by Mel Sparke
While she had nothing else to occupy her, Cat mused on her flirting score with Ben Fitzpatrick over the last few days. It hadn’t gone as well as she’d have liked, but now that she’d sussed the potential of using Daniel to get to Ben (he’d promised faithfully he’d introduce them, just as soon as he could) it wasn’t exactly bad either.
Sunday had been an excellent start after all, with the physical (if accidental) contact beside the car, followed by that whole eye-locking thing.
On Monday, Ben had been too busy after filming for Daniel to make any introductions, but Cat had quickly sussed out why and used it to her advantage. Ben was being interviewed by a journalist at the side of the set. Cat made sure she and the girls were hovering close by, casually sipping coffee and chatting. Only Cat didn’t just chat; she tossed back her blonde hair a lot and laughed out loud, periodically glancing over to check if Ben had noticed her. And there it was again - his eyes locking on hers… and more than once, if she wasn’t mistaken.
Today - Tuesday - she’d managed no scores yet on her Flirt-o-meter, but the day was still young. And, right now, she could see Daniel making his way over towards her…
Brilliant! thought Cat. I can pump him for information on Ben’s movements!
“Hi, Cat!” smiled Daniel, gripping his ever-present clipboard. “It’s all waiting around today again - typical! But don’t worry - it’s all running to schedule, more or less. Your scene should be set up in about half an hour - OK?”
“OK - no problem,” Cat smiled sweetly, though she’d been moaning silently to herself about it not so very long before. “And what about the rest of the week - are we on for any more shooting?”
“Yep, hold on a minute…” muttered Daniel, flicking through copious printed pages. “We won’t need you tomorrow, ‘cause it’s an indoor location with just Ben and the other detective. But Thursday, definitely.”
“Where’s that going to be?” asked Cat, holding up her hand to shield her eyes from the sun. “Around here again?”
“Um, no… actually, it’s at some launderette,” said Daniel, reading his notes. “Let’s see… it’s on Station Road. Do you know it?”
“Do I know it?!” Cat practically squealed. “That’s right opposite the café where me and my friends hang out most days!”
“Yeah?” grinned Daniel, his fair eyebrows shooting up at the coincidence. “Well, the old dear who runs the place sounds nice - a location scout set us up with her, but I spoke to her on the phone yesterday just to confirm everything was still all right for us coming.”
“Mad Ve—I mean, Vera?” said Cat.
“Vera - yes, that was her name,” nodded Daniel.
“Well, that should be fun,” Cat replied, hoping the irony wasn’t apparent in her voice. She wondered if they’d be prepared for the fact that Vera would probably be harder to keep out of camera shot than all the spectators who’d been hanging around watching the film crew. She’d be waltzing her mop around the launderette before they knew it…
“By the way,” she continued, her thoughts returning to her flirting campaign. It was time - now that she had Daniel’s attention - to beg another favour. “I meant to ask you, Daniel; somebody was saying something about a wrap party on Friday…?”
“Oh, yeah?” said Daniel. “What about it?”
“Well…” murmured Cat, girlishly tilting her head to one side, “I know I’m only an extra, but is there any way I could get invited to the party?”
“Of course! No problem!” Daniel replied, his face breaking into a friendly smile. “Just come along to the Balinard Hotel around 8 o’clock on Friday and ask for me!”
Cat didn’t realise it would be so easy. She decided to push it further… “And can Vikki come too?”
“Vikki? Sure!”
Cat decided to leave it at that. She didn’t want to push her luck by trying to wangle invitations for Louise and the boys. Anyway, it was probably just as well they weren’t all going. She might get stuck talking to them and, after all, she was on a mission to party with one person in particular…
“Sorry, Cat - I’ve got to go,” Daniel suddenly shrugged. “Stuff to do!”
“You never stop, do you?” Cat smiled up at him, this ball of energy disguised as a boy.
“Nope,” Daniel shook his head. “I have to schedule time just to have a coffee!”
As Cat smiled, she noticed Daniel pause and look thoughtful. “Hey, I promised to introduce you to Ben, didn’t I?” he said.
Cat nodded.
“Well, I’m off to run through a few changes to the filming schedule with him now,” Daniel continued. “Why don’t you give us ten minutes, then come over and say hi?”
Cat couldn’t stop herself. “Daniel, you’re wonderful!” she shrieked, wrapping her arms around him and giving him a peck on the cheek to say thanks.
Daniel looked a bit stunned.
“Oops!” she giggled, letting go and reminding herself to try to be more professional.
• • •
“You take it white, one sugar, don’t you?”
“Um, yeah, thanks,” said Daniel, taking the steaming plastic cup that Cat was holding out to him.
“Sorry, I don’t know how you take your coffee, so I brought milk, cream, sugar, sweetener - you name it, B—” Cat broke off, suddenly flustered. Now she was actually talking to him, should she call him Ben? Not that Mr Fitpatrick sounded right, either…
Cat had taken off the itchy, ugly jumper and wrapped it round her waist, so her ‘Hi Gorgeous’ T-shirt was in full view. And risking getting in Dawn, the make-up artist’s, bad books, she’d also done a quick mascara and lippy fix-up.
“Thanks,” Ben Fitzpatrick nodded, taking the other plastic cup Cat was now holding out and shaking his head at the bundle of sachets and cartons on the cardboard tray.
Cat accidentally on purpose let her fingers brush against his.
Those eyes! she sighed to herself. And those lips! Omigod, he’s smiling at me!
“Yeah, uh, Cat, this is Ben - obviously,” said Daniel, finally introducing them. “And Ben, this is Cat - who’s doing some extra work this week.”
“Cool,” said Ben, his voice soft and husky.
“Hi!” giggled Cat, dropping her chin down and peering at her idol through her newly-darkened eyelashes, giving him what she hoped was her sexiest smile.
“How’s it going then?” he asked, his eyes fixed like browny-gold laser beams on her face.
Exactly to plan! she felt like saying. “Brilliantly!” Cat gushed. “It’s my first acting break - well, on TV, that is. I have acted on the stage before.”
“Really?” smiled Ben, raising his famous thick eyebrows.
She was just about to launch into an exaggerated explanation of her two performing experiences, when the laser beams of Ben’s eyes turned away from her. It was as if someone had switched off the lights.
“Anyway, Daniel - what were you saying? How many scenes have we got to do before Friday?”
Cat hovered, her girlish smile frozen on her face.
“Um, let me see…” muttered Daniel, flicking through his wedge of clipboard papers. “Tomorrow; that’s one… two…”
Cat hovered some more, starting to feel stupid.
“Listen, get me the list typed up and I’ll look at it later,” said Ben, sounding slightly tetchy. “Now what about those script changes for today?”
“Right here, Ben,” Daniel handed the actor yet another wodge of papers detached from his trusty clipboard.
Cat decided it was pointless hovering any more - Ben was talking work and the conversation wasn’t likely to swing around in her direction again she could see.
“Well, bye!” she trilled, wiggling her fingers in the air as she backed off.
“Uh, bye!” said Daniel, flashing a fleeting smile.
Ben turned those eyes of his up from the script, setting off a flurry of butterflies in her stomach again. “Good to meet you, Pat!” he called.
�
��Cat!” she corrected him with a giggle.
“Cat! Of course!” Ben said, and laughed.
So he got my name wrong - so what, she told herself as she walked off to find Vikki and the others. By Friday night’s party, he’ll never forget it - or me - again!
CHAPTER 12
JOE TASTES THE HIGH LIFE
“Sea Breeze?”
Celine slithered on to the studded leather sofa next to Joe and passed him a tall glass of something pink.
“Um, I guess so,” mumbled Joe, taking the glass from her hand. He hadn’t known what to order when they’d first arrived at the trendy Covent Garden bar. It didn’t seem to sell beer - only an exotic and confusing list of cocktails - so he’d taken the easy way out and just opted to have the same as the girls, even though he hadn’t a clue what that might be.
So far, everything about this Tuesday had conspired to confuse and bemuse Joe. After a day of getting lost and exhausted around London (in particular, on the Underground) and still not finding anywhere to live, he’d been keen to get back to Tasha’s flat in Notting Hill and flop on the sofa - even if the thought of having to chat to Tasha and her three model flatmates filled him with fear. What he hadn’t expected (and still wasn’t sure how it came about) was to find himself steered out of the place twenty minutes later by a gaggle of gorgeous, giggling girls.
And how he’d ended up on a red leather sofa in the sort of bar that was so exclusively hip that you had to be David Beckham or an All Saint to get into defied him altogether. In fact, just as the ferocious-looking doorman turned from Rottweiler to Andrex puppy as Tasha’s flatmates strolled in, all Joe could think of was how much Cat would flip when she found out he’d been in one of the celebrity hangouts that were always being featured in the magazines she so avidly pored over.
Nervously, he watched as the three girls sipped their drinks and thought he’d better do the same.
“Urghh… a-hurgh…!” he choked, as the innocent-looking drink took him by surprise.
“Like it?” grinned Krista, lounging in a leather armchair opposite him.
“It’s - it’s pretty strong!” Joe managed to say, struggling to get his breath back. “What is it?”
“Vodka, cranberry and grapefruit,” said Bee, swirling her ice cubes around with a straw.
“Yeah, it’s not usually so potent, but we know Miguel, the barman, so he always puts a little extra vodka in ours,” explained Celine.
Joe’s eyes were still watering from the shock. It wasn’t that he was a stranger to alcohol - he’d helped himself to cold beers out of Matt’s fridge in the den often enough. And he wasn’t even a stranger to vodka; when he’d had a bad time with depression in the past, he’d taken to drinking the stuff to try and blot out his misery - not that it had worked. But these days he tended to avoid it, not wanting to slip back into his old ways, and the strength of this particular drink had practically set his throat on fire.
Out of sheer nerves, Joe knew he was in danger of knocking back the killer pink cocktail way too fast - and making a huge fool of himself in the process. In a conscious effort to calm his nerves, he carefully placed the glass on the table in front of him, determined to make it last.
“So, Joe - still no luck with the flat-hunting?”
“Um, no, but there’s always tomorrow…” he shrugged, feeling hugely shy as three sets of eyes bored into him.
Tasha wasn’t with them - she’d been on a shoot all day and it was running late, as Celine had informed him in the cab to Covent Garden. Not that he missed her company; after all, in all the years he’d been friends with Ollie, he’d never really felt accepted by or comfortable with his mate’s twin sister. Even as kids together, she’d always seemed aloof and untouchable, while he’d felt tongue-tied and juvenile in her presence.
So now, here he was, being treated to a night out by three stunningly gorgeous virtual strangers. Celine (French, and the girl who’d answered the door to him) had insisted that he came out with them, even though he’d protested about not crashing their night out, as well as being broke.
“I landed a huge advertising contract today - you’ve got to help me celebrate!” grinned Krista (South African, and the girl he’d spotted first in the kitchen, wearing the very short shorts).
“Yeah, c’mon! We’re not going to take no for an answer!” laughed Bee (Australian, and the girl who’d been wearing the long sundress), scooping her arm under his and frogmarching him out of the door - barely giving him a chance to shower and change first.
Krista brought him out of his reverie. “Yeah, but you’re going home tomorrow night, aren’t you? That doesn’t leave you a lot of time to flat hunt,” she pointed out, kicking off her slip-on trainers and folding her long tanned legs into the lotus position on the armchair.
“Well, I’ve been through all the contacts the university gave me,” Joe shrugged, “but I bought this paper Tasha told me about—” He rifled in his rucksack for the yellow newspaper he’d bought earlier.
“Loot?” Celine interrupted, reaching out and grabbing the crumpled sheets of paper from him.
“Yes, Loot,” nodded Joe. “There’s quite a lot of choice in there, thank goodness. Tomorrow I’ll start ringing round them, and seeing as many as I can.”
“But this is going to be too hard!” frowned Celine, her eyes running over the hundreds and hundreds of ads in the ‘Accommodation to Let’ section. “There are so many flats and in so many areas. How do you know which ones to phone?”
“I don’t really,” Joe admitted. “I mean, I’d like to stay near university, but it’s way too expensive I’ve found out. I don’t really know which other areas to go for…”
And, most of all, what Joe really didn’t want to admit was the wave of panic rising in him. Even coming to stay in London hadn’t made his search much easier or more successful. He was fast running out of options. And as for selecting from the ads in Loot, the only concrete idea he’d had was to close his eyes, wave a pen in the air and phone whatever number it landed on.
The trouble was, when he’d given that a go on the Tube ride back to the flat earlier, his pen had landed on Lesbian wanted for flatshare in exclusive Hampstead penthouse. Financially - and sexually - he didn’t think he’d qualify for that one…
“Wait a minute!” said Bee suddenly. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of this before! You know Jake? Jake who works with Frank Lette?” She leaned forward, addressing her words to the two other girls.
“What - Frank the photographer? The one who you did that fashion shoot with last week?” asked Celine.
“Yes, the one with the studio in Shoreditch,” Bee nodded excitedly. “But I’m talking about Jake - his assistant.”
“Ooh, I remember him!” said Krista, her eyes widening. “He’s really cute!”
“Cute… and looking for a flatmate!” said Bee, clapping her hands together excitedly and now staring directly at Joe. “I just remembered - he was talking about it during the photo session, asking if I knew anyone who might be interested. But that was before I knew you were coming, Joe!”
“But, um, I probably couldn’t afford to live wherever he does,” Joe squirmed, imagining that anyone working in the media was probably earning a wage that would make his eyes water. At the moment, he couldn’t even afford a round of drinks (not at the prices in this particular bar, anyway), never mind pay an arm and two legs for some trendy gaff rented by this Jake bloke.
“Joe, do you know how much assistants get paid?” laughed Celine.
Joe turned to face her and shook his head. “A lot?” he suggested.
“A little,” she giggled back.
“Peanuts!” said Bee. “So don’t worry - he’s not looking for someone who’s loaded! And the best thing is that he lives five minutes away from the studio. It’s all up-and-coming round there in the East End - loads of cool bars and clubs - but it’s still pretty cheap at the moment.”
Joe’s heart thumped slightly, but being the cautious pessimis
t he was, he wouldn’t allow himself to get too excited. “But if it’s that good, this Jake bloke’s probably let it by now,” he reasoned.
“Doubt it - his flatmate’s not moving out till next month. Hold on…” said Bee, pulling her mobile phone out of her bag. “I’ll give Jake a call!”
“Don’t worry, Joe!” exclaimed Celine, wrapping a sisterly arm around him. “We’ll get you fixed up, no problem!”
‘“Course we will!” giggled Krista, leaning over and squeezing his knee.
Out of the corner of his eye, Joe spotted a crowd of young, handsome guys in designer suits at the bar, giving him a look of pure, unadulterated envy…
“Where are you? It’s so noisy! I can hardly hear you!”
Meg might be struggling to make out what Joe was saying, but he could hear her, although he had to ram the receiver up hard against one ear while shoving his finger in the other to do so. He’d refused Bee’s offer of lending him her mobile to call his girlfriend, preferring the relative privacy of the payphone instead.
“I’m in some bar in Covent Garden. Zoom-Zoom’s or something,” he explained, raising his voice.
“You mean Zumba?” asked Meg incredulously.
“Um, I guess so, yes,” Joe nodded.
“Wow! That place is so trendy! Loads of famous people go there!”
It was true. In the last hour, Celine had pointed out Kylie Minogue getting very cosy with someone in a booth at the back, while Bee had spotted a whole posse of Australian soap stars. And Joe had actually beaten Krista to it, when they’d both seen a couple of premier league footballers stroll in.
“Yeah, it’s pretty hard to get into this place apparently,” he said, gazing back along the corridor where the payphone was into the busy bar area.
“So how did you manage it!” giggled Meg. “Did Ollie’s sister sneak you past the doorman by pretending you were a famous photographer or something?”