rehearse The Pray Routine
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- Better Than Today - Kylie Minogue
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- Fine Time To Lose Your Mind - Jack McManus
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- Months Go By [Months]
- More Important Than Fear
- Muddied Stars [Brown]
- Not Enough
- Of Peacocks
- On The Subject Of Angels [Orange]
- Playing House [Parents]
- The Price Of Friendship
- The Prize
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- Secret Admirer
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- Shine - Skies Of America
- Slow Dancing In A Burning Room
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- Stage Fright
- Stay (Oh Darlin')
- Study In Motion
- Summertime Feeling - S Club 7
- Sunrise
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- That Night In Amsterdam/Do You Love Me? [Part Two]
- This
- Three Sets Of Three
- Twenty-Nine (And A Half)
- Under A Colourless Sky [Colourless]
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- What Did You Say This Time?
- What Will The Papers Say? [Purple]
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- The Wordsmith/Breathe In
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- OT3, OT4 & OT5
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Dancers
Dancers.
It’s always the fucking dancers.
Or Howard.
I think it’s actually worse when it’s Howard.
In many ways, Jay’s the forgotten member of our band. The rest of us are so loud and so mental and so busy getting ourselves into all sorts of stupid messes we shouldn’t be in, that people just assume he has nothing to offer – to our music or to their conversations. But just between the five of us? He’s probably the most talked about. And the most talked to. I’m reluctant to say he’s the most fought with, but I’m sure he’s the most fought over. He doesn’t know that though.
Hey Rob, you seen Jay around?
No mate, why?
Nothin’.
Him and Dougie are down with the dancers I think.
Oh. Ok. Thanks Gaz.
Dancers AND Howard.
Brilliant.
The thing is each one of us thinks we have some ‘special connection’ with him. The truth is probably the opposite. He probably thinks we’re all a bunch of daft bastards and as soon as he’s got enough money in the bank he’ll marry a fucking dancer and leave us in the dust. Howard would be gutted. We all would, but it’d hit Howard the most. He’d never cope with such resounding confirmation that Jason was more of a hit with the dancers than him.
None of us will take it well: the day he finds someone. We like keeping him to ourselves. He’s pretty much band shrink – he’d argue he’s the one who needs a shrink the most but that’s bullshit.
He’s too fucking modest.
He’s too fucking self-deprecating.
And he’s too fucking obsessed with dancers.
Jay is our sticking-plaster. Well, he’s bit more permanent that that, but you get the picture. You know, he’s like that layer of jam in a sponge cake? You’d just have a dry, crumby mess without ‘im. Take Gaz. Gaz needs Jay. He likes it when Jay calls him out and keeps him in check and tells him he’s a twat. We all tell him that (at regular intervals), but Jay does it in that special, Jay-perspective way. You know, where he’ll manage to make it sound kinda beautiful and amazing? He’s basically telling him to shut up, but he does it in a way that makes you think you should get a tape recorder out. Gaz thinks him and Jay have this special bond coz Jay’s the one who will call him, at random, and suddenly start talking to him about some issue or other. And the issue will always be relevant. Without Gaz ever having to say anything, Jay will have a fresh perspective ready and waiting on something he’s been mulling over for days. To be honest, I don’t get it. I don’t get why Gaz thinks that’s some talent on Jay’s part. Don’t get me wrong, I love Gaz. I love him so much. Gaz is a sweetheart in anyone’s book. But come on, there’s jigsaw puzzles that are more complicated than Gaz! It’s why we love him, isn’t it? Of course he’s human, he’s got layers. But at the end of the day, what you see is pretty much what you get. It just so happens that what you see is pretty fucking loveable.
You alright Marko? You’re lookin’ a bit pale mate...
Sorry Gaz, I was miles away. What’s up?
You! You feeling alright?
Yeah, yeah. Fine.
Gaz definitely doesn’t believe me.
But he doesn’t like to pry.
He’s got a heart of gold and he knows I’m not in the mood .
Rob knows too. But he’s busy pretending not to listen. You’ve never a seen a man look more fascinated by a phone before.
Rob. Now Rob might actually be onto something. Him and Jay do seem to share something the rest of us can’t touch. That makes me jealous on so many levels. Coz it’s not just Jay-jealousy then is it. I mean, this is Rob we’re talking about. MY Rob. When he cut the rest of them loose, he still wanted to know me. I know I sound like a brat. I can’t keep them all to myself can I. But Rob and me...we are...well...I mean...we’re Rob and Markie! We’re just...I don’t know. It’s just special, y’ know? Different. And yet it’s Jay he makes a beeline for when we’re in the studio or when we’re off doing PR. I guess they’re more like brothers than anything else. I hope that’s it. Coz sometimes Rob can drive Jay out of his mind, you know? But at the end of it, they still connect, they still really care about each other. They share this whole neurotic thing. This whole don’t-sleep-for-days-worry-about-everything-don’t-like-all-the-cameras thing. And weirdly, at the same time, they’re both complete show-offs.
Rob doesn’t share his obsession with dancers though.
No.
That’s Howard.
You know, sometimes, he even goes to Howard’s DJ gigs?
Howard’s got the most bragging rights out of all of us. Don’t ever tell him I said that. Never give Jay or Howard the right to brag. They’ll take it way too easily. And drag it out. And use it against each other in their own private game of one-upmanship. Howard already knows though. He knows. I mean...none of us have ever had an outright debate about it. It’s all coded references and unsaid things. Subtle looks. That sort of thing, you know? Coz we know it’s fucking ridiculous. And insulting to Jay. We treat him like property sometimes. I don’t know if he knows. I don’t know if the rest of us even really know the exact extent of the rivalry that’s going on here. But I think we all know it’s there. And I think we all know Howard is the man with the most right to feel possessive. I know him and Jay have shared rooms a lot in the past. But I also know it’s a habit that they haven’t really got themselves out of. Even now, when we’ve all got our posh rooms and our personal space, Jay slips into Howard’s room when he can. I think it’s when he can’t sleep. And I think it’s coz he feels relaxed with Howard. Howard is someone who has been honest, steady and loving to Jay, no matter what. They used to feel like they were in the background, but they didn’t mind it, coz they were in the background together. Now they’re pretty much everywhere together.
They’re both dancers.
Shit.
It’s not dancers AND Howard.
Howard IS a dancer.
Great.
Fucking dancers.
I’m not sure where that leaves me. You know, I always used to feel so in-between in our band. Howard and Jay were such good dancers. Rob and Gaz were such good singers. What was I? I wasn’t either. It’s not like that now. I fit in now. We all fit in now. But where Jay is concerned...maybe I still feel a bit in-between. Coz Gaz does get these long discussions with him when he most needs them. And Rob does connect with him, as much for their differences as their similarities. Then there’s Howard. It’s fucking obvious to everyone that him and Howard are connected. And you know what? Even the dancers seem more connected to Jay than I do sometimes.
Dancers.
That’s who it comes down to every time.
I’m jealous of them.
Jay spends hours flirting with them.
Looking after them.
Talking to them.
At least the others are part of the band.
But the dancers?!
I’ve had my fair share of screw ups, you know? Everyone has. And, when you’ve screwed up, isn’t there always at least one person you can count on not to care? Or at least not to judge? Yeah. Well for me, Jay’s that person. Jay’s the one who has been there for all of my worst moments. He’s bandaged me up on seventeen different occasions. He’s carried me through five different hotel lobbies when I’ve been too tired or stubborn to move myself. He’s covered for me eleven times that he knows I know of and six times that he thinks I don’t. He’s twice had to calm me down by putting his hands either side of my face and fixing me with that blue stare of his. There’s thirty or more occasions where he’s held my hand. One time he kissed the palm of my hand and just sat with me. For someone so wordy, he isn’t half good at the silent gesture.
Right, I’m off for a play with the pianos.
Hang on Gaz, think I’ll come with...you coming Markie?
No, I’m fine here.
Well, maybe fine was the wrong word. But Rob seemed to buy it. Not buy it, exactly. But him and Gaz knew I wasn’t talking. Coz him and Gaz do know me. Coz him and Gaz don’t spend all their time with fucking dancers.
Dancers.
Howard.
Howard the dancer.
Dancers that aren’t Howard.
So many possibilities.
None of them me.
The thing is, I don’t know how to get his time without screwing up first. So many times he’s been the one smoothing things over. The knight in shining armour – if you’re prepared to put up with the cliché. But what happens when the knight hops off the white horse, takes off his armour and puts his feet up? Damsels in distress are hard work, he’s not going to want to spend time with them when he’s done saving the day. He’s going to want a brew and some peace and quiet.
No. He’s going to want to spend time with fucking dancers.
Shit...did I just call myself a damsel?
God you look awful – you ok?
(Well that made me jump.)
Jay!
(He laughs. He fucking laughs. Look at that crinkle round his eyes. God. Look at him. Fuck those fucking dancers.)
Who were you expecting?!
(Dancers?)
Um...
(Howard?)
...no one. Sorry...I’m just...out of it today.
(He’s just watching me. He’s just looking. His eyes are so blue. You know, as a songwriter, I should know some way of describing those eyes. But I can’t. Blue. Blue. Blue.)
What’s wrong Markie?
(Blue? His voice is so soft.)
Oh you know, just thinking.
(He smiles. Fucking Howard. Fucking dancers. Stop swearing, no one likes a foul mouth.)
Ah, a dangerous past time.
(Are you sure you want to sit next to me? I’m not a dancer you know.)
Where’s Howard?
(I amaze myself sometimes. Why would I ask him that? I have him alone and I ask him about Howard?! I should give him advice on which dancer fancies him the most too, just to make this conversation even more delightful.)
On one of his five hundred phones.
(The subtext in Jason’s sigh? Howard’s on one of his five hundred phones, talking to one of his five hundred girlfriends. Boyfriends. Children he’s not told us about. Children he has told us about. God knows who else. Jason doesn’t pretend to like that about him.)
Jay...
(I swear, I don’t know where I’m going with this...shit...)
Mm?
(He sounds disinterested. Back out. Chicken out now. Don’t say anything. Just look at him. Slumped on that sofa next to you. His arms along the sofa back. Almost around you. Almost. Don’t ruin that. Don’t fucking ruin that.)
You know I love you, don’t you?
(Shit.)
(No. Seriously. Shit.)
(Jay. Fucking say something now. Please. Don’t just tilt your head at me like that.)
I know.
(He gives a small, silent smile. His head turns back. He closes his eyes.)
Oh...good.
(He heaves himself up from the sofa.)
I’m gonna go see how the dancers are doing – wanna come?
(Fucking dancers.)
No. I’m good.
(He’s still smiling at me. I swear he’s up to something.)
Ok, if you’re sure.
(Fucking bloody dancers.)
What’s that thing Churchill said? A mystery wrapped in an enigma? Something like that. It was something apt anyway. Well that’s Jay. All of us think we know him so well, we think we’re so close. Even the dancers think they’re close to him. But I don’t think any of us are as close to him as we think. It’s so hard to know what’s really him and what’s front, what’s him looking out for us and what’s him doing what’s best for himself. Even Howard doesn’t know. And he never will as long as he keeps using all five hundred of his phones. Jay won’t be messed around like that. I think maybe Howard knows that.
Five minutes to go now.
Jay pats Howard on the back. They share a look. Howard goes back to his stretches.
Rob shifts from foot to foot and back again. Jay tells him off.
Gary tells Jay to breathe. Jay tells Gary to fuck off.
Someone says something to me. I nod. Or something.
Jay looks over.
He winks at me. Once. No one else sees.
A dancer calls his name.
He turns away before I get to give him my smile.
Dancers.
It’s always the fucking dancers.
It’s always the fucking dancers.
Or Howard.
I think it’s actually worse when it’s Howard.
In many ways, Jay’s the forgotten member of our band. The rest of us are so loud and so mental and so busy getting ourselves into all sorts of stupid messes we shouldn’t be in, that people just assume he has nothing to offer – to our music or to their conversations. But just between the five of us? He’s probably the most talked about. And the most talked to. I’m reluctant to say he’s the most fought with, but I’m sure he’s the most fought over. He doesn’t know that though.
Hey Rob, you seen Jay around?
No mate, why?
Nothin’.
Him and Dougie are down with the dancers I think.
Oh. Ok. Thanks Gaz.
Dancers AND Howard.
Brilliant.
The thing is each one of us thinks we have some ‘special connection’ with him. The truth is probably the opposite. He probably thinks we’re all a bunch of daft bastards and as soon as he’s got enough money in the bank he’ll marry a fucking dancer and leave us in the dust. Howard would be gutted. We all would, but it’d hit Howard the most. He’d never cope with such resounding confirmation that Jason was more of a hit with the dancers than him.
None of us will take it well: the day he finds someone. We like keeping him to ourselves. He’s pretty much band shrink – he’d argue he’s the one who needs a shrink the most but that’s bullshit.
He’s too fucking modest.
He’s too fucking self-deprecating.
And he’s too fucking obsessed with dancers.
Jay is our sticking-plaster. Well, he’s bit more permanent that that, but you get the picture. You know, he’s like that layer of jam in a sponge cake? You’d just have a dry, crumby mess without ‘im. Take Gaz. Gaz needs Jay. He likes it when Jay calls him out and keeps him in check and tells him he’s a twat. We all tell him that (at regular intervals), but Jay does it in that special, Jay-perspective way. You know, where he’ll manage to make it sound kinda beautiful and amazing? He’s basically telling him to shut up, but he does it in a way that makes you think you should get a tape recorder out. Gaz thinks him and Jay have this special bond coz Jay’s the one who will call him, at random, and suddenly start talking to him about some issue or other. And the issue will always be relevant. Without Gaz ever having to say anything, Jay will have a fresh perspective ready and waiting on something he’s been mulling over for days. To be honest, I don’t get it. I don’t get why Gaz thinks that’s some talent on Jay’s part. Don’t get me wrong, I love Gaz. I love him so much. Gaz is a sweetheart in anyone’s book. But come on, there’s jigsaw puzzles that are more complicated than Gaz! It’s why we love him, isn’t it? Of course he’s human, he’s got layers. But at the end of the day, what you see is pretty much what you get. It just so happens that what you see is pretty fucking loveable.
You alright Marko? You’re lookin’ a bit pale mate...
Sorry Gaz, I was miles away. What’s up?
You! You feeling alright?
Yeah, yeah. Fine.
Gaz definitely doesn’t believe me.
But he doesn’t like to pry.
He’s got a heart of gold and he knows I’m not in the mood .
Rob knows too. But he’s busy pretending not to listen. You’ve never a seen a man look more fascinated by a phone before.
Rob. Now Rob might actually be onto something. Him and Jay do seem to share something the rest of us can’t touch. That makes me jealous on so many levels. Coz it’s not just Jay-jealousy then is it. I mean, this is Rob we’re talking about. MY Rob. When he cut the rest of them loose, he still wanted to know me. I know I sound like a brat. I can’t keep them all to myself can I. But Rob and me...we are...well...I mean...we’re Rob and Markie! We’re just...I don’t know. It’s just special, y’ know? Different. And yet it’s Jay he makes a beeline for when we’re in the studio or when we’re off doing PR. I guess they’re more like brothers than anything else. I hope that’s it. Coz sometimes Rob can drive Jay out of his mind, you know? But at the end of it, they still connect, they still really care about each other. They share this whole neurotic thing. This whole don’t-sleep-for-days-worry-about-everything-don’t-like-all-the-cameras thing. And weirdly, at the same time, they’re both complete show-offs.
Rob doesn’t share his obsession with dancers though.
No.
That’s Howard.
You know, sometimes, he even goes to Howard’s DJ gigs?
Howard’s got the most bragging rights out of all of us. Don’t ever tell him I said that. Never give Jay or Howard the right to brag. They’ll take it way too easily. And drag it out. And use it against each other in their own private game of one-upmanship. Howard already knows though. He knows. I mean...none of us have ever had an outright debate about it. It’s all coded references and unsaid things. Subtle looks. That sort of thing, you know? Coz we know it’s fucking ridiculous. And insulting to Jay. We treat him like property sometimes. I don’t know if he knows. I don’t know if the rest of us even really know the exact extent of the rivalry that’s going on here. But I think we all know it’s there. And I think we all know Howard is the man with the most right to feel possessive. I know him and Jay have shared rooms a lot in the past. But I also know it’s a habit that they haven’t really got themselves out of. Even now, when we’ve all got our posh rooms and our personal space, Jay slips into Howard’s room when he can. I think it’s when he can’t sleep. And I think it’s coz he feels relaxed with Howard. Howard is someone who has been honest, steady and loving to Jay, no matter what. They used to feel like they were in the background, but they didn’t mind it, coz they were in the background together. Now they’re pretty much everywhere together.
They’re both dancers.
Shit.
It’s not dancers AND Howard.
Howard IS a dancer.
Great.
Fucking dancers.
I’m not sure where that leaves me. You know, I always used to feel so in-between in our band. Howard and Jay were such good dancers. Rob and Gaz were such good singers. What was I? I wasn’t either. It’s not like that now. I fit in now. We all fit in now. But where Jay is concerned...maybe I still feel a bit in-between. Coz Gaz does get these long discussions with him when he most needs them. And Rob does connect with him, as much for their differences as their similarities. Then there’s Howard. It’s fucking obvious to everyone that him and Howard are connected. And you know what? Even the dancers seem more connected to Jay than I do sometimes.
Dancers.
That’s who it comes down to every time.
I’m jealous of them.
Jay spends hours flirting with them.
Looking after them.
Talking to them.
At least the others are part of the band.
But the dancers?!
I’ve had my fair share of screw ups, you know? Everyone has. And, when you’ve screwed up, isn’t there always at least one person you can count on not to care? Or at least not to judge? Yeah. Well for me, Jay’s that person. Jay’s the one who has been there for all of my worst moments. He’s bandaged me up on seventeen different occasions. He’s carried me through five different hotel lobbies when I’ve been too tired or stubborn to move myself. He’s covered for me eleven times that he knows I know of and six times that he thinks I don’t. He’s twice had to calm me down by putting his hands either side of my face and fixing me with that blue stare of his. There’s thirty or more occasions where he’s held my hand. One time he kissed the palm of my hand and just sat with me. For someone so wordy, he isn’t half good at the silent gesture.
Right, I’m off for a play with the pianos.
Hang on Gaz, think I’ll come with...you coming Markie?
No, I’m fine here.
Well, maybe fine was the wrong word. But Rob seemed to buy it. Not buy it, exactly. But him and Gaz knew I wasn’t talking. Coz him and Gaz do know me. Coz him and Gaz don’t spend all their time with fucking dancers.
Dancers.
Howard.
Howard the dancer.
Dancers that aren’t Howard.
So many possibilities.
None of them me.
The thing is, I don’t know how to get his time without screwing up first. So many times he’s been the one smoothing things over. The knight in shining armour – if you’re prepared to put up with the cliché. But what happens when the knight hops off the white horse, takes off his armour and puts his feet up? Damsels in distress are hard work, he’s not going to want to spend time with them when he’s done saving the day. He’s going to want a brew and some peace and quiet.
No. He’s going to want to spend time with fucking dancers.
Shit...did I just call myself a damsel?
God you look awful – you ok?
(Well that made me jump.)
Jay!
(He laughs. He fucking laughs. Look at that crinkle round his eyes. God. Look at him. Fuck those fucking dancers.)
Who were you expecting?!
(Dancers?)
Um...
(Howard?)
...no one. Sorry...I’m just...out of it today.
(He’s just watching me. He’s just looking. His eyes are so blue. You know, as a songwriter, I should know some way of describing those eyes. But I can’t. Blue. Blue. Blue.)
What’s wrong Markie?
(Blue? His voice is so soft.)
Oh you know, just thinking.
(He smiles. Fucking Howard. Fucking dancers. Stop swearing, no one likes a foul mouth.)
Ah, a dangerous past time.
(Are you sure you want to sit next to me? I’m not a dancer you know.)
Where’s Howard?
(I amaze myself sometimes. Why would I ask him that? I have him alone and I ask him about Howard?! I should give him advice on which dancer fancies him the most too, just to make this conversation even more delightful.)
On one of his five hundred phones.
(The subtext in Jason’s sigh? Howard’s on one of his five hundred phones, talking to one of his five hundred girlfriends. Boyfriends. Children he’s not told us about. Children he has told us about. God knows who else. Jason doesn’t pretend to like that about him.)
Jay...
(I swear, I don’t know where I’m going with this...shit...)
Mm?
(He sounds disinterested. Back out. Chicken out now. Don’t say anything. Just look at him. Slumped on that sofa next to you. His arms along the sofa back. Almost around you. Almost. Don’t ruin that. Don’t fucking ruin that.)
You know I love you, don’t you?
(Shit.)
(No. Seriously. Shit.)
(Jay. Fucking say something now. Please. Don’t just tilt your head at me like that.)
I know.
(He gives a small, silent smile. His head turns back. He closes his eyes.)
Oh...good.
(He heaves himself up from the sofa.)
I’m gonna go see how the dancers are doing – wanna come?
(Fucking dancers.)
No. I’m good.
(He’s still smiling at me. I swear he’s up to something.)
Ok, if you’re sure.
(Fucking bloody dancers.)
What’s that thing Churchill said? A mystery wrapped in an enigma? Something like that. It was something apt anyway. Well that’s Jay. All of us think we know him so well, we think we’re so close. Even the dancers think they’re close to him. But I don’t think any of us are as close to him as we think. It’s so hard to know what’s really him and what’s front, what’s him looking out for us and what’s him doing what’s best for himself. Even Howard doesn’t know. And he never will as long as he keeps using all five hundred of his phones. Jay won’t be messed around like that. I think maybe Howard knows that.
Five minutes to go now.
Jay pats Howard on the back. They share a look. Howard goes back to his stretches.
Rob shifts from foot to foot and back again. Jay tells him off.
Gary tells Jay to breathe. Jay tells Gary to fuck off.
Someone says something to me. I nod. Or something.
Jay looks over.
He winks at me. Once. No one else sees.
A dancer calls his name.
He turns away before I get to give him my smile.
Dancers.
It’s always the fucking dancers.