Love in La La Land Page 14

  After yet another such brief encounter, Jane objected. ‘Look, Scott, can we just stay and actually talk to people for a little while?’

  Was that a shifty look she detected on his face? ‘Hey, I’m only doing all this for you. You’re the one who wanted to meet all the important people here.’

  Jane didn’t think that was quite true, but thought it best not to argue the point. After all, Scott was the only person she knew there and she could see, as his intake of drink increased, he would need careful handling.

  ‘OK, thanks, Scott. And I’m truly grateful. But do you think you could actually introduce me properly next time.’

  ‘What do you mean? I’ve got your name right every single time, haven’t I?’ he replied aggressively, grabbing yet another glass from a hovering, scantily-clad waitress.

  ‘Yes, yes,’ she soothed, ‘you have. I grant you that. But you never say who I am, or what I do. Could you not say, Arabella Jones, the writer of my latest film, or something like that? Then I could perhaps follow it up, and start chatting about my latest book. It would give me a bit of an opening, wouldn’t it?’

  From the mutinous look in Scott’s eyes, Jane thought her chances of this happening were extremely unlikely.

  They approached yet another group, where young, full-bosomed girls were draped round older, immaculately-suited men. Once again, Scott said, ‘Hey, guys, this is Arabella.’

  He then turned to her so she could say something in her ‘awfully cute’ English accent.

  Annoyed, Jane muttered a laconic, ‘Hi.’

  Scott’s furious squeeze at her waist told her she was not playing her appointed part.

  With a resigned sigh, Jane said in her best Pygmalion cut-glass accent, ‘How do you do? So pleased to make your acquaintance.’

  If Scott noticed the difference from her normal northern delivery, she couldn’t tell. But he seemed pleased with the now routine effusions over her Englishness.

  A powerfully-built, hard-faced man at the centre of the throng turned and slowly raked her body from top to toe with his lizard eyes.

  Jane gave an involuntary shudder.

  ‘Ah yes, English girls. So reserved on the surface, but such fire down below. And a redhead…I wonder if your collar and cuffs match.’ He deliberately leered down at her crotch.

  Stunned by such obvious lewdness, Jane gasped. Then bit back.

  Although her cheeks flamed, her voice was pure frost. ‘Isn’t English reserve preferable to outright rudeness?’

  There was a gasp from the group. Her disdain was evident.

  The man’s eyes blazed.

  If Scott didn’t quite understand the words, he got the tone, and pulled her sharply away.

  ‘Don’t you know who that is?’ he hissed.

  ‘No.’

  ‘That’s Maximillian Mostyn.’

  Seeing Jane’s blank face, he said impatiently, ‘You know, the famous producer. If you want a film to get made round here… Look, Arabella, you have to be very careful what you say. There are very important players in this room. You can’t just go firing off your mouth if you don’t like the way someone looks at you.’ He glared at her and released his arm from round her waist for the first time that evening.

  ‘I’m going to get a drink.’ And he stalked off, leaving her standing alone in the middle of the room.

  The whole exchange had been watched by a strikingly handsome, older man, who gazed at the solitary figure with a speculative gleam in his dark eyes. But before he could move towards her, one of his important guests required his immediate attention. Like a switch, Bruno turned on one of his beaming smiles. Scott’s English girl with that special accent would have to wait. He would return to her later.

  Feeling very exposed without Scott at her side, Jane reached out to a passing waiter for a glass of champagne. She needed something to do with her hands. So far, she had been circumspectly sipping her drink, aware that she had hardly eaten all day. Tarka had blanched when she had said she fancied a ham sandwich for lunch.

  ‘Carbs and meat products! Darling girl, do you want to totally bloat out?’

  So, she had obediently nibbled cucumber sticks and tried not to belch all afternoon.

  If only Tarka was there now. He could guide her in what to do alone in the middle of a Hollywood party where the only person you know has disappeared in a huff. She could see from the covert glances that she was the object of malicious speculation.

  A sweaty hand on her naked back made her jump. Turning, she looked over the head of a small, bald man, who was eye-level with her cleavage.

  ‘Hello, my dear. You are far too beautiful to be standing alone,’ he leered, still gazing at her chest. ‘So, what brings you here?’

  ‘I’m with…um.’ No, she was no longer with anyone. It was time to be there in her own right. ‘I’m a writer.’

  Beady eyes asked her bosom, ‘So, what films have you written?’

  ‘Well, actually I write books.’

  ‘Books!’ Surprised, the gaze momentarily flicked up towards her face.

  ‘Yes, I wrote the story behind the film that Scott’s starring in at the moment. Jack Clancy has written the screenplay, but it was me—’

  Something about the name Jack Clancy caused the man to glance around anxiously. Then, without a word, he was gone.

  This was even worse. Even though the man was obviously a letch, at least he had been someone to talk to. How mortifying to be deserted by two men in the space of moments.

  She could feel the snickering increase behind her.

  There was only one thing to do in moments like this. Hold your head high, stride purposefully forward…and find the sanctuary of the ladies’ loo.

  She saw a dimly lit corridor and headed down it.

  A strangely familiar voice said, ‘Can I help you, Miss?’

  ‘Yes, please. I was looking for the Ladies… um, the rest room.’

  ‘You are going the wrong way, Miss, it’s not down…’ There was a puzzled pause.

  ‘Oh, hello,’ said Jane, peering up at the bulky figure. ‘I think I know you, don’t I? Aren’t you the security guard at the gate? Jack’s friend? Hank, isn’t it?’

  The voice warmed. ‘Yes, Miss, it is. And is it you, Miss Arabella, called Jane?’

  Jane laughed with relief at finally meeting a friendly face.

  ‘I didn’t recognise you at first,’ Hank continued, and his voice betrayed his disappointment at her transformation.

  ‘Oh, I’m not surprised. I’ve been all gussied up for the party. I don’t feel like me at all,’ she confided.

  ‘No, Miss, you don’t look like you.’

  ‘Oh Hank. I am so pleased to see someone I know. I have to tell you how right you were the other day. There’s no way I could have walked to the film set. It was miles. And Jack…um, Mr Clancy, was so kind. He really looked after me.’

  The burly guard grinned.

  ‘I know I was a bit annoyed when you insisted he drove me in the buggy, but thank goodness you did. He’s been so helpful and considerate ever since. Well, I expect you heard what happened on the set?’

  ‘Sure did. Are you OK now?’

  ‘Oh fine. Still a little bump, but really I’m fine.’

  There was an awkward silence.

  ‘Are you enjoying the party, Miss?’

  ‘I suppose so… No, of course I am. Great party. So lucky to have been invited. Oh, but I’m here with Scott. You know, Scott Flynn, not Jack.’

  ‘No, you wouldn’t expect Jack to come here,’ Hank replied slowly.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘You just wouldn’t.’

  Jane waited for more information but could see from the set of Hank’s jaw that none was forthcoming.

  ‘No, I suppose he’s not really into parties, is he? To be honest, neither am I. In fact,’ Jane lowered her voice, ‘I wish I hadn’t come. It’s awful. I was only going to the Ladies to escape from all the horrible stares in there.’

  There
was a low chuckle.

  ‘I think a lot of women do that. There always seems to be a crowd in the rest rooms. I reckon a quite a few folk go in there to hide…and for other things.’ Hank knew some of the reasons were innocent, but from the way some of them tottered out with glazed eyes, some weren’t. Minnie, the ladies’ room attendant, despaired of the white powder that regularly appeared, despite her best efforts.

  ‘So, what are you doing here tonight, Hank?’

  ‘I’m part of the security team for the party.’

  ‘Oh, but I thought… Do you do this as well as the studios?’

  Once again, a low chuckle. ‘I have three daughters. It takes more than one job just to keep ‘em in shoes. My Dolores is in the kitchens here tonight, organising the catering. I’d like you to meet her, but we aren’t supposed to mingle with the guests.’ He glanced up the corridor.

  ‘I’m so sorry. I’m keeping you from your job.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Miss. No-one can see us down here. But if anyone comes…’

  ‘Yes, yes, of course.’

  As if conjured up by the remark, a shadow appeared in a doorway at the far end of the corridor, and Hank immediately spoke more gruffly and loudly.

  ‘No, Miss. If you are looking for the ladies’ rest room, you won’t find it down here. Go back the way you came, and turn right.’

  ‘Thank you. I will do that.’

  ‘Miss Jane,’ said Hank in a low voice, ‘you be careful out there. If you have any problems, come looking for me. I’ll make sure you are OK.’

  Jane shot him a grateful look and set off back towards all the noise and light.

  As Hank predicted, the large room allocated as the ladies’ rest room was full of women. Most were crowding round the mirror primping and re-applying mascara and lipstick. Some were re-adjusting their clothing and chatting. Two girls in the corner were comforting a sobbing figure slumped on a chair.

  Jane advanced to the mirror and found a small space to examine her face and smooth down her hair, which had begun to relapse into its usual unruly curls.

  A cluster of whispering girls suddenly made a beeline for her.

  ‘You look gorgeous,’ a tall, whippet-thin one cooed.

  ‘Who are you wearing?’ her big-haired friend asked.

  ‘Who am I wearing?’ Jane was puzzled. ‘I’m not wearing anybody.’

  ‘But surely that is a Donatella?’ asked the whippet.

  ‘Oh yes, I see what you mean now. Yes, I believe it is.’

  ‘And are those Louboutins?’

  ‘Um.’ Jane just shrugged her incomprehension.

  ‘Your shoes. Are they Louboutins?’

  ‘Oh no, they are Jimmys, um…Jimmy Choos.’

  ‘Gorgeous,’ they chorused.

  There was a pause, before the whippet asked with seeming nonchalance, ‘You came with Scott Flynn, didn’t you?’

  ‘Yes, yes I did.’

  ‘We noticed Savannah hasn’t turned up,’ big hair said significantly.

  ‘Oh, that’s a shame,’ said Jane. ‘I would have loved to meet her.’

  Wide-eyed giggles greeted this statement.

  ‘So how long have you and Scott been together?’ Whippet’s eyes gleamed.

  ‘Oh, we aren’t together as such, you know as in together together. We just came here tonight together.’

  ‘Really?’ Raised eyebrows all around.

  ‘No, no, I’m just his house guest.’

  More eyebrows.

  ‘Yes, he just asked me stay until I recovered. You see, I sort of knocked myself out on the set when I first met him. He was so kind and came to the hospital and asked me to stay with him…in his guest room. I think he felt guilty, although of course he shouldn’t, and since then he has been so kind and considerate. A perfect host…’

  Jane ploughed on although, from the looks that were being exchanged, no-one was believing her.

  ‘So, you’re just his house guest. Right?’ Whippet asked.

  ‘Yes, yes that’s right.’

  ‘And he’s brought you to this party?’

  ‘Well, yes, once again so kind of him. You see I’m a writer and he thought…’

  ‘You’re a writer?’

  ‘Well, yes.’ At last, someone is showing an interest, thought Jane.

  ‘So, who bought you the Donatella and the Choos?’

  There was long pause. They clearly already knew the answer…and even Jane realised what it implied.

  ‘Of course, they are only loaned for tonight…’ she faltered lamely.

  ‘Yea, right.’

  ‘No, seriously, we are just friends; well, lodger and landlord, really.’ But Jane was protesting to retreating backs as the girls, having gleaned all they wanted to know, giggled away back into the party to pass on the latest gossip about Scott Flynn and his ‘house guest’.

  Chapter Twelve

  The thought of Jane at the party preyed on Jack’s mind all day. Why did it have to be at Bruno’s? he thought angrily. I can’t possibly go there.

  But nevertheless, mid-evening he found himself, clad in his Armani DJ, face-to-face with the two Neanderthal bodyguards at the gates of Bruno’s exclusive residence.

  ‘Without an invitation, we can’t let you in…sir,’ the larger of the two men was saying to him with evident glee, pausing before the ‘sir’ for maximum insult.

  ‘Of course not. I didn’t expect it,’ Jack said smoothly, before calling over their shoulders to a smart figure giving discreet instructions to a minion.

  ‘Johnson.’

  Bruno’s long-resident English butler turned on hearing a familiar voice utter his name.

  His face, famously imperturbable, registered shocked surprise at the sight of Jack. Then he quickly recovered and hurried forward to smooth matters over, as was his role. You didn’t get to be a top Hollywood butler without learning how to handle any situation without fuss, or scandal.

  ‘Good evening, Mr Clancy, sir. You are most welcome.’ His disdainful glance at the bodyguards told them they had made a major mistake.

  ‘Thank you, Johnson. Are you well?’

  ‘Very well, sir. Thank you for asking.’

  Jack stepped through the open door and was immediately into his idea of hell.

  The music was loud and brash. Portly, predatory old men were surrounded by beautiful, busty, stick-thin young girls, who greeted their every utterance with exaggerated squeals of laughter and delight. The pool area was a blaze of light, and bikinied women were draped around loungers like decorative ornaments. Trays of drinks and other substances were being carried around by hunky, bare-chested waiters and half-clad waitresses.

  Everywhere was fake. Fake tans, fake bodies, fake laughter, fake bonhomie.

  He ignored several gasps of astonishment as he entered, picked up a drink, and concentrated on finding Jane. Acutely aware that his presence was causing ripples of amazement and gossip as he strolled through the room, he squared his shoulders and searched for her familiar figure.

  He soon spotted her in a group of people by the pool. She had her back to him; her very shapely and very bare back.

  She was wearing a clingy, short, silver dress, and silver shoes with heels that were far too high so that she was a bit taller than Scott.

  Jack smiled grimly. She’ll never walk in those, he thought.

  But he couldn’t help noticing her stunning legs. Her red-gold hair hung straight and gleaming, tamed into shiny submission, not enticingly tousled and wayward like the last time he had seen it.

  And, of course, her whole body was the requisite shade of bronze.

  Delicately holding a glass of champagne, Jane seemed to be listening avidly to the conversation around her, and Scott had a proprietorial arm about her waist. What was worse, she was actually leaning into Scott’s shoulder.

  So much for her rejection of Scott’s advances, Jack thought with a frown. Clearly, she had been wooed by all the grooming and attention. The expensive dress and jewellery, which no
doubt Scott had provided, had probably helped in her enticement. So, there she was, canoodling up to Scott and evidently enjoying her first taste of the Hollywood high life.

  A stab of fierce jealousy pierced Jack’s chest, and he gasped in surprise at the intensity. A reflex action caused his fists to clench…along with his jaw. This gut reaction shook him, but was swiftly replaced by pure fury at his own stupidity. What a fool he had been. Coming here of all places…just in case…risking everything, only to find Jane was perfectly safe and more than happy with Scott’s company.

  Cursing his recklessness, he turned on his heels to go as speedily and unobtrusively as he could.

  ‘Jack, honey, what a surprise. I never thought you would come to a party here.’

  He’d nearly bowled over the little platinum blonde in the Schiaparelli pink gown who gazed up at him in amazement.

  ‘Hi, Robyn,’ he smiled, and bent down to kiss Scott’s mother on her cheek.

  ‘I know I asked you to keep an eye on Scott, but I never thought you’d take your responsibility this seriously. Thank you.’ She squeezed his arm warmly.

  Jack accepted her thanks with a guilty shrug, although it did give him a welcome excuse for being there.

  ‘You know I’m forever in your debt, Robyn, for how you helped my mother when she really needed it.’

  ‘Oh honey, I was glad to do it. You know how fond I was of Rose, and you have repaid me many times over. Don’t even think about it.’

  Jack looked around and grimaced. ‘I’d forgotten how much I hated these parties.’ But realising he mustn’t sound too disparaging, he rapidly changed the subject.

  ‘You look amazing.’ He smiled appreciatively, taking in her unlined face and curvaceous figure.

  She grinned wickedly. ‘I should hope so, the money I’ve paid.’

  Jack gallantly raised an eyebrow to express disbelief.

  ‘Oh, come on, Jack. You know I’ve had loads of work done lately. You have to nowadays if you want to swim in this social shark pool. You know, if there was a fire here, all that would be left would be a huge puddle of silicone in the middle of the room, because no-one could open their mouth wide enough to shout fire.’