Jackson strolled over, with Jerome and another security guard watching closely. ‘Sure you can,’ he said with a slight southern drawl.
The girl’s excited shriek increased in volume with every step that Jackson took towards them, and Ivy could see Olivia had squeezed over to let her come to the barrier.
‘What’s your name?’ Jackson asked, relaxed, as he signed an autograph for her. The girl just shrieked louder and started to cry.
Ivy nudged her sister. ‘Why don’t you say hello?’ she whispered.
‘I can’t!’ Olivia whispered back.
What’s going on? Ivy thought. Olivia never has trouble talking to people!
Ivy poked Olivia in the side, making her yelp.
Jackson looked right at her and smiled.
‘Hi, Jackson,’ Camilla said from just behind Olivia.
‘Hello,’ he said. ‘What’s your name?’
‘I’m Camilla,’ she said. ‘I loved you in The Right One.’
‘Thanks,’ he replied with an easy grin. ‘That was my favourite shoot so far.’
‘And I’m Sophia.’ Sophia held up her camera. ‘Can I take your picture?’
‘Sure,’ he said and smiled as he posed, producing a mixture of sighs and screams from the crowd behind while Sophia snapped away.
‘And who are you?’ he asked.
He’s singling out Olivia! Ivy thought with excitement.
‘Um, hi,’ Olivia said, staring down at her faux-fur-lined boots.
‘This is Olivia,’ Ivy prompted.
Jackson leaned forward a little, so that the whole crowd couldn’t hear. ‘It was really nice of you to let that girl come through,’ he said to Olivia.
Still, Olivia didn’t speak. The closest she could get to looking at him was staring at his cowboy boots. ‘That’s because Olivia is really nice,’ Ivy replied.
Why isn’t she saying anything? Ivy thought. If she doesn’t do it now, she’ll regret it for eternity! Maybe longer.
‘Yeehaw,’ Olivia blurted out.
Oh my darkness, she’s gone mad! Ivy thought. Olivia’s pink face told her that she didn’t know why in bat’s name she had said it either.
‘I mean, uh – I like your boots,’ Olivia muttered. Her pink cheeks turned bright red.
‘Thanks,’ he replied, with a chuckle.
Behind him, a power-suited red-headed woman climbed out of the SUV, yakking into a phone.
‘I’m in charge of his image,’ she was saying, ‘and there will be no clown outfit.’
She waved Jackson back to the car.
One of the hairdressers was leaning over the rail, trying to catch Jackson’s attention. ‘Hey, Jackson!’
But his eyes didn’t stray from Olivia. ‘That’s my manager. I’ve got to go to work. I’m glad you like my boots.’ He smiled. ‘I like your fuzzy earmuffs.’