“Thanks.” She extracted her hand, still looking at him quizzically like he was some kind of psycho. Glancing quickly at the card, she slipped it inside her bag, hitched the handbag up over her shoulder and turned toward the door, stopping briefly at the entrance to the kitchen. Her mouth opened as if she were about to say something, but she snapped it shut, shook her head slightly and all but fled his house.
He followed to the entrance, watched her step gingerly into a waiting black limousine and he then turned and stormed up the stairs. He needed to annihilate the tension raking his body with harsh, cold laps in his pool. He was at the edge of the pool deck, his hands halfway through yanking down his trousers when his phone buzzed. It was one of the shelter volunteers alerting him to an incident going down between a young guy who’d been in residence a couple of months and a newcomer throwing his weight around.
He pulled his trousers up and almost caught his fingers as he zipped his fly closed. He located his keys and was in his car within minutes. The guys had chosen the wrong day to cause a scene but he was in the perfect mood to end it.
* * *
Was this what it had felt like to be Daisy? To have the kind of attention she’d always resented her sister for getting? The most attention Holly ever had was a lecture theatre full of university students and they were there for her subject, not her.
Holly had stepped out of the limo and into a whole other universe. There’d been paparazzi waiting at the gates of the massive television studios and their cameras had flashed but she doubted they’d got any useable photos through the jet-black tint of the car windows. Then, the chauffeur had opened the car door and she’d stepped out to an effusive welcome team. PR people crowded round and she’d tried not to feel like a mouse stepping into a cat haven.
Her morning had been a whirlwind ever since.
The only break had been sitting in the luxurious chair of the dressing room, feeling like a poodle as they’d fluffed her hair and pampered her into perfection. Well, as near to perfection as they could make a girl from a regular city not a glittery, fantasy one like Los Angeles. As she’d stared into the mirror, at her big, but immaculately straight and shiny hair, it felt like she was staring at a stranger. Someone about as far from the run-of-the-mill cultural anthropologist as you could get. For one brief moment, she’d seen a rare resemblance to Daisy. Was it the way they made up her eyes to look ten times bigger and bolder than usual? Or was it real? She’d never in her life felt comparable to her sister, well not in a way she’d actually measure up.
For a while, the nerves had evaporated and she’d forgotten about why she was actually here, simply taking a few moments to reflect.
But when she entered the green room and felt forced to mingle with the waiting celebrities—all actors up for a big award on Sunday night—her rushed breathing returned.
She felt as plain and boring as ever. She’d tried to pretend the actors were other academics at a conference. Lord knew she’d been to hundreds of them and found easy conversation with everyone she met. When that technique didn’t work, she thought of Nate and how he’d handled the interaction with the women in the restaurant. She wished she had his charms to turn on, wished she could interact easily without feeling like an imposter.
But this wasn’t her world.
More champagne flowed and nibbles she noticed none of the other women ate were passed around. To hell with it, she needed an occupation for her hands which couldn’t stop fiddling with the hem of her skirt, and her mouth, which felt left out with all the chatting going on around her. Heads swiveled when she bit into a miniature salad wrap. Eyebrows were raised. She ignored them and ate, marking off each minute on her watch until she was due on stage. The time dragged in direct opposition to the ticking of her heart, which seemed set on hyperactive.
Finally she heard the claps and cheers of the crowd as they welcomed and farewelled the guests before her. Holly’s chest tightened almost unbearably at the thought of what lay ahead, of having to answer questions about Daisy. Perhaps if she imagined the audience were a group of keen anthropology students she could get through the next fifteen minutes or so without suffering a panic attack.
But dammit, she just wanted this over.
Ten minutes later she was pleasantly surprised. There were only a couple of shouted “boos” from the live audience as Holly tottered onto the stage. Karla, the presenter—a coiffed woman who had to be in her late fifties—met her with what appeared to be a genuine smile and a quick hug.
“Sit down,” she told Holly, patting her knee.
Holly felt like a kangaroo in headlights as a cameraman panned his big camera on her. She saw her face appear on a side-screen and almost didn’t recognize herself because of all the heavy make-up.
“Welcome Holly, we’re so pleased to have you here on the show.” Karla turned to the audience and winked. “An exclusive interview I must add.”
Holly managed a smile she hoped looked genuine. “Thanks. I’m pleased to be here.” Because now she was here the sooner it would all be over.
“As you can imagine this is a very exciting week for us here on the show. We proudly keep up to date with all the latest movies and can’t wait to see if our favorite actors and films bring home the glory, but I imagine for you this is a weekend full of mixed emotions.” Karla smiled sympathetically, waiting for Holly to speak.
Holly cleared her throat, which suddenly seemed clogged. Nate’s revelations about Daisy had rocked her. “Yes.” She racked her brain for more to say but nothing came. Her heart hammered as she felt the eyes of Karla and the audience boring into her. This was why she hadn’t wanted any interviews; she wasn’t good in the spotlight. And what could she say without putting herself or Daisy in a very bad light?
Karla, looking a little worried, said, “When Daisy passed away six months ago, it was a huge shock and massive loss for our community. She’d finished filming Four Wishes and, as her Oscar nomination shows, her career was going from strength to strength. We were devastated to hear of her tragic death so young, but our desolation can be nothing compared to the pain you and your family suffered.”
Holly closed her eyes for a brief second. They prickled as she contemplated the grief she’d only just discovered. Or had it been there all along, buried under fury? Was Karla’s question a trick? It would be easy to ramble on about how much she adored and missed Daisy but she’d never been much of a liar.
She opened her eyes and met Karla’s gaze. “I guess you know I wasn’t on speaking terms with Daisy at the time of her death.” She took a quick breath but no amount of oxygen could rid her of the uneasiness. “Being here in her world, I’m struggling to even comprehend what kind of life she had but I’m also rediscovering her. We were so different and I always resented that. I’ve realized I saw her like you all saw her, as a celebrity, not as a regular person with feelings. Not as a sister.”
Karla nodded but didn’t say anything.
“I’ve always held Daisy on a pedestal. And therefore when she made a mistake and betrayed me, I was quick to grab onto it. I needed a reason to hate her—it masked my jealousy and made the resentment I had for her valid. But I have to admit, that resentment was there long before it came to a head.”
She wondered if Karla would ask her to expand on the betrayal but surprisingly, she let it slide.
“I imagine it was hard having a famous sister, always living in her shadow,’ Karla mused instead.
Bingo. It pained and shamed Holly to admit it but Karla had hit the nail on the head. She’d always tried to excel in a career in direct opposition’s to Daisy’s because she wanted some glory, some attention from her parents. Now that Daisy was gone that felt petty. Futile. “Yes. But she was still only human. And I forgot that.”
“Your parents didn’t speak to her either. Is that true?”
“Yes. And they are heartbroken by it.” Holly faced the audience—discussing Daisy with Nate and now discussing her with another stranger had worked to c
lear her head. It was too late to talk to Daisy, to get her side of the story, but if Holly didn’t want to live in bitterness forever, she knew she had to move on “If I’ve learned one thing from this mess,” she told Karla, “it’s that life is short. Too short to hold grudges, too short to harbor regrets. I wish I could change the past but I can’t.”
“How true. Thank you for reminding us all.” Karla rubbed her hands together. “Now, we’re all desperate to hear some stories from yours and Daisy’s childhood. Anything in particular, you’d like to share?”
* * *
Having sorted the issue between the two teenage boys, Nate now sat staring at the screen in the television room. Residents had ribbed him about watching the celebrity channel, but he’d brushed them off with a glare and plonked himself down on the couch with a soda and a bag of chips. He wanted to see how Holly—so camera shy and adamant she found no appeal in being a celebrity—handled her moment of fame. He wanted a fix.
A few of the girls congregated beside him, more than eager to get a bit of celebrity, or better still, fashion gossip.
His hand stilled in the bag of chips when Holly appeared on screen. He stared at the heavily made-up look and noticed a resemblance to Daisy he’d never really seen before. Theirs was a unique beauty, far removed from the typical Hollywood-glamazon look. Their similarities stopped in looks though.
She handled the appearance fine. More than fine. He admired her open confessions about her relationship with Daisy, was proud of her discoveries, and felt her very real pain at not having any more time to spend with her sister as if it were his own. He hung on her every word as she told stories about their childhood—so different from his own, in which there was no laughter and goofing around whatsoever.
When one of the teenagers squealed next to him, he realized they’d moved onto the biggest Oscar topic of all. Dresses. Normally not interested in fashion at all, he sat on the edge of the seat waiting to see if she’d mention Bec.
At the question about her dress, Holly’s smile grew into something magical. “I’ve chosen to go with a new designer. You may not have heard of her yet but that is all set to change really soon. Bec Devlin is a name you’ll want to remember.”
“Ooh.” Karla and her audience murmured their approval and excitement. Then, “Well, Holly, I want to thank you for coming and sharing with us today. I know it can’t be easy. We’re all rooting for Daisy to win Best Supporting Actress and cannot wait to see you on stage collecting it for her.” She picked a bottle of what looked to be pink champagne off the coffee table in front of her and handed it to Holly.
“To say thank you for coming on the show. Now,” Karla turned to face the audience, “leading on from Holly’s announcement she’ll go with new designer Bec Devlin for her Oscar gown, we’re going to have a look at some the best Oscar fashion from the last decade. Remember…”
The girls on the couch beside him leaned forward in anticipation, but Nate’s attention drifted away from the screen as the cell phone in his pocket weighed heavy. Her television moment over, Holly would be calling him any second.
He stood, patted his pocket to check his keys were still there and went into the office. He chatted with the volunteer manning the phones today, his mind not completely in the conversation. He read an article in today’s paper about the shelter and when he’d finished, she still hadn’t called.
What the hell was she doing?
She had a fitting with Bec this afternoon. They didn’t have all day. He glanced outside where a couple of guys were shooting hoops. What if some guy at the studio was hitting on her? What if she’d forgotten about their arrangement for him to pick her up?
Man, Nate, get a grip.
He never stressed about a woman not calling. He never stressed about a woman, period, especially one he wasn’t sleeping with. He’d feel a whole lot better about this anomaly if he could understand it but…
His trousers vibrated against his thighs as his phone rang loudly. His shoulders slumping in relief, he retrieved the phone and pressed Answer.
“Hello, Nate. It’s Holly.”
“I guessed.” He shouldn’t feel so damn happy about it.
“Do you still want to pick me up and show me the shelter?”
He glanced around him wondering what the volunteers and disadvantaged youth would make of Holly. He was still confused about what to think of her himself, but he did want to see her. “Sure. Are you ready now?”
“Yes.” He smiled at the knowledge she still wanted to see him, then checked his enthusiasm. “I might be a little while before I can get there. I’ll pick you up in front of the studio in half an hour.”
“I’ll get a cab,” Holly answered confidently. “Just give me the address.”
He felt stupid making her fork over for a ride he’d been happy to give her but he couldn’t very well back track now. He rattled off the shelter’s address and grabbed another can of soda to drink while he waited.
Chapter Ten
When Holly arrived at the renovated commercial building in West Hollywood, not far from Bec and Linc’s apartment, she followed the signs round the back of the building and found Nate playing basketball with a bunch of teenage boys wearing their pants way too low. Her gaze immediately tracked to Nate’s behind, posed to take a shot at the ring. His jeans weren’t low enough to reveal his underwear but they were tight enough to show that all her imagining about what he’d look like naked was probably based in fact. His jeans were more casual than anything she’d seen him wear before as well. And his black T-shirt made him look sexy but nondescript. He fit right in with the underprivileged teens.
Was this what his life had been like before he took up photography? Bec seemed so city-chic but the small snippets they’d shared about their pasts told Holly it wasn’t all roses and chocolates.
She hung back for a second, watching and appreciating the way he interacted with the teens. She barely recognized him as the man who’d met her at the airport or the man she’d dined with at Skyhigh. This one seemed closer to the guy she’d spent one fabulous day with yesterday. Her insides swirled at the memory but she couldn’t quite work out which was the real Nate Devlin or if he was a fascinating mish-mash of both.
“Who’s that chick?”
The shout of one of the teens seized her attention and she saw Nate spin round like a windmill on steroids. He smiled when he saw her, but quickly down-graded the grin to casual and, throwing the basketball at one of the guys, ambled over to her like he didn’t have a care in the world.
He came close, real close, and for a second Holly thought he was about to kiss her (at least on the cheek) but he reconsidered at the last minute and shoved his hands in his pockets instead. “Your interview was great.”
“You saw it?” She licked her lips trying to erase the ridiculous notion that they’d been about to be kissed. Aside from that one near-miss yesterday, he hadn’t made anything more resembling a move. Why would he? She’d probably even imagined that.
He shrugged one shoulder. “Some of the girls inside were watching the celebrity channel for Oscar fashion gossip. I caught a bit of it. Thanks for mentioning Bec’s designs.”
Her good mood plummeted.
“No problem.” How stupid to think he’d gone out of his way to watch the show because of her. Just because she’d handled the interview with poise and confidence—even if she did say so herself—didn’t mean she was anything special. Especially to him. She tried to hold onto the buoyed-up feeling she’d had in the cab on the way over. “So, are you going to show me around?”
“Yep. Let’s go.” Nate turned back to the guys who were now having contests to see who could hang on the rim the longest. “Catch you later.”
“No probs, man.” In unison, the three boys did some kind of hand, knee and head goodbye signal.
Her eyes glued with interest on the teenagers, Holly jumped when Nate’s palm landed in the small of her back. It wasn’t that the feeling was unpleasant—anything but
—she just hadn’t expected him to be so touchy-feely in front of all these people. She didn’t know what to expect of him.
He seemed surprised or repulsed by the action, too, and pulled his hand back as if she were covered in poisonous nettles. “This way,” he said gruffly as he nodded toward a door leading inside the building.
She wanted to ask if something had upset him, if it was her, but the moment they entered the shelter, she realized any chance of having that private conversation was nil to none.
“Back so soon, Nate?” A woman with an angular face and bright pink hair pulled into a high ponytail smiled from behind a desk.
Nate nodded toward Holly. “My friend here wanted to have a look around, to…” He couldn’t seem to find the right words.
The woman frowned and looked Holly up and down. “Are you a journalist?”
“No.” Holly shook her head as both Nate and the woman stared suspiciously at her. Why did this feel like the bloody Spanish Inquisition? She spoke honestly. “I just wanted to see another side of L.A. to the whole Hollywood movie stuff. I’m more interested in real life.”
The woman contemplated this confession for a few moments and then her grin returned, although not quite as full-blown as it had been for Nate. She stood and thrust out her hand. “Well, nice to meet you then. I’m Tay and I answer the phones here twice a week.”
Holly shook Tay’s hand. “Holly. Pleased to meet you too.”
“Can I get you guys a drink?” Tay gestured to a kitchenette behind the desk.
Nate spoke before Holly could. “No thanks. We won’t be here long.”
Feeling thoroughly put in her place, Holly almost wondered why she’d bothered to show an interest, to care about what Nate had developed in his spare time. Yesterday had been an aberration—Mr. Guarded and Grumpy was back with a vengeance today.
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