Disaster • Arctic Monkeys Fanfiction

[twenty]

Alex's POV

"Can we get some more makeup on Turner?" Our manager Tom called out.  "His face looks like he got hit by a bloody train!"

The makeup lady who'd spent nearly an hour trying to cover up the evidence from last night rushed up to me.  But I shooed her away.  I already looked ridiculous as it was.

I'd had to spend double the time in hair and wardrobe to look like an absolute fucking pretty boy.  They wouldn't even let me wear my leather jacket.   Instead, I was dressed in a modern, pressed suit that made me feel like I should be at a business meeting.

Tom told me that it was for the "female audience", and that the suit was "hot" right now.  I wanted to tell him to fuck off.  

We used to be in charge of our own music videos.  We always had a laugh making them back then.  Now, I was in absolute hell.

The premise for the video was okay, but it wasn't us.  The other lads were hardly in it at all.  It was just me and a half-naked Chanel romping around an empty ski resort (Why a ski resort in the middle of the bloody summer? I had no bloody clue. Ask Tom.) for four minutes.  

That was another reason today was nightmarish- Chanel Ovette was the star of the music video.

She was beautiful, Brazilian, but absolutely, dreadfully dull.  To make things even worse, she was hellbent on making the press think we were an item.

Which we were absolutely fucking not.

She was the absolute opposite of disaster girl.

Disaster girl.  I hadn't stopped thinking about her since she swept in and out of my life last night, as quick and destructive as a hurricane. 

But I couldn't think about her anymore.  What's done was done.  

But despite that, I was positive she'd given me enough writing material to make my next six albums.  That's the effect she had on me.

I snapped out of my daze as Matt came jogging onto the set, smiling down at his phone.  We were currently filming on the outer deck of the resort, overlooking the ski lift.

"Helders," Tom called out.  "What do you think you're doing?  We don't need you on set until tomorrow."

Matt loathed Tom.  Which he made glaringly apparent as he continued to waltz into the scene without a care in the world.

"The girl I was telling you about is almost here," he said to me.  "You coming to the cabin with us?"

"No," Tom answered for me.  "He still has three hours of filming."

A part of me wanted to go with them, but I saw no point in it.  More random girls I didn't want to spend time with, and I'd never been one for the outdoors.  Plus, like Tom said, they needed me on set.

"Go on, mate," I told him.  "I might pop 'round tomorrow."

"You sure?"

"He's sure."  

I looked up.  This time it wasn't Tom who answered, but Chanel.  She stood in the doorway, smiling provocatively at me.

She was hot, I had to admit it.  Such a shame that I couldn't bring myself to find a shred of sober interest for her.

"Right, then," Matt said.  "See ya later, Al."

"Cheers."

He disappeared back the way he'd come just as Chanel began strutting her way to me.  I wanted to remind her that this was a music video, not one of her runways.  But I kept my mouth shut.

"I like it when they call you Al," she purred at me in her thick accent before turning toward the crew.  "Everyone take five."

Tom was hesitant at first, but then ordered everyone to take a break.   So he listened to model, but not me?  Prick.

"Come inside for a second," she said.  "I want to show you something."

"I can't," I told her, not bothered enough to giver her an explanation as to why.

"Just for a minute," she said, tracing her finger down my chest.  "It won't take long."

I hesitated for a moment, but then gave in and nodded.  What did I have to lose?

She smiled a overly-sexy smile at me that came off as trying too hard, and took my hand.  I let her lead me inside.  

Fuck knows why I went with her, but I did.