"You're doing what?" Harry demanded, nimbly sidestepping the water that Danny spewed from his mouth, his mouth agape as he stared at his young band mate. Dougie shrugged his narrow shoulders, a small blush spreading over his cheeks. "I mean, I know you're desperate, but, you can't possibly be THAT hard up to get laid."
"It's not about getting laid Harry." Dougie sputtered, exasperated by Harry's insinuation that he was taking this step only because he wanted sex. Sex wasn't the problem. Sex he could get anytime he wanted it, a nice side effect of being one fourth of a popular band. But a relationship? That was another story. Finding someone who he cared about, who cared about him, and loved him for who he was, had proved to be more than difficult for the young musician. Meeting someone who wasn't interested in Dougie from McFly, but Dougie Poynter, the weird, skate boarding goofball who loved to crack inappropriate jokes and idolized Tom Delonge.
Harry raised one manicured eyebrow, and a smirk tugged at his scruffy cheek. "Really?" He crossed his arms over his chest and darted his blue eyes to Tom, sharing a disbelieving look with the blonde, who chuckled in response while shaking his head at Dougie.
"You guys just don't get it." Dougie mumbled like a petulant child.
‘I get it Dougs." Danny grinned and patted his shoulder, Dougie turned and smiled appreciatively. "I mean, why limit yourself to English girls when you can sample the vast smorgasbord of feminine delights overseas." He wiggled his eyebrows and elbowed Dougie in the side. Dougie rolled his cerulean eyes at the curly haired lothario and moved away from him. Danny was the king of bedding random girls. Fans, friends, complete strangers, it didn't matter to the charming northerner, a warm body was all he needed, and he had those by the bucket full.
"It's not that Danny. English girls are fine, more than fine, they are great. But they know me. I can't walk down the street without out some fame or money grasping skank falling all over me, looking for a one night brush with celebrity. I liked that for awhile, but I'm over it now. I want something more than a meaningless string on hook ups and one night stands. You may still like that Dan, but I don't" He nodded towards Harry and Tom who were now watching his face with calculation. "You two are lucky. You've already found your special someone's. I mean, Harry, you and Lolly were made for each other, and it's obvious to anyone who sees you. And Tom, when you and Sly are together, it's like there's no one else in the room, you are so absorbed in each other. I want that. It's not too much to ask for, is it? I deserve it, don't I?" He stared imploringly at his two friends begging with his eyes for them to empathize.
"It's not too much to ask for Doug, but do you really think this is the way to do it?" Tom sighed as he scratched his head in thought, trying to find the most delicate way he could tell his band mate that he was being a fool. This master plan of Dougie's seemed unstable to say the least. Unknown to the rest of the group, Dougie had taken it upon himself to solve his relationship woes. They all knew the kid had been looking for something more meaningful, and having no luck, and though it pained them to know he was so unhappy in that aspect of his life, this new venture was taking it to the extreme. He'd just revealed that he would be jetting off to Spain for three moths, where, he was going to be the star of a new American reality TV show, So You Want to Marry a Rockstar? Why look for a girl the old fashion way when a network executive can compile a group of 20 hot American girls who are just dying to be your soul mate and you can pick them off one by one while 30 million people watch each week.
"Maybe. I don't know yet. I guess I'll find out. It can't hurt to try, right?" Dougie mused.
"Let me, as an older and wiser friend, offer you some advice. It's not the way to find her Dougie. Putting yourself up like a hunk of meat for desperate losers or Hollywood wannabes to claw over is not how you're going to find true love." Harry blurted out.
Dougie glared across at him while Tom shook his head. "So much for tact." He muttered under his breath. "Just think about it Dougs, before you make a decision? Please?" Tom tried to reason with him.
"I did think about it Tom. For ages. I was approached about this almost a year ago. I said no straight away, but the more I considered it, the better it seemed. I signed the contracts last night and faxed them over." Dougie grinned, happy that he'd done that before his friends could try and talk him out of it.
Danny snorted with laughter. "Dude, Fletch is going to kill you."
"He already knows. He thinks it will be good exposure for the band." Dougie shrugged.
"Fletch knows? Why'd you tell him and not us?" Harry asked, frowning.
"Because, Fletch sees this as an opportunity for us to break America. I knew he would. You guys on the other hand, just think I'm crazy. But it's done now anyways so there is no point arguing."
The three friends looked from one another, and back at Dougie. It seemed they had no choice in the matter, he'd decided, he couldn't change his mind, and they would have to deal with it. Danny shrugged at the other two. "So Dougs you'll pass all the hotties that you don't want my way, right?"
***********
Two weeks later and Dougie found himself perched on a wooden chair that was designed more for artistic appeal than comfort in the LA office of Martin Brewer, television producer and the man in charge of So You Want to Marry a Rockstar?. Dougie fiddled nervously with the hem of his Atticus shirt while he waited to meet the man who had put together the show. Only a few hours earlier he'd been on a plane from London, too excited about the prospect of beginning filming to get any sleep. He glanced down at his watch, it was just after 4:30 in the afternoon, well past midnight back home, and the excitement he'd felt earlier gave way to nerves and exhaustion. He wished he could just go to his hotel room and curl up asleep, hold this meeting off until the morning. But Mr. Brewer insisted he met with him as soon as he'd arrived in LA, to hash out some final details before they flew to Spain in a week.
Despite the man's insistence that he be there, Dougie had been waiting for over 40 minutes in an empty office for the guy to show up. He was just about ready to call it a day and head to the hotel, consequences be damned, when the door burst open and a short, balding man entered the room. His face gleamed with s sheen of oil and what little mousy brown hair he did have was combed over the crown of his head. His cream suit was stained and his pea green tie was loose and hanging askew. Dougie took in the disheveled man in disbelief. This couldn't be the hotshot producer who he'd be working with.
"Hey there kid, you must Doug Poynter. I'm Martin Brewer, but you can call me Marty." He reached out a pudgy hand for Dougie to shake as he stood from his chair.
"Hi Marty, it's great to meet you in person, and it's Dougie, actually, not Dou-"
"Really? Dougie? Huh, Doug is better, rolls off the tongue easier."
"But that's not my nam-" he sputtered.
"We're going to stick with Doug as far as the show is concerned, What are you standing around for, take a seat kid." The older man plopped down at his desk and gestured for the shocked Dougie to sit down.
After a moments pause, Dougie lowered himself back down to the torture device disguised as a chair, and quietly waited while Marty flipped though his messages and papers left on his desk. After a few more minutes of his mindless rustling, Marty suddenly addressed Dougie, his murky brown eyes penetrating the young man. "So, you think you're ready for this?"
"I guess so, I mean, there's not to it." Dougie grinned and shrugged
"Oh kid, you are so mistaken." He barked out laughing. The smile dropped from Dougie's lips as he noticed that the producer wasn't kidding.
"What do I have to do? I thought it was like, you guys were going to put together some girls and basically I'd date them all individually and as groups while on camera, and eventually, hopefully, fall in love with one of them."
"That's the tag of the show, sure, but before that can even start, we have a lot to work on." He surveyed Dougie from head to toe. "a lot."
Dougie looked down at himself, not sure what the man was on about. "Work on?" he questioned.
"Yeah, for starters, those shoes, they have to go." Dougie peeked down at his feet, which were covered by his favourite pair of worn skate shoes.
"What's wrong with my shoes?"
"Nothing. If you're looking to attract an audience of 13 year old girls. Which is far from the demographic we're shooting for. We need to update your image, make you more appealing to a slightly older audience, and getting rid of the sneakers is the first on the list."
Dougie was still looking down at the scuffed canvas, feeling oddly sentimental about letting the decrepit things go. "ok." He mumbled finally.
"Good. And we need to change the clothes as well, pull you out of the whole ‘skater kid' look."
"But I am a skater kid." He protested meekly.
"No, you were a skater kid. Now you are the new, virtually unknown English rockstar who wants to settle down with a nice, good old fashioned American girl next door. You need to look cool, but effortless. Trendy, but original. We're talking a total transformation here." He picked up his phone suddenly dialing an extension.. "Come in here for a second." He blurted when it was answered, then abruptly hung up.
"Marty, I don't know if I want to change all that much. I just want to find someone."
"Don't be so naïve kid. If you just wanted to find someone, you'd still be at home. You're looking for a break here, and I can help you get it, but you need to trust me, I know what I'm doing."
"I really am just looking to meet the right girl, this seemed like a good opportunity to do it. I mean, if it helps the band, that's awesome. But I'm here as Dougie. Not as a McFly."
"That's sweet kid, really, it is, I'm welling up on the inside. But let's face it. No one here gives a rat's ass about who Dougie is, if it wasn't for you little band, McFly, was it? You wouldn't have been cast. To the girls on this show, and the people who will hopefully be watching it, you are a fantasy, and it's my job to make that fantasy as appealing as possible." There was a light knock on the door. ‘Come in." He bellowed. "How many times have I told that girl she can just come straight in." He mumbled under his breath to himself.
"You wanted to see me sir?"
"Yeah, come on in." Dougie looked up, still sulking at all his apparent flaws to see who had been called into the meeting. The slight pout on his face was wiped away, replaced with slack jawed wonderment when he saw who had joined them. A young girl, in her late teens or early twenties stood at the door, waiting to find out why she'd been summoned. Her delicate features were surrounded by waves of cascading chestnut hair, which she was absentmindedly twirling around a slender finger. At first glance, Dougie was sure this was the most stunning woman he'd ever met. "I said come in, don't just stand there like a lump." Marty berated her. Dougie saw her full lips set in a grim line, as though she was biting back some comment, before she arranged a placating smile on her face and stepped forward.
"Sorry about that Mr. Brewer." She drew even with Dougie and glanced down to where he was sitting. "Hi."
Dougie jumped from his seat to greet her, surprised when he noticed that they were exactly eye level. "You're tall." He stated, mentally smacking his head as the words left his lips.
A smirk curved on her full lips as she regarded him with sea blue eyes. One look into those depths and Dougie was sure, at second glance this was by far the most stunning woman he'd ever laid eyes on, in the entire world, ever. "Way to state the obvious."
Dougie could feel the colour rising on his cheeks, and when he spoke again he was babbling. "Yeah, I don't know why I said that. It just kind of popped out. You are tall though, well that, or I'm short. Which sucks. Not that you're tall, that doesn't suck, I was referring to my lack of vertical prowess." The girl raised an eyebrow while Dougie berated himself mentally. "Sorry. I'm Dougie." He continued, reaching across to shake her small hand. Marty cleared his throat and looked at Dougie meaningfully. "Oh, yeah. I mean Doug."
"Well, which one is it?" She asked teasingly.
"It's technically Dougie, but you can call me Doug. Apparently that's more appealing" he explained rolling his eyes, making the girl chuckle. Her light laugh caused his stomach to roll happily, and Dougie instantly wanted to be the person to make her laugh everyday. He shook his head to clear his thoughts, not sure where the sudden onslaught of longing had come from.
"I'm Evangeline, but you can call me Evvy, it's more appealing. I'm Mr. Brewer's assistant, pleased to meet you." She smiled, her voice lilting jokingly.
"Yeas, yes, and I'm Marty. Now that we're all acquainted, can we get some work done here?" Evvy turned and nodded curtly to her boss while Dougie sank back down onto the chair. "Great, now Evvy, Doug here is the star of our new series-"
"The rockstar one?" she asked, looking disbelievingly at the young man seated next to her, who simply shrugged when he met her gaze.
"That's the one." He huffed, annoyed at the interruption. "As I was saying to Doug here earlier, we need to change up his image a bit. Do you think you can take him shopping. I would ask Natalie, but she's busy styling our new sitcom, and I doubt she wants to take on another project."
"Styling?" Dougie asked, becoming more unsure about this venture by the second.
"Yes Doug, styling. So Evvy, you think you can handle it?"
"You want me to dress him up?" She turned and gave Dougie a once over, his skin prickled with goose bumps as her eyes roamed over his body.
"Yeah, dress him up, and see if you can get him onto see Sebastian before we need to fly out. That hair needs some work. I'm thinking Pete Wentz meets Zac Efron."
Dougie screwed up his face, trying to think how those two could possibly be combined to make anything remotely resembling cool. "Doug, stop pulling those faces, it doesn't really suit the new you we're going for." Marty snapped. "So Evvy, can you do that, I need you to get it done as soon as possible."
"Ok Mr. Brewer." She turned to face Dougie. "I'll have someone pick you up at your hotel first thing in the morning, say, 8?" Dougie opened his mouth to voice his concerns over his unavoidable jet lag, but was cut off. "Perfect, we'll see you then." She gave him one last smile and left the office, already pulling out her cell phone.
"Well that's settled. Evvy is very competent. She'll have you sorted out in no time." Marty pulled out a folder from his desk and passed it over to Dougie.
"What's this?" He asked, picking up the folder and flipped through it's contents.
"Those are your wannabe lovers my friend. Quite a good looking bunch, huh?"
Dougie paused on the pictures, noting that while the girls were gorgeous, not one of them was a stunning on paper as Evvy had been in person. "Yeah, they nice. But I thought I wasn't supposed to see these yet?" He indicated to the pages of bios attached to each picture. "I thought I was supposed to meet and get to know them for the first time on air."
"What? And leave it up to chance? No, we need to go through the candidates with you, make sure you know how to push their buttons."
"What?"
"Remember, you're the fantasy here, we need to make sure you are exactly what each of these girls want. You need to play this up so that you are the dream guy for everyone of them. Plus, I need to prep you, there are a few placed in there to rile things up a bit, you need to make sure you keep them around for as long as possible."
Dougie shook his head, this was not what he was hoping for. "No, I can't do that. This is supposed to be about finding someone special. I don't want these girls to like me because I've researched them, I don't want to pretend anything."
"Well kid, sorry. But that's what your going to need to do. We want rating here, this isn't a personal add, this is television, and we need to give the viewers what they want. Now, if you turn to the first contestant, Becky Mills, now she's a keeper." Dougie sighed and leaned back, listening to the spiel Marty gave on each contestant, and how long he was supposed to keep them around for.
**********
Dougie woke the next morning to his alarm ringing madly. It was quarter after seven and peeling his sleepy eyes open, Dougie felt like his head had only just hit the pillow. He hadn't gotten to his hotel until after ten the night before, having to sit through hours of Marty laying out exactly what was going to happen on the show. Despite it's claim to be reality television, Dougie had learned quickly that there was nothing real about it. Though he wasn't being given scripted lines, he knew he had less of a chance finding someone who actually liked the real him here than he did back home. As he groggily sat up in bed, he cursed himself for signing the contract so readily. He should have waited, he should have listened to the guys, this was not going to work the way he wanted it too, and he was stuck.
"It's starting to all make sense." He mumbled to himself. "I'm crazy, the guys had it right. I've lost my mind, somehow convinced myself that this was the answer, and now I'm going to be forced to lie to myself and all those women about who I am, just so some sleazy TV exec can make another million dollars." In foul humor, he padded his way to the bathroom and the shower, bracing himself for the day ahead.
He wandered into the lobby at exactly eight, wishing he'd given himself more time as his stomach grumbled loudly. He looked around, not sure who he should be keeping an eye out for. Evvy said she'd arrange to have him picked up, but did that mean the driver would be holding a sign with his name on it like the movies? He started to wander towards reception, hoping they'd have a message for him when he spotted a familiar figure leaning against the check in counter, chatting to the receptionist.
"Hey, you're on time, I thought I'd have to get house keeping to bust down your door for me." Evvy commented as he walked over.
"Nah, I'm surprisingly punctual." He grinned, his prickly mood evaporating with the sight of her swirling eyes.
"That's not very ‘rockstar', now is it? I never heard of Axel Rose being punctual." She giggled as she began to walk towards the exit.
"Huh, I guess I'll have to change that then, if that's what people expect a rockstar to be." He muttered vehemently as he followed her. Evvy whipped her head around, an eyebrow raised.
"You sound a little bitter about that."
"I am a little bitter. Apparently being an actual person doesn't sell. Never mind that I actually am in a band, people don't want to know what I'm really like, they want a stereotype. I'm surprised Marty didn't ask me if I could concoct a drug problem to make me seem more ‘realistic.'"
Evvy scanned his face, pity flashing briefly behind her eyes before she smiled. "He hasn't asked yet. Remember you've only been here a day, there's still plenty of time, he probably just hasn't thought of it yet." Dougie pouted angrily and began walking again, quickly passing out the door before Evvy.
"Great, well, let's beat him to the punch then, know any good heroin dealers?"
"Good heroin dealers? Are there good and bad ones? I kinda figured they were all the same." She'd hurried after him and was now walking towards a parked car. Dougie watched as she opened the battered door and got in. He couldn't help but smile as she pulled on a pair of huge Coach sunglasses, and fluffed up her hair. By the time he got in next to her, he was full on giggling. "Sorry, Marty wouldn't approve the cost of a town car, the cheap bastard, so we'll have to slum it." She patted the dashboard before turning and looking confused at the still laughing Dougie. ‘What?"
"You are hilarious." He chocked out between breaths, while Evvy pouted her lips and started the engine.
‘How so?"
"You're sitting here, in this total beater of a car, and meanwhile you're preening your hair, which probably has a few hundred dollars worth of highlights in it, and putting on some ridiculously oversized and overpriced sunglasses. It's just a funny image, that's all."
Evvy stared at him for a moment before breaking out into a smile herself. "I guess so. I've just been in LA so long that I've forgotten how stupid it all seems to outsiders. This is Hollywood Dougie. It's all about image here. If you can't afford the little things, like the hair and the sunglasses, then no one will give you the time of day, so you pick the pieces out that you can put on your credit card and hope that no one sees you driving your hunk of junk car. It's just how it is." She shrugged as she pulled out of the parking lot, trying to ignore the intent stare Dougie was giving her.
"You actually called me Dougie."
"Well that's your name, isn't it? Besides, I for one think it suits you better than Doug. Marty can be such an asshole sometimes."
Dougie smiled. "That's the understatement of the century. So you said you'd been here too long, where were you before you were sucked into this place?" He asked, finding himself genuinely interested in her answers. He leaned back into the seat and listened as Evvy told him all about Chicago, and the million reasons why it was better than LA.
By the end of the day, Dougie was exhausted. Evvy had run him through Rodeo Drive like a whirlwind, having him try on a multitude of clothes, stopping only once to let him pee and shove down a burger after he threatened to faint on her. He was now standing in his hotel, looking at himself in the mirror, torn. While he hated this ‘new' Doug, he loved the day he spent with Evvy and the excuse to be with her caused some of the sting from his transformation to disperse. The girl was so easy for him to get along with, and seemed interested in him as well. They talked about everything from their favourite childhood movies, the best concerts they'd ever seen to their hopes and dreams. It was one of the most natural first dates Dougie had ever been on.
He shook his head quickly. "It wasn't a date. God, what's wrong with you Dougie, she was doing her job." He said to the image in the mirror. Sighing he leaned forward and tugged at a strand of his now white blonde hair. He needed to stop thinking of Evvy as if she were a potential girlfriend, because there was no way that could happen.
"Hey, hurry it up in there, I want to see the final product!" He heard her voice call through the door. She'd insisted that she come up so she could see the whole package with the new hair and clothes.
Dougie stepped from the bathroom, an exaggerated frown on his face, and stood, shoulders slumped in the doorway. "Well, here it is."
Evvy jumped up and looked him over, tutting as she straightened the skinny tie hanging from his neck. Stepping back, she admired her work. "Not bad. I don't think Natalie herself could have done better." She smiled and looked up at his face. Her grin disappeared as she saw the genuine sadness in his eyes. "Hey, what's up? Don't you like it?"
Dougie looked down at himself, taking in the short sleeve button up top, tie and skinny jeans he was now wearing, and patted his spiked, bleached hair. "I look like exactly like Tom from last summer." He pouted.
"Who's Tom?" Evvy asked, her lips pursed.
‘My band mate, but that doesn't really matter, does it? All it means is that I don't look like me." He pushed past her and thumped down onto the bed. "I don't think I can do this Evvy. This isn't what I wanted, not at all. This isn't me, what those girls are going to ‘fall' for, that won't be me either. The whole reason I agreed to do this was so I could find someone who appreciates who I am." He lowered his head into his hands, sleep deprivation causing his emotions to run stronger than normal. He was fighting back tears. Dougie felt the bed ***, and when he looked up, Evvy was perched next to him. She slid a warm hand over his.
"Dougie, I'm sorry."
"You don't need to be sorry. I'm the idiot who agreed to this whole charade." He felt a tear leak from his eye, and hastily wiped it away. Evvy looked at him with a serious expression and squeezed his hand.
"Stay here, ok? I'll be back in a little bit." She stood from the bed and ruffled his hair. "Just hold tight." Dougie watched as she gathered her things and bolted from the room. He sat, watching the space where she had been absentmindedly rubbing his hand, still feeling the warmth of her skin pressed against his.
He was flipping through channels restlessly when a knock came a little over an hour later. He stood and opened the door. Evvy stood there, a broad smile on her face and her arms weighed down with bags.
"I didn't think you were actually coming back." He said as he stepped aside, allowing her to come in.
"I said I was going to." She dumped her load onto the bed and turned, still smiling.
"What's all this?" Dougie asked, confused, and a little embarrassed about his earlier outburst.
"Well, we didn't break the whole budget today, there was some left over, so I took it upon myself to find things that were more to you liking." She reached over and started pulling out clothes from the bags. "There's a lot of Hurley stuff in here and Atticus, you like those brands, right?" Dougie watched, stunned and she began laying out all her purchases. He walked forward, running his hands over the logo's.
"Won't Marty be pissed?"
"Marty can jump off a bridge for all I care." She huffed. She tuned and grabbed his shoulders, forcing him to look her in the eyes. "Dougie, you are a catch. Not because of what you do, but because of who you are. I can guarantee that those girls, and America will fall in love with you. You don't need the tricks, or the new clothes. You don't need to be a ‘rockstar', just you. Marty is just too stupid to realize it. You walk onto that set, you be yourself. Be quirky, and weird, and funny, and sensitive, be all the things that make you special, and you find what you're looking for. Hell, I'm wishing I'd signed up to be on the show now." She smiled and leaned in, kissing him on the cheek.
Dougie stood there, transfixed. Watching as she opened another bag and began pulling out the contents. "I grabbed this at the drugstore." She held out a case of hair dye. ‘It's called ‘Sandy Beach' I don't think it's exactly the same as you had before, and we can't really do anything about the cut, but it will be closer that what you have n-" Her words drifted off as Dougie placed his hands on her waist and pulled her around to face him. They stood that way for a moment, not talking, until finally Dougie leaned forward and pressed her lips against hers.
Dougie pulled her closer, molding her small curvy frame to his body. She grabbed his shoulders and pulled his closer, pushing his lips open with her tongue as Dougie let his hands traverse across her back and through her soft hair. They broke apart gasping.
"Dougie, we-"
He cut her off again by bringing his lips to hers once more, and leading her backwards until she fell on the bed with him on top of her. Whatever protests she had been planning on making, they were lost in the frenzy of kisses and Dougie's hands over her body.
**********
The sound of a phone ringing woke Dougie the next morning. He felt Evvy shift beside him. "Crap" she muttered sleepily as she sat up, trying to untangle herself from Dougie's arms.
‘Let it ring babe, it can't be that important." Dougie tightened his arms around her waist and pulled her close to his chest, reveling in the scent of her body and the way her bare skin felt against his. Without argument, she settled back, sighing comfortably. Dougie could scarcely believe how right this felt, waking up next to her, holding her in his arms. He closed his eyes, prepared to drift off back to sleep, when Evvy's phone interrupted them again.
This time, she couldn't be persuaded to stay in bed, and she hopped out, scanning the room for her purse. "Oh fuck!"
"What is it?"
"That was Marty. It's the 6th time he's tried calling, it's after 11, and we are both supposed to be at his office. Oh god, I am in so much trouble for this. We are in so much trouble for this. He is going to kill me." Her voice was shrill with panic.
"Evvy, calm down, we just won't tell him, ok? Or we'll say I took advantage of you. I'm the rockstar, remember? That's just the type of thing I'd do." He smiled and pulled her back to the bed. "Just stay here for a few more minutes before you call him back, ok? I want this to last."
They lay there in silence, Dougie idly stroking Evvy's hair and humming a wordless tune.
"Dougie?" Her quiet voice broke the tomb like hush.
"Yeah?"
"Last night, what I said to you, I just want you to know, I meant every word of it."
"Thanks Evvy." Neither spoke.
"Can I ask you something Dougie?"
"Of course."
"Why did you kiss me last night?" She rolled her head back so she could look into his eyes.
Dougie was quiet as he contemplated his answer. ‘I kissed you because of who you are Evvy. You're exactly what I was hoping to find here." He blushed. "It is way to early in the day for that kind of cheese. I just think that you are amazing. And not only are you the easiest person to get along with that I've ever met, but you're sexy as fuck, and you actually seem to care about who I am. It's just too bad that I'm stuck in this stupid contract, otherwise I'd whisk you away today."
"Do you mean that?"
"Yeah."
"No, I mean, do you really, REALLY, mean that?" She pressed, sitting up.
"Yeah I really, REALLY mean it. Evvy's what's up?" He asked, pushing himself into a sitting position as well.
"Do you have a lawyer here?"
"Yes. Fletch set me up with one when I signed the contract."
"Good. If you're serious about what you said, then you'll want to call him. Have him look at section 4 paragraph 9-C. There is a clause there, hidden quite devilishly, that can get you out of this show. Marty has it drafted into contract he has made, giving himself a loophole just in case he wants to back out last minute. It's pretty shady actually, he hides it so well, that most lawyers, especially those provided for the cast on his reality shows, won't notice without days of going over the document with a fine tooth comb."
"Are you serious? How do you know this?"
"I'm his assistant, remember? I know a lot of things about the inner workings of his company." Dougie beamed and kissed her on the forehead.
"Evvy, this is fantastic!" He darted from the bed and ran for the phone, eagerly dialing the number of the law firm Fletch had provided.
**********
"So, how long did that last?" Harry drawled lazily, waiting in the arrivals lounge at the Heathrow airport.
"5 days." Danny supplied readily, his head swiveling to watch two girls that walked past.
Tom, who was watching the arrival screen, looking for Dougie's flight number rolled his eyes. "Don't say anything to him, ok guys? Dougie is sensitive at the best of times, if he's coming home so soon, this can't have been a good trip." He scolded.
"I know, I just wonder how he managed to worm his way out of the contract." Harry muttered. "Did he say anything to you?"
"No. he just said it wasn't what he was expecting, and asked that we all be here to pick him up from the airport." Tom replied.
"I don't see why we all needed to come, surely you two would have been enough." Harry reach over and smacked Danny across the head. "OW! What the hell mate? Why'd you do that?"
"Because you're being an insensitive clod. Dougie wanted us all here because we are his best friends." Harry glared.
"His flight's on time, he'll be out here pretty soon." The three settled down to wait.
"HEY! Guys! You came, awesome!" They looked up to see Dougie, a wide smile on his face striding towards them, practically skipping with glee.
"Hey man, welcome home." Danny cuffed him on the shoulder while Harry and Tom exchanged worried glances, this exuberant, joyful Dougie was not what they expected.
"Thanks Dan. What's up with you two?" He nodded towards Tom and Harry. "You look like you've swallowed a pile of shit."
"Nice visual Dougs. Umm, are you doing ok?" Tom ventured.
"Yeah, of course. Why? Don't I look Ok? Well, aside from the dorky haircut." He ran his fingers through his sandy hair, which had been dyed back to it's rightful colour hours after getting off the phone with his lawyer.
"Well, yeah, you look of, I just thought you'd be more, you know, sad." Harry stated.
"Why would I be sad?"
"Because this didn't work out how you hoped it would." Tom said gently, waiting for the Dougie to break down, instead, the younger man smiled broadly.
"Actually, that's why I wanted you all to be here. So I could tell you right away how wrong you all were."
"What do you mean? The show didn't work out, obviously, because you're home." Danny asked, confused.
Tom noticed a tall, beautiful girl standing just behind Dougie, nervously twirling her hair. Tom grinned and poked Harry nodding in her direction. When Harry spotted her, his smile grew as well. "You know Dougie, you can't say we're wrong, we told you the show wouldn't work. We said nothing about other girls you may meet while in LA." Harry pushed past a scorned looking Dougie, who was annoyed he couldn't gloat to his friends. "Hi, I'm Harry. And you must be crazy, following this looser across the ocean." He smiled and shook Evvy's hand.
"I think I must be, but that's ok, if you haven't noticed, he's pretty weird himself. And I'm Evvy."
"Well, welcome to London Evvy. I'm guessing there's a bit of a story about why you're here." Tom asked politely.
"Yeah, a little bit." She stepped forward and grabbed Dougie's hand. "It's pretty unreal though."
