by Lotte Daley
‘Hey, chick, I’m Danny,’ a mawkish-looking geezer boy, who didn’t look anything like the most attractive and eligible brand-spanking-new movie star on the London scene, held out his hand in order for me to shake it. I extended my hand.
‘Na naaah!’ Danny Divine pulled his hand up sharply before I even had a chance to shake it and made a finger-waggling gesture on his nose. He puffed on a rolled-up cigarette.
‘Gotcha,’ he said, smoke billowing out of his nostrils. I looked at him in complete shock. Oh. My. God. I am one of them! I caught myself pulling a face that my mother would be proud of and thinking thoughts that were well beyond my twenty-six years about respectability and standards and whatnot.
‘Hi, I’m Katie and …’ I think you are vile. No, can’t say that. What about, ‘Hey, I’m Katie and you’re a twat?’ No, can’t say that. Must smile.
‘Yeah, I dig you,’ he said, as he slicked his greasy hair off his face. ‘You’re the hot chick whose dawg left her for an even hotter chick with massive guns, innit?’ Danny said.
My eyes widened at the sight of this guy. This pasty chump was talking like he was from the ghetto. Was this how people talked outside of Bethnal Green? I mean, I was as East End as they came, I counted Hackney as my second home, I drank in The Dolphin, I drank shots of Jagermeister and had been known to throw up from drinking too many and then continue. I wasn’t exactly posh, not like Hanna Frost and Magenta Rubenstein, oh no, but was this guy for real? He moved closer to me and placed his arm around my shoulder, squeezing me tight. If he so much as touched my new pushed-up mountainous boobs, I’d take his ear off.
‘Yeah, like, innit?’ he continued to puff. Was that? No, it couldn’t be?
‘Are you smoking pot?’ I asked him. I sniffed the air, trying to identify the offending whiff.
‘Yeah, want some?’ he said, shoving the roll-up into my hand.
‘No,’ I said, pushing it away. ‘Thank you, but no. I’m not to smoke until after the film.’
‘We ain’t seeing the film, baby girl,’ Danny smirked. Urgh. I hope I didn’t have to shag him to please Hanna, God no, that was going way above and beyond the call of duty. For a brief moment, I had a hideous thought that it could quite well be nestled in the contract I signed with Poets Field PR between ‘new hairdo’ and ‘Botox’.
Must partake in sexual adventures with Danny Divine. One sex tape must be produced by August – or else! Mwhahahah! I could see Hanna cackling in my mind’s eye. I shook my head free of this hideous idea and shoved Danny’s stale, sweaty, too-much-Issy-Miyake cologned self as far as he would possibly go across the leather seat.
‘Whoah, Shorty,’ he said, hands up. ‘Whagwan?’
‘Excuse me?’
‘I said, ahem,’ he coughed, ‘um, what’s the matter?’ He looked at his shoes and scuffed an imaginary bit of fluff around the carpet. ‘Champagne!’ he said, lifting his head, his eyes lit up.
I wasn’t entirely sure that Danny Divine wasn’t in cloud cuckoo land, dipped in acid. His behaviour was disturbing me. If he touched me again I decided I would scream.
‘Yes,’ I said, thinking champagne would be a wonderful idea. One, it would take the edge off how nervous I was feeling and two, it would make being in the company of this pseudo gangster a little more bearable. We drove along silently for around twenty minutes, stopping and starting at traffic lights, exchanging wry smiles and kneading our fingers into the car seat. I sipped my drink slowly.
‘So,’ I said, thinking of polite questions to ask him. ‘Is this your first film?’
‘Yeah, it’s like my first big gangster film.’ Danny became animated, his voice high-pitched and loud, and he continued with great gusto. ‘Having so many accomplished actors play massive parts, like, against my character, Jealous Mike, well, it’s a big deal, which is why I needed a fly girl to be on my side tonight, for publicity,’ he winked.
‘I see,’ I nodded. Fly girl? Shorty? Was he for real? I was at least five eleven in these heels.
‘We ain’t seeing no film, though,’ he said, winking.
Before I had a chance to ask him exactly what we were going to do, the car was surrounded by flashing white light.
‘OH MY GOD!’ I squealed. ‘What’s going oooooooooon?’
‘Shh,’ he said, putting his arm around me and drawing me close. I was so freaked out by the commotion outside, the car was rocking slightly, the light was dazzling and there was a dull roar outside, I let him hold me tight. Had we accidentally driven into a riot? I wondered.
‘Shh, baby girl,’ he pulled me even closer, so that my nose was level with his nipples.
‘We’re here, this here, Shorty, is the paparazzi, and we gonna step out of this limo to a crowd of fans all here to see me, baby girl, so get with it! Bounce!’
The door flew open and I gulped air into my lungs. He leapt out to rapturous applause.
‘Wahooooooooooooooooo!’ Danny screamed as he unfashionably played air guitar on the red carpet. I was rooted to the spot. There was absolutely no way on earth I could get out of the car while this guy careered from genre to genre, imitating God knows what on the red carpet, the RED CARPET of a film premiere, my first, the only one I had ever seen that wasn’t on the telly. Never fear, Danny was already strutting towards the entrance, before stopping a good ten yards ahead of me. Phew, I thought, time for the grand entrance! I put my hand into a fist and I placed it on my heart. I felt it beat hard and fast in my chest. Listen, feel it, be true. I felt like an advert.
Deep breath …
‘Let’s do this!’ I whispered as I lifted one leg and then the other out of the open door of the limo.
OMFG!
Flash! Flash! KATIE!! KATIEEEEEEEEEEEE! Flash! Flash! SMILE HERE, OVER HERE, KATIE, AAH THATTA GOOD GIRL, SMASHING, FABULOUS, GORGEOUS, OVER HERE, KATIEEEEEE! Flash! Boom! Flash! Flash!
I smiled and I turned every direction there was when I heard someone shriek my name. I posed, looking gorgeously coy with my head cocked slightly, one knee ahead of the other, a glance over the shoulder, a hand on the hip, a big grin. Not too much teeth, lots of pout. Shove boobs forward, not too much. They love me! I am loved! Fuck them all! Who needs Bailey! Who needs Jack Hunter! Who needs a man when you have this!
I felt a hand on my arm, Danny wannabe rude boy Divine laced an arm around the small of my back and posed alongside me for pictures.
PAP! PAP! FLASH! KATIE!! DANNY!! ARE YOU SEEING EACH OTHER?
‘You can keep guessing,’ he winked, as he steered me towards the entrance.
‘In your dreams,’ I smiled and hissed through gritted teeth.
Bright lights and flashing bulbs sparkled and dazzled all around me, so much so that I was positively blinded.
‘Radical,’ Danny said, switching accents.
‘Amazing,’ I breathed, too overwhelmed to care.
‘Follow me,’ he said, as he led me towards a darkened staircase.
Uh oh. This is the bit where he demands I have sex with him for art or something ridiculous like that.
‘I don’t really know, think, uh, this isn’t really what I had in mind,’ I began, before being stopped in my tracks once again. This time, though, I had clearly just entered heaven.
‘Is that?’ I hissed in Danny’s ear, as he stood there, legs apart, a massive grin smacked across his face.
He clicked his fingers and a waiter appeared. ‘Champagne and two shots of whiskey on the rocks,’ he barked. ‘Yes,’ he said, turning to me. ‘Yep, film stars, everywhere, you dig?’
‘Oh my God!’ I squealed as quietly as possible. I scanned the room. Every single person here appeared to be from a film, my dreams, EastEnders and Sizzle Stars.
‘This is beyond cool,’ I said, as the waiter reappeared with our drinks. I took the shot and downed it in one. Before Danny had the chance to protest, I necked his drink too.
The bar area was intimate, meaning it wasn’t too big but it wasn’t so small you were wedged up against random people althoug
h, personally, I had had very rude dreams about most of the famous men in here and could think of worse things than to be sandwiched between these rippled hunks. Soft music swayed the crowds of people as I glanced to my side and felt the warm glow of a fire. I felt as though I was in Arabian Nights. The waiters and waitresses were decked out in saris and jewels hung from their arms and ankles. The smell was of sweet saffron with candles burning on pillars dotted around the room and on each table. Everywhere I looked I saw sequins set against rich reds and burnt oranges, bright yellows and vibrant purples. It was absolutely breathtaking. Everyone was beautiful, slender and wearing shoes to die for. I was in awe.
‘Ahh,’ I said, smiling. ‘So this is why we didn’t see the film?’
‘Girl, no one sees the film,’ he grinned back.
‘Gotta fly, there’s some booty with Danny D’s name on it,’ he said, swigging his champagne and wandering off. He managed to squeeze my arse before he left. I was about to protest, but suddenly stopped. Bailey stood in the shadows surrounded by a bevy of beauties. For once, he wasn’t wearing his tight T-shirt and skinny jeans ensemble. He smouldered in a fitted dark suit, the shirt was Richard-like, meaning it hung loose from his neck, buttons undone, giving a glimpse of his hot chest. I had a very naughty sex flashback of Bailey laid out on my bed, me looking down at him, growling, pawing at him, him pulling me down on to his chest, pure lust. My heart beat a little quicker and as he caught my eye, I felt a bolt of electricity shoot right into my knickers. Unfortunately, his timing was out because our eyes connected right at the moment Danny’s hand removed itself from my derrière. His face dropped and he looked away.
Fuck, I thought. I hoped that Bailey had the good sense to realize I wasn’t linked to Danny Divine in any way shape or form. I would rather have a repeat of the crabs/Ibiza incident with the double-crossing Nicola Baxter than bump uglies with Danny Divine. On another point entirely, what was Bailey, the hired help, Hanna’s busboy, the dogsbody, doing here? I’m not, like, an overnight snob or anything, but I suppose it’s only natural to wonder, because let’s face it, aside from being criminally good looking, he is there to service Magenta Rubenstein and whoever she directs him to take care of, and I suppose, he kind of indirectly works a little bit for me, what with taking care of my mother’s transport back to Little Glove and driving me here and there. Aubrey also commands him, so you know, it just seems odd to me that he’s here, right now, in the same room as all these celebrities and me, an almost-famous brand-new celebrity. I thought this was exclusive?! None of the other office staff are here. Then it dawned on me. He just had to be sleeping with or was at least the date of one of those freakily gorgeous whippet girls. I looked back at them. Their vacant eyes rolled back and scanned the room whilst looking effortlessly cool in skyscraper heels. They towered over the men in their company. Now I understood why Jack was obsessed with his Tom Cruise shoes.
Should I go over? I looked at my own shoes, all cream and sparkly and high, and thought about it. When I looked up, he was gone.
‘Katie!’ Hanna said, as she glided across the room towards me with Frenella in tow. ‘You did very well on the carpet,’ Hanna smiled.
Should I ask Hanna about Bailey’s presence here? Or would she suss what had happened and tell Magenta and ruin my life and …
‘Yeah, haha, loving the moves, oh yeah,’ Frenella pulled some weird shapes.
‘There should be some useable pictures on our desk by tomorrow.’ Hanna sneered.
‘Canapé?’ a passing waiter offered.
‘Mmm, yes,’ I began extending my hand. Hanna smacked it away.
‘Naughty, naughty, what did I tell you?’
‘Shit, I mean, yes, of course, how silly of me, you said, no eating in public.’
‘No eating, full stop, if I were you,’ she said, looking down her nose.
‘Sure,’ I said. My stomach was churning at the thought that I could have given Bailey the wrong impression. He couldn’t possibly think I was having it off with Danny Divine? The guy was the biggest idiot I’d met since my university days, where immature idiots were ten a penny.
‘Anyway, the press went wild for you, Kate, you must be very happy about that.’ Hanna stood sipping her Cosmopolitan with one eyebrow raised.
‘Well, to be totally honest, Hanna, I don’t really know what I’m doing or what to expect.’
‘Shhhh!’ she hissed.
‘What?’
‘For God’s sake, fake it, Kate, you seriously don’t know what you’re doing by now? Are you completely thick or something? It’s not rocket science, you turn up, you look good, you stand at an angle that doesn’t accentuate your triple chin and back flab, you play the fame game, darling, and if you don’t know the rules, you fake it till you make it, comprende?’
‘Understood.’ God, why was she being so evil to me again? I was really honestly beginning to hate the woman. And then she went and changed her approach again.
‘Kate, you are gorgeous, funny, articulate and charming, I just want you to maximize your potential, sweetheart.’ She smiled.
‘Thanks, Hanna, I mean, I don’t know what to say to all these compliments.’
‘Kate,’ Hanna said firmly. ‘I do not give compliments. I just tell the truth, plain and simple, no more and no less.’
‘OK,’ I said confidently. Fake it, fake it, fake it. That should be easy. I faked enough orgasms in bed with Jack-useless-in-bed-Hunter. Still, he was a dream … Looking around, I desperately tried to spot Bailey whilst checking to see if Jack and Jessica had shown up. I’m sure there would have been a whole circus performance if Jessica was there and we’d have known all about it from the cacophony of whistles and bells and banners and flags and whatnot that came associated with La Hilson. But no, must not be negative, Jack is probably still at Mimi Sparkles Jungle Garden in Honolulu with the Barbie doll, sharing Haribos (when not proposing with them, of course) and Bailey, well, he was probably off getting another drink or networking or, oh my, oh nooooooo!!
There he was, sitting in a booth, surrounded by women, one of whom, identifiable as Carolina Fernando, sat on his knee, giggling and flicking her hair over her shoulders. His tie was loose around his neck as she fondled the material in her hands. She caught sight of me and casually looked away. I stood there between Hanna and Frenella, staring at him. I watched Derren Brown programmes. I knew that if you stared at someone long enough they’d sense it and look round.
‘Katie, are you OK?’ Frenella said quietly before adding, ‘You look like you have wind.’ Another waiter passed us and all three of us simultaneously reached for another drink.
‘I’m fine,’ I said, bright and breezy. They both swung their heads round to face the direction I was looking in. It didn’t take them long to figure out that I was gazing at Bailey.
‘Sam Bailey,’ Hanna tutted. ‘Well, I never …’
‘Oh. My. God.’ Frenella exclaimed as she picked the olive out of her cocktail glass and popped it into a tissue. I went bright red. I could see my face in the reflection of one of the panelled mirror walls by the bar.
‘You’re a brave woman,’ Frenella said, rolling her eyes and smirking.
‘What?’ I said, trying desperately to pretend that there was nothing going on. Nothing to see here, nothing to understand from my body language. I tensed up, I couldn’t help myself. I shuffled nervously and tapped my foot. I swirled the olive in my dirty Martini around my glass, knocking it against the sides. I never took my eyes off Bailey. He looked happy. Happy without me. Honestly, if he was fussed one iota about witnessing my bottom being manhandled by Danny Divine, he didn’t show it. I was beginning to wonder whether I’d made up the sex that we’d had. Perhaps all these crazy situations I’d found myself in during the past week had created some kind of mental psychosis, where I’d fantasized about Bailey to replace the awful kicked-in-the-stomach feelings Jack Hunter left me with. Did I dream it up to protect myself or something? No, I remembered it well. Stop now, I chastised m
yself. This is not healthy. Lusting after unsuitable, unavailable (emotionally, physically or otherwise) men is not for one second a healthy thing to do and is something that I am forever reading about how to stop doing in my girly magazines.
‘I hope for your sake you didn’t sleep with Bailey, Katie,’ Frenella smirked some more.
‘I haven’t,’ I lied. ‘But if I had, why would that be so bad?’
‘Bailey broke my sister Lydia’s heart,’ Hanna said stonily. ‘He broke her heart after dating her for some time.’
‘Well, that’s too bad I guess, but still, Hanna, no offence, people break up, and more often than not that hurts one of the couple. God, I should know, Jack Hunter wasn’t the best boyfriend in the world, but he was the only one I had, and I loved him all the same.’
‘That’s nice, Katie, thanks for your little trip down memory lane there, but I think you would do well to remember that Lydia, like me, is uber-successful and attractive. In our world of extremely uber-successful and attractive women, we don’t get dumped, our hearts don’t break and the sun always shines on TV. If we get dumped and our hearts get broken and there’s a massive rainstorm, then clearly, this is all the man’s fault and obviously has nothing to do with us. As soon as they’ve left us, we’re back to our glamorous, showstopping best. So what if it hurts? There’s always a pill for that.’
‘Hanna, I don’t understand you. What do you mean?’
She sighed dramatically.
‘Kate, Bailey is a user. He used Lydia for a step up the career ladder. He used Lydia to get ahead of the game, he used her for sex and he used her for her money. He’s one big, horrible user.’
‘Right,’ I said, my heart sinking. He’s just like Jack.
‘We can’t get rid of him,’ Hanna said, twirling her hair on her fingers. ‘He knows too much. He knows too much about how the company works, if he was to jump ship, he’d sell our commercial strategies to our rivals, probably sell stuff to the papers, ruin us, effectively. And I’ve spent too long …’ she trailed off.