Kitabı oku: «Lindsey Kelk 8-Book ‘I Heart’ Collection», sayfa 30
CHAPTER TEN
‘Sorry,’ James whispered, pulling me back upright. I clung to his shoulders while the blood rushed back around my body. ‘Should I have asked first?’
Too many things were going through my head for me to reply. If it had just been a quick kiss, just a peck, I might have been able to laugh it off, but it would seem that practice really did make perfect. It had been a real Hollywood kiss. My lips were still tingling but I didn’t have a trace of stubble burn. No wonder James had made his way through half of Hollywood; every part of me was burning up.
‘Angela?’
‘Sorry,’ I blinked, let go of my grip on his shirt and pressed my fingers to my lips, ‘what?’
‘Are you OK? You’re not going to throw up, are you?’ Given my previous, it was a legitimate question. I felt like a fourteen year old in front of my movie-star crush. I had literally lost the power of speech.
‘Angela, really, are you OK?’
‘I’m probably going to go now,’ I managed, finally. ‘Away.’
‘Away?’ James frowned.
‘I mean home,’ I mumbled.
He slipped one hand around my waist and brushed my hair out of my eyes with the other. ‘Do you want to come back to my bungalow?’
Yes.
‘No.’
Wow, I said no.
‘Really?’ James looked a little bit surprised. ‘I thought, maybe, you would want to, you know, come back?’
He wasn’t nearly as surprised as I was. ‘But I can’t. It’s just really not a good idea.’ I looked back to the table. Tessa had left and Daphne was nowhere to be seen. Jenny, however, was sitting staring at me, her mouth wide open and clapping excitedly. ‘I think I’m going to grab Jenny and go home.’
‘OK.’ He squeezed my hand and nodded at Blake back at the table. I couldn’t help but notice that he did not look pleased. To say the least. ‘Let me get you a car at least. Don’t go anywhere.’
Before I had chance to escape, Jenny was at my side. ‘Angela. Clark. Oh. My. God.’
‘Shut up, I know.’
‘You just made out with a movie star.’ Jenny’s smile was so wide, she had to be in pain.
‘I don’t think one kiss is making out,’ I said.
‘Who says you have to stop at one kiss?’
‘Jenny, if you’re so desperate for someone to shag a movie star, why don’t you do it?’ I closed my eyes and tried not to think about James’s offer.
‘Angie, if I could, I would,’ Jenny said. ‘And it would be amazing. For him.’
‘Whatever.’ I needed to get out of there. ‘Honestly, if you don’t stop talking about sex instead of doing it, I’m going to have to sleep with you. It’s getting really boring.’
‘You should have just said.’ Jenny looked stung. ‘I didn’t realize I was boring you.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I said quickly. ‘I didn’t mean that. Ignore me.’
‘No, please go on,’ Jenny’s mood flipped. ‘Tell me more about my problems.’
‘No, I’m not saying what I mean,’ I sighed, my brain too messy to make sense. ‘It’s just that, well, you do keep talking about it an awful lot without actually doing it. And it’s not like you can’t just pull someone, is it?’
‘Did it occur to you that maybe I don’t actually want to sleep with some random guys?’ Jenny asked. With me in her heels and her in my flats, I towered over her, but clearly she could kick my ass at any height.
I paused for a moment. ‘No?’
‘Well maybe it should.’
‘But everything you said?’ I rubbed my forehead.
‘Jesus, Angie, for someone so smart, you really are so dumb when it comes to guy stuff.’ She folded her arms tightly. ‘Do you honestly expect me to stand here making you feel better because some hot guy is throwing himself at you while your devoted boyfriend breaks his heart over you back at home? You want me to make you feel better because you have two guys after you while I can’t even keep one?’
Jenny pushed past me and threw herself into the crowd, towards the door. She was right, I was incredibly stupid, but not just at boy stuff. I wasn’t terribly good at girl stuff either. The bar was so busy, I could only just see the top of her hair weaving through the crowd on the way to the door before she vanished.
‘Genius, Angela,’ I muttered to myself, all alone in the middle of the packed bar. I didn’t know what to do. There was only one thought that was crystal clear and that was my growing need to pee. I pushed my way through to the toilet and rapped on the closed door.
‘Hello,’ I shouted over the music, ‘is anyone in there?’ No one was answering but the door was stuck and my last martini was not prepared to hang around and see if anyone came out in a couple of minutes. Better to be embarrassed at seeing someone else having a wee rather than have everyone in the bar see me wet myself, I figured. I looked around quickly before grabbing the handle and giving the door a quick bash with my hip. For the first time since I walked into Bar Marmont, I thanked the lord that I was a size 12.
The door gave more easily than I had expected and I tumbled through backside first, losing my balance. I closed my eyes and held my hands out to avoid spending any more time face first on a toilet floor, but instead of hitting the wall, I felt something warm. And human.
‘What the fuck are you doing?’ demanded a gruff voice as I span and smacked my eye straight into the door handle.
‘OhmygodImsosorry,’ I squealed, trying to get out but my stupid heels wouldn’t let me move fast enough. My eye throbbed as I fumbled for the handle but the door had got stuck shut again. I just had to get out of there.
‘Angela?’
I froze on the spot and wondered if there was any chance I could actually will myself backwards in time. Of course it wasn’t a stranger that I had just busted getting hot and heavy in a toilet, that would be too easy. Of course it was James. And of course everyone would assume I’d come in here to join in. But if he wasn’t in here with me, who the hell did he have pressed up against the wall?
‘Oh shit.’
I opened my eyes slowly. Standing close to James, hands lost in his brown curls, the same curls I’d been twirling around my fingers minutes ago, was a very flustered-looking Blake. And while James had managed not to give me stubble burn when he kissed me, Blake wasn’t quite so talented. James’s smooth tanned jaw line was red raw, his eyes wide and dark.
‘I–I have to pee,’ I said, stunned. Without words, Blake’s arms dropped to his sides. He looked from me to James and then back again before shoving me out of his way (which really only left into the wall) and yanking the toilet door open.
‘Angela, I can explain,’ James said quietly. ‘It’s not what it looks like.’
‘I really need to pee,’ I repeated, staring at the floor.
‘Right, OK.’ James wiped his mouth hastily. ‘I’ve, erm, called the car for you. And I’ll wait outside. I should explain or something. I want to explain. I’ll just wait outside.’
James closed the door carefully behind him but I still couldn’t move. As if I needed more evidence that Jenny was right. I really was stupid when it came to boys.
Eventually I snapped out of my trance, peed and washed my hands, but I really didn’t want to go back out into the bar. What was I going to say? What was James going to say? And was Blake actually going to be done with it and murder me now? I just couldn’t quite believe what I’d seen.
I stared at myself in the mirror. Not a good sight. My hair was a total mess, my eyeliner was smudged halfway down my face and apparently shock did nothing for my complexion. I’d never seen myself look so pale. I took my Stila convertible colour out of my bag. Perhaps if I looked better, I’d feel better. I smudged the fuchsia pink onto my cheeks and lips. Or perhaps I’d look like a very surprised clown. I felt so stupid. How could I not have seen this?
Opening the toilet door and crossing everything I could in the hope that James and Blake had left, I headed back into the bar. There they were, standing opposite me, James looking absolutely terrified, Blake with a surprisingly blasé look on his face. He raised an eyebrow at me, whispered something to James and then left.
‘So,’ James pressed his lips into a thin line. The lips I’d kissed. The lips that had kissed Blake.
I stood and stared at the floor.
‘Angela, we have to talk about this,’ he went on.
‘No, really, we don’t,’ I replied. I just wanted to be away from him. I wanted to be back at home, wrapped up in my duvet with Alex.
‘Angela, please.’ He stepped forward and held out his hand, but I shot back. It was too much, I needed to leave.
‘James, please, I just want to go home,’ I said, shrinking away from his hands and starting out through the bar. I’d got as far as the door before he came after me.
‘Wait!’ James shouted. Everyone between him, me and the door stopped everything they were doing and stared. He made the space up between us in moments. ‘We have to talk about what you – what you think you saw,’ he added quietly.
‘You mean you kissing Blake?’ I asked.
James went slightly grey and pushed me out through the door.
‘Please, don’t,’ he said, putting a firm arm around my shoulders.
‘What? You weren’t kissing Blake?’ I tried to shake him off. ‘Let me guess, you were giving him mouth to mouth?’
‘Angela, honestly, there are people, paps, everywhere.’ James gestured to the street below us and tried to steer me towards a parked Lexus at the side of the road. ‘Just get in your car and I’ll explain.’
‘Explain that you were kissing Blake?’ I asked.
The pack of paps at the bottom of the stairs all turned together.
‘James, over here!’ one of them sniped behind a sea of popping flashbulbs. ‘Give us a smile?’
‘Well?’ I stopped on the steps and shrugged. ‘Are you going to tell them or am I?’
‘Why don’t you tell us, honey?’ he called back. ‘We’ve heard James’s side of the story a whole bunch of times before.’
‘Angela, please,’ James held on to my hand and squeezed. ‘Don’t.’
I paused and looked back at him. He really was disgustingly beautiful. But I had never ever been so angry with someone in my entire life.
‘No. No way, you’re completely out of order and—’
Before I could finish, James grabbed my face in his hands and planted a deep kiss on my lips. Well that was one way to shut someone up. My traitor eyes closed instinctively; I knew the flashbulbs were going into overdrive all around us, but he suddenly dipped me so low that there was no way I could wriggle free. Before I could think of anything, James pulled back, scooped me up and dived into the waiting car. The shock of the freezing cold air-con, the soft leather seat and the speed at which the car tore off from the pavement shocked me into silence.
‘Angela, I’m really sorry.’
I stared at the back of the seat in front of me.
‘It’s just … it’s complicated.’
Absolute silence.
‘I didn’t mean to lead you on or anything. Not really.’
I turned to face him.
‘You didn’t mean to lead me on?’
‘No.’
‘So you didn’t mean to kiss me when we were dancing?’
‘Well …’
‘And you didn’t mean to flirt with me all week?’
‘No, that’s not what I meant.’
‘So you haven’t been flirting with me all week?’
‘This isn’t what was supposed to happen.’
I turned back to stare at the seat. ‘I didn’t realize there was a plan.’
James’s phone chirped into life.
‘Blake?’ I asked, trying to make out something familiar beyond the darkened windows. I had no idea where we were.
‘Blake,’ James sighed.
‘He must be pissing himself laughing at me.’ I ran my fingers through the ends of my hair. The sun was really drying it out; I’d need to get the split ends sorted out when I got home. Shocker; another shitty thing about LA. ‘So what was supposed to happen?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘If this wasn’t supposed to happen, what was?’ I asked, looking at my reflection in the tinted glass. The girl looking back looked so pathetic, I didn’t recognize her.
‘Angela, I didn’t mean to embarrass you,’ James said quietly.
I just couldn’t get over how tragic I’d been. Jenny was right, what was wrong with me? I’d lost my grip on myself so easily.
‘James, did I ever tell you what happened with my ex?’ I asked, finally.
‘Alex?’ James asked.
‘No, I don’t think he’s technically my ex yet.’ The Angela in the window looked back at me. I wiped away the lip gloss that was smudged around her mouth and fluffed her hair. She was starting to look a little bit more familiar. Familiar and really, really pissed off. ‘My ex-boyfriend in London. He was cheating on me with this girl from his tennis club. I found him having sex with her in the back seat of our car at my best friend’s wedding.’
‘Oh,’ James sounded more than a little bit confused. ‘Sorry.’
‘Mmm. It was the most embarrassing moment of my entire life.’ I traced my reflection’s features in the steamed-up glass of the window. ‘It was awful … horrible. Being embarrassed like that in front of all my friends, my family. Being betrayed by someone I trusted. Honestly, I thought I’d never get over it.’
‘I can imagine,’ he said cautiously.
‘But once I’d pissed in his shaving bag and vanished halfway around the world, I felt a lot better.’ I reached across the seat and took James’s hand.
‘Really?’ he breathed out.
‘Yeah. Oh, and I might have broken the groom’s hand during his first dance.’ I gave James’s impossibly clammy hand a quick squeeze. ‘He knew about the affair and didn’t tell me. Don’t you think that was a really shitty thing to do?’
‘Yes?’ James’s tan had faded to a slightly sickly green colour.
‘I can’t begin to imagine what I would do to someone if they embarrassed me in front of – oh, I don’t know – the entire celebrity-obsessed Western hemisphere?’
‘Angela, seriously—’
I squeezed his hand tighter. ‘God, I don’t know. I’d have to pay some tramps to shit in his car or something.’
‘Really, I’ll sort it all out,’ James squeaked.
‘Or I could go back, have a chat with the paps about his secret gay lover?’ I shrugged.
For a moment, James fell silent. ‘They wouldn’t believe you.’
‘I reckon there’re two schools of thought there, James.’ I dug my fingernails into his palm before throwing his hand back in his lap. ‘The first one, which I was really clinging to until tonight, is that yeah, no one really believes what they read on celebrity websites. But the other one is the one that has really stood the test of time.’
His gorgeous blue eyes were completely blank. It was quite depressing.
‘You know how they say there’s no smoke without fire,’ I pursed my lips. ‘It would be excellent gossip, wouldn’t it? Even if no one believed it. Definitely worth printing.’
‘No one would print it,’ James shook his head. ‘It’s too dangerous. They’d think I’d sue. And you wouldn’t do that.’
The car suddenly pulled to a stop. I opened the door to see a row of stars stretching out along the pavement. We were in front of The Hollywood. Thank God.
‘Angela, please. We have to talk.’ James reached out to pull me back into the car.
‘Do you really want to piss me off any more this evening?’ I asked, shaking off his hand. ‘I was serious about the tramps.’
He let go of my hand, launching me out onto the pavement. I stumbled forward, catching my balance between Greta Garbo and Julie Andrews. Great, a nun and a recluse. Also known as my future.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
‘Pick up the phone, pick up the phone,’ I chanted, pacing up and down my room waiting for Alex to answer. My laptop lay open on the bedroom table, pictures of me and James kissing, him throwing me in the car, the look of shock and anger on my face already mistaken all over the internet for impatience and passion. Of course he wasn’t picking up the phone.
It was probably for the best, I thought, throwing my phone across the room. For a shocking change, I really hadn’t worked out what I was going to say to him. ‘Alex, the world-famous movie star that the entire world knows has done it with dozens of gorgeous women, is actually super gay. Only it’s a secret so please don’t tell anyone.’ Nope, it just didn’t have a ring of truth to it. I had to think about how I was going to explain before he called back.
Unless he called back right away.
‘Alex?’
‘Angela.’
‘Alex,’ I took a deep breath, ‘I had to speak to you before you saw the pictures.’
‘Angela, I already saw the pictures, remember?’ Alex said slowly. ‘And we were going to talk about it when you get back.’
‘Well, yes, but,’ I looked back at the computer, ‘they were the ones from yesterday.’
‘Meaning?’
‘There might be some more?’
I sat down on the bed and stared at my toenails. Given that I was only a couple of floors above Hollywood Boulevard at midnight, the room was very quiet. They really should mention that on their website. Total selling point.
‘From the same night?’
‘No, but I can explain.’
‘What site are they on?’ Alex asked, his voice completely flat. ‘Or is it just all of them again?’
‘Alex, please don’t look, just let me explain.’ I winced at the sound of clicking keys down the line. Of course he was by his computer.
‘Gotta say, you look good,’ he said eventually. ‘And how many guys actually get to see their girlfriends cheat on them in real time? God bless the internet.’
‘Alex, just stop.’ I stood up; drama always felt more manageable when I was vertical. The carpet was also very soft. Maybe I could get a job as The Hollywood’s copywriter after Mary fired me. ‘It’s not like it looks. James is—’
‘Totally out of your league? Yeah, you’ve done really well there, Angela.’ He didn’t even sound like my Alex.
‘Please stop it and just let me explain.’ I tried to find the right words but my head was totally empty.
‘What do you want me to say?’ At least he was starting to sound a little bit angry now. But it turned out that wasn’t as much consolation as I had hoped.
‘First there are all these photos of you practically dry-humping the first celebrity you ever meet, then you’re not answering your phone, then you’re calling me at four in the morning and saying, well, whatever. What am I supposed to think? What do you want me to say?’
‘Don’t make out like I’m the one who’s been ignoring you! I’ve been trying to talk to you since I got here,’ I protested. ‘You were the one who didn’t want to talk to me. You were the one who wasn’t answering his phone.’
‘And the fact that I actually have things to do here without you holding my hand means you get to fuck around behind my back?’ he yelled.
I almost dropped my phone. ‘What?’
‘What do you mean what?’ he asked. ‘One day you’re holding hands on the beach, leaving his hotel room in the middle of the night, and the next you’re kissing him outside a club? You’re gonna tell me there’s nothing happening there at all?’
There weren’t many times in my life I’d been stunned into silence but they were racking up tonight.
‘Tell me you haven’t slept with him.’ Alex’s voice was rough and low. ‘Say it. Now.’
‘I–I haven’t slept with him,’ I stuttered. He hadn’t asked if I’d thought about it; he’d asked if I’d actually done it. I heard a sigh and more keystrokes. ‘Please stop looking at the pictures. I haven’t done anything, Alex, I would never. Please just believe me.’
‘And that’s where we have a problem,’ he said quietly. ‘I don’t think I do believe you.’
My phone was burning hot against my ear but I couldn’t put it down. Long after Alex had hung up, I was still standing in the middle of the hotel room, clutching the tiny piece of plastic as it cooled slowly. Did he really just say that? After what seemed like a lifetime, my brain flicked back on and I redialled. There was no way I was leaving it like that. But Alex’s phone didn’t even ring; instead I got a ‘cannot be connected message’ right away. I tried again from my room phone just to make sure but it wasn’t happening. He must have taken the battery out or something.
I sat down at the desk and flicked through the pictures online. I scrolled through the galleries that had already sprung up across the gossip sites, dedicated to me and James. It was so weird. And not just because most of them were slaughtering my outfits and the size of my arse, although they were all taken from extraordinarily bad angles. Honest. The strangest thing was that to hundreds – if not thousands – of girls around the world, it must look like a dream come true. Ordinary girl is sent to interview hot movie star, hot movie star falls for ordinary girl and whirlwind romance ensues.
It certainly was far more romantic than the truth: ordinary girl is sent to interview hot movie star, falls for hot movie star’s clichéd fake flirting, lets hot movie star kiss her then discovers he’s gay but is plastered all over the internet, gets dumped by actual love of her life and ends up with no one. Yeah, who was going to pay to read that? Flipping down the lid of my laptop, I wondered if anyone was going to pay to read anything I wrote ever again. Surely this was going to push Mary over the edge. If ever I needed Jenny Lopez, it was now, but she was nowhere to be found. Again. Probably still pissed off after our face-off in Bar Marmont. I stared at my mobile, frustrated. And then almost crapped myself when it started to ring. It was Louisa.
‘Hello?’ I answered cautiously. A lecture was absolutely guaranteed. Louisa loved to make a drama out of a crisis.
‘Hey, Angela!’ she chirped. ‘I just had to call you. We had the most amazing meal ever last night. We went to that Alta place you told us about, oh my God. I had to call you. There were these prawns, God, honestly.’
I listened to her rapturous restaurant review, silently confused. She wasn’t going to even ask about the photos?
‘And then we had this cheese thing for dessert. Honestly. Wow. I don’t think I can ever eat again. Are you having fun in LA, babe?’
I really didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know. Louisa had never been much of a one for celebrity gossip, but then before I moved to New York, neither had I. It was hard to avoid it in America.
‘Ah, not really,’ I said slowly. It was actually very nice not to be shouted at for two minutes. ‘I’m having a bit of trouble with the interview. And Alex and I are having a row.’
‘Oh honey,’ Louisa said down the crackly line. ‘What about?’
‘He thinks I’ve cheated on him.’ With James Jacobs, I added silently.
‘But of course you haven’t! You would never do that. Why on earth would he think it?’ It was reassuring that, after everything, Louisa would automatically believe I was the wronged party without even getting half the story. But then, she hadn’t seen the photos. Or the video on TMZ. Or the E! News bulletin.
‘No, I haven’t,’ I agreed. ‘But he’s seen a photo that sort of makes it look like I did. And he just doesn’t want to listen to me.’
‘Oh babe, just let him calm down and then talk to him,’ she reasoned. ‘I’m sure it will blow over once you’re back in New York. Just concentrate on getting your job sorted out.’
‘You’re probably right,’ I said, wishing the issues weren’t quite so interwoven. ‘Anyway, you didn’t call to listen to my problems. I’m really glad you liked Alta.’
‘Loved Alta,’ she corrected. ‘We should definitely go when I come back to visit you.’
‘Definitely,’ I agreed. Unless I lost my job and my visa and then we’d be going for dinner in Nandos in Wimbledon.
‘Call me if you need me, babe, got to run. Love you.’ She blew me a kiss down the phone.
‘I will, love you too.’ I hung up. Well that was weird. But just as weirdly, what she said made sense. I had to concentrate on getting things back on track.
Tomorrow wasn’t going to be fun and even less so with the hangover I’d just guaranteed. Flicking on the TV (was Friends ever off television?), I pulled my worse-for-wear-but-still-the-best-thing-I’d-ever-owned bag up onto the bed. When everything else was going wrong, at least a girl could still rely on Marc Jacobs to make her smile. Dredging through the crap in the bottom, I eventually found a pen and notepad, scowling at my BlackBerry as it blinked at me.
‘Sometimes I just want to write things down, OK?’ I told it. Before looking around to check that no one had just seen me go completely insane and talk to a phone. Just Ross and Rachel, thank goodness.
1.?Call Mary
2.?Call Alex or Alex’s friends
That would prove trickier, since the only phone number of any of Alex’s friends I had ever had was Jenny’s ex, Jeff, and Jenny had made me delete it after a healthy night in our apartment of Ben & Jerry’s, red wine, and burning everything he had ever come into contact with, including an old brush they had used to tease their hair for a hilarious Eighties fancy dress party. The brush nearly took the entire apartment block with it when Jenny tossed it in the burning bin. It turned out to be not only disgusting but also a very dangerous fire hazard. But there was a chance I’d written it in the back of my diary – I was just too drunk to work that out at that exact moment.
3.?Speak to James
As much as I wanted to just call The Sun and tell them that James was as gay as a goose, I just couldn’t do it. Damn that stupid misguided sense of dignity. Or was it pride? Or maybe just the idea of me stretched across the front page of the News of the World in a pair of La Senza lace shorts with everything padded, pushed and teased under the headline ‘James Jacobs’s Beard Tells All!’ was just too much. Actually, the News of the World wouldn’t say beard, they’d probably go straight to ‘Pathetic fag hag, Angela Clark spills the beans on James Jacobs’s late-night gay orgies in Hollywood’s public bathrooms …’ My mother would be so proud.
4.?Sort things out with Jenny
It was just too much that things were weird between us, especially with everything else going on, but I had a horrible feeling that things were going to get weirder before they got better. Or was that just a horrible feeling that I was about to throw up? Dropping the pen and pad, I raced to the bathroom to double up over the toilet just in time.
When would I learn?
‘Jesus Christ, Angie, what the hell happened to you?’
I woke up slowly, my face cold and seemingly stuck to something hard, a flip-flopped foot in my blurry eye-line. Trying to move my head hurt far too much, and for some reason my left arm was completely paralysed.
‘Angie, can you hear me? Did you take something?’ The voice carried on but it sounded so far away. ‘How long have you been on the bathroom floor?’
Ahh, that made sense, I was still on the bathroom floor. Which was why it was cold. Which was why I couldn’t move my arm. Which was why Jenny’s feet were almost touching my nose.
‘For Christ’s sake, Angie, are you thinking your answers instead of saying them again?’
Yes, I thought.
‘Mmhuh,’ I said.
With the help of Jenny and a towel rail not meant to be used to hoist ten stone of incredibly hungover girl up off the floor, I was soon sitting, or slumped, on the toilet seat. I readily accepted the glass of water she held out to me, not bothering that it came from the bathroom tap, and glugged it down. Which was my first mistake.
After I’d thrown the first glass of water up, I slowly sipped a second, Jenny shaking her head at me from the edge of the bath.
‘I cannot believe you, Angie.’ She pushed my hair back off my face. ‘What happened after I left?’
‘What happened?’ I closed my eyes again. It didn’t help. ‘You want to know what happened?’
‘Yeah,’ Jenny said, taking my empty glass and refilling it from the bath tap. Was it weird that it tasted like heaven? ‘I mean last night. What happened to “I would never cheat on Alex, even if we’re on a break?”’
‘I remember, I wasn’t that drunk,’ I replied, despite the fact that that was clearly a lie. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘The photos of you and James?’ Jenny gave me her ‘duh’ face. ‘The ones that Erin and Vanessa and Gina all emailed over today? I kinda didn’t expect you to be here. Did he leave already or did you just come back to the hotel after you did the deed?’
‘Oh my God.’ I suddenly felt very, very sick again. ‘It’s so not what you think.’
‘You didn’t, did you?’ Jenny asked, her annoyingly healthy face lit up like Christmas.
‘Jenny, he’s gay,’ I said into the palms of my hands.
She scoffed. ‘If he said no, you can just say so.’
I looked up, my attractive white pallor apparently adding to my serious face.
‘No. Way.’
‘Yes.’
‘No. Way.’
‘With Blake.’
‘Really? That’s hot.’
‘Missing the point entirely, Jenny.’ I pulled a flannel from the towel rail, ran it under the cold water and pressed it against my face. ‘What am I going to do?’
‘Well, you’re gonna take a shower first,’ Jenny said, standing up and pulling the shower curtain across behind her. ‘Then you’re going to explain to me every last little detail of how you uncovered this juicy, potentially financially rewarding piece of gossip, and then you’re coming with me to go shopping for Tessa DiArmo’s award show tonight.’
‘You’re seriously doing that?’ I asked, peeling off my sweaty dress and stepping into the shower. Ahh, the sweet relief of running water.
‘Don’t ever doubt me, Angela Clark,’ Jenny called, closing the bathroom door. ‘Get your ass clean and be downstairs in ten minutes.’
Ten minutes was always going to be a stretch but, fifteen minutes later, I emerged from the lift with a very roughly blow-dried bob, hastily applied make-up and my satchel thrown across my body. Jenny looked my jeans and T-shirt up and down and sighed.
‘That’s so not the ensemble to be photographed in, honey,’ she said, wrapping her arm around my shoulders and guiding me out to the car. ‘Where’s the big hat? The dark glasses?’