Strictly Confidential (11 page)

I sighed with contentment and adjusted the banner reading:
Queen Bee 1st Anniversary, The taste of sweet success
.

Everything was just as it should be. Tonight I, Jazzy Lou, former minion to Diane Wilderstein, would celebrate my first year in business as the boss of my very own PR company. I liked the taste of that.

And to help me celebrate in style we’d invited the who’s who of A-listers, fashionistas and media influencers. Names like Pamela Stone, the undisputed gossip queen of Sydney, who was always first with the inside. So fast was Pamela with finding out the latest, she made Gossip Girl look like a piece of string between two tin cans. Also making the cut tonight was Lillian Richard, editor of
Eve Pascal
women’s magazine. Lillian might have been last in line when it came to hair care but she was third in line in the Richard media dynasty and a very powerful ally to have in glossy magazines. Of course we had to invite up-and-coming design sensation – and Queen Bee’s star client – Allison Palmer. Plus there was Samantha Priest too. An occasional model, frequent socialite and constant bogan, Priest would do all that was unholy to resurrect her flagging career, but the Sydney social pages – and a Queen Bee celebration – wouldn’t be complete without her.

But tonight’s event was not solely about Queen Bee savouring its one-year anniversary. Oh no, this was only the beginning, my friends. You see, we might have just survived our first twelve months in business, but PR was a fickle world and Sydney fashion PR provided an especially slippery slope. One false move, one lost client, and our still-fledgling fashion firm could find itself suddenly so last season. And I, more than anyone, was acutely aware of the precariousness of our situation.

With this in mind I had come up with a plan that would have Sydney eating out of our hand:
Kitchen Divas
.

Let me explain.
Kitchen Divas
was reality TV meets foodie heaven. This all-girl cook-off was a weekly television ratings winner. In the city where your barista is more intimate with your preferences than your significant other could ever hope to be,
Kitchen Divas
guaranteed success. And not just success for the show itself but also for those lucky enough to be close enough to bask in the warmth of its kitchen blowtorch glow.

Which was why I’d invited Belle Single along to our birthday bash tonight.

Single, Shire high priestess and aspiring actress, also happened to be an upcoming contestant on the new season of
Kitchen Divas
. I didn’t have high hopes for Belle in the kitchen. Hell, she’d probably never cooked a meal in her life. What I was counting on was this blonde being a firm favourite with
Kitchen Divas
fans. And when she was? Well, Belle would need representation. Who else would make sure her acting career bubbled along nicely while she took time out to promote her new cookbook and flog her stainless-steel saucepan range?

Naturally, when I’d heard that Belle Single had recently sacked her publicist, I’d taken the liberty of approaching her and talking her through exactly what it was that Queen Bee could do to publicise her upwardly mobile career. And she’d certainly sounded interested in that. Interested enough to come along to our first birthday soirée. Now all that was left for me to do was to convince Belle to sign on the dotted line of a binding contract making Queen Bee PR her exclusive public relations agency of choice. And when better to do that than at a party celebrating our success in the Sydney scene? In one swift move I would provide Belle with a publicity team just in time for the new season of
Kitchen Divas
and at the same time guarantee Queen Bee’s survival for at least another year to come.

If only Diane Wilderstein were here to chew on this, I thought smugly.

My phone buzzed in my hand.

‘Lulu?’ I answered.

‘Jazzy Lou, the first of our guests have arrived so I’ve sent them straight up to the terrace,’ she replied.

I checked my watch. ‘Who the hell has arrived so unfashionably on time?’ I asked as the terrace door sprung open behind me.

‘
Jasmine
,’ came an all-too-familiar voice. A voice dripping with money and malice.

‘Diane!’ I gasped.

Her skinny silhouette joined her voice on the rooftop. ‘How delightful to be the first to your little party,’ she sneered.

My mind was spinning as I raced to catch up. Diane was here? At Queen Bee PR? To celebrate the success of my first year in business? This didn’t make any sense. I steadied myself on an oversized candy cane.

‘I do hope more people show up, don’t you?’ she asked, faux concern dripping from her faux lips.

I stammered a reply. ‘Of course more people will show up,’ I hissed. ‘People such as
invited guests
.’

As if to prove my point, Belle Single chose this moment to step out onto the terrace.

‘Belle Single!’ I gushed, racing over to the stylish blonde. ‘So glad
you
could make it!’ I shot Diane a pointed look.

Belle air-kissed both my cheeks. ‘Jasmine!’ she said. ‘This place is
amaze
!’ She looked around the rooftop with admiration. ‘It looks like Willy Wonka’s visited up here!’

‘It looks like Willy Wonka’s
vomited
up here,’ Diane corrected.

I considered stabbing her with the nearest candy cane.

‘It really is very Ken Done of your decorator,’ Diane added evilly as I steered Belle away from the Ice Queen and over to the ice luge, where newly arrived guests were beginning to gather to get a drink.

‘Vodka?’ I asked Belle, pressing a glass of the sickly-sweet alcohol into her hand.

She nodded by way of reply.

‘Now, don’t worry about Diane,’ I assured her. ‘She just doesn’t appreciate a food theme like we do here at Queen Bee.’

The Kitchen Diva smiled cryptically as more people spilled out onto the terrace around us.

‘In fact, we often create amazing events for our clients based solely around the catering.’

‘We can theme product launches around food from particular regions or eras or to match fashion trends or moods,’ I went on, attempting to appeal to her (very) inner foodie and show her Queen Bee was just the right fit for her new foray into the kitchen. ‘And recently,’ I added, ‘we organised a fab vampire-themed launch where all the food was black. Not
burned
,’ I hurried on as she appeared to stifle a laugh. ‘Just black. Gothic. It’s amazing what you can do with food colouring and a little . . .’ My voice trailed off.

Belle sipped lazily from her glass and was now gazing round the growing party in search of a distraction.

I made one last stab. ‘Belle, have the producers of
Kitchen Divas
started talking product placement with you yet? I could sit in on some of the meetings and give my thoughts if you’re looking for support.’

Belle simply offered a smile.

‘Thanks, Jasmine,’ she said at last. ‘We’ll see,’ she added half-heartedly before turning and heading into the crowd, leaving me alone next to the vodka flow with only a sinking feeling for company.

Thank fuck Luke and Shelley chose this moment to make their appearance and join the rapidly growing throng of revellers.

‘Mazel tov, dah-ling!’ Shelley called, waving wildly as she and Luke made their way through the madding crowd and met me at the ice sculpture in the middle of the terrace. ‘Fabulous do,’ she added as she bypassed the dainty cocktail glasses on offer and instead picked up a large water glass and thrust it in the stream of vodka.

‘Totes!’ agreed Luke, chewing as he spoke, his mouth already stuffed full of sugar. ‘This is
incred
, Jazzy Lou!’

I smiled in gratitude and tried to push my worries about Belle Single to the back of my mind. ‘Thanks, loves,’ I said. ‘Did you see the edible gingerbread house in the corner? Only don’t taste it – it cost me a bloody fortune.’

Luke pointed to his mouth as if to indicate there wasn’t a whole lot of room in there right now, anyway.

‘Nice styling,’ Shelley commented, referring to my LV ensemble that was on loan from her. Naturally the two-piece was totally new season but it wouldn’t matter if Shell had owned it for ten years, she never would have fitted into it. (Although I’d never point that out to her.)

‘Ta babe,’ I said instead. ‘And likewise.’ I was referring to the glam Roberto Cavalli silk-chiffon maxi she was wearing.

‘And
moi
?’ said Luke, holding the side panels of his Dolce & Gabbana coat open to reveal the bright red plaid inside.

‘You look beyond,’ I assured him. ‘Good enough to eat. Speaking of – where’s Reuben?’ Luke’s squeeze was a pastry chef and would have loved tonight’s foodie theme.

Luke looked glum. ‘Working,’ he said.

‘Shame,’ I replied, keeping one eye firmly on what was happening around us as I spoke.

‘That’s okay. I can be your beau for this evening. That is, of course, unless you’ve got someone special here tonight already? No Mr Jazzy Lou you’d like to introduce us to?’ he asked, giving Shelley a nudge.

I rolled my eyes. ‘Not that I’ve received the memo about,’ I said. ‘And that’s about the only way I’ll ever have time to meet a boy – if he comes to me on an office memo.’

Shelley groaned and refilled her already empty glass. ‘Babe, you need to work less and bonk more already. Have you even seen anyone since you humiliated yourself in front of Will at Raw Bar last year?’

I grimaced at the memory. ‘Uh, kinda,’ I stalled, thinking of my brief liaison with the real estate agent who had found me the Queen Bee office space. Nothing like mixing a little business with pleasure, I say. Not that I have much choice. When your entire life is dedicated to business you squeeze in the pleasure where you can.

‘Kinda?’ Shelley echoed, obviously not satisfied.

‘Yeah, kinda. I – OMFG! Is that Lillian Richard talking to Diane?!’ I interrupted myself, ending all further investigation into my life between the sheets.

‘Diane?!’ Luke shrieked, hearing only the key word in that sentence. ‘What the hell is she doing here?’

‘I have no idea!’ I matched his shriek and several people looked in our direction. ‘But I intend to find out! Right before I
throw
her out.’

Shelley and Luke exchanged worried glances. ‘Er, I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Jazzy Lou,’ Shelley started.

Luke jumped in. ‘It’s not, Jazz. Sure, Diane’s not here to help you blow out the candles on your anniversary cake, but chucking her out will only cause a scene. A scene you’ll read about in tomorrow’s paper.’

I glanced at him quickly for signs of his notepad. Not that it mattered. Even if Luke managed to convince his editor it wasn’t worth running, any public altercation I had with Diane at my anniversary event was sure to earn ink elsewhere. It was a fast fall from sweet success to bad taste, after all.

I took a deep breath before conceding to myself that they were right. ‘Fine,’ I huffed. ‘But I can still find out why she’s here. That and prevent her from poaching my press contacts.’ And with that I stomped off in Diane and Lillian’s direction.

When I approached Diane that evening she was deep in conversation with magazine deity Lillian Richard.

‘Lillian!’ I interrupted, barging in on their cosy chat and bumping Diane into an oversized lollipop nearby. ‘Good to see you could squeeze us into your schedule for tonight.’

Diane scowled at me. I flashed a saccharine smile in response.

Lillian stuck out her hand in her usual businesslike manner, her wild-woman hair bobbing around her face like a mane. ‘Good to be here, Jasmine,’ she said. ‘Queen Bee certainly knows how to throw a party.’

I threw Diane a triumphant look. She looked like she wanted to throw me off the edge of the terrace.

‘Thank you, Lillian,’ I replied graciously, raising my champagne flute in reply. ‘After twelve months of hard slog getting the business up and running, we thought a party was well deserved. Especially for our friends in the industry who have helped us along the way.’

‘Quite,’ Lillian agreed and took a sip of pink champagne. ‘There’s nothing like the feeling of letting your hair down after all that hard work.’

I hoped Lillian didn’t plan to let
that
hair down. There simply wasn’t space on the terrace.

‘Exactly!’ I said pointedly. ‘Tonight is all about celebrating hard work that’s done and dusted. Only, you’re not here on
new
business tonight, are you, Diane?’ I wheeled around to clock her reaction but the she-devil didn’t flinch.

‘Quite the opposite,’ she beamed falsely. ‘Lillian and I were just arranging a dinner party at her home for next weekend.’

I choked on my pink champagne. ‘Dinner party? How lovely,’ I managed through gritted teeth. ‘I had no idea you two were close friends?’

‘
Very
,’ said Diane emphatically. ‘You’d just never guess who’s connected to who in this industry.’

Now it was my turn to scowl. What the hell was
that
supposed to mean? I took a gulp of my drink before replying, ‘You just never would, would you?’