Lindsey Kelk 5-Book 'I Heart...' Collection (48 page)

‘Whatever,’ she bristled, hands planted on her hips. ‘I cannot believe you left me. That Blake guy is an ass-hat.’

‘And Joe was totally out of order with Blake.’ I stood my ground. Hurricane Jenny just needed a slap sometimes. ‘And he got you back OK, didn’t he?’

‘If you mean, he dragged me up by my wrist and tossed me in a lift to find my own way back here, then yes,’ she pouted. ‘If you’re asking if he apologized for his pig-headed behaviour and then brought me back to the hotel, then no.’

‘I’m sorry, Jen, but Joe was being a bit of an idiot. But I know Blake can be difficult too. I’m sorry. I should have … I don’t know what I should have done. But I shouldn’t have left you.’

‘No, you shouldn’t.’ She dropped her arms to her sides. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have blown up. I’m tired, I guess. And cranky.’

‘Me too,’ I said, slowly crossing the room and sitting on the bed. Jenny collapsed backwards beside me. ‘Seriously, though, you need to sort out your temper. Do you think Oprah kicks off like this?’

‘Yeah, whatever,’ she said, wriggling out of her dress and under my covers. I was forgiven then. ‘But I’m telling you, Blake is a total asshole. And James should so ditch him. Joe says—’

‘Please, can we not?’ I sighed, pushing myself up and slipping off the dress to hang it. ‘Don’t go mental, but have you thought that Joe might be a bit jealous of James and was just taking it out on Blake?’

‘Whatever,’ Jenny yawned. ‘I’m still pissed but I’m also super-tired. Let’s talk about this tomorrow. Let’s do something fun.’

‘Uh, yes?’

‘Damn straight, yes,’ Jenny muttered into her pillow, flicking out the light without asking.

‘Night Jenny,’ I whispered, asleep before my head had even hit the pillow.

My alarm was set for nine, so I was completely confused as to what was making all the noise when the little alarm clock next to my bed said eight-twenty.

‘Turn off your freaking phone,’ Jenny mumbled into her pillow.

‘Who would be calling?’ I croaked, still shattered.

‘Meh? Alex?’

Oh shit, Alex.

I rolled out of bed and grabbed my bag from the floor. It was a 212 number but not Alex’s landline.

‘Hello?’

‘Angela Clark, would you like to explain to me what is happening over there?’ It was Mary. ‘Angela? Are you there? Or are you still too tired from your night of fucking up our lives to talk to me?’

‘Mary, I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ I rubbed my eyes. Ew, last night’s mascara.

‘I suggest you check, oh I don’t know, Perez Hilton, TMZ, maybe any other website in the entire world and then call me back with a really good excuse as to why I shouldn’t fire your ass.’

I blinked at the dead phone. What was she talking about? Crawling across to my computer, I quickly logged on and flipped to Perez. Which I may or may not have added to my bookmarks during my bout of James Jacobs research/worship.

And there it was. Or rather there they were. A picture of me and James sitting on the beach in Santa Monica. A shot of us eating at 25 Degrees. Him carrying me out of Teddy’s. James putting me in the car at Chateau by the supposed secret exit. Well, it turned out James was right: the pictures did look pretty bad. Especially when built into a completely fictitious photo-story of our alleged affair.

Sigh, Hollywood’s favourite British export, James Jacobs, is breaking our heart again! It must be at least a week since he was pictured getting hot and heavy with some skank in Hyde, but no, despite popular opinion, it hasn’t shrivelled up and fallen off. Looks like James is in love! The Casino Night star hit up several romantic LA hotspots with a new lady love yesterday. Word of advice, James – when you’ve gone to all the trouble of wooing a girl all day long, it’s not cool to get her in and out of your Chateau Marmont bungalow within an hour. Word on the set of his new movie, The Big Time, is that James takes longer to get his scenes in the can than anyone else on the film. At least he’s taking time to make sure the job is done better in at least one area of his life. Sorry, honey, James is all about his ‘craft’.

Oh shit. At least they hadn’t got the photo of me in James’s dressing gown. Yet. Scrambling into the bathroom, I dialled The Look and waited to be put through to Mary, not having a clue what to say.

‘This had better be good,’ she answered.

‘Mary, look, I’ve seen the pictures,’ I breathed in deeply, ‘and they’re not what it looks like at all. Honestly.’

‘That’s the best you can do?’

‘It’s the truth.’ I pulled a towel down from the rail and wrapped it around my legs. ‘Everything was above-board, it’s just how it looks on the internet. I don’t know what else to tell you. It’s rubbish, total rubbish.’

‘And I’m supposed to believe that?’

‘Yes?’ I pulled my shoulders up around my ears.

‘Well,’ Mary said after a long moment’s pause. ‘I guess this is what happens when we put inexperienced reporters on important assignments. What were you thinking going on a date with the story, Angela?’

‘A date? Me and James Jacobs? Come on, Mary,’ I tried to laugh. ‘The beach thing was part of the interview, James wanted to go do it there – do the interview there – and there were three other people with us at Teddy’s. Mary, I really don’t want you to think I’m mucking this up. The interview has been going great, honestly.’

‘Adding “honestly” to the end of every sentence isn’t going to stop me having to work my ass off to keep you on the interview. The only reason you’re not on a plane back right now is because we had an email from James’s people reiterating the fact that he wouldn’t speak to anyone else from the magazine.’

‘Seriously?’ I was surprised. When had he done that? Why had he done that?

‘So you can see why everyone in the entire office thinks that you’re, well, more than interviewing him.’ Mary did not sound at all impressed. Or convinced. ‘Angela, whatever’s happening over there, just be incredibly careful. This has not helped you here.’

‘Hones … Mary,’ I really couldn’t believe this was happening, ‘I am going to deliver the best interview you ever read. I promise. And there is nothing happening with James. You know me, I would never.’

‘Fine, just don’t let me down, Angela,’ Mary warned before hanging up.

Well, wasn’t this just perfect? I rested my suddenly thumping head against the cool glass screen of the shower and closed my eyes. And there was me worrying that I’d get fired because I’d upset James. But instead, every single person at The Look thought I’d boffed him and they wanted to sack me for that instead. What was I supposed to do? Before I could make a decision, my phone beeped into life again. Please don’t let Mary have changed her mind …

‘Hello?’

‘So, there are some real interesting photos online this morning,’ Alex said.

‘Yes, yes there are …’ This was so not the best-ever start to my day. I really hadn’t had time to think about how to broach this with Alex. I was still trying to work out what I was going to do about the ‘three little words’ situation. So I went for three different ones. ‘Isn’t it stupid?’

‘I don’t know, is it?’ He wasn’t exactly giving me a belly laugh.

‘Alex, you know those photos aren’t what they look like. It’s all just been part of the interview, that’s all, but I suppose that doesn’t make a very good story and God, I don’t know, maybe there isn’t enough news in the world this morning.’

‘I suppose not,’ he said without any emotion. It was horrible: he could at least have the decency to shout or call me a slag or something.

‘Seriously, it’s ridiculous. The magazine just called to say we might sue.’ OK, so not entirely true but I couldn’t stand this. ‘The whole thing is ridiculous. James got into a big fight with Jenny’s friend Joe in the club and that’s why we had to run out. And I got a drink spilt all over me and so James got my dress dry cleaned. This is what was happening when I called you last night. This is what I was trying to tell you about.’

‘That would be the phone call at four this morning?’

‘That would be the one,’ I said slowly. ‘I was having a horrible evening; I just wanted to talk to you. Sorry.’

No response.

‘How was your open mic thing?’

‘It was good.’ His voice was still measured and flat. ‘So what are the plans for today? Shopping for engagement rings? Quickie wedding in Vegas?’

‘Alex, there’s nothing going on with me and James. I know those stupid photos look like … something, but really there is nothing going on. All that I’ve done since I’ve got here is fail miserably as a interviewer, row with Jenny and try to call you. And to top it off, I’m this close to getting sacked.’ I felt sick saying it all out loud.

‘Just a tip on the interviewing thing – I’m pretty sure you don’t have to go back to the guy’s hotel room at one a.m.,’ Alex replied evenly. ‘I’ve always managed to keep my pants on in interviews.’

‘Really? Because I didn’t think you had such a great history at keeping your pants on.’ It was out before I’d thought about it. Such were the perils of being so bloody quick.

‘Right, there are pictures of you on the internet, whoring yourself all over LA with some asshole actor you just met, and you’re bringing up my past?’ At least I’d got his attention now. Shit. ‘Is this where I mention the part where you were dating someone else behind my back when we met?’

‘No, this is the point where you calm down and realize that this is all really stupid and that I wouldn’t ever cheat on you and that sometimes, just sometimes, trashy websites print things that aren’t true.’ How dare he be on the other side of the country for our first row. I could practically hear him thinking down the line but he still didn’t say anything.

‘Look, Alex, all I’m asking is for you to trust me and not the internet. That shouldn’t be too hard, should it?’ I was not happy. These kinds of conversations had not gone well for me in the past. Plus, it wasn’t as if I hadn’t considered crossing a very unprofessional line with James, which wasn’t exactly helping my argument ring true.

‘I’m sorry, this is all just too weird,’ Alex said, finally. ‘I don’t know what to say.’

‘I’m sorry too, I didn’t mean to say that stuff,’ I sniffed. ‘I’m just being all paranoid because we haven’t really spoken since I got here and then all the pictures and stuff and then Mary called and now you’re freaking out—’

‘Angela, hey, hold up,’ Alex interrupted. ‘I meant, I’m sorry I can’t really talk about this over the phone. We’ll only end up saying dumb stuff. More dumb stuff.’

‘So what, we’re not going to talk until I get back?’

‘You’re back on Sunday.’

‘But it’s Tuesday …’ I bit my lip. ‘Can’t I just call you later?’

He sighed loudly. ‘I’m sorry. Just, well, let me call you, OK? Bye.’

I looked at my phone, just to check. Yes, he had hung up. This really was the perfect start to the perfect day. If I’d known I was going to get into such a mess anyway, I would have just shagged James senseless when I had the chance. Bloody stupid bloody conscience.

‘Angela, you’re on the internet!’ Jenny shrieked from the bedroom. ‘You’re freakin’ famous!’

Brilliant, just brilliant.

It took me far too long to convince Jenny to back away from the laptop and not email my details directly to Perez Hilton. She felt very strongly that I should be making the most of my potential newfound fame, or at the very least sign up for reality TV shows and get us both into gifting lounges. I, however, felt very strongly that I should go back to bed and sleep until everyone in the world stopped reading celebrity gossip or the internet broke down, whichever came first. But I couldn’t. I had things to do. I had a blog to write, and tomorrow, assuming James was still on for it, I had to drag my arse out of the hotel and carry on with the interview. He might have emailed the magazine but he wasn’t answering his phone to me. Swearing I would meet her for brunch as promised, I sent a still slightly pissed-off Jenny on her way and settled down at my laptop.

The Adventures of Angela: Valley of the Woes

Hmmm. So my LA adventure isn’t exactly going according to plan. Since you’re reading this, I’m assuming you’re fairly familiar with the internet and the pages full of wonderful, wonderful things it contains. Like net-a-porter.com. Unfortunately, it turns out there are some pages of not-so-wonderful things and lots of those pages are made right here, in LA.

Now, I did sort of know that before I got here because who hasn’t whiled away a few harmless minutesours/entire working days on Perez Hilton or WWTDD? Come on, there isn’t a person alive who doesn’t want to see the private mobile phone pictures of a Disney starlet, right? But what I didn’t know was, despite all the evidence out there, sometimes not only are the things on these websites not entirely truthful, sometimes they are as familiar with reality as I am with Brad Pitt. That is, not familiar at all. Goddamn it.

I guess a lot of people think it would fun to be on one of these websites, to be pictured hanging out with celebs in some swanky Hollywood nightclub but, well, just like the websites themselves, sometimes things aren’t what they seem.

Hopefully, I’m still in for a Hollywood ending … and I’m still waiting for your recommendations as to where to get one. Email me at [email protected]

After emailing the blog to Mary (and praying to every conceivable deity I could think of, including the genie from Aladdin), I searched through mine and Jenny’s wardrobes twice, searching for a ‘I really haven’t done it with James Jacobs’ outfit; but now, for some reason, everything looked as if it was right out of the Playboy Mansion.

Who in their right mind would believe I was sleeping with an A-list movie star? This was me we were talking about: mismatched underwear, not capable of curling my eyelashes without catching my eyelid, dodgy muffin top in all but one pair of my jeans, Angela Clark. Slightly useless, can’t even change a plug at twenty-seven, not a seducer of superstars, dress-shedding über-minx, Angela Clark, international super-slag. I settled on my jeans (sadly not the non-muffin-top pair) and stripy Splendid rugby top. Buttoned up. Every wanton inch of me covered. Sweating like a bee-hatch in the seventy-five-degree weather but covered from head to toe.