Lindsey Kelk 5-Book 'I Heart...' Collection (58 page)

‘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.’

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.