I Heart Hollywood (30 page)

‘Hey,’ Alex said, curling his long body around the door, ‘you OK?’

‘I thought you were asleep,’ I said, quickly wiping away the smears of moisturizer all over my face. ‘I was just sorting out some stuff.’

‘That’s cool, you don’t need to tell me.’ He stretched up, gripping the top of the frame, his T-shirt pulling up over the waistband of his jeans and revealing his tight, pale abs. Good job I was holding on to the sink. ‘So my body clock is totally wrecked and now I’m starving. You want to eat?’

‘I am actually really hungry.’ I couldn’t remember when I’d last eaten. ‘Do you want to go out?’

Alex let go of the doorframe and stepped tentatively into the bathroom. He smiled and wiped away a little leftover moisturizer from my cheek, making me flush from head to toe.

‘Do you?’

I shook my head. ‘Not really.’

‘Me either.’ He pulled off his shirt and unfastened his belt buckle. ‘But I do need to take a shower. You coming in?’

I looked at the floor. Why was he making this so difficult for me? The empty sick feeling in my stomach eased into tickling butterflies. Before I could say anything, Alex was right there, kissing me so hard, my lips felt bruised and my breath was knocked clean out of me. As he hooked his hands under my arms and pushed me up against the sink, I wrapped my legs around his waist, kissing him back. Maybe this was the best way to clear my head. It certainly felt like a good idea. Not that I could really use that as an indicator of good ideas, given my previous.

I was vaguely aware that I’d knocked on the tap as a startling stream of cold water ran down my lower back, but I was so busy helping Alex yank my T-shirt up and over my head that I didn’t really mind. Instead of trying to turn it off, I let myself twist my fingers into his hair, just like I’d wanted to ever since he’d walked through my door. I held on tightly around his neck as Alex staggered backwards, sliding me off the sink and clattering into the towel rail.

‘Is this OK?’ He breathed hard in between kisses that made my knees weak. So weak that getting to the floor as soon as possible was really the only solution.

‘I thought I was the one who talked too much,’ I replied, pulling him down onto the cold, hard tiles.

Chapter Fifteen

‘I can’t believe that guy is gay,’ Alex said afterwards as we lay on the bathroom floor, draped in The Hollywood’s fluffy towels. I wasn’t sure my legs were up to making it across the room anyway, and it seemed as if it would be unflattering to crawl. Not to mention the fact that having two men in my bed in one day was really just too skanky.

‘I know.’ I shuffled slightly closer against Alex’s chest. The closer I was, the safer I felt. ‘It’s mad, isn’t it?’

Even though Alex was trying really hard with his whole ‘you don’t need to explain yourself to me’ routine, I had really wanted to give him the whole story, or at least the whole James Jacobs story, as soon as was post-coitally appropriate.

‘I guess you never really know about this stuff.’ Alex idly stroked at strands of my hair, holding them up and let them fall gently back to my head. ‘People believe what they want to believe. It’s kinda depressing that he didn’t think he could just be who he is from the beginning.’

‘I’m just so sorry you got dragged into it all,’ I said quietly, utterly blissed out from the hair stroking. ‘I nearly died when they had that picture of you online.’

‘Yeah, how weird was that?’ His voice sounded deep and sandpapery in the confines of the tiny hotel bathroom. ‘I don’t know where they got that picture. Good to know internet gossips think I’m cute, though. The guys haven’t stopped laughing.’

‘Jealous,’ I said.

‘Totally,’ he agreed. ‘The sick thing is, record sales are up.’

‘Do I get commission?’ I asked, manoeuvring my towel to make sure any dodgy bits were covered. It was one thing to be naked in the throes of passion, it was quite another to be totally starkers under the harsh bathroom lighting once your boyfriend had already got some.

‘Can I work off my debt?’ he whispered into my ear. A shiver ran down my spine that had nothing to do with the temperature of the floor tiles.

‘I thought you were hungry.’ I pushed his hair back out of my face as Alex positioned himself over me. ‘They won’t bring room service up if we’re at it on the bathroom floor.’

‘Don’t tell me you haven’t got a secret stash of snacks in this room.’ His breath was hot on my neck and I felt my back arch upwards towards him. ‘You’re never more than fifteen feet from a packet of M&Ms.’

‘I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,’ I said, hoping he wouldn’t find the giant bag of peanut butter M&Ms before I could hide them.

The day drifted away from me before I was really able to do anything with it aside from intermittently reaching out to make sure Alex was still there and drifting in and out of my first non-alcohol-induced sleep for days. Eventually, Alex and I managed to put on just enough clothes to make ourselves decent and we wandered out to the closest McDonald’s for sustenance—and to give housekeeping enough time to change the bed. I was just watching Alex tuck into his second Big Mac when my phone trilled to announce a text message. It was Jenny.

‘Hey, things ok with Alex? U didn’t tell him about Joe? Am with Tessa, let me no if u need me xoxo’

I looked up, watching Alex devour his burger as though someone was going to take it off him. I didn’t know whether to smile or cry. I knew that Joe could appear at any second and completely mess this up.

‘Haven’t said anything, ok at mo. Have fun, cu tomorrow? A x x x’

I pushed my chicken sandwich away, suddenly not quite so hungry as I was desperate to get back in the hotel room with a ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the door.

‘Not hungry?’ Alex asked, eyeing my leftovers.

I shook my head. ‘Full of M&Ms.’ I sipped my Diet Coke while Alex made short work of the McChicken Sandwich. ‘How’s your jet lag?’

‘Hmm,’ Alex replied, holding his hand up to hide a mouthful of fast food. ‘I don’t even know what time it is. It’s getting dark though.’ He nodded towards the street outside. The sun had almost completely set and all of Hollywood Boulevard’s tourists, costume characters and general crazies were lit up. I tried not to stare as Spider Man and Jack Sparrow wandered in off the street and ordered up a couple of Happy Meals. ‘Are you sure you don’t have anything you have to do today? Isn’t this interview thing going to be really difficult?’

‘Yes and no.’ I pulled my hair back into a tight ponytail and then let it go. ‘I’m assuming the magazine is going to rewrite whatever I do but, you know, I don’t want to turn in some rubbish. My plan is to get as much information as possible, pull it into the best shape I can and then at least there’s material for the editors to work with. I’ve got tonnes of background stuff from the last week, so tomorrow I need the “We Love Each Other” stuff to add to that. Which is what’s going to be difficult. I can’t imagine they’re actually going to be overly sharey even now, to be honest. Blake hates me.’

‘Cool, I guess I should be looking into flights home. You know what you and Jenny are doing yet?’ He started on the fries.

‘Nope,’ I said, fiddling with the bendy straw in my Coke. Couldn’t he just hurry up and finish already? ‘It’ll be some time on Sunday though. Cici is supposed to be booking them tomorrow. Shall I see if she can get you on the same flight?’

Alex nodded. ‘My grand romantic gesture wasn’t well planned.’

‘I don’t think they’re supposed to be.’ I reached across the table and squeezed his hand. Which was stupid because it slowed down his eating even more.

‘So what’s going on with Jenny?’ Alex finally flattened out the empty fries box. And started on his Coke. ‘Did she hook up with that waiter guy?’

I felt myself turn a little bit green. ‘Turns out she wasn’t ready to be hooking up with anyone.’ I moved the subject on from Joe as quickly as possible. ‘She’s just so burned out over Jeff, I really don’t know what it’s going to take to shake her out of this mood she’s in. I mean, it’s not like she’s been short of men throwing themselves at her and she’s still going out and everything.’ I willed Alex to neck his drink so we could get back to the safety of my room. ‘I don’t know, maybe the break will do her good. She’s been hanging around with one of her old friends who does some styling stuff. They’ve been sort of playing at that while I’ve been working. Jenny’s pretty good at it.’

‘Jenny good at telling people what to do?’ Alex shook his paper cup and took one last slurp. ‘I don’t believe it for a second.’

I didn’t sleep a wink Friday night and it had nothing (or at least not as much as you might think) to do with Alex being naked beside me. As relieved as I was to find the hotel room restored to its former pre-worst-night-of-my-life glory, I was still uneasy. How could I lie here with Alex and pretend everything was OK when I had cheated on him in this very bed? I almost put my ex’s face through the windscreen when I busted him cheating on me.

The next morning, I was up, showered and dressed before Alex had even flickered an eyelid. My new plan was simple: get the interview with James out of the way, get Alex out of the hotel, and get everyone out of LA. I was certain Jenny was right: it was better not to tell Alex anything and, had I been able to leave my regrettable/forgettable one-night stand behind me in another city, a very, very long way away, that might have been easier. Now he was here, at the scene of the crime, I just felt like an absolute skank.

I grabbed my lovely, trustworthy handbag and made for the door, leaving a note for Alex. I wasn’t due at James’s hotel for hours, but Jenny had left me the car keys and there was no way I could hang about in the room, driving myself mad. After awkwardly navigating the valet parking system, I prepared myself for the fabled LA traffic as best I could (putting on sunscreen, lipstick and sunglasses) and flicked on the convertible’s sat-nav. I’d never driven an automatic before—well, I hadn’t actually driven a car since I’d been in America—but it was just like riding a bike. Apparently. Unfortunately, even at six-thirty on a Saturday morning, LA’s roads were neither bike—nor international-driver-friendly. I got the hang of driving on the wrong side of the road fairly quickly, but turning right on red just wouldn’t sink in. Luckily, there were lots of straight roads for me to pootle along until I could steel myself to pull into an open Starbucks, grab a coffee and a muffin and set the sat-nav for Griffith Park.

The park was beautiful: so different to everything I’d seen of LA so far, wilder than Central Park and a million miles away from London’s carefully tended open spaces. Parking up by a huge open-air theatre, I picked up my coffee, plugged in my iPod and wandered out into the park, following the runners and dog walkers. After twenty minutes of drowning out my thoughts with the loudest music I could find, I found myself outside the Griffith Observatory. Sipping my cooled coffee, I sat down on the grass and stared down at the city as the sun came up slowly. Well, wasn’t I a long way from home?

LA looked very different from up here; for the first time I felt as though I was Away. New York was so tight and tall, a thin sliver of an island, breathing in and stretching up high, as if it was holding its hand up to the world for attention. New York made me walk fast, made me want to be as tall and glossy as its skyscrapers, twenty-four seven. For all its glamour and celebrity, up here in the hills, LA looked more like a city that had just breathed out, kicked off its heels and opened a window. The buildings were a little lower, a little sun-bleached and more spread apart, not pressed up against each other, racing up into the clouds. It was a city so sure of itself that it just didn’t need to fight for attention. And besides, it was so sunny and warm, why not relax a little?

But of course I’d spoken too soon. Inside my bag, my phone chirped into life. Who could be missing me at this time? The screen flashed over and over with Mum Home.

‘Hello?’

‘Angela?’

‘Mum?’

‘Hello, love! I was just talking about you. Are you with your movie star?’

‘Mum, why are you using your posh voice?’ I asked, instantly regretting answering the call.

‘I don’t know what you mean, dear.’ Mum went on in the same voice she had used for my teachers and the engineer who came round to install Sky+. ‘Anyway, Sheila’s been round, you remember Sheila from the library? Well, she says that your boyfriend used to go out with that girl from that film you like…you know, the one about that man out of
Ghostbusters
, when he goes to China and she’s ever so pretty, Angela.’

I survive my first drive in LA and this was how I rewarded myself? When did I become a masochist? ‘Mum, he’s not my boyfriend. Alex is my boyfriend. We have been through this.’

‘I know it’s all the rage going out with two people at once these days but, honestly Angela, it’ll end in tears,’ she rattled on. ‘Don’t think I don’t know. I was seeing another man when I met your father and yes, I admit there might have even been a bit of an overlap but—’

‘Mum!’ I shouted, attracting the attention of several labradors and a chihuahua. ‘There’s nothing going on with me and James at all. I’m just going out with Alex.’

‘Oh.’ She sounded ridiculously disappointed given that she had never met either man. ‘Well, that’s a shame. He seemed lovely.’

‘Well, I’m very sorry.’

‘Are you trying to tell me you’re not going to marry that actor or was there something else? I’m just about to do your dad a sandwich.’

I breathed in and out slowly, watching the sun spread across the city. See how different it could be? If I hadn’t salvaged my job at
The Look
, I would most likely be having a sandwich with Dad as well.

‘I just wanted to give you a ring,’ I said, trying to be patient. “Let you know I was all right. That I wasn’t shacked up with James Jacobs.’

‘Don’t feel bad, that blonde girl is ever so pretty. Not that you’re not, Angela love, but you know. So, how long are you in Los Angeles for? Have you booked your flights home?’

I tried not to be offended that my mother didn’t think I was as pretty as Scarlett Johansson. I mean, surely your mum was the only person in the world that might think that about you? Unless you were Scarlett Johansson’s mum and then I suppose you’d have to think her sister was fairly pretty too. If she has a sister.