Love Lies - By Adele Parks Page 0,105

now.

‘OK, I won’t show them those photos. But don’t be greedy with this, pleeease. And don’t be a “no comment” bore. Where’s the fun in that?’ says Ben. ‘Odd to think I’m going to be famous because we shared face masks and pizza.’

‘And four years’ hard graft. Would it kill you to mention I was actually very good at my job?’ I ask.

‘OK. Will do. You don’t really object to me riding on your coat-tails, do you? I mean you couldn’t.’ His implication is painfully clear.

‘I wasn’t looking for fame, I’m in love,’ I point out.

‘Brucie bonus, darling. Now you are showing off. Your persistent belief that people care about the distinction is endearing, darling, but haven’t you noticed that they don’t? Never mind, Cinderella has got her fella. Could your life get any more perfect?’

‘Only if you came to stay with me for a few weeks,’ I suggest, impulsively.

‘You’re kidding.’ I think Ben might have stopped breathing with the excitement.

‘Not at all. I need help with –’

‘Styling. You do, don’t you? I thought you were very slouchy in this pic in Heat. I was going to say something but I didn’t want to hurt your feelings. Look around you. The women in LA have a rich walk, a swagger, almost. I’ve seen it on Ugly Betty. You should try to imitate that.’ I glance up and down Rodeo Drive. Ben is right. These women know how to strut. ‘Plus I have a million ideas for the wedding.’

‘There are loads of people who can help me here but I’d like a friend. I know it’s a lot to ask, especially when you are so busy in the shop.’

‘Give me an hour to pack. No, realistically give me a week.’

‘To pack?’

‘No, to brief the new staff in the shop, silly. Then I’ll be all yours.’

‘Really?’ I’m delighted. ‘What about your interviews?’

‘They’ll wait.’

‘Jess and Lisa both had their reasons for not coming. I’m so touched that you’re going to drop everything for me,’ I say, beaming from ear to ear. I was beginning to fear I didn’t have any old friends left.

‘I’ll try to pretend I’m not hurt that I was your third choice. You’ll get me Club Class though, won’t you? I’ve always wanted to fly Club.’

‘I’ll fly you First. With a bit of luck you might bump into my pal Gary. He was a steward on our flight. He’s just your type.’

I’m ecstatic that Ben is coming to visit. All aglow I hang up and turn to Scott. ‘You’ll love Ben. He’s great fun. He just wants everyone to be happy all the time.’

‘Not a bad philosophy,’ says Scott with a huge grin. ‘Now, shall we shop?’

45. Fern

Surreptitiously I finger the cool, calm, creamy cardboard bag that is sitting at my feet. Inside it (beyond the yards of thick black velvet ribbon and the endless sheets of dainty, floaty tissue paper) lies a dress that cost two months’ salary. At least, two months of my salary, that is – if I still earned a salary, which I don’t of course. In the boot of the car (or the trunk as they say over here) there lie a further dozen or so similar stiff cardboard bags, inside which there are Moschino sunglasses, a Bally bag, a pair of Jean Paul Gaultier jeans, two Matthew Williamson maxi dresses (we couldn’t decide which colour suited me!), a Tommy Hilfiger day dress, a Gucci purse and a Prada jacket. Oh. My. God.

‘Happy?’ asks Scott.

‘Very, very, very,’ I confirm.

‘What are you thinking?’

This is why Scott is more of a deity than a man. He cares what I’m thinking! ‘I was just wondering when I’ll wear the Fendi dress.’ It’s a scarlet silk dress with cap sleeves and beautiful beaded detail around the collar. It’s elegant and stylish. I can’t float around the pool in it, even an infinity pool, even if my boyfriend is a rock star. ‘It’s a going out dress. A special occasion dress.’

‘We could go to a movie premiere or a charity gala or something,’ says Scott with a yawn.

‘We could?’ I splutter on my excitement and almost choke.

‘Yeah, we could.’

‘Have we been invited to any?’

‘We’re always being asked to them, we get two or three invites a night. But Mark usually says no.’

‘He does? Why?’ Why would anyone turn down an invite to a movie premiere?

‘Worried I’ll get pissed or… I don’t know, distracted,’ murmurs Scott; he is staring out of the window now and doesn’t seem to be totally focused

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