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I was unloading the van for the next gig when I got distracted by a girl, she was stood watching and properly fit. Long brown hair like chocolate or something, big boobs, beautiful, I wanted her but she wasn’t going to give a shit about a Roadie.
We made eye contact and she spoke. “Are you a part of the band?
In a manner of speaking I was. “Yeah.”
“That's so cool, I love the Inspiral Carpets.” Her eyes lit up.
I didn’t know which member I was meant to be (I must look like one of them) but I didn’t care. I wanted her. The lads wouldn’t mind me having one of their groupies.
“Thanks.” I smiled back at her, determined to chat her up.
“No, thank you for playing.”
“We couldn’t do it without beautiful girls like you supporting us.” I started the compliments.
“Yeah, well, you’re not bad looking either.” she said shyly.
“No, honestly, you’re proper knock out, fit.”
I wasn’t lying about that, she was the prettiest girl I’d ever seen. She made Louise (my girlfriend back home) look like a dog in comparison and she was pretty fit.
“Thanks.” She started playing with her hair. “I’m supposed to be telling you how much I love you and your band, not the other way.”
“Yeah, what are you doing hanging around the vans?” I asked, she hadn’t exactly found the glamourous side of rock n roll.
“I just really, really wanted to meet you guys.” she smiled. “I’m a journalist… well I want to be, I started a fanzine. We’re calling it the Big Issue.”
She’s failed at the first hurdle, can’t even tell a band member from a Roadie and round my way that was a hobo mag. “Oh, I used to read loads of those about footie and that. Who’ve you interviewed before?”
“This is the first one.” she giggled.
“It’s your lucky day then, isn’t it?” I put my arm around her shoulder. “Come on, let’s go somewhere where we can talk.”
“What about the van?” she asked as we walked.
“The Roadies will get back from their many fag breaks soon.” I shrugged, I didn’t care about walking from my job, I had a hot and probably easy girl hanging off my every word
“Oh, my name’s Elsa. I'm doing terrible at this aren't I?”
“No, no, you're doing fine, no need to be nervous I don't bite.” I told her. “I love your name, it’s beautiful.” I avoided telling her my name since I didn’t know who I was supposed to be.
I took her to a bar, we got drinking and I got bullshitting as the Inspiral Carpets’ guitarist (sorry Graham), I wasn’t entirely lying, I played guitar, I knew Graham’s set, I just wasn’t him. I couldn’t have looked any less like him but that didn’t seem to bother her.
She believed every word.
A while later I took her back to the hotel and checked in under Graham’s name. I couldn’t believe I was getting away with this and as we walked to his room I couldn’t help think how jealous my brothers and my mates back home would be.
She was distracting as fuck as I tried to use the key to the door, kissing me, trying to unbutton my jeans, she was up for it and she was going to get it.
“Get on there.” she instructed, slurring her words but pushing me forcefully towards the bed.
I pulled my trainers off and my jeans, throwing them aside. I jumped on the bed and got comfy, something had to spoil this and it wasn’t going to be my coked up dick, he was up and on my side today.
She started dancing slowly pulling her clothes off, as if I still needed alluring.
I wanted to shag her tits off, now.
“Do you want me to suck you off?” she asked still slurring (I’d probably plied her with one too many drinks) as she stood in her bra and knickers.
I wasn’t going to say no to that, was I?
…
I woke up when Graham came bursting through the door and saw us laid in his hotel bed, only a thin white sheet covered us.
“You jammy git, Noel Gallagher.” he commented.
I had two choices, be submissive and apologetic about the whole thing or be completely arrogant and cocksure about it. The first just wasn’t in the nature of a Gallagher.
“I’m only human.” I got out of bed and searched for my boxers.
“You’re something else.”
“She wants to write some article on you lot.” I told him. “Reckons she’s a journo.”
“Get dressed and get lost, Gallagher.”
I couldn’t find my clothes, hers were all over. “Come on, man. I wanna nother go with her.”
“Yeah, I’m up for that.” he agreed.
“No, no I’m not into that.” Threesomes, two lads and a lass, no thanks.
“You pulled her using my name.” He attempted to pull ranks.
“Not doing it, man.”
She suddenly stirred. “I feel so sick.”
Before we could react she turned and threw her head over the edge of the bed, she spewed all over the carpet.
“Changed me mind.” Graham commented, grabbing the door. “She’s all yours.” He got out of there and I’d have followed suit if I could find my gear.
She puked again, more aggressively than the first time and I thought to nick some of Graham’s clothes, I needed new stuff for a new day anyway.
“You alright, love?” I asked, cautiously approaching her with my fresh new clothes.
She sat up, wrapped the bed sheet around herself and looked at me, she looked a rather dodgy shade of green. “Think I need some Alka Seltzer or something.”
I got her some water and some pills from Graham’s bathroom and looked after her until she was well enough to move. She got her interview with the band and she didn’t mind that I was a Roadie, said it was more stuff for her to write about and then she was gone again.