‘This is the bad place,’ she murmurs as we cross paths, and I nearly pass out.
Her seat is still warm – it is just like I imagined Meryl’s bum print would feel – and I feel the buzz of celebrities surrounding me on all sides. The badplace? This is the best place ever! My stomach fizzes happily. I don’t care how shallow it is, this isamazing. Well worth standing around for hours in the shadows. Even worth the dickhead boss screaming at me to take this seriously.
The actress has probably only gone for a wee, I likely only have a couple of minutes, and so I close my eyes and bask in the few moments I have among theB-list. The stage is overwhelmingly close and the clapping is noisy. I open my eyes and glance around. Across the room in the gloom, I can just about make out Isy, who gives me a quick wave. She still looks a bit jealous. Which I’m fine with.
‘How are you doing? I like yourflip-flops,’ ahalf-whispered voice interrupts my glow. The man on my left is leaning over and smiling. He is wearing atux and looks vaguely familiar.
Oh God, I’m not allowed to talk to guests. But the boss didn’t brief me on what to do if guests spoke to me, did he? So I can make up my own rules.
‘Hiya!’ I whisper cheerfully, offering him my hand to shake. ‘I’m Alice!’
He takes it, smiling. ‘You’re one of the seat fillers, right?’ he says, cheerfully. I smile and nod, hoping I’m being watched bytheseat-filler dictator. I have celeb mates now, he can’t tell me what to do.
‘Do you know what’s going on backstage?’ he continues. ‘Have you been there all this time? I’m nominated in the next category and I wondered if you’d heard anything while you were waiting around back there?’ I shake my head slowly, giving a helpless shrug. He slumps down in his seat, despondent.
‘Never mind,it doesn’t matter,’ he says, speaking too loudly. ‘I don’t stand a chance anyway. I’m up against that guy who overdosed last year and just got out of rehab, so clearly he’s got the sympathy vote. Plus, one of the other nominees has been sleeping with literally everyone on the voting panel so I’m way down the list.’
Shit, this guy is loud. Let’s hope the other nominees aren’t sitting aroundus. I grimace at him in what I hope is a supportive – but not encouraging – way. Maybe I shouldn’t have engaged after all.
‘Oh fuck it!’ he exclaims even louder, and the presenters on stage just a few feet away glance down at our row, looking startled. My face is beetroot, as I stare straight ahead, trying to pretend nothing is happening.
Behind us a reality housewife angrily shushes usand I sink lower in my chair. When am I going to be relieved? My actress must be doing multiple number twos in the loo. The two times table maybe.
‘Sorry,’ he shouts hazily behind him, and I realise he is drunk. ‘Heyyy,’ he leans into me again, ‘you know who I am, right? You watch Netflix, don’t you? Of course you do, everyone does.’
I give him a sharp nod, as subtly as possible, eventhough I still don’t have a clue who he is. He takes this as encouragement, continuing, ‘I knew you had! I could see it in your eyes. Thestar-struck thing. I see it all the time. I can’t walk down the street without seeing that desperate look in people’s eyes.’
I consider this. How intently must you have to look at people as you walk along, to be able to spot them spotting you? And if you’restaring at everyone to see if they’re staring, no wonder they stare?
‘It’s hard to have a proper life, y’know?’ he sighs now. ‘Because of people like you always bothering me, Alice.’
I bite my tongue to prevent it calling him a dick – and also to stop from laughing. There’s no stopping him though, despite the angry shushing around us getting more intense.
‘I just think I deserve abit of recognition from my peers, don’t you think?’ his volume has reached a truly uncomfortable level. ‘I know I’m talented, everyone says so. Everyone says it. I am extremely talented – a genius – not my words. Why shouldn’t I get some accolades for that?’ He reaches under his chair and swigs from a bottle he had hidden, while I continue to stare steadily ahead, my face radioactive with shame.
‘Can you please keep it down?’ A very famousUStelly presenter has turned fully around from the front row and is directing his waggling finger at my new best friend – and me. I’m in this now, I’m part of it. It’s not just him, it’sthe two of us.
Oh God, the cameras have arrived. There is a guy with a camera on his shoulder, and the wider pan attached to a crane swings down near our faces,zooming in on my greenflip-flops. But my new pal is oblivious, continuing his rant unabated.
‘I’ve had enough of hearing how great I am from the general public on Twitter,’ he shouts. ‘And yet that greatness never being recognised or validated. I don’tneedvalidation, you know? It’s not even about that. I just think it’s only right. When all theseHACKSaround us have got a Teddy Award andI haven’t, it starts to make the whole thing look like a bit of a joke, doesn’t it, Alice? Like it’s all a fix, and just because I haven’t given the right blowjobs in this town, suddenly my genius on screen doesn’t matter. It’s aJOKE.’
The glowering around us is hot on my neck and I cannot sink into my seat any lower. Suddenly he grabs my arm. ‘Come on Seat Filler,’ he yells, standing usboth up and bustling me along the row ahead of him. ‘Let’s rush the fucken stage! If we can’t be award winners, we will be internet heroes instead! It’ll be so muchFUN!’
OK, well I did ask for fun.
