Shopaholic to the Stars (48 page)

What the bloody hell is going ON?

‘Your dad did see my dad. Couple days ago.’ She gives me a challenging stare. ‘I guess they had it out at long last.’

‘Had it out about what?’ I say in despair. ‘
What?
Please tell me!’

There’s a long silence. The other Rebecca is just staring at me with her narrow blue eyes, as though she can’t work me out.

‘What did your dad tell you about that trip?’ she says at last. ‘The trip in seventy-two.’

‘Nothing much. I mean, just little stuff. They went to the rodeo, they ate ice-cream, my dad got really sunburned …’

‘That’s all?’ She seems incredulous. ‘Sunburn?’

‘Yes,’ I say helplessly. ‘What else was there to tell? What do you mean, we’re all called Rebecca?’

‘Jesus H. Christ.’ She shakes her head. ‘Well, if you don’t know I’m not telling you.’

‘You have to tell me!’

‘I have to tell you
nothing
.’ She looks me up and down, and I can feel the contempt in her eyes. ‘I don’t know where your dad is. Now fuck off, princess girl.’ She picks up the little dog, and to my horror, bangs the trailer door shut. A moment later I can hear the back door being locked, too.

‘Come back!’ I beat furiously on the door. ‘Please! Rebecca! I need to talk to you!’

As if in answer, the sound of
‘Beat It’
from inside gets louder.

‘Please!’ I can feel tears rising. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about! I don’t know what happened!’

I bang on the door for what seems like for ever, but there’s no answer. Suddenly I feel a huge, gentle hand on my shoulder.

‘She ain’t opening that,’ says Jeff kindly. ‘I say you leave it. I say we go home.’

I can’t reply. I stare at the trailer, a painful fullness in my chest. Something happened. And I don’t know what, and the answer’s in there, but I can’t get at it.

‘I say we go home,’ repeats Jeff. ‘Nothing you can do now.’

‘All right,’ I say at last. ‘You’re right. We should go.’

I follow him past the mobile homes, past the man with the scary dog, out of the gates. I don’t know what I’m going to say to Suze. I don’t know what I’m going to do, full stop.

As Jeff starts up the car, the TV comes on, and I’m assailed by the sound of sobbing. Lois and Sage are in each other’s arms on-screen, mascara dripping down both their faces, while Camberly watches, her hands clasped in delight to her mouth.

‘I’ve alwaaaays respected you …’ Sage is hiccuping.

‘I’ve had such a damaaaaged life,’ Lois sobs back.

‘I love you, you know that, Lois?’

‘I will always love yoooooou …’

They both look absolute wrecks. They must have worn non-waterproof mascara on purpose.

Lois cradles Sage’s face between her hands and says tenderly, ‘You have a beautiful spirit,’ and I can’t help snorting with laughter. Is anyone going to believe in this ‘reconciliation’? I have no idea. And right now, I don’t care. All I can think is: where’s Dad? What’s going on? What on earth is going
on
?

When I get back, Suze is out. Presumably she’s with Alicia. Presumably they’re having really long, heartfelt conversations, because Suze can’t talk to me, her oldest friend, who helped her have her first baby, does she remember
that
? And spent a whole week jiggling him in my arms while Suze slept, does she remember
that
? Where was Alicia then? She was swigging cocktails and planning how to ruin my life, that’s where she was.

Anyway. If Suze wants to be best friends with Alicia, then fine. Whatever. Maybe I’ll make friends with Robert Mugabe, to match.

I leave her a voicemail, giving her the bare bones of what happened, and do the same for Mum. But then I feel at a loss. I can’t just head off randomly in search of Dad. I don’t have a single other clue.

So at last I pack up my bag and get Jeff to take me to Sage’s house, which is surrounded by paparazzi. (Proper paparazzi, not just Lon and his mates.) As we approach, I realize they won’t be able to see inside the blacked-out SUV. I wind down the window and they start snapping away at me inside the car, while I ignore them elegantly and Jeff shouts, ‘Wind that window up!’ (He doesn’t have to be so cross. I only wanted some
air
.)

When I finally get inside, the whole place is pumping with music, and there are about ten assistants milling around, making smoothies and telling people on the phone that Sage is not available. Sage herself is dressed in grey leggings and a T-shirt reading
SUCK ON THAT
, and seems totally hyper.

‘So, wasn’t
Camberly
awesome?’ she says about five times before I can even say hello. ‘Wasn’t it incredible?’

‘It was amazing! Did you wear non-waterproof mascara on purpose?’ I can’t help asking.

‘Yes!’ She points her finger at me as though I’ve got an answer correct on a quiz show. ‘That was Lois’s idea. The make-up people were all like, “You might cry, people often do on this show,” and we were like, well so what? We want to be
honest
, you know.’ She blinks at me. ‘We want to be
truthful
. Mascara runs and that’s the truth, and if it’s not your perfect put-together look, then too bad.’

I clamp my lips together so I won’t laugh.
Truthful?
Only I can’t say anything because she’s my client, so I just nod earnestly.

‘Wow. You’re so right.’

‘I know,’ she says in satisfaction. ‘So, some dresses arrived. Where did I put them?’

After some searching, I find a Danny Kovitz box in the corner of the room. It was sent over this morning from Danny’s LA showroom and contains three dresses. He’s such a star. (I talked to Adrian at the Danny Kovitz headquarters today. Apparently Danny has checked into the Setai in Miami and says he’s never going anywhere colder than 75 degrees Fahrenheit again. I never
thought
Greenland would suit him.)

I shake out the white beaded dress, which is absolutely gorgeous, and head over to Sage.

‘This is amazing.’ I drape the dress over my arm so she can see. ‘It’s very fitted, though, so you’ll need to try it.’

‘Cool!’ Sage strokes it. ‘I’ll try it on in a minute.’

‘So, what was your brilliant idea?’

‘Oh, that.’ She gives me a secretive smile. ‘I’m not going to tell you.’

‘Really?’ I stare at her, disconcerted. ‘Not at all?’

‘You’ll see it tonight.’

Tonight?
Is it a hair do? Or a new tattoo?

‘OK!’ I say. ‘Can’t wait! So, I have some other options as well as the white—’

‘Wait.’ Sage is distracted by a TV on the wall. ‘Look! The interview’s on again. Let’s watch it. Hey, guys!’ she calls to her assistants. ‘The show’s on again! Get popcorn!’

‘Whoo!’ shout a couple of assistants. ‘Go Sage! Awesome!’

‘Let me call Lois. Hey, babe,’ she says as soon as she’s put through. ‘We’re on again. Becky’s here. We’re going to watch it.’ She high-fives me as she speaks, and I notice a tongue stud which wasn’t there before. Is that her new thing?

‘Come!’ Sage beckons me to her enormous white squashy sofa. ‘Relax!’

‘OK!’ I surreptitiously glance at my watch. It’ll be fine. We’ll watch the show and then we’ll get to work.

Except we don’t just watch it once, we watch it four times.

Each time, Sage keeps up a running commentary, saying things like, ‘See how I really nail the emotion here?’ and, ‘Lois looks so good from that angle,’ and once, ‘Where did Camberly have her
boobs
done? They’re pretty great.’ Whereupon a young assistant leaps up and says, ‘I’m on it,’ and immediately starts tapping at his BlackBerry.

By the fourth go I’m numb with boredom. The weird thing is that if I could see myself, I’d be mad with jealousy. I mean, look at me! Lounging on a squashy white sofa with a movie star … sipping smoothies … listening to her little in-jokes … You’d think it would be paradise. But all I really want to do is go home and see Suze.

I can’t, though, because we still haven’t got to the clothes. Every time I mention them, Sage says ‘Sure’, and absently waves a hand at me. I’ve told her about fifty times that I’ll need to go and pick up Minnie from pre-school soon and I don’t have all day, but she doesn’t seem to have registered that.

‘OK, let’s go have our nails done!’ Sage suddenly gets up from the sofa. ‘We have to get to the spa. We all have reservations, right?’

‘Right!’ says an assistant. ‘We have the cars waiting outside.’

‘Cool!’ Sage starts searching around the coffee table. ‘Where are my
shoes
? Did they slide under the sofa? Christopher, find my shoes,’ she says prettily to the most handsome of her assistants and he instantly starts grovelling on the floor.

I’m not following any of this. How can she be going off to a spa?

‘Sage?’ I try to get her attention. ‘Aren’t we going to decide on your look for tonight? You were going to try on the dresses?’

‘Oh, sure,’ says Sage vaguely. ‘We’ll do that too. We’ll talk about it at the spa.’

‘I can’t come to the spa,’ I say as patiently as I can. ‘I have to pick up my daughter from her class trip to the Museum of Contemporary Art.’

‘Her kid is
so
sweet,’ Sage announces to her assistants, and they all croon back, ‘Oh cuuuute! Adorable!’

‘So what about the dresses?’

‘Oh, I’ll try them on myself.’ She suddenly seems to focus. ‘I don’t need you to be there. You did a great job, Becky, thanks! And thank you, Christopher, angel!’ She slides her pumps on.

She doesn’t need me? I feel like she’s slapped me in the face.

‘But I haven’t explained each look yet,’ I say, bewildered. ‘I was going to try them on with you, talk you through the accessories, see if we need to alter anything …’

‘I’ll figure it out.’ She spritzes herself with scent, then catches my eye. ‘Go! Have fun with your daughter!’

‘But …’

If I don’t help her create her look, then I’m not a stylist at all. I’m a delivery girl.

‘Your car will take you, right? See you tonight!’ Before I can say anything else, she’s skipped out of the door. I can hear a roar from the paparazzi outside and the sound of engines and the general mayhem that surrounds Sage.

I’m alone, apart from a housekeeper, who walks silently around, picking up bowls and brushing popcorn off the sofa. And just for an instant, I feel totally deflated. This isn’t how I pictured it at all. I had so many ideas I wanted to share with Sage, yet she doesn’t even seem
interested
in the clothes.

But as I pull out my phone and dial Jeff’s number, I force myself to look on the positive side. Come on. It’s all still good. I’ve still been to her house, I’ve still given her the bones of her outfit. When people ask who styled her, she’ll say, ‘Becky Brandon.’ It’s still my big chance. I have to hold on to this. Whatever else is going on, this is still my big Hollywood chance.

As we approach the house, Lon is still hanging around outside the gates, and he gesticulates wildly at the car. He’s wearing a lime bandana today, and thigh boots.

‘Pirate!’ cries Minnie, who is clutching the ‘Rothko-inspired’ painting she did at the museum. (It’s really good. I’m going to put it in a frame.) ‘See pirate!’

‘Becky!’ I can hear him shouting as we drive past. ‘Becky, wait! Listen! Guess what?’

The thing about me is I’m a total sucker for anyone who says ‘Guess what?’

‘Hey, Jeff,’ I say, as the gates start opening for us. ‘Stop a minute.’

‘
Stop
a minute?’

‘I want to talk to Lon. That guy.’ I point.

Jeff halts the car and turns round in his seat. He’s got his ‘disappointed’ face on.

‘Rebecca, we’ve talked about street interactions,’ he says. ‘I do not recommend that you get out of the vehicle at this time.’

‘Jeff, honestly.’ I roll my eyes. ‘It’s Lon. He’s a fashion student! I mean, it’s not like he’s hiding a
gun
.’

OK, saying ‘gun’ was a mistake. At once Jeff stiffens. He’s been on hyper-alert ever since Dad and Tarkie disappeared.

‘If you wish to approach this person …’ he says heavily, ‘I will secure the area first.’

I want to giggle at his disapproving expression. He’s behaving like he’s some stiff and starchy 1930s butler and I’ve said I want to talk to a tramp.

‘Fine. Secure the area.’

Jeff gives me another reproachful look, then gets out of the car. The next minute I can see him frisking Lon. Frisking him!

But Lon doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, his face is all shiny and excited, and I can see him taking pictures of Jeff with his phone. At last Jeff returns to the car and says, ‘The area is secure.’

‘Thank you, Jeff!’ I beam, and bound out of the car. ‘Hi Lon!’ I salute him. ‘How are you? Nice boots! Sorry about all the security and stuff.’

‘No, that’s fine!’ says Lon breathlessly. ‘Your bodyguard is so cool.’

I nod. ‘He’s really sweet.’

‘I guess you have to be super-careful of nut jobs,’ says Lon reverently. ‘I’ve seen your guard dog, too, patrolling the grounds and everything?’

Lon is so starry-eyed, I can’t help blossoming under his gaze.

‘Well, you know.’ I toss my hair back. ‘When you’re in my position, you have to be careful. You don’t know who’s out there.’

‘Have you had many attempts on your life?’ Lon is agog.

‘Er, not
that
many. You know. Just the normal amount.’ I quickly change the subject. ‘Anyway, so what did you want to say?’

‘Oh, right!’ Lon nods animatedly. ‘We saw your special delivery from Danny Kovitz. The van came earlier, and I got talking to the guy. He works at the showroom. He knew all about it. It’s a dress for you to wear tonight.’

‘Danny sent over a dress for me?’ I’m so touched, I can’t help grinning.

‘It’s from the new collection,
Trees and Wires?
Like, the one that hasn’t even been shown yet?’ Lon seems beyond ecstatic. ‘The one that Danny said came straight from his soul?’

All Danny’s recent collections have been called
Something and Something
. One was
Metal and Philosophy
. Another was
Envy and Scarlet
. The fashion journalists and bloggers write screeds on what the titles mean, but if you ask me, he just picks two random words out of the dictionary and chooses two different fonts and calls it meaningful. Not that I’ll say this to Lon, who looks like he’s going to expire with excitement.