Much Ado About Britpop

19 May 1993 - Blakes Hotel, South Kensington, London/Burnage, Manchester

And meanwhile, while the fake couple were caught up in the highs of actively deceiving gullible tabloid readers worldwide...

Juniper primped in front of the vanity mirror in her hotel room. Although she wasn't exactly sure what she was primping for. Sex was supposed to mess up her hair and make-up, to the point where getting sexy for sex was more about wearing things meant to come off anyway. She'd gone quite a few months without sex, and considering how much she refused to remember what sex with Brian was like, it was more like a year.

And Robbie Williams...dear God, was he an enigma. In Juniper's experience, almost everyone she knew (including herself) did coke, but Robbie was the first guy she knew with a coke problem. He'd be as euphoric and energetic as any coke-fuelled individual one minute, and then wretched and sobbing over how tired he was of life in a phony boy band and all the press and attention, and that he just wanted to go home and be a normal kid again.

Juniper had been inviting him to the hotel every night Tinsley was out with Damon staging a relationship, which was pretty frequent in the past week. And no, they weren't having sex. So far, they'd mostly played video games, made out a bit, and then attempted sex, which typically led to Robbie being unable to get hard, which led to the sobbing fits.

Juniper wasn't sure if she was falling for him or pitied him, but she couldn't stay away from him. She desperately wanted to protect him, and to keep him safe. And maybe punch Nigel Martin while she had her butterfly ring on. Robbie ranted about Gary Barlow a lot more, but as far as Juniper could guess from reading in between the lines, their manager was the real villain.

But it had been a week now. This was not how a carefree fling was supposed to go. They were supposed have had so much sex by now, the kind of sex that would make Brian a distant memory. And she wasn't supposed to be concerned at all with emotions, her own or Robbie's.

I'm too damn nice, Juniper thought. A fucking goody-two-shoes, Elizabeth Wakefield clone. She put down her hairbrush and looked down at the skimpy camisole and boy shorts she'd thrown on. It wasn't an over-the-top negligée, but it also wasn't a boring pair of cotton underwear and an oversized T-shirt. It was just good enough that if tonight was another bust, she didn't look like she was expecting anything, but if getting in the mood was even possible for Robbie when it came to her, he wasn't put off entirely.

Sure enough, when he knocked and she flung the door open, he was fixated on her chest. Her chest! Juniper wasn't exactly flat chested, but her B cups weren't entirely impressive to most men either.

"Hiya," she said, feeling her Southern accent come out. Then she jumped on him and kissed him, in order to make her intentions obvious.

He reciprocated right away, a good sign for sure. But then he patted her on the head. "Come on," he said. "Get dressed. I'm taking you out for dinner. Somewhere proper posh, too."

"What? Robbie, it's eleven at night. Nowhere's open," Juniper pointed out.

"Oh? Shit, I'm late then. Shit," he said, brushing the hair out of his bloodshot eyes. "I've fucked it, haven't I?"

"It's okay," she said, pulling him close. "I wanted things to be more intimate tonight anyway."

"No," Robbie said. "Don't you get it? I can't shag you until I've done right by you. That's why my dick won't work, yeah? Is the restaurant downstairs still open?"

"It's a weeknight," Juniper pointed out. "So, no. Look, we can go to a club or something, right?"

"A club, a club," Robbie echoed, running his fingers through his hair as he thought it over. "Yeah, yeah, that could work, that could work."

"Or you could help me with this level of Castlevania. It's gotten tricky. I'm stuck on stage three. I mean, maybe it's not tricky per se, but I'm kind of a perfectionist, and I want to make sure I'm doing everything right," Juniper said. "So we don't have to run out tonight. Really."

"Can I take you out tomorrow then," Robbie asked. "I mean, I just...we've got rehearsals all day, so I can only see you at night, and we fly out to Acapulco for a concert Monday, and...I really like you, innit? I know I'm kind of a mess, and we haven't managed to have sex, and you could do a whole lot better, but I've fancied you ever since 90210 started airing here, and in person you're even better, and I just don't want to blow it, yeah?"

"Okay," Juniper said. "We'll go out tomorrow. See how it goes. But I just want you to know you can relax about all that stuff. I like you too. A lot." She pushed his head down to meet hers, and kissed him. "So calm down."

❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖

"That one's a fuckin' stunner, huh," Liam said to his brother Noel, pointing to Tinsley Hale as she shouted at Mike Myers onscreen in a late night showing of Wayne's World on the telly. "Not as fit as the other girl on Married...with Children, but well fit in an odd looking way."

"Who, her," Noel said. "She's alright. Kinda pasty. American lasses shouldn't be fuckin' pasty. Makes 'em no more special than the lasses here."

"No, come on," Liam went on. "I reckon she's got one of the better arses on telly. You watch. Once we're on Top of the Pops, I'm gonna find a way to shag her. She seems bare fuckin' slaggy. Probably gagging for it if she's with that sad lad from Blur."

"Isn't she only on Top of the Pops for a summer or something?"

"She'll be back, innit," Liam said. "Fucking...no one over, like, twelve watched that shite til they got her and the other fit bird with another stupid name on. Now, it's good as Baywatch."

"The fuck is Baywatch," Noel said. "You watch too much telly."

"No, no, look," Liam went on. "It's, like, a show, yeah, but with lifeguards. Big titted lasses all across the screen, jogging. It's fucking brilliant, because they put 'em in slo mo, and you can watch it on mute and not miss nothing."

"Sounds like a sad way to spend a Friday night," Noel said.

"Well, it's on Saturdays before anyone even goes out, so fuck you," Liam replied. "Anyways, they should be having more exciting shite on like it. If Tinsley didn't a bra and they kept it cold in the studio, the whole country'd be watching."

"You've been obsessed with that lass since she was in Lost Boys," Noel said. "Get over the fantasy."

"Not a fuckin' fantasy," Liam said. "Once we're rock stars, we're gonna pull birds as fit as her. Or fitter. Watch."