Much Ado About Britpop

18 May 1993 - Notting Hill, London, England

Tinsley angrily knocked on the front door of the flat Damon's moved into with Jamie, and when the door opened, she angrily held up an advance copy of the new issue of Smash Hits and said, "Where's Damon?"

"In his room," Jamie replied. "Hi, nice to meet you, I'm Jamie. What brings you here? Spot of tea? Oh, I'm just fine at the moment, how about you?"

Tinsley sneered at his little routine. "We met at Justine's," she said. "I told you how much I liked Tank Girl, and that I almost auditioned for the movie, and we talked about comics for fifteen minutes. You were extremely high, so I'm not shocked you don't remember, but don't act like I didn't introduce myself."

"Whoa, okay, okay," Jamie said. "Man, you're even sassier in real life." He turned his head back into the apartment and shouted, "Damon! Honeymoon's over!" before opening the door wider and letting Tinsley step in.

Damon sauntered out into the living room clad only in a saggy pair of jeans. "What's up, Tins," he asked. "Am I about to be grounded?"

Instead of remembering what she meant to say, Tinsley couldn't help but stare at Damon's bare chest. It wasn't her usual cup of tea; he was much skinnier and less waxed than her usual hookups. But there was something sexy and forbidden about his body, like she wanted to feed him a good meal and take care of him, but also unzip his jeans using only her teeth.

You don't have a crush on him, or even lust after him, Tinsley told herself. He's too pretty. He might even be prettier than you. And he's arrogant. You hate that combo.

While she was trying to straighten herself out, Jamie and Damon exchanged knowing smirks. Jamie because he naturally assumed Tinsley must always be mildly flustered around Damon, the closest thing to a teen heartthrob he'd deign to befriend, and Damon because he had never seen Tinsley react to him like this, and he could get used to it. After all, her being so nonplussed by his appearance was secretly starting to bug him.

"I did not sign up for this publicity stunt with the suggestion that I'd become Camilla Parker-Bowles for the Clearasil set," Tinsley said.

"I mean, you knew I just got out of a relationship-"

"I did not know my being a homewrecker would be the main angle," Tinsley said. "I suspected there was a chance it would come up, but the first goddamn piece of press? And in Smash Hits? Not even some tabloid, but a teen magazine? I'm supposed to be their bloody idol! Obviously, my people and your people are failing to do their job."

"I never knew you were such a prude," Damon said with a grin. "I mean, I guessed, with the whole American thing-"

"I'm no fucking prude," Tinsley said. "But there's a difference between prudishness and wanting to preserve your good name!"

"Tinsley Hale is a pretty shit name, when you think about it," Jamie cut in.

"Take it up with the nineteen year old who gave birth to me," Tinsley said, turning to him. "I narrowly avoided being named Christmas." Turning back to Damon, she added, "In any case, I think I'm out. There's no way-"

She was cut off by the sound of her cell phone ringing.

"Jesus," Tinsley said. "That's the fifth time today." She flipped her phone open and answered with a venomous, "Hello?"

"Tinsley, what the fuck?"

"Oh, Christ, Mark, not now, I have enough problems," Tinsley said.

"No, no you don't," Mark said. "I gotta a problem for ya: have you been screwing around on me with that skinny blond dipshit this whole goddamn time?"

"I don't know, Mark," Tinsley said. "I could ask you the same question, right down to the 'skinny blonde dipshit' bit."

"Marky's on the phone," Damon said, with a shit eating grin. "You see, Jamie, I'm making real prestigious connections here. Marky Mark is on the phone!"

"I hear a British voice in the background," Mark went on. "Is that fucking him, Tinsley? Are you with him right now? Answer me, dammit!"

With that, Damon snatched the phone from Tinsley. "You can finish the conversation with Tinsley later," he said. "Your competition's on the phone, and I'm ready to field any and all questions."

"Who the fuck do you think you are, Damien," Mark shouted. "When I see you, oh man, you'll end up on a stretcher!"

"It's Damon," he replied, snickering along with Jamie as Tinsley made a dive for her phone. "Hold her back," he whispered to his roommate, who obliged.

"As far as I'm concerned, your name can be 'Motherfucking Skeezer'," Mark said. "You better not have fucked her. If you fucked her, I'll make you wish you were never born!"

"...Does anal count," Damon asked, loving how easily riled up the wannabe gangster white guy could get.

Mark's responses was a series of frankly simian-like screeches mixed with 'motherfucker' and 'goddamn', until Tinsley finally kneed Jamie in the crotch and took her phone back.

"Mark, calm down," she said. "He's just fucking with you." She gave Damon a pointed look and added, "He has a very sick, sad, adolescent sense of humor."

"Shut your mouth, Tinsley," he said. "You guys think you're fucking funny? Well, two years ago, you hated that guy and everyone like him. What now? You gonna renounce your American citizenship and act all fucking smart and drink shit with your pinkie out? That's not you. You call out pretentious fuckers like that."

"Mark, I'm just having fun, the same way you did. While we were supposed to be exclusive, I might add."

"I get it," Mark said. "I really hurt you when I dumped you. Because you love me. Maybe someday, in five or ten years, we can re-evaluate things. Cool?"

Tinsley scoffed. The last thing she wanted to get out of the stunt was pity. "I don't fucking want you back in a million years. By the way, I'm getting things out of this you can't give me. Like a guy with a bigger dick who can get hard. So fuck off!"

She hung up and sighed, as Jamie and Damon continued snickering. "Looks like the big break up business meeting is off, eh," Damon said.

"Oh, I'm still doing damage control somehow," Tinsley said. "If you need to be consulted on the matter, my people will call yours." She grinned.  "Fingers crossed you don't have to sit through that shit."

"Good," Damon said. "By the way, can you make sure to maybe leak that detail about my mythical sexual prowess to the press? You'd be doing me a solid."

"Considering you took possession of my phone without an invitation, and had your roommate who smells of Monster Munch and feet manhandle me, I think not," Tinsley said. "I'm doing you a solid by not giving you both a thump on the back of the head."

"And this is why you can't be Tank Girl," Jamie said.  "Too bitchy."

"Well, I suspect, based on the script, that movie will suck, so really, not having your blessing is just a final nail in the coffin," Tinsley said. "Watch Winona get the part and be all quirky Disney-princess about it."

"Do not speak that into the universe, you heathen," Jamie scolded.

"Anyway, I'm gonna go now," Tinsley said, moving to the door. "Let's meet up at the Wag or something later. Do the whole routine. Get photographed, get blitzed in order to forget the phoniness of all this. The usual."

"Deal," Damon said. "See ya then, Tins."

Tinsley paused, and, even then she knew she should just walk out, attempted to imperceptibly look shirtless Damon over one last time.

She accidentally made eye contact and he teasingly blew her a kiss. Tinsley responded by flipping Damon off, causing him and Jamie to break into another fit of raucous laughter, before finally walking out, closing the door, and declaring to herself that she'd forget this moment of temporary frisson.