“Sorry,” I say awkwardly. “I didn’t mean to … I just heard …”
“I know.” April drops her hands as though in exasperation. “Everyone says the same. The thing is, Lois is bright, she expects high standards, and she doesn’t necessarily win herself friends. But you’ll like her. I’m sure you will.”
A text bleeps in her phone and she reaches for it. “Sorry, I have to go. Give your address to my assistant and I’ll messenger the tickets over. Let yourselves out when you’re ready.”
She heads out of the trailer, clumping down the steps in her Uggs, and Suze and I just stare at each other.
“Lois Kellerton,” says Suze at last. “Oh my God, Bex.”
“I know.” I rub my head. “Freaky.”
“What will you say to her? I mean, about … you know.”
“I’ll say nothing. It never happened, OK? And I never told you either.”
“All right.” Suze nods fervently, then looks up. “Hey, what will Luke say about you meeting Lois? Isn’t Lois Sage’s big nemesis? Aren’t you supposed to be on Team Sage?”
Oh God. In the heat of the moment, I’d forgotten all about that. Damn. I reach for an energy bar, thinking hard. OK, so it’s not ideal. If I could have chosen any other celebrity, I would have. But I can’t turn down this amazing chance. I can’t.
“Luke will be completely supportive of my career,” I say at last, a bit more firmly than I feel. “I mean, we don’t both have to be on Team Sage, do we? We can have Chinese whatsits.”
“What?” Suze looks blank. “Fortune cookies?”
“No!” I can’t help giggling. “Walls. Where you’re on different sides but it’s OK because you don’t pass on any secrets.”
“Walls?” says Suze mistrustfully. “I don’t like the idea of walls. You shouldn’t have walls in a marriage.”
“Not real walls; Chinese walls.”
Suze doesn’t look convinced. “I still don’t like it. I think you should be on the same side.”
“Well, so do I,” I say defensively. “But what am I supposed to do? I tried styling Sage and she wasn’t interested.”
“Style a different celebrity, then.”
“Who? They’re not exactly queuing up for my services, are they?” I feel a bit ratty with Suze, partly because I know she’s got a point. “Look, it’ll be fine. It’ll be like that film where the husband and wife are opposing lawyers in the courtroom, but when they’re at home everything’s fine and lovely.”
“What film?” says Suze suspiciously.
“Er … you know. That one.”
I’m making this up as I go along, but I won’t admit it.
“What’s it called?” demands Suze.
“It doesn’t matter what it’s called. Look, I’m only in Hollywood once, Suze. I have to at least see if I can make it as a stylist.” As I say the words, I realize how much I’ve been wanting this opportunity, how disappointed I’ve been at all my failures. And now a real, proper chance is within my grasp. “Luke will understand,” I add. “I’ll work it out with him somehow. It’ll all be OK.”
BACKGROUND ARTISTS UNLIMITED AGENCY
APPLICATION FORM FOR ARTISTS
TITLE (DELETE AS APPROPRIATE): Mr./Mrs./Ms. Lady
FORENAME (S): Susan deLaney Margaret
SURNAME: Cleath-Stuart
DATE OF BIRTH: Didn’t you know that it’s not done to ask someone’s age?
PLACE OF BIRTH: Sandringham, in the riding stables (Mummy had just been out hunting).
PREVIOUS ACTING EXPERIENCE: I played a bumblebee at Mrs. Darlington’s Academy and then I was a rabbit, and then I was Blanche DuBois, my most brilliant role, and then that girl in The Merchant of Venice. Oh, and Juliet. Except we only did three scenes, because Shakespeare IS a bit long.
SPECIAL SKILLS (E.G., RIDING, JUGGLING): Oh, loads! Riding, tennis, fly-fishing, yoga, making photo frames, flower arranging, folding napkins into shapes, icing cakes (I did a course; Daddy thought I might go into catering). I’m not much good at typing, but I could always pretend. And if you’re filming a movie set in an old English house, I can tell you where the knives and forks go, because you always get it wrong. And the English don’t all wear tweed the whole time. Oh, and WHY are the villains always British??
ACCENTS: I can do a brilliant American accent. And French. I can do Welsh, but it starts to sound Indian.
ARE YOU WILLING TO APPEAR NUDE? Are you mad? What would Daddy say? And my husband? Anyway, why do you need anyone to appear nude? When anyone strips off on the screen, I start squirming with embarrassment and my husband gets up and says, “Who’s for a titchy?” People in films should keep their clothes on. Apart from Captain Jack Sparrow; he can take his off!! (Don’t tell Tarkie I said that.)
