Beneath the Glitter: A Novel (Sophia and Ava London) (5 page)

They turned back to the girl but she was walking away, clutching the autographs in one hand and typing on her phone fast with the other.

They continued shopping, casually selecting things to try on when they became aware that the store was getting unusually crowded. A petite woman who introduced herself as the manager came over and asked if they’d mind signing a few more autographs and suddenly they were standing next to the cash registers with a line of people forming in front of them.

“What is the meaning of this?” a proprietary voice demanded from their left. “Who’s blocking the cash registers?” Turning, Sophia and Ava found themselves facing a woman in her seventies swathed in a massive black fur, wearing large black sunglasses, sitting in what appeared to be a gold-plated wheelchair with a bored-looking Pomeranian on her lap. Apart from her silver shoulder-length bob, the only thing she wore that wasn’t black was her lipstick, which was a pure red. Behind her stood a man with gray hair dressed in a navy-and-gold uniform with perfectly polished black boots like a chauffeur out of an old movie.

“What is the reason for this ruckus?” the woman demanded. She looked around and fastening on Sophia and Ava said, “I’m trying to buy a simple gift for my granddaughter. Why are you blocking the registers?”

“I’m sorry,” Ava said. “We didn’t mean to.”

“We will move. We didn’t mean to disturb you,” Sophia stepped in to clarify.

One of the girls in line piped up with “You can’t leave! You have to sign this for my friend! She will die! We voted for you every day for weeks for this award!”

The woman examined them over the top of her dark glasses. “An award? Why ever for? I can’t see anything special about you.”

Missy, the manager, who had come to stand next to the London sisters, said, “They just won Best Webstars of the Year.”

The woman in the wheelchair pursed her red lips with distaste. “Really. So they give prizes for anything these days.” Her head moved as she looked Ava and Sophia up and down. “You’re sisters?”

“Yes, and we—”

“
Yes
was adequate. All of these lookie-loos”—she made a broad gesture toward several clusters of teenage girls hovering nearby and pointing at Sophia and Ava—“are interrupting my shopping trip because you are
Webstars
?”

Ava looked around. “I guess.”

“And you think that gives you the right to inconvenience others?”

“No, of course not,” Sophia said quickly. “This is all a complete accident. We—”

The woman’s attention had drifted from Sophia to the dog on her lap, who was standing up and rubbing against Ava’s outstretched hand. “Cuddles, what’s gotten into you?”

Ava patted the dog. “Is Cuddles a girl or a boy?”

“That’s none of your concern,” the woman snapped, gathering the dog toward her.

“I have a dog too,” Ava told her, trying to make peace. “He—”

“Do I look like someone who would be remotely interested in anything about you?” She turned her head slightly over her shoulder and addressed the man in the uniform. “Charles, please continue forward. Push these lookie-loos out of the way if you must. We don’t have time to deal with—whatever any of this is.”

Charles pushed the woman away while Sophia and Ava watched, a little bit hurt at how mean the woman had been. And when Missy came over and said, “We’re incredibly happy to have you in our store, truly we are. But we’re attracting a crowd, and it’s a fire hazard—not to mention an interruption to other customers. We’ve already gotten a complaint or two, so I’m really sorry, but we’re going to have to ask you to leave,” Sophia was fairly sure who the complainer must have been.

It was the first time they’d ever been asked to leave a store, but Sophia found she couldn’t stop smiling. Maybe she wasn’t doing
everything
wrong.

LonDOs

Best Webstar of the Year awards!

Carrying a tiny brush in your purse for touchups on the go

Strawberry shrimp and cold summer noodles ordered in from Mandarette

Noise cancellation headsets

Flaming Couture sparkling cell phone case from Cellairis

LonDON’Ts

Cheating boyfriends

Being asked to leave a store before you can find a first-date dress

Getting an ominous call from your agent saying, “We heard you were kicked out of Earl’s Court today; we need you to be at the office the ‘next day first thing’ to talk about this”

First thing meaning 8:00
A
.
M
.

Popcorn eating the fortunes from the fortune cookies

Waiting for texts from boys

Sophia singing old songs at night in the bath

(I can hear you—A)

Ava singing new songs first thing in the morning

(So can I—S)

4

about facial

Sophia and Ava had never seen the offices of Foley
+
Brightman so empty, but then again they’d never been there on a Sunday morning at 8:00
A.M
. before. With its sandstone walls, light wood furniture, pale green Persian carpets, and windows that gave the light coming in a slightly gold cast, the offices would have resembled a spa, except for the tension oozing off everyone in them.

That morning the only people there besides the London sisters were a handful of assistants with dark smudges under their eyes including Katie, their agent Corrina’s
PA
. She met them at the reception desk wearing the same thing she always wore, a white blouse, black fitted skirt, and a wide belt. The just-back-from-the-cleaners crispness of her shirt was a contrast to the up-all-night-at-my-desk paleness of her skin.

She ushered them into a conference room and pointed them to seats at one end of the long beech wood table with their backs to the wall of windows that looked out over Beverly Hills. “Corrina is just finishing up with someone,” she said with artificial brightness. “It shouldn’t be too long but while you wait, can I bring you anything? Anything at all?”

“No, thank you,” Sophia said.

“Really,” Katie pressed. “It would be no problem. Coffee? Smoothie? Milkshake? Croissant?”

When it became clear she wasn’t going to take no for an answer they asked for coffee. As the door closed behind her, Ava asked, “Was that a little weird?”

Sophia was still staring after Katie. “No, it was
a lot
weird. You know what it made me think of?”

“How they bring people on death row anything they want as their last meal,” Ava said unhesitatingly.

Sophia gave her a small nervous smile. “Exactly.”

A clock at the far end of the room ticked audibly, as though to underscore the idea.

It had been quiet in the car as Sophia drove them from West Hollywood to Beverly Hills, partially because it was early even by Ava’s standards—getting up at 8
A.M.
was different than being up and dressed and ready to leave for a meeting then—and partially because there’d been something in Corrina’s tone when she left her message that suggested they weren’t being summoned to her office at 8:00 on a Sunday morning for a big congratulations parade.

Sophia’s stomach was in knots. This was like what had happened with Clay all over again. One minute she and Ava had been blissfully happy. The next, without them even knowing why, they were in danger of losing everything.

Although they sort of knew why. A picture of them being kicked out of Earl’s Court yesterday had been tweeted by one of
LA
’s most popular fashion gossip sites … which happened to be run by a girl who worked on the sales floor at Earl’s Court.

Though her tweet explained that it was all because of the
TV
appearance that aired just moments before, it didn’t stop the nastier gossip sites from accusing them of getting kicked out for much more sinister reasons. The list included everything from shoplifting to punching another girl in the face while calling dibs on the last pair of Seven Jeans.

The clock ticked off one minute, then another. The toes of Ava’s high-heeled motorcycle boots pointed in as she slid down in her seat, toying nervously with a piece of the fringe on the end of the gold-and-cream scarf she had looped loosely around her neck. Sophia, by contrast, sat up straighter, the hem of her yellow pleated dress perfectly straight over her knees, her ankles in her cream-and-white T-strap heels crossed, her hands resting in her lap. The only sign of her agitation was the way her fingers played with her heart ring, twirling it around endlessly.

Katie arrived with the coffees and a basket of muffins—“No reason to be hungry while you wait!” she said with excessive cheer—and disappeared again.

The clock ticked off another minute. Sophia took a muffin and began dividing it into smaller and smaller pieces. Ava pulled out her phone, checked her text messages, and sighed.

“It’s only eight thirty. You can’t expect a text now. He’s still sleeping.”

That was true, Ava knew. But …

“Well, look who we have here.” Corrina walked through the door and slid into the seat at the head of the table, setting a thick folder and an iPad in front of her.

Before she could say anything Ava began, “I know there are a lot of crazy rumors going around, but believe me when I tell you that we didn’t punch anyone, steal anything, or engage in any other illegal acts—”

“Well, why didn’t you?” Corrina interrupted.

That stopped Ava cold. She and Sophia stared at their agent.

“All this attention is fabulous!” Corrina said, pointing at the screen. “We can use that in a
PR
campaign.”

“So we’re not in trouble?” Ava said.

“The only thing you’re in trouble of is being on a lot more people’s radars than you were yesterday. First the Best Webstar award and now all this online buzz?” She took a deep breath and crossed her hands in front of her on the tabletop. “Do you remember what you told me when you first moved to Los Angeles? What your dream was?”

Sophia said, “To have our own London Calling makeup line,” at the same time as Ava said, “To have a time machine to the future.” Sophia laughed, but Ava quickly amended it. “Oh right. London Calling makeup line.”

Corrina went on. “And do you remember what I told you?”

Sophia nodded. “That we could aim for that but it would take at least a year or two of building our Web presence and raising awareness of the London Calling brand and even then we’d have to start with just a tie-in deal.”

“Yes.” Corrina turned to Katie who sprang to attention by the door. “Please bring in our visitor.” Corrina said, “Girls, I want you to meet Lucille Rexford.”

“We’ve met,” an abrupt voice said as a gold-plated wheelchair was edged through the door by a man in an old-fashioned chauffer’s uniform. “Not officially, but enough.” The woman’s hand rested on the Pomeranian in her lap. She was in all black just as she’d been when she had confronted Ava and Sophia at Earl’s Court the previous day but this morning instead of a fur she was wrapped in a cashmere shawl and the lenses of her large glasses were more a smoky gray than black.

For a moment complete silence fell on the conference room. Then Cuddles, the dog, barked once, leaped off the woman’s lap, and headed straight for Ava.

Ava was braced for Lucille to be upset but instead she gave a completely unexpected hoot of laughter, slapped her knee heartily with one hand, and said, “I knew it.”

“Miss Rexford is the majority owner of LuxeLife Cosmetics,” Corrina explained. “And she has a proposal for you.” She turned to the woman in the wheelchair, more courteous than the London sisters had ever seen her. “Miss Rexford?”

“What do you call your company again?” Miss Rexford snapped at Ava and Sophia.

“London Calling,” Sophia supplied in a near whisper, as though her voice had gotten scared and run away. Ava sat there with her face pale, saying nothing. Lucille scared her.

Miss Rexford nodded. “That’s right. Well, no need to beat around, I hate wasting time. I want to give you your own line. London Calling for LuxeLife. What do you say?”

Ava started to choke but Sophia put up a hand and spoke first. “When you say
our own line
what exactly do you mean?”

Miss Rexford gave a very slight nod, as though indicating approval of the question. “Two palettes a year, advisory control of the content and theme of each campaign. Your images would also be featured in all the advertising.”

Sophia and Ava didn’t have to look at each other to know what the other was thinking: it was an incredible offer, the offer they’d dreamed of but thought they’d never get.

“Why are you doing this?” Ava asked, leaning forward as much as she could with Cuddles in her lap. “I thought you hated us yesterday.”

Miss Rexford’s gold bangles clinked together as she waved that aside. “Cuddles likes you. He doesn’t like anyone. That has to mean something.”

“You’re giving us our own makeup line because your dog likes us?” Sophia said. She pronounced each word with a slight pause in between which gave the sentence an undercurrent of disbelief.

“That and because I saw how the two of you connected with your fans yesterday. And when I attended my granddaughter’s birthday festivities, she couldn’t stop talking about Ava and Sophia London’s makeup videos. She even forced me to sit through far too many of them!”

Miss Rexford put her hands on the table and leaned into it as though she were going to pounce. Through the smoky glasses her eyes bored into Sophia’s as she said, “But none of that matters, or it shouldn’t matter to you anyway, young lady. Because when someone offers you an opportunity to make your dreams come true, you don’t question them. You just take it.”

Sophia couldn’t stop thinking about that on the ride home. There had been a pointedness in Miss Rexford’s tone that suggested a lesson learned the hard way and she wondered what it had been.

A partial clue came from the Wikipedia entry Ava found as they drove home, although neither of them realized it until much later. “‘Lucille Rexford, eldest daughter of Mary Louise and Joseph Rexford,’” Ava read aloud, “‘inherited the LuxeLife empire with younger sister Lenora when their parents were killed in a boating accident. Twenty-two at the time, Lucille took the reins of the company, and managed to not only run it but grow it while enjoying the life of an international party girl.’”