I Heart Hollywood (21 page)

Maybe James was right; maybe the Chateau and its shabby chic bar were safe. Safe enough for me to drink myself into not thinking about Alex for a couple of hours at least. Except there he was, in the corner of my mind, smiling, brushing my hair out of my eyes while his fell across his cheek. I could smell his deodorant, his sweaty post-gig T-shirt, and I could hear his soft lullabies in my ear over the buzzing bass of the bar. Maybe I should just send a text. Just to remind him I was still here. My oversized clutch seemed like the Tardis. Where was my phone? I washed my hands then leaned against the wall, frantically searching through my bag and spilling lip gloss after lip gloss on to the floor as the cubicle started to spin slightly. Who needed so many lip glosses? Was I even wearing lip gloss? Ah-ha, there was my phone, hiding under the reams of toilet roll I’d stuck in my bag in case there wasn’t any left later. Before I could second-guess myself, I tapped out a quick message.

‘I know you’re angry but it’s all bollocks. Miss you. A x’

I stared at the screen as the send icon blinked a couple of times. Sending. Sending. Sent. Another couple of seconds to see if he was going to text back. And a couple more.

‘Come on, I’m dying out here,’ a not very ladylike voice yelled from outside. The lock on the toilet door wouldn’t hold up to more than one good kick, and if she felt anything like I had two minutes ago, she would do that in about thirteen seconds. I tossed the phone back into the bottom of my bag. There was only one thing for it. More drinks. It was going to take a couple more mojitos to get me into a dancing mood now, but I was quite committed to making sure that happened.

I shuffled back through the bar without getting so much as a second glance from the gorgeous people all around me. Which was oddly nice. Jenny and Daphne had already set up shop with James, Blake and a small crowd of hangers-on, but even they didn’t turn to wave as I walked over. I was invisible. I had thought that the only way to become anonymous in LA would be to adopt the uniform—blonde hair, big boobs and a super-tanned, size zero stick figure—but apparently I could just hang out in a very cool bar full of beautiful, beautiful women and then no one would even bat an eyelid. Might still be worth getting the boob job, though.

No one in the entire place even batted a heavily made-up eyelid as I sat down, except for James who immediately pushed Blake up from the seat next to him to make room for me. Either he really wanted to sit next to me or he thought my arse was too big to fit in the tiny space between him and Jenny. He would have been right, of course. I squeezed in and raised my hand to everyone around the table. Jenny gave me a blinding smile over the rim of her martini glass and Daphne winked over the shoulder of a tall, skinny guy with the most impressive afro I had ever seen. And glowering in the corner was my old friend Blake, offering me his welcoming grimace.

‘Good evening, madam.’ James sported his usual uniform of indecently tight jeans, fitted black shirt and matinee idol eyes. ‘Jenny tells me she lured you out against your will.’

‘Hmm.’ I eyed Jenny to my left. She raised her glass in return, before turning back to the beautiful Joe-a-like sitting opposite her. ‘There was some coercion involved.’

‘And some martinis?’

‘She mentioned that, did she?’

‘Well, I didn’t know what you wanted to drink.’ James passed me a very full martini glass. ‘And I don’t know what you like.’

‘Thanks,’ I smiled and sipped.

‘Apart from me, of course,’ he added.

I frowned and chugged.

‘So did you get hold of that boyfriend of yours or what?’ James asked, leaning in close so I could hear him over the music.

‘Nope.’ I finished my drink, and carefully placed the empty glass on the table in front of us. ‘But it’s fine.’

‘If he’s still being a knob about the photos, I could call him,’ James offered. ‘Although I’m guessing I’m the last person he’d want to speak to.’

‘If I thought he’d answer the phone, I would love you to call him.’ I closed my eyes and found James’s arm draped casually across my back instead of the wooden frame of the booth. A hot hand curled around my shoulder in a half-hug.

‘Well, if I’m honest, I’m not sure anything I have to say to him would make him feel better,’ James said into my hair. ‘I’m really glad you came here tonight.’

I turned too quickly to look at James but his face was altogether too close and I bumped my nose against his. He brushed his lips over mine, almost too gently to even feel.

‘Don’t,’ I coloured up. ‘I mean, I’m sorry, but no.’

James gave me a half-smile and pushed up off the booth, striding down the bar. The beautiful people instinctively cleared a path and stared after him. It was funny how they recognized one of their own.

Watching his denim-clad backside vanish in the crowd as they melded back together, I desperately tried to clear my mind. Daphne was knocking back shots of vodka straight from the bottle, and I wondered how she was going to manage her Rachel Bilson shoot tomorrow. And how Jenny was hoping to get all the different stains out of that leather dress. And just when was Blake going to actually get up out of his seat and kick the living crap out of me rather than just stare at me. Oh, about now.

‘What exactly do you think you’re doing?’ he demanded, throwing himself across the table and almost pushing Jenny out of her seat at the side of me.

‘Hi, Blake.’ I hoped that if I refused to argue, surely he’d give up eventually. ‘So sorry about this morning. James thought—’

‘That’s the problem, James doesn’t think,’ Blake said. He might have been quiet but he was clearly furious. ‘
I
think. That’s my job. He acts, I think, you ask questions and then you go home.’

Apparently he would argue regardless.

‘And while you might not care about your job, your boyfriend and all that other crap, it is also my job to ensure that James keeps the things that important to him.’ He paused. ‘Don’t make it my job to ensure that you lose the things that are important to you.’

Meep. ‘Blake I—’

‘No,’ he went on. ‘I said from the beginning that this was a bad idea, and if Monday night wasn’t bad enough, here you are again with your slutty friends, all over James. It’s pathetic.’

OK, now I was annoyed. ‘Firstly, it was never my intention to end up splashed all over the internet with my knickers on show, you know; and secondly, please don’t call my friends slutty. You don’t know them, how dare you call them slutty?’

Blake leaned his head to the left to look around me and laughed.

I span around. Jenny was safely positioned within an inch of the Joe-a-like’s lips and Daphne was dancing with her man. Well, she was dancing; he was sitting. She was dancing in his lap. Oh my God, she was giving him a lap dance.

‘No, not slutty at all. You’ve been here, what? Twenty minutes?’ Blake curled his lip. ‘Yeah, I know you. I know all of you. Do you think you’re the first nobody to ever make a play for James?’

‘Blake, this is really boring. I’m getting very tired of repeating myself.’ I turned my back on my slutty friends. Couldn’t really fight him on that front. ‘No one is making a play for James.’

Trying not to wobble in my five-inch heels, I stood up quickly. ‘Jenny,’ I barked, not taking my eyes off Blake’s smug face. He wasn’t quite so handsome in the middle of a row. ‘Jenny, can I please have a word?’

She looked up, eyebrows knitted together in a silent plea to stay where she was.

‘Jenny. Bar. Now.’ I turned and marched. Perhaps it was a bit slow and, well, very uneven, but it was still a march.

‘Angie, honey, what are you doing to me?’ Jenny groaned, straightening her hemline as I dragged her through the crowd. For some reason, it didn’t magically part for us.

‘What are you doing?’ I asked, wrestling for an inch of the bar. ‘I’m there having a screaming row with Blake, he’s calling us a bunch of slags and I turn around and you’re practically at it with a stranger. And Daphne actually is.’

‘Damn,’ Jenny whistled, looking back at Daphne. A small crowd was forming around her, obscuring my view. Thank God. ‘She’s so sexy. It’s such a shame she didn’t keep up the burlesque.’

‘Jenny, pay attention, that is not the point I was getting at,’ I said, ordering a Diet Coke but knowing full well I was past the ability to sober up with the help of one soft drink. ‘I’m going to find James and say goodbye, then I’m leaving. I’ve got enough on my plate at the moment with Blake actively trying to ruin my life.’

‘Angie, I’m really sorry but I’m gonna have to go Oprah on your ass.’ Jenny pressed her lips into a thin line. ‘What the hell is wrong with you?’

I stared, a little bit shocked. ‘What’s wrong with me? I’m not the one getting off with a stranger in the middle of a bar—’

‘And I am, so what’s the problem?’ she asked, hands on hips. ‘And that’s not where I’m going so shut up and listen. Yeah, I get that those photos of you and James were hard to see but they weren’t real and everyone will get that. Your magazine, your mom, Alex. And I will not get into an argument about this, but if he
doesn’t
get it, if he never speaks to you again, then he is not worth getting this upset about, honey. Fact.’

‘But—’

‘No, I’m not done,’ she grabbed my Diet Coke and took a swig.’I have two more very important points to make. Firstly, what the hell has happened to my Angie? Why are you walking around whining and snivelling because your boyfriend is being an ass and a hot movie star is trying to get in your pants? Where’s the girl who broke a guy’s hand when she found out her boyfriend was cheating on her? Who got on a plane to New York without even giving it a second thought?’

‘Don’t know.’ I always had been very eloquent.

‘And secondly—and it is very, very important that you think about what I’m about to say.’ Jenny grasped my shoulders a little too tightly. ‘Your mom lives a long way away so she’s not here to explain one of life’s fundamental lessons to you. When a real-life hunk of a man makes a move on you, you let him. You know I like Alex, when he’s not being an asshole at least, but Angie, this is a genuine movie star. A drop-dead-gorgeous, prime specimen of a man. And he obviously wants you. What is wrong with you?’

‘Jenny…’ I protested feebly.

‘Has Alex called you?’ she asked.

‘No,’ I said.

‘And have you called him since I last asked you?’

‘No,’ I sipped the Diet Coke innocently.

‘Have you texted him?’

‘Yes,’ I admitted to the floor.

‘Then you have no excuses. You have to do this for me.’ She looked as though she meant it. I couldn’t think of a time I’d seen her look so committed to a cause. ‘OK, so you don’t have to sleep with him, but where’s the harm in dancing with him? Maybe making out a little? Alex will never find out. And besides, you’re in the middle of an argument, you’re practically on a break.’

‘Jenny, if I learned anything from
Friends
, and I did, it’s that being on a break doesn’t mean anything.’ I pulled my left foot out of my ridiculously high shoe and rested it on the cold floor for a moment. Ahh, sweet relief. ‘And besides, I told you, I’m going home. I have had far too much to drink tonight.’

‘Just dance with the man and let me watch,’ she pleaded. ‘If you’re going to guilt-trip me about making out with that guy back at the table, at least let me live vicariously through you.’

‘If you can tell me the name of that man, I will book you the honeymoon suite at The Hollywood.’ I gave her a moment.

‘John?’ she shrugged.

‘Not even close.’

‘Whatever, Angie.’ Jenny pointed to James as he wandered through the bar, looking for us back at the table. Looking for me. ‘Just one dance. And then you can leave. I’ll even take you home myself.’

‘Maybe that’s the problem though,’ I said, feeling a familiar tickle in my stomach. ‘If I dance with him, I don’t know if I’ll be able to go home.’

‘Awesome,’ Jenny grinned, pushing me away from the bar and pulling me back over to the table; in these heels, I was in no position to try and stop her.

Either the music was getting louder in the bar or I was getting steadily drunker, Diet Coke be damned. The bass pounded through the floor and up the slender stems of my heels. I really wanted to dance with James. Or go home to bed and conduct the rest of my interview with James over the phone. Or dance with James. Which was how I knew it was definitely time to go home. But Jenny dragged me onwards, back to Blake, ‘John’ and some random tiny brunette sat awfully close to my James. Not my James. Just James.

‘Angela,’ James held out a hand and pulled me down into the seat next to him with a bump. Jenny sashayed past Blake and set herself down, returning his filthy look with her own killer stare. I loved that girl. ‘Angela, Jenny, this is my friend, Tessa.’

The new girl, clad in denim hot pants, big boots and a baggy white T-shirt held out her hand, but it was so tiny, I hardly dared to take it. I felt like Jabba the Hut shaking hands with Tinker Bell.

‘Hi,’ she said, shaking hands with Jenny. ‘Have we met?’

‘Yeah, it’s Tessa DiArmo, right?’ Jenny shook her hand smoothly. ‘We met at The Union last year.’

I watched Jenny schmooze Tessa like a pro, in complete awe. She really ought to be the one interviewing celebrities, no one fazed her. And no wonder I didn’t remember Tessa; everything about The Ivy was a bit of a blur, except for the toilet floor. Living in London with Mark, I’d barely been able to open a bottle of wine on my own, but since I’d moved out to New York, I could get a cork out with a pair of eyelash curlers in under a minute if needs be. The privileges and perils of being freelance.

‘Right, The Union. I don’t stay anywhere else in New York. Except The Grammercy. And maybe The Bowery. Or The Hotel on Rivington.’ Tessa nodded thoughtfully, clearly not registering that Jenny actually worked at The Union. ‘I should go back soon—it’s been like, weeks. Maybe the Soho Grand. We should hang out. I love your outfits. I so need a new stylist. Your dress is awesome.’

I realized Tessa’s wide-eyed stare was aimed at me.

‘Well, no one styles me except for Jenny,’ I joked, looking down at my black dress. Well, she had picked it. ‘She’s a miracle worker.’