three a.m. booty calls because “he just had to see you” without a touch of possessiveness. I just can’t see him being OK with you running around Hollywood with a some hot, slutty guy with all the world watching. Can you?’
‘I said he wasn’t best pleased about it,’ I mumbled, giving the waiter my credit card without even looking at the bill. ‘But it’ll be OK, won’t it?’
‘He’s your boyfriend, I don’t know,’ she said, passing me her lip gloss. She really was a stickler for detail. ‘What do you think?’
‘I think we should stop talking about boys, go and get the car, then go for a swim.’ I took my card and the receipt back from the waiter. ‘And if there’s a spa or something, we should get massages. This is still your vacation, after all, and I don’t have to be anywhere until eleven a.m. tomorrow.’
‘Got to say, Angie,’ Jenny stood up and started grabbing our many bags, ‘I have always loved the way you think.’
Right up until the moment James’s limo pulled up outside The Hollywood at four minutes passed eleven the next morning, I’d been waiting for the phone call from Blake to say that they weren’t coming and the interview was off. But there they were and there I was, Jenny’s giant sunglasses on, Starbucks in hand, and (beautiful but looking more battered by the day) Marc Jacobs bag over my shoulder. Taking a deep breath, I sucked it up and opened the car door. If I thought Alex had been upset and Mary was angry yesterday, then I needed a new word for Blake.
‘This is why these fucking “day in the life” interviews never, ever work,’ he ranted as the limo pulled away from the hotel, staring me down. ‘You don’t speak until we’re back in the hotel. This is why we should have met for one hour in a hotel suite with a publicist and a security guard and this would never ever have happened.’
I couldn’t argue with his logic.
‘Would there have been bottled water?’ James asked.
‘Of course.’ Blake seethed in my general direction.
‘And those tiny pastries?’
‘No because you’re carb-free this month.’ He folded his arms and gave me an intensely filthy look.
‘Blake, calm down, it’s not Angela’s fault.’ James placed a careful hand on his assistant’s shoulder. I slid off my sunglasses and tried my hardest to look innocent.
‘No, the pictures were your fucking fault, I already told you that,’ Blake replied, not taking his eyes off me. ‘And it’s your fault that she’s still here. But I’m telling you both, this is it. I’m not leaving your side from now on.’
‘I get it, Blake,’ James smiled easily. ‘We’re absolutely going to play by your rules. But if we’re going to be doing a full hour’s talking, I’m going to need a coffee. Coffee Bean is just round the corner, can we get something? You know I hate the coffee at the hotel.’
‘Fine,’ Blake said, eyes still locked on me. I thought about putting my sunglasses back on. ‘She can go get your coffee.’
‘You want Angela to get out of a limo and order my favourite coffee at my regular coffee shop?’ James reached across the seat and took my hand. I resisted the urge to giggle. Nerves, just nerves. ‘Really, Blake, you’d just be fuelling the fire. This place is always crawling with paps.’
‘Crawling,’ I croaked.
‘I said not a word out of you until we get to the hotel,’ Blake shot back, climbing out of the limo.
I held my breath until the door slammed shut. ‘I’m so sorry,’ I choked. ‘I know it’s not funny.’
‘Angela, just a sec. Hey, Jack,’ James squeezed my hand then pressed the mic button to speak to the driver. ‘I think I saw some photographers as we pulled in. Can we make a move? Uh, Pinkberry on Beverly Drive?’
A shadowy nod through the tinted glass and we were off.
‘Well, that’s a relief, isn’t it?’ James sighed, stretching his arms out along the back of the seat. ‘Honestly, Blake’s been going crazy since those pictures were posted.’
‘And he’s not going to go even more crazy now?’ I panicked. ‘We have to go back for him! He’s going to call the magazine, honestly, James, I’m so close to getting fired right now. If he calls them—’
‘He’s not going to call them.’ James picked some nonexistent fluff from his dark blue shirt. ‘How many times do you need telling? Blake can’t cancel anything. And the magazine can’t fire you. I emailed them as soon as the pictures were posted yesterday. I’m only doing this interview with you and they know that.’
‘You just don’t make any sense.’ I rubbed my temples and tried not to think about how his shirt was exactly the same colour as his eyes. ‘All I’ve done is cause you trouble. You could have a real interviewer; you could just do that one-hour hotel room thing Blake was talking about and save yourself all this hassle. And the photos, aren’t you upset? Or at least annoyed?’
‘Did you do no research before you met me?’ James shook his head. ‘There have been much worse pictures of me leaked online. Pictures, videos. God, things I could never show my mother. And why would I want to sit in a room giving the same old spiel about my next movie, what I like about living in LA, what I miss about the UK, blah, blah, blah, when I could be eating burgers and talking about actual real things with you?’
‘Fair point,’ I conceded. ‘But you’re not even a little bit bothered by the photos?’
‘I’m only bothered that they bother you,’ he shrugged. ‘I’m used to them. The women that are in them with me are usually used to them.’
He didn’t even blush. So I blushed for the both of us.
‘And I’m sorry, I should have said something at the time. Once you’ve spotted the photographers, it’s usually too late,’ he said, peering out the window. I looked past him, onto the Beverley Hills sign set against a spotlessly manicured lawn. Not quite the Hollywood sign but still, terribly glam. ‘How was your friend when you got back?’
‘Jenny? Not amused with me in the slightest,’ I admitted, ‘but she was more or less calmed down by the shopping. Thank you, by the way. That was, well, madness. You really didn’t have to do that.’
‘Don’t even mention it,’ James waved away my thanks. ‘And what about your other friend, Joe?’
‘I haven’t seen him. I’m so sorry, he was totally out of order.’ I still couldn’t quite believe how pathetic Joe’s behaviour had been. ‘And, like I said the other night, he’s really not my friend.’
‘Yeah, he was a bit…’ James paused. ‘Well, never mind. There’s nothing in life that can’t be solved by frozen yoghurt.’
‘Oh my God, you’re such a woman,’ I said. ‘I’d like to hear you say that in Sheffield.’
“Shut
