Shopaholic to the Stars (35 page)

‘Mum, calm down. It’ll be fine.’

‘He’s bound to come to you, Becky. Keep an eye on him, love. Please.’

‘I will. I’ll call you as soon as I hear anything.’

I ring off and instantly start texting Dad.

Dad. Where are you? Call me!!! Becky xxx

God, what a drama. What is Dad
doing
? I send the text and turn round, wondering why I can hear laughter. At once my heart plunges in horror.

Sage is posing for the cameras in an exaggerated starlet way, and Minnie is copying her perfectly. Her hand is on her hip, her head is cocked at an angle and she’s tilting her shoulders back and forth, just like Sage. Everyone is roaring and the cameras are snapping.

‘Stop!’ I say furiously. I scoop Minnie up, and press her head against my chest, out of sight. ‘Please don’t use those pictures!’ I say to the photographers. ‘She’s only a little girl.’

‘Want do waving!’ Minnie struggles to escape from my grasp. ‘Want do WAVING!’

‘No more waving, darling,’ I say, kissing her head. ‘I don’t want you waving at those people.’

‘Becky, relax!’ says Sage. ‘She better get used to it, right? Anyhow, she loves the limelight, don’t you, cupcake?’ She ruffles Minnie’s hair. ‘We need to get
you
an agent, munchkin. Aren’t you launching your own family reality show, Becky?’ she adds to me. ‘That’s what Aran said. Smart move.’

‘I don’t know,’ I say, feeling harassed. ‘I need to talk it over with Luke. Look, I’d better take Minnie inside.’

‘Sure,’ says Sage gaily. ‘We’ll talk soon, OK?’

As Sage disappears off in her SUV, I hurry into the house and shut the huge front door. My heart is thumping, and my thoughts are all confused. I don’t know what to focus on first; my brain is skittering about so madly. Dad. Reality show. Minnie. Press. Sage. Lois. Dad.

I can’t believe Dad is coming to LA. It’s insane. Dad doesn’t belong in LA, he belongs at home. In the garden. At his golf club.

‘Bex!’ Suze comes into the hall and eyes me in surprise. ‘Are you OK?’

I realize I’m backed up against the front door as though I’m sheltering from attack.

‘My dad’s coming to LA.’

‘Oh, brilliant!’ Her face lights up. ‘And your mum?’

‘It’s not brilliant. He’s run off, and only left a note for Mum.’

‘What?’
She stares at me, incredulously. ‘Your dad ran off?’

‘There’s something going on.’ I shake my head. ‘I don’t know what. It’s all to do with this trip he went on when he was much younger. He’s trying to track down one of his friends from it.’

‘What trip? Where did they go?’

‘I dunno.’ I shrug. ‘Round California and Arizona. They had this map. They went to LA … Las Vegas … maybe Utah too. Death Valley!’ I suddenly remember. ‘I’ve seen pictures of them in Death Valley.’

I wish I’d listened a bit harder now. Every Christmas Dad used to tell me about his trip and pull out his old map, with the red dotted line showing where they’d been.

‘Well, I expect he’ll turn up,’ says Suze reassuringly. ‘He’s probably just having a mid-life crisis.’

I shake my head. ‘He’s had that. He took guitar lessons.’

‘Oh.’ Suze thinks for a moment. ‘Is there such a thing as a later-life crisis?’

‘God knows. Probably.’

We head into the kitchen and I open the fridge to pour us each a glass of white wine. I don’t care what time it is, I need it.

‘Juice,’ says Minnie at once. ‘Juuuuuuice! Juuuuuuuice!’

‘OK!’ I say, and pour her a cup of Organic Carrot and Beetroot Juice Mix. They got her into it at the pre-school. It’s the most revolting thing I’ve ever tasted, and it costs $10.99 for a tiny carton, but apparently it’s ‘detoxing and low sugar’, so we’ve been asked to provide it instead of fruit juice. And the worst thing is, Minnie loves it. If I’m not careful, she’s going to turn into some junior Juicing Nazi and I’ll have to hide all my KitKats from her and pretend that chocolate oranges are macrobiotic.

‘So, where’s Tarkie?’ I ask as I hand Minnie her juice.

‘Do you have to ask?’ Suze’s jaw tightens. ‘You know he’s started going out at six a.m. every day for a Personal Validation session with Bryce? I barely see him any more.’

‘Wow. What’s Personal Validation?’

‘I don’t know!’ Suze erupts. ‘How would I know? I’m only his
wife
!’

‘Have some wine,’ I say hurriedly, and hand her a glass. ‘I’m sure it’s good for Tarkie to be doing all this. I mean, it’s got to be positive, hasn’t it? Personal validation? It’s better than impersonal validation, anyway.’

‘What
is
validation?’ counters Suze.

‘It’s … er … being yourself. Kind of thing.’ I try to sound knowledgeable. ‘You have to let go. And … be happy.’

‘It’s bollocks.’ Suze’s eyes flash at me.

‘Well … anyway. Cheers.’ I lift my wine glass and take a swig.

Suze takes a massive gulp, then another, then exhales, seeming a bit calmer. ‘So, how was the agent?’ she asks, and my spirits instantly rise. At least something is going well.

‘It was amazing!’ I say. ‘They said we need to plan my future carefully, and they’ll help me juggle all my offers. And I need to hire security,’ I add, importantly.

‘Hire security?’ Suze stares at me. ‘You mean, like, a bodyguard?’

‘Yes.’ I try to sound casual. ‘It makes sense now I’m famous.’

‘You’re not
that
famous.’

‘Yes I am! Haven’t you seen the photographers outside the gate?’

‘They’ll get bored soon enough. Honestly, Bex, you’re only going to be famous for, like, five minutes. I wouldn’t waste money on a bodyguard.’

‘Five minutes?’ I say, offended. ‘Is that what you think? If you want to know, I’ve been offered a reality show. I’m going to be a global brand. This is only the beginning.’

‘You’re doing a reality show?’ She seems gobsmacked. ‘Has Luke agreed to that?’

‘He … well, it’s under discussion,’ I prevaricate.

‘Does Luke know about the bodyguard?’

‘He doesn’t need to know!’ I’m feeling more and more scratchy. At CAA, everything seemed so shiny and exciting, and now Suze is putting a damper on it all. ‘
I’m
the celebrity, not Luke.’

‘You’re not a celebrity!’ says Suze scoffingly.

‘Yes I am!’

‘Not a proper one. Not like Sage.’

‘Yes I am!’ I say furiously. ‘They all said I was at CAA. Even Sage said so. And I need a bodyguard. In fact, I’m going to sort it out right now.’ And I head out of the kitchen, full of indignation. I’ll show Suze. I’m going to phone Aran’s assistant and get the name of the top Hollywood security company and hire a bodyguard. I don’t care what she thinks.

From: [email protected]

To: Brandon, Rebecca

Subject:
Your security requirements

Dear Rebecca

It was good to talk to you earlier and I attach a link to our online brochure of our products and services. I’m sure we can provide you with the range of security solutions you will need in your new, high-profile position, whether this be in the form of personnel, or home security/surveillance equipment.

As regards the DF 4000 Deluxe X-ray body scanner we were discussing, please be assured, I have never known a case of a husband ‘using it to track down shopping parcels hidden about his wife’s person’.

I look forward to hearing from you and fulfilling your security needs.

Best wishes

Blake Wilson

Security Facilitation Vice-President

It’s fine. It’s all good. We’ll get used to this.

I’m sure every family finds it tricky at first, having a bodyguard.

It only took twenty-four hours to fix myself up with a security team. The company couldn’t have been more helpful, and they
totally
understood that I need extra protection now I’m in the public eye. After a bit of discussion we decided that I maybe didn’t need an armed twenty-four-hour squad, but I could start with what they call ‘Mid-Level Protection’. My team began work this morning, and so far they’ve been brilliant. There’s Jeff and Mitchell, who are both dressed in dark suits and shades. And there’s Echo the German shepherd dog, who was trained in Russia, apparently. We’ve had a briefing meeting to discuss my requirements, and we’ve discussed my itinerary for the day. Now Mitchell is touring the house with Echo in order to check the ‘ongoing security of the premises’, while Jeff sits in the kitchen in order to provide ‘personal integrity reinforcement’.

The only thing is, it’s a bit awkward having Jeff in the kitchen at breakfast. He just sits there at the side of the room and looks unsmilingly at everyone, and mutters things into his headset. But we’ll have to get used to it, now we’re a celebrity family.

There’s still no word from Dad, beyond a text he sent Mum late yesterday, saying:

Landed fine in LA. Have some things to take care of.

Remember to water the roses. Graham xxx

Remember to water the roses
. I mean, honestly. Mum nearly had a fit. I’ve already spoken to her today on the phone, and I’ve got lots of messages to pass on to Dad, should I see him. (Most would result in instant divorce, so I think I might forget about those.) I just hope he’s OK. I mean, I know he’s a grown man, but I can’t help worrying. What ‘things’ is he taking care of? Why hasn’t he told Mum? What’s the big secret?

I pour myself some coffee, and offer the coffee pot to Tarquin, but he doesn’t notice. He’s munching a piece of toast and listening to his iPod, which is his new thing. He says he has to start the day with an hour of guided meditation, and it drives Suze mad.

‘Tarkie!’ She pokes him. ‘I said, I might meet my agent this afternoon. Can you pick the children up?’

Tarkie gives her a blank look and takes another bite of toast. He looks so different these days. He’s tanned, and his hair is cropped really close to his head (Suze hates that too) and he’s wearing a soft grey T-shirt with a logo of the sun on it. I’ve seen them in the gift shop at Golden Peace. There’s a special course called
Turn to the Sun
, and lots of merchandise to go with it, only I don’t know what it’s all about, because I never did it.

It has to be said, I’m just a
tad
less into Golden Peace than I was. I think I’ve grown out of it. It’s a natural process: you gain everything you can from a place and then you move on. I mean, I’m totally cured of shopping now, so what’s the point of going back? (Plus the gift shop is online, so if I need anything from it I can just log on.)

‘Tarkie!’ Suze rips an earbud out of Tarkie’s ear, and he flinches in irritation.

‘Suze, I need to concentrate,’ he says, and pushes his chair back with a scraping sound.

‘You don’t! What does that thing say anyway? “Stop listening to your wife”? “Stop engaging with the real world”?’

Tarkie glares at her. ‘It’s a tailor-made meditation recorded by Bryce. He says my psyche is battered by the world and I need to retreat.’

‘I’ll batter
him
,’ mutters Suze.

‘Why are you so negative?’ Tarkie clutches his head. ‘Suze, you’re toxic. Finally I’m getting my head together and you have to … to … to
sabotage
me.’

‘I’m not sabotaging you!’ Suze yells. ‘Don’t you dare call me toxic! Who brought you to LA in the first place? Who said you needed a break? Me!’

Tarkie isn’t paying any attention to her, I realize. He’s focusing on a far corner of the kitchen, breathing deeply.

‘Tarkie?’ Suze waves a hand in front of his face. ‘Tar-
quin
.’

‘Bryce said this would happen,’ he says as though to himself. ‘People outside the method are afraid of it.’

‘What method?’ expostulates Suze.

‘You need to strip yourself bare to build yourself back up again,’ says Tarquin, as though the very fact of having to explain it pains him. ‘You need to strip away every level. Do you know how many levels we all have?’ He rounds on Suze. ‘Do you realize how much work I still have to do?’

‘You’ve done enough work,’ says Suze savagely.

‘No I haven’t! You’re obstructing me!’ He sweeps the whole kitchen with his gaze. ‘You’re
all
obstructing me!’ He shoves his earbud back in his ear, swivels on his heel and stalks out of the room.

I’m open-mouthed in astonishment. I’ve never seen Tarkie so antagonistic. He was practically snarling at Suze. I mean, in some ways it’s great, because for a long time I’ve felt he was too timid. On the other hand, Suze looks like she wants to murder him. No, correction: she now looks like she wants to murder me.

She turns on me. ‘This is all your fault.’

‘
My
fault?’

‘You introduced him to that place! You introduced him to Bryce! Now he’s calling me “toxic”! His own wife! He won’t talk to me, he won’t listen, he just moons around with that wretched iPod, God knows what it’s saying to him …’

‘It’s probably just saying really positive, helpful stuff,’ I say defensively. ‘I mean, I went to zillions of classes at Golden Peace and I’m fine.’

‘You’re not vulnerable like Tarkie!’ snaps Suze. ‘Honestly, Bex, I could kill you!’

Instantly Jeff is on his feet.