Shopaholic to the Stars (31 page)

‘Becky, you’re Luke’s wife. I’m not here to advise you.’

‘But?’

‘It all depends on what you want. And what Luke wants.’

‘I don’t know what I want,’ I say, confused. ‘I don’t even know what you mean.’

‘OK. Let me explain.’ He seems to marshal his thoughts. ‘I’ve watched you trying to make it in Hollywood as a stylist. Without a whole lot of success, right?’

‘Right,’ I say reluctantly.

‘You know what people need to make it in Hollywood? They need heat. Right now, you have heat. All that attention, that buzz …’ He gestures out to the front. ‘That’s heat. And call me an environmentalist, but I don’t like to see heat go to waste.’

‘Right,’ I nod uncertainly. ‘Me neither.’

‘Whether you like it or not, getting ahead in this place isn’t about talent or hard work. OK, maybe ten per cent is talent.’ He spreads his hands. ‘The other ninety per cent is catching a lucky break. So here’s your choice. You can see last night as a weird little moment to hush up and move on from … or you can see it as the luckiest break you ever caught.’ He focuses on me, his eyes suddenly intense. ‘Becky, last night was Providence giving you a fastpass. You can jump to the head of the line if you want to. You can go the distance. Do you want to?’

I stare back, utterly mesmerized by his words. I can jump to the head of the line? Go the distance? Why on earth wouldn’t I want to do that?

‘Yes!’ I stutter. ‘Of course I do! But— but what do you mean, exactly? What should I do?’

‘We can make a plan. We can use this heat. But you have to know what you’re getting into. You have to be prepared to see it through.’

‘You mean, use the media?’ I say hesitantly. ‘Do interviews?’

‘Channel the energy, is all I’m saying. Your profile just went through the roof, but the world knows you as Becky Brandon, Witness to a Shoplifting. How about if you transformed that into Becky Brandon, Celebrity Stylist? Becky Brandon, Hollywood’s fashion maven. Becky Brandon, the go-to girl for a great look. We can brand you any way we like.’

I stare back at him, too dazzled to speak. Brand? Celebrity stylist?
Me?

‘You know that bag you picked out is all over the internet?’ he adds. ‘Do you realize how hot you are right now? And if it goes to court, they’ll be all over you. You’ll be the star witness and, believe me, the world will be watching.’

I feel a fresh tingle of excitement. Star witness! I’ll have to have a whole new wardrobe! I’ll wear little Jackie O suits every day. And I’ll straighten my hair. No, I’ll put my hair up. Yes! Maybe I could have a different style every day, and people will call me The Girl with the Amazing Up-dos, and—

‘Are you starting to realize what you have here?’ Aran interrupts my thoughts. ‘People would kill for this exposure.’

‘Yes, but …’ I try to calm my whirling thoughts. ‘What do I do? Now? Today?’

‘Well.’ Aran sounds suddenly more businesslike. ‘We sit down and we make a plan. I can pull in some colleagues, you’ll need an agent …’

‘Stop!’ I say, as reality suddenly swoops in. ‘This is all too fast.’ I lower my voice a little. ‘Don’t you understand, everything you’re saying, it’s the exact
opposite
of what Luke was saying. He wants it all to go away.’

‘Sure.’ Aran nods. ‘Becky, what you have to remember is, Luke doesn’t see you as a client. He sees you as his wife. He’s very protective of you and Minnie. Of course he is. Me? I see everyone as a client. Or potential client.’ He grins. ‘We can discuss that later.’

The buzzer sounds again and I jump.

‘Leave it,’ says Aran. ‘Let them wait.’

‘So, what will all this mean for Sage?’

‘Sage!’ He gives a short bark of a laugh. ‘If that girl goes any further off the rails she’ll find herself in the ravine. She’ll be OK. We’ll haul her back on track, Luke and I. She’ll kick and scream and it won’t be pretty. But then, nothing about Sage is. Except her face. When she’s been in make-up,’ he adds. ‘You don’t want to see her before that.’ He grimaces. ‘Brutal.’

‘Rubbish!’ I give a shocked giggle. ‘She’s beautiful!’

‘If you say so.’ He raises his slanty eyebrows comically.

He’s so irreverent and so unruffled. It’s like he’s
enjoying
all of this. I gaze at him, trying to work him out.

‘You don’t seem as angry about all this as Luke. Hasn’t Sage messed up your strategy?’

‘Quite possibly. But I like a challenge.’ He shrugs. ‘Stars are like any other investment. May go up, may go down.’

‘And Lois? Do you think this will …’ I can hardly bear to say it. ‘Ruin her?’ I feel a fresh clench of guilt in my stomach. If I’d just kept my mouth closed. If I’d just kept my promise. I’m haunted by the sight of Lois swaying in shock on the stage. She looked so desperate. And it was all my fault.

‘Depends how she plays it,’ says Aran cheerily. ‘She’s a bright one, Lois. I wouldn’t put it past her to come out on top.’

I can’t believe he’s so heartless.

‘Didn’t you see her?’ I exclaim. ‘She looked like she was about to collapse! I thought she was going to faint right there on the stage!’

‘Probably didn’t eat enough at dinner.’ Aran’s phone buzzes. ‘I must go. But we’ll talk. And Becky …’ He gives me a significant look. ‘Don’t leave it too long. Remember, if you want to capitalize on this moment, you need the heat. And the heat won’t last for ever. Hi,’ he says into the phone.

‘Wait! Aran.’ I lower my voice and glance towards the kitchen. ‘If you were going to give me some advice on how to play it today … what would it be?’

‘Hold on a moment,’ says Aran into the phone and comes back towards me. ‘I’m not advising you officially, you understand, Becky.’ He glances towards the kitchen.

‘I understand,’ I practically whisper.

‘But if I had a client in your situation who wished to make the most of her exposure, I’d advise her to be seen. Get out there. Don’t say
anything
. Stay dignified, pleasant, going about your daily business. But be seen. Be photographed. And think about what you wear,’ he adds. ‘Be casual but cool. Make your outfit a talking point.’

‘OK,’ I say breathlessly. ‘Thanks.’

While Aran takes his call, I head to the window on the stairs again and peep out. There are more press gathered outside the gates. Waiting for me. I’m hot! Aran’s words keep going round my head. I mean, he’s right. All this time, I’ve been trying to make it in Hollywood and now, here’s a golden opportunity, right in my lap, and if I don’t take advantage of it I may never have the chance again …

‘Becky?’

Luke’s voice makes me jump. ‘Made you that cup of coffee.’

‘Thanks,’ I say, and smile nervously at him as I take it. ‘This is all a bit weird, isn’t it?’ I gesture to the crowd of journalists.

‘Don’t worry. It’ll all die down.’ Luke gives me a quick hug. ‘Why don’t you and Minnie and the others watch movies in the basement? Then you don’t even have to see them.’

‘Right,’ I say after a pause. ‘Yes. We could do that.’ I glance out of the window again. I can see a camera with NBC on it.
NBC!

My mobile rings yet again, and I pull it out, expecting to see ‘Unknown Number’. I’ve already had about six journalists leaving messages on the phone today; God knows where they got my number from—

But it’s not a journalist, it’s Mum.

‘It’s Mum!’ I exclaim as Luke walks away to take another call. ‘At last! Hi, Mum. I’ve been trying to get in touch with you all night! Where are you?’

‘I’m in the car! I told you about our mini-break with Janice and Martin, didn’t I? The Lake District. No signal. But lovely views, although the hotel
was
a little chilly. We had to ask for extra blankets, but they couldn’t have been more charming about it—’

‘Right.’ I try to get a word in. ‘Er, Mum, something’s happened—’

‘I know!’ says Mum triumphantly. ‘We’d just got on to the M1 when I had a call from someone at the
Daily World
. She said, “Do you know your daughter has been causing a sensation in Hollywood?” Well! I said I had no idea, but it didn’t surprise me. I always knew you’d be a sensation. Janice has just found a picture of you on her smartphone. We’ve all had a look. Lovely frock. Where did you get that, love?’

‘Mum, you didn’t talk to them, did you? Only Luke says not to speak to the press. Just ring off.’

‘I wasn’t going to ring off!’ says Mum indignantly. ‘I wanted to hear all about it, for a start. Such a pleasant girl. She gave me every detail.’

‘How long did you talk for?’

‘Ooh, I’d say … How long was I on the phone, Janice? About forty minutes?’

‘Forty
minutes
?’ I echo, aghast.

There’s Luke saying ‘Don’t speak to the press’ and even Aran advising me ‘Don’t say anything’, and now Mum has given an in-depth interview to
the Daily World
.

‘Well, don’t say any more!’ I instruct her. ‘Not till you speak to Luke, anyway.’

‘She wanted to know if you’d ever shoplifted yourself,’ says Mum. ‘The idea! I said absolutely never, unless you count the time you came home from Hamleys with six pairs of dollies’ shoes in your pockets. But you were only three, bless you. We sent them back in an envelope, remember?’

‘You
didn’t
tell her that!’ I wail. God knows what they’ll write now. ‘Mum, can I speak to Dad? Is he driving?’

‘No, Martin’s doing this stretch. I’ll put you on.’

There’s a scuffling noise, then I hear my father’s voice, deep and reassuring.

‘How’s my little Becky? Plunged into another kerfuffle, I see! Are the media stationed outside your house as we speak?’

‘Pretty much.’

‘Ah. Well, you know the only thing worse than being talked about, don’t you?’

‘
Not
being talked about,’ I answer, with a smile. Dad always has some little saying for each occasion.

‘If you need us to fly over and give you our support, I’m sure your mother will be only too happy to buy a new outfit for the occasion.’

‘Dad!’ I can’t help laughing.

‘Seriously, Becky.’ His voice changes. ‘Are you all right? And Minnie?’

‘We’re fine.’

‘Because we will come, if you need us. The next flight we can.’

‘I know,’ I say, touched. ‘Don’t worry, Dad. But can you stop Mum talking to the press?’

‘I’ll do my best,’ he says. ‘Now, apart from foiling shoplifters and becoming a global media sensation, is life all right in Hollywood? Sun not too warm? Sky not too blue?’

‘It’s all fine.’ I laugh again.

‘I don’t suppose you’ve had a chance to look up that old friend of mine?’

Damn.
Damn
. I totally meant to do that. This is the second time he’s had to remind me. I feel terrible.

‘Dad, I’m really sorry,’ I say. ‘It just slipped my mind. But I will, I promise …’

‘Darling, please don’t worry! You’re very busy. I know that.’

He’s so understanding, I feel worse than ever.

‘I’ll do it,’ I say. ‘I absolutely promise.’

As I put the phone down, I’m thinking hard. I can see another news van pulling up outside the gates and Aran’s words are running through my brain:
Don’t leave it too long. The heat won’t last for ever
.

‘Your parents OK?’ says Luke, coming back into the hall.

‘Yes, fine. Except my mother gave an interview to the
Daily World
. It’s OK,’ I add quickly at his appalled expression. ‘I’ve told her not to say any more.’

‘Right, well.’ He sighs. ‘Can’t be helped. Now, I’ve drafted a statement which I think we should release in an hour or two. I’ll send it over to Aran’s legal team, check for any holes. If you don’t want to watch a movie why don’t you go and have a nice bath?’ he adds. ‘Take your mind off things.’

‘Actually, I have to go out,’ I say, trying to sound casual.

‘Out?’ Luke stares at me as though I’m insane. ‘What do you mean,
out
?’

‘I have to do something for my father. I have to look up his old friend Brent Lewis. Remember, he asked me to?’

‘Well, yes, I do, but …
now
?’

‘Why not now?’ I say, a little defiantly.

‘Because, look at that rabble!’ expostulates Luke, gesturing at the window. ‘If you set foot outside the gates, they’ll descend on you!’

‘Well, maybe I don’t care! Maybe it’s more important to me to do this favour for my father. Why should the press stop me leading my normal life?’ I’m getting quite stirred up here. ‘Why should I be trapped in my own home? What am I, a prisoner?’

‘Hardly a prisoner,’ says Luke impatiently. ‘I simply think that, just for today—’

‘I made my father a promise, Luke!’ I say, in an impassioned voice. ‘I’m going to see that promise through, whatever it takes. And no one’s going to stop me, not the press, not you, not no one!’

‘Fine,’ says Luke at last. ‘Whatever. If you really insist on doing this, then just get straight in the car and drive out. Don’t talk to the press.’

‘I won’t,’ I say.

‘Even if they try to get a rise out of you, ignore them.’ He shakes his head. ‘Becky, I still think you should stay inside.’

‘Luke,’ I say, my voice quivering a little. ‘You don’t understand. I have to do this. For my father. For myself. And for all of us.’

Before he can ask what I mean by that (I have no idea), I head up the stairs, feeling all noble, like a prince about to go into battle. Which, actually, this kind of is. And the point is: I have to win. This is my chance. My big, Hollywood, one-in-a-million, photo-opportunity chance.

Oh my God. What am I going to
wear
?

OK. It took me an hour and three mirrors and about two hundred pictures on my phone, but I’ve finally worked out the perfect, casual-but-cool outfit for facing the press. My most flattering white Stella McCartney cropped trousers with the little zips. Killer heels by D&G, and a bright-pink shell top from J Crew which will really stand out. And the
pièce de résistance:
these stunning oversized sunglasses which I found in the same shop I bought the diamanté clutch bag. They’re vintage Missoni and the frames are pink and green swirls. You can’t miss them. They’ll definitely be a talking point.

What I must do is make sure I stand in a flattering way as I’m opening the car door. Yes. And say things like, ‘Please leave me alone, no press, please, I’m just going about my day.’