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I pulled my sunglasses triumphantly out of my handbag. ‘I’m wearing the exact same outfit as you,’ I protested. But of course I wasn’t. My baggy boyfriend jeans and little pink American Apparel T-shirt couldn’t compare with Jenny’s skintight Sevens and clingy, white, deep V-neck. At least our black Havaianas were identical.

We picked up iced coffees en route, me thankful for any reason to get out of the car-slash-death-trap, Jenny ecstatic to be able to demonstrate her ability to sip a Frapuccino whilst driving, and I filled Jenny in on the James/Blake situation. Once I’d finished the story for the third time, I tilted my head back and stared up at the beautiful blue, cloudless sky. At least if I looked up there, I couldn’t see Jenny running red lights.

‘So what are you going to do?’ Jenny asked, swerving around a tight corner onto Melrose Avenue. ‘Did you make everything OK with Alex? Did you speak to Mary?’

‘I spoke to Alex but it didn’t go that well.’ And that’s putting it mildly, I added to myself. ‘I have to call Mary but I’ve been sort of putting it off. I’m guessing the fact that she hasn’t called me yet is not a good sign.’

‘It all sounds pretty clear to me, honey,’ Jenny said, swinging the car into a car park beside a building that seemed to be covered in grass. ‘You just have to tell her the truth. It’s just gonna sort this whole thing out.’

‘I know but, well, actually, I don’t know …’ I pulled my frizzy hair into a loose ponytail and wrapped a band around it. ‘I can’t just out him, can I? Obviously he’s hiding it all for a reason.’

Jenny stopped the car with a jolt. ‘Are you fucking with me?’

‘Jenny—’

‘This ass-hat makes out with you in public, allows photos of the two of you to be published all over the internet, effectively destroys your relationship and costs you your job and you don’t want to casually drop into conversation that he’s the new Clay Aiken?’

I wrinkled my nose. ‘Yeah, well.’

‘Great argument,’ she climbed out over the locked car door.

‘They do open, you know,’ I grumbled. ‘Where are we anyway?’

‘And I thought I’d made a shopper out of you.’ Jenny held her arms out in a flourish. ‘This, my British friend, is Fred Segal. Fashion emporium and Los Angeles institution. And where we’re meeting Teresa inside in a half-hour, so we need to get our shit together.’

‘Tessa’s really coming?’ I asked, pulling off my sunglasses and following Jenny past a row of tables and chairs, already packed with pretty people. ‘Jenny, that’s incredible.’

‘I know, crazy right?’ Jenny smiled and nodded at the man holding open the door for us. ‘She texted me this morning to say she’d meet us here. Daphne is going to freak out when she finds out. Tessa DiArmo is a big get for a stylist.’

‘I’m sure she’ll be happy for you,’ I lied. ‘Where did she go, anyway?’

‘Uh, she went home with that guy she was … talking to,’ she muttered into a clothes rail.

The store appeared to be split into lots of different little sections but, unsurprisingly, Jenny knew exactly where she was going. It was as if she had inbuilt shopping GPS: I was fairly sure I could drop her in any major shopping capital in the world and she’d be able to find the nearest Starbucks, bathroom and Marc Jacobs concession. It was a talent I very much hoped to develop when I grew up.

‘Well, if she’d stayed maybe she would be styling Tessa,’ I said in my least judgemental voice. Which was still fairly judgey. ‘But anyway, I wanted to talk about last night. About what you said before you … left.’

‘I called ahead to set up a room for Tessa DiArmo?’ Jenny confidently accosted a passing salesgirl. ‘Can you please make sure that it’s ready? We’re going to be sending things over soon. Thanks.’

The girl looked us up and down once, nodded and then rushed off to the back of the store. Jenny kept her back to me.

‘Do you think this would suit Tessa?’ She held out a Twenty8Twelve T-shirt dress. ‘Too casual for an awards show, though, right? But maybe with heels and the right jacket …’

‘Jenny, you realize I’m not going to let this go, don’t you?’ I said, pushing the dress away. ‘What you said last night? And no, it wouldn’t suit Tessa. It would suit me though.’

She tossed the dress towards me. ‘I have to find like ten outfits before Tessa gets here, so can we not do this now?’

‘We are doing it now; you do your clearest thinking when you’re shopping.’ I passed the dress on to the assistant that had appeared back at Jenny’s side. ‘I thought this trip was all about you getting laid. What’s happened with Joe?’

‘Turns out maybe it wasn’t as easy as I’d thought. Or at least he isn’t any more,’ she said, turning her attention to a grey strapless Hache mini-dress. ‘The folds on this are really interesting. This could look gorgeous with – like – a little leather jacket and some chunky heels?’

‘Yes, it would,’ I agreed, passing it to the assistant at her elbow. ‘So that’s the problem? Joe? Because you could get men loads better than Joe, you know.’

‘Yeah, for sure. Except it turns out maybe I don’t want to. What about this?’ She pulled out a gold sequined tank dress.

‘Jeff?’

‘Jeff.’

‘Oh, Jenny.’

I watched her lips press into thin, colourless lines as she systematically flicked through the rail of clothes in front of her, from left to right.

‘I’m gonna get you guys some water,’ the salesgirl said eventually, backing away from the awkward silence. I nodded and smiled as she scuttled away.

‘You know, I’m not the best person to be giving out relationship advice, but you will get over it eventually. That is actually a fact. And I’m pretty sure one you told me once,’ I picked out a red Hervé Léger number and held it up to Jenny. ‘I wish you’d just talked to me about this. Practise what you preach and all that?’

‘Yeah, except I’m not that good at taking my own advice,’ she said, nodding at the red dress. ‘He’s moving in with his new girlfriend, you know? He called me to tell me in case I found out from Alex. I guess, even after everything, I really thought we were supposed to end up together. Now I’m not so sure.’

‘This new girlfriend could be a total rebound thing,’ I suggested. ‘You don’t know.’

‘I’m not sure any more.’ She finally turned around. Silent tears tracked down her face. ‘Maybe I need to get away for a while. Jeff is everywhere at home, I just can’t move on.’

‘You’re thinking about leaving? New York?’ I didn’t know what to do.

‘Maybe. For a while. I don’t know.’ She took my hand. ‘Angie, I really want today to go good. Can we just talk about this later? I don’t want to be all blah when Tessa gets here.’

‘Of course,’ I said, giving her a quick but tight hug. ‘But as soon as you’re done and you’re ready, we’ll talk. Dinner?’

She nodded quickly. ‘Definitely dinner; but please don’t freak out, honey, there isn’t anything to talk about yet. And we’ve still got a world of trouble to get you out of.’

I pulled a face. ‘Do you know, for five very short minutes, I’d almost forgotten about all that?’

Jenny laughed. ‘Good luck with that.’

‘I’m going to try and give Alex another call.’ I pulled a silver puffball dress off the rail and passed it to her. ‘Get her to try this on. I’ll be back in a minute.’

Fred Segal was like a very fashionable labyrinth. Each little salon led into another dead end, a cul-de-sac of couture. Eventually, I followed the sunlight out to the door we’d come in and managed to snag a table in the café. Holding my phone to my ear, I closed my eyes. All I needed to do was press one button. Instead I ordered a smoothie. And checked my emails. And looked at Perez Hilton on my BlackBerry. I just didn’t know what to say to him. Last night’s call was so awful, I didn’t see how I could salvage things over the phone and, after seeing the look in Jenny’s eyes, seeing how broken she was at the realization that she’d never be able to make it work with Jeff, the prospect of losing Alex for good was painfully real.

When my phone actually rang, I answered automatically, and even though I must have pressed a button to connect it, I was still surprised.

‘Angela? It’s James.’

And immediately I wished I hadn’t.

‘Angela, are you there?’ He did not sound good.

‘Clearly I am,’ I replied, frozen to the spot.

‘Are you OK? Where are you?’

‘I’m fine actually,’ I said. ‘I’m just waiting to go on the Ryan Seacrest show to out you. Then I’m going on E! News.’

‘Please, I really want to sort this out,’ he said hurriedly. ‘Please don’t go on air.’

I sat and looked around the café. I was getting the odd look but most people were trying very hard to look as interested as possible in nothing at all.

‘As much as that’s what you deserve, you can calm down,’ I sighed. ‘I’m not going on the radio to out you. I’m just wandering up and down Melrose handing out flyers. I like the personal touch. Much more effective.’

‘You’re on Melrose? Will you come to the hotel? We really need to talk,’ he rushed.

‘We really don’t,’ I replied evenly. I was so incredibly angry with him; just hearing his voice focused my mind completely. It was a much easier emotion to manage than the big ball of blah that took over when I tried to think about Alex. ‘There’s no way on God’s green earth I’m coming over to your hotel.’

‘But if we meet outside the hotel, we’re going to get photographed,’ James said. ‘I thought—’

‘I’ve been told that you’re not good at thinking.’ I slurped my smoothie. It really was delicious. ‘I’m not coming to your hotel. I’m calling my editor and telling her everything and then I’m going back to New York to attempt to salvage my relationship.’

‘Angela, please, if you say anything to your editor they’ll out me.’

‘I really don’t give a shit.’

‘Please Angela,’ he whined. ‘It’s everything. Everything I’ve ever worked for. Please don’t do it.’

‘It’s not my problem, James.’ No time to be weak now. So what if I outed him? And destroyed his career? And ruined his life? Meh. ‘I’ve got my own concerns. I’m going to have to make my money somehow given that you’ve probably cost me my job.’

‘Come off it, you’re not a kiss-and-tell girl,’ James stammered. ‘Just come and meet me. Please? We’ll meet anywhere you like. We’ll work out how to save your job and everything, but please just don’t say anything to the magazine. Not yet.’

I should have just hung up. I should have direct-dialled the News of the World and told them to get the La Senza matching set out. But I didn’t. ‘Where?’

‘Definitely not the hotel?’

‘Definitely not the hotel. The opposite of a hotel. As far away from a bed as humanly possible. The most public place on earth would be preferable.’

‘Disneyland?’

‘You’re not kidding, are you?’ I realized I was holding my empty smoothie glass against the edge of the table at a dangerously smash-and-slash angle. And the couple sitting next to me were looking awfully nervous. ‘No, I don’t think The Magic Kingdom is going to be able to sort this, James.’

‘It is the happiest place on earth.’ I could hear a hint of a smile in his voice. How dare he think he was off the hook with this?

‘And I would hate to get blood on those character costumes. I bet they’re a bitch to get dry cleaned.’

‘Right, OK,’ he said, considerably less pleased with himself. ‘You’re on Melrose? And you want to meet somewhere without any even vaguely sexual connotations. Where are you exactly? I’m sending a car.’

‘Fred Segal.’ I placed the glass back on the table and put my hands in my lap, offering an ‘I’m not crazy, honest’ smile to the people beside me, but they were too busy tapping away on their BlackBerrys and Sidekicks to acknowledge my sanity.

‘Because that’s the place to keep a low profile,’ he said. ‘Bumped into Paris yet?’

‘Do you want me to come or not?’ I snapped. Seriously, how come no one looked over when I was trying to be nice but as soon as I raised my voice, I had everyone’s undivided attention? ‘And there’s no way it’s just me and you. Blake comes too.’

‘Oh, Angela, I don’t think so,’ James said quickly. ‘He’s really not in a very good mood.’

‘And he’ll be in a better mood if I out the pair of you?’

Silence.

Sighing.

‘Fine. Just stay there and I’ll send the car.’

Hanging up, I pulled out my make-up bag. Wherever James went, so went the paps. Things were already bad enough without my under-eye circles making the news. I stared at myself in the mirror of my powder compact. How bizarre was this? How did I manage to go from not being able to get served in the Slug and Lettuce in Wimbledon without shouting at a barmaid, to having to worry about whether or not I was going to end up on the gossip page of some tabloid with big red circles drawn all over my many, many imperfections? All I wanted was to crawl into bed and not come back out until all this had gone away. Maybe I’d come out for Christmas dinner but then I’d be going right back in.

Bags banished and blusher blended, I took a deep breath. Time to bite the bullet.

‘Mary Stein’s office.’

‘Hi Cici,’ I said bravely. ‘Is Mary about?’

‘Oh, Angela,’ Cici managed to stretch out my name to last about three minutes. She must have been loving this. ‘I’m not sure she’s gonna be able to speak to you right now. She’s on a conference call with the publisher. You know, because of you.’

‘Right, well, it’s really important,’ I said through gritted teeth. This bit was even worse than actually talking to Mary. ‘Can you try and put me through?’

‘Uh-huh.’ The glee in her voice was unbearable. ‘But if she can’t talk to you right now, I can fill you in on what I’ve heard so far. You know, about you.’

‘Appreciated. Can you please just try and put me through?’

The hold music kicked in for what felt like forever.

‘Well?’

‘Oh, Mary,’ I was a little bit surprised. Mainly because I didn’t think Cici was even going to try and put me through, since she clearly really wanted to tell me all the lovely things that were being said about me in the office. ‘Hi.’

‘No, not hi, well?’ Mary sounded livid. Even though I couldn’t see her, I knew I’d got her full attention, which wasn’t ever a good thing. Mary was much less frightening if she was clicking away on her giant Mac while she was talking to you. ‘You realize you have fucked up on a massive, massive scale?’

‘Mary, please just let me get this out. I know it looks bad—’ I started.

‘Looks bad?’ she interrupted before I’d even finished my first sentence. ‘It is bad. You’re absolutely over.’

‘Mary, please,’ There wasn’t enough blusher in the world to put the colour back in my cheeks. ‘Let me finish. I know exactly what it looks like, but it isn’t. There’s nothing going on with James. And seriously, I have the best interview. I’m sure once you get my copy … once everyone sees my copy, they’re going to love it. And James is going to do the photo shoot. It can be saved, can’t it?’

‘Angela, I think the sun has fried your brain. Do you really think the magazine wants to publish your interview right now? You’re splashed all over the internet as a two-timing star-fucker. We’d get more readers for an interview with your ex right now.’

‘Jesus, will everyone stop saying he’s my ex?’ I groaned. ‘I haven’t bloody done anything.’

‘Unless you’re gonna take an internal exam live on TV to prove you’re still a virgin, I don’t think anyone’s going to believe that,’ Mary replied. ‘Or maybe you could do it on the radio. I’m pretty sure they did that on the Howard Stern Show once.’

‘Mary, honestly, you work in the media. How can you believe the internet over me?’ I was determined not to cry. Not here.

‘I learned not to believe everything I read a long time ago.’ Mary relented slightly. ‘But it doesn’t matter what I believe. People don’t care about what’s true and what isn’t; they care about being entertained, they care about who has the best story. And your interview with James isn’t the best story any more. You are.’

‘I’m not a story,’ I said quietly. ‘I’m just me.’

‘Well, I’m telling you what the publisher told me,’ she went on. ‘So don’t flip out on me. It’s like this. The blog is suspended for a couple of days. We’re not taking it down; we just need to decide what direction we’re going in.’

‘I don’t understand, direction?’ I wasn’t quick on the uptake at the best of times. ‘It’s just my blog. My diary.’

‘It is right now,’ Mary agreed. ‘But there’s been a massive spike in traffic since yesterday, and obviously the new readers want all the details about you and James. But the publishers don’t want to give that away for free online.’

‘And there aren’t any details for them,’ I said.

‘OK, Pollyanna, have you finished?’ She didn’t wait for a response. ‘The publishers want your exclusive story – either you and James or just you in next week’s issue of Icon – and then they want to change the direction of the blog to fit your new … status.’

‘But Mary, it’s not like that.’ This wasn’t happening.

‘This is the best offer you’re going to get, Angela,’ Mary said. ‘If you don’t play it their way, you’re out.’

‘What am I supposed to do? It’s not true. And what about Alex? I have to sort things out with him, Mary, and there’s no hope in hell of that if I’m mincing around in a magazine declaring my love for James.’

‘How are you going to sort things out with him from the UK?’ Mary asked. ‘Because if you lose your job here, you know you lose your visa.’

‘You’re blackmailing me?’

‘Angela, honey,’ Mary sighed. ‘This isn’t a game. If you say you’re not with James, I believe you, but this has happened now. It’s not about the truth, it’s not about you; right now it’s about what sells magazines. An interview with you and James in Icon will sell more magazines than an interview with James in The Look. And a blog about you as a celebrity’s girlfriend will be more popular than a blog about your life in New York. You’re not stupid, you must be able to understand that.’

I paused. It was everything I could do not to be sick on the spot. Maybe losing my visa was the best option. I could just go home. Pretend none of this had ever happened.

Unless I had another story. One that was far more interesting and a whole lot more exclusive.

‘Mary, I can prove that I’m not sleeping with James,’ I started slowly. ‘But I can’t tell you why just yet. How long do I have to sort something out?’

‘For fuck’s sake, Angela, I know this is shitty but will you just get over this? They’re going to run something whether you’re part of it or not,’ Mary barked. ‘I’m trying to help you out by giving you some control.’

‘Fine,’ I breathed out for the first time in what felt like hours. ‘If I can’t sort this out I’ll do the interview. Please, Mary, please just hold it off until the end of today, and if I can’t work it out, I’ll do whatever you want. Photos, interviews; everything. Me and James.’

‘You’ve got until the end of today,’ Mary said quietly. ‘I’ll be in my office. Call me when you’ve got the loaves and the fishes.’

‘Loaves and fishes?’

‘Angela, you’re going to need a miracle.’

CHAPTER TWELVE

It took me fifteen minutes to find Jenny, and that was with the help of three assistants. Seriously, that shop was designed solely to keep the uninitiated out. Eventually, I spotted her holding up a tiny leather tuxedo-style jacket next to a silver sequined shrug. Her face fell when she saw me coming towards her.

‘I like the leather,’ I pointed.

‘You look like living shit, what happened?’ she asked, dropping both jackets on the floor and gently taking my shoulders. ‘You OK?’

‘Thanks,’ I breathed. It was still a struggle not to vomit on the spot. ‘I just spoke to Mary.’

‘That bad?’ Jenny winced. ‘Angie, you gotta just tell them the truth.’

‘Who would believe it? Really?’ I shook my head. ‘I’m going to sort it out though, don’t worry. Just meet me for dinner tonight.’

‘Yeah, sure,’ Jenny agreed, scooping up the discarded jackets. ‘Where are you going?’

‘I’m meeting James,’ I said.

Jenny stared at me. ‘Have you lost your mind? Give me that frickin’ phone. I’m calling your editor right now. No, I’m calling Erin, she’s in PR and has hooked up with just about everyone. She’ll know what to do.’

‘Jenny, please, don’t. Just let me have today to sort this all out. Please let me try? If I can’t, we’ll do it your way.’ And Mary’s way and James’s way and everyone’s way but mine, I thought.

Jenny stood pouting, not even slightly convinced.

‘You’ve got Tessa to worry about,’ I reminded her.

‘Who’s worrying about me – why?’ asked a little tiny voice behind me. I turned to see Tessa DiArmo in the gold sequined dress I’d given Jenny, huge chunky leather heeled shoes and a studded cuff. She looked amazing.

‘Wow.’ I was stunned. Her legs seemed to go on forever and the gold brought out highlights in her hair that I hadn’t seen before. ‘Tessa, you look incredible.’

‘Put this on,’ Jenny said, passing her the leather jacket. ‘It’ll give the paillettes a tougher edge.’

‘Paillettes?’ I mouthed.

‘Big-ass sequins,’ Jenny explained. ‘It’s fashion-speak, designed to make you feel dumb.’

‘I love it,’ Tessa said, spinning around and making the sequins or, paillettes, dance in the sunlight. ‘I’m absolutely wearing this tonight.’

‘Fantastic.’ Jenny’s face lit up. I hadn’t seen her look that happy since Ryan Phillippe had checked into The Union last October and she’d ‘accidentally’ taken his unrequested complimentary welcome basket up while he was in the shower. ‘Now go try on the Léger.’

‘I’m too skinny for Léger,’ Tessa whined, heading back into the tiny room. ‘He makes me look like a toothpick.’

‘That’s why you’re trying on the bustier style, it’ll give you the illusion of curves,’ Jenny yelled through the door. ‘No jewellery and go with the strappy Louboutins. Oh, and try the leather jacket with that one too.’

‘Jenny, you’re really good at this,’ I said, catching her off guard with a side hug. ‘She looks amazing.’

‘I know, right?’ She flushed and hugged me back. ‘And it’s so much fun. I’m shopping with someone else’s credit card, telling them what to do and they’re listening and paying me for it. I think they call it “living the dream”.’

‘Yay you.’ I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. The car must have arrived. ‘Look, I’m going to go. You have fun and I’ll call you later.’

‘As long as you know I’m not happy about this,’ she yelled as I walked away. ‘You tell that dick that I’m going to beat his ass when I next see him.’

James had clearly decided it wasn’t safe to be in the car with me and had sent his driver alone. I couldn’t help but wonder about all the things he had seen, all the things he must know. James must be paying him a fortune not to spill it all. That, or he was actually a decent person. Wow, I did not love the fact that the idea of him just being a good person was my second thought.

We drove south in silence for about ten minutes before pulling up outside what looked like a park. A park with an animatronic mammoth sinking into a pool of stinking black goo.

‘Here?’ I asked the driver, trying to spot James and Blake. And there they were, sitting on a bench just inside the gate.

‘Here,’ he confirmed, turning off the engine. ‘Try not to push them in.’

The pair of them stood when they saw me walking across the grass. I stopped short of the hug that James offered and folded my arms, mirroring Blake’s barely restrained fury. Who thought we would ever have something in common?

‘Tar pits?’ I asked, looking around at the groups of tiny school children running around us. They were too tiny and high on being out of the classroom to recognize or care about James, but their teachers were all trying very hard not to stare.

‘No one’s going to think we’re shagging round the back of a museum, are they?’ James shrugged. ‘There are children everywhere and, you know, tar isn’t exactly an aphrodisiac.’

‘Whatever.’ I tried to prepare myself. This wasn’t going to be easy and I hadn’t reckoned on my resolve weakening on seeing how awful James looked. Well, awful for James. His hair was rumpled and his dark circles were as pronounced as mine, but he still looked as though he was just playing the part of heartbreak, while I looked more like Amy Winehouse after a particularly bad night out. And even if he looked like shit, he still smelt awfully pretty. ‘Can we just get this over with?’

Blake led the way and past the tar pits to a large deserted expanse of park around the back of the museum. He leaned against what was, according to a small inscription on its base, a plastic sculpture of a giant prehistoric sloth and looked the other way. James sighed and sat down on the grass a few feet from him. I looked from one to the other. Blake’s face was frozen, impossible to read. Maybe James’s lack of sleep was down to more than just worrying about what I might say or do.

‘Angela,’ James started, pulling at my hand. I sat down beside him, not really knowing what else to do. ‘First, can I just say I’m sorry?’

‘You’ve actually said that a couple of times already,’ I said, my eyes still trained on Blake. ‘And I think it’s best if I talk first. Sorry if you’d been rehearsing.’

‘Go for it,’ he said, squeezing the hand I’d forgotten he was holding.

‘I spoke to my editor this morning.’ I pulled my hand away and paused to see his reaction. Stupid bloody actor didn’t bloody have one. He should absolutely play professional poker. ‘The magazine doesn’t want to run your interview any more.’

‘What?’ He looked shocked. ‘What did you say?’

‘Calm down, I didn’t tell them anything. Yet …’ I noticed we’d almost got Blake’s attention. ‘They want us to do a “we’re so in love” interview in Icon next week instead. Apparently, I’m no good as an interviewer any more because everyone thinks I’m a great big slag who came out here solely to seduce you.’

‘Seriously?’ James shook his head.

‘Seriously.’

‘Well, thank fuck for that,’ he laughed, pushing me back in a giant bear hug. Too shocked to do anything but worry about grass stains on my T-shirt, I lay staring helplessly up at Blake.

‘That’s brilliant!’ James roared. ‘This is going to solve all our problems. We’ll do the interview, you’ll move here, everyone will think we’re dating. This is perfect. We’ll get an apartment – how about Los Feliz? You liked it there, didn’t you? Or would you rather be near the beach? Oh, Angela, this is fantastic. Why didn’t you tell me on the phone?’

Finally finding some strength, I pushed him off me and shot up to my feet. ‘Because we’re not doing it! I have a life and a job and a boyfriend and I’m not giving that up to cover up for you.’

‘But it’ll be perfect.’ James looked confused. ‘I’ll pay for everything. And you’ll have your own room in the apartment and everything. It’s not like we’ll really be dating after all, is it?’

‘Can you hear yourself? I’m not doing this, James. You have to tell the magazine the truth.’ I span round to Blake. ‘And you, you can’t seriously be OK with this?’

He shrugged but his face was ashen, eyes burning. And, oh my God, were they red around the edges? Had he been crying?

‘Angela, do you think this is the first time this has happened?’ James jumped to his feet, his hands on my shoulders. ‘We get on well, don’t we? We’re friends? And it would be great for your career. Think of how cool it will be, living in LA, in the sun, going to parties, premieres – it would be a dream.’

‘But not mine,’ I shrugged off his hands. ‘James, listen to me. I have a life. I have a boyfriend. And if you don’t come out, tell the truth, I’m going to lose it all. If we’re really friends, you’ll do it.’

James rubbed his hands down his face. ‘You don’t even know what you’re asking. You’re being so bloody selfish.’

‘I’m being selfish? You don’t actually know anything about women, do you?’ I snapped.

‘Doesn’t know much about men either,’ Blake muttered.

I carried on regardless. ‘All I’m asking you to do is to tell the truth and you’re asking me to lie and give up absolutely everything. Which sounds more reasonable to you?’

James threw his hands up in the air. ‘But think about what I’m offering you. You’d pass all that up for some arsehole that thinks you’re shagging about behind his back and a crappy job writing for a website?’

I’d been angry before. I was pretty pissed off when my mum boil-washed my Bay Trading angora sweater dress the night before the Year Ten disco. I was fairly annoyed when Peter Jenson told everyone in the sixth form that I was a lesbian after he walked into the bathroom at Louisa’s sixteenth birthday party and we were in there chatting while I had a wee. And, of course, I wasn’t overly pleased when I found my boyfriend shagging his mistress in the back of our car at my best friend’s wedding. But none of that was anything to how I felt at that exact second.

There he was, this ridiculously beautiful man who had everything going right for him in the world, standing in front of me waving around what he genuinely thought was the perfect life, like the moon on a stick, while his secret boyfriend stood six feet away, leaning against a giant brown plastic mammal. And I was being selfish? No wonder Blake was such a twat all the time. His boyfriend was the biggest arsehole in the universe and he couldn’t complain about him to anyone.

‘Do you love Blake?’ I asked.

‘What?’ James looked past me to where Blake was staring at us from the arms of the sloth.

‘Do you love him?’ I asked again.

‘Angela, just stop playing games. Are you going to fuck me over or what?’

I ignored him and carried on. ‘Because I actually love my boyfriend and the idea of him not knowing that for sure is actually worse than any of this bollocks right now.’