Dazzled (22 page)

“Fuck! I’m trying to get a dress for my friend Clare for the premiere. I thought I’d ask Natalia Da Silva but the bit… the, um, receptionist keeps cutting me off!”

I knew I sounded pathetic, and Honey laughed at me.

“You know, Miles, that’s
my
job, to do things like that for you, I mean.”

“Yeah, but… I just wanted to get her a nice dress,” I said, plaintively.

“Let me know how that works out for you,” she grinned. “Look, Miles, this is how it is: receptionists are programmed to be unable to grasp the concept that you are trying to make your own booking. Whether it’s for a goji berry smoothie, or for infrared fat wraps, or getting a table at Mr. Chow’s – leave it to me.”

“What’s an infrared fat wrap?” I wondered, out loud.

She sighed theatrically, then winked. “Watch and learn, grasshopper.”

I sat back, sort of hoping the same thing would happen to her so I wouldn’t look totally inept.

“Yes, Honey Scholes calling on behalf of my client Miles Stephens. No, you will not put me on hold – I want to speak to Wendy immediately about the
Dazzled
premiere, so you will
not
make me look an asshole, got that?”

She was put through instantly.

Damn
.

After a quick word of explanation to Wendy, she passed me the phone.

“Yeah, hi Wendy. I need an evening dress for the premiere, well, not for me, for a friend. You met her that first time… I… um…”

Don’t remind her of that, you dick!

“Ah, the young lady who was with you? The British girl?”

“Yeah, yeah, my friend Clare.”

“And what size is your friend?”

“Fu… I mean, I’m not really sure… uh, a British size 14 I’d guess. I don’t know what that is in American
…” I glanced desperately at Honey.

“Ten to 12,” she whispered.

“Yeah, um, ten to 12.”

“I see. Yes, well, it’s rather short notice for such an
unusually large
sizing, but I’m sure Miss Da Silva can accommodate your request. There’s an Alexander McQueen that might do?”

“Yeah, whatever you think. Just not yellow – she’ll look like Big Bird.”

Oh, shit!
I’d spoken without connecting my mouth to my brain. Thankfully, Wendy just coughed to cover up her laughter.

“Of course, Mr. Stephens. Not yellow.”

“Great, thanks. Um, do I need to come and pick it up or…?”

Honey rolled her eyes at me.

“No, Mr. Stephens,” Wendy answered, patiently. “We’ll send it with a couple of alternatives. Do you need one of our dressers, too? If you could let me know the name of your friend’s hotel?”

“No, I mean, she’s staying at my place. I can help her dress. I mean, um…”

There was a long pause and I cringed, realizing how that sounded. But Wendy was too professional to comment.

When we finished, I handed the phone back to Honey and dropped my head into my hands.

“I really suck at this.”

She patted my shoulder sympathetically.

“It gets easier, Miles, but this brand of crazy isn’t for everyone.”

The dresses had arrived and were currently lying on the bed in the guestroom. I really hoped they were the right size and that Clare liked at least one of them. They looked alright to me. My favorite was a dark blue shiny number, with slits up the side. Clare’s legs would look good in that.

Lilia didn’t agree.

“You can put a bow on a pig and call it Mary, but at the end of the day it’s still a pig.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
Although I could make a damn good guess.

“Miles, I know she’s your friend but the truth is she’s
fat
. Whatever you put her in, she’ll look
fat
.”

“She’s not fat, she’s… curvy. Anyway, I don’t give a damn, she’s my friend.”

“You care more about her than you do about me.”

“For fuck’s sake! I just want her to enjoy the premiere!
You
were the one who said she needed to look the part.”

“You have no concept of how this makes
me
look!” she ranted.

“It’s all about the
look
with you, Lilia! Why do you even care what other people think?”

“God! You’re so naïve! This is
business
. Everything is
business
. The image is
business
. Am I getting through to you? Do you even understand what I’m saying?”

“I’m not stupid.”

“Well, you’re sure acting like you are.”

“What, you think it’s stupid for me to care more about my friends than what some anonymous stranger thinks? You need to sort out your fucking priorities, Lilia.”

“Oh, you have no idea, do you?!”

We went a few more rounds after that, her yelling and hurling insults, me shouting back, and then we ended up fucking against the wall.

Clare

Holy shit! The flash of camera lights was nearly blinding! My heart was pounding in my chest and the noise felt like a physical assault – I half expected my eardrums to bleed. I could
feel
the pulsating energy of the crowd through every pore of my body. It was raw and uncontrolled and it scared the shit out of me. I glanced at the car doors to make sure they were locked and took a deep breath. Then my eyes darted upwards as twin beams of searchlights crisscrossed the night sky, reminding me of War films showing the London Blitz.

“How you doin’, Miss Clare?”

Earl’s drawl was deep with concern, but soothing at the same time.

“Just hyperventilating quietly,” I choked. “Don’t mind me.”

He nodded and concentrated on following the slow moving line of limousines down West Sunset Boulevard, all heading toward the Cinerama Drome and the
Dazzled
premiere.

Somewhere in the traffic arcing out behind, Miles was traveling with Lilia. As they were the stars, they’d arrive last. Then, of course, they’d be spending time doing the whole red carpet thing, whereas I would be dropped off around the back somewhere. At one time that might have sounded kind of insulting, but I was glad a thousand times over that I didn’t have to face the phalanx of surging fans. The police barricades barely restrained them, and I realized for the first time – I mean
really
understood – what Laura Dorien had said all those months ago about Miles being the new It Guy.

Thousands upon thousands of screaming girls were roaring at every car that passed them, posters and photographs of Miles and Lilia clutched in their hands, their mouths open in rabid Os, the shrieks and yells all blending together into one choking, blinding wall of noise.

I’d seen it a million times on TV, but experiencing it from
this
side – it was utterly terrifying. Walls made from flesh, staring eyes, open mouths, and a million starbursts flashing from handheld cameras.

As we neared the red carpet, the volume increased exponentially and the SUV seemed to shudder in sympathy. If we’d broken down there, I think that would have been the end of us. The phrase ‘angry horde’, so familiar from my history studies, actually meant something to me now. Thank God I hadn’t drunk the whole bottle of champagne that Miles and I had opened before we’d left his apartment that evening, otherwise I’d have peed myself from fear. I’d have needed a canoe to paddle out of there.

The barricades and silk ropes flanking the red carpet were awfully flimsy. If the crowd surged, the police and security wouldn’t be able to stop it.

My throat was dry and aching, my palms and armpits inexplicably sweaty. I tugged nervously at the beautiful blue dress Miles had arranged for me to wear. Touching the satiny material grounded me a little. I wanted to be beautiful tonight – okay so that was pushing it, but I wanted to look good, at least not like a complete scrubber. So I would try. I’d wear the heels, tolerate the makeup, and refuse to yank at the curls piled up on my head. Surprising myself, I looked okay. Mind you, that was the result of several hours work from the makeup artists that Miles had hired to do an Eliza Doolittle on me. Now if only I could remember to keep my traitorous gob firmly shut, otherwise I risked telling Lilia that she was a two-faced trollop with the personality of my grandmother’s sideboard.

Passing the red carpet, I saw several Hollywood celebrities talking to fans, or rather, trying to hear and be heard above the viscous screams. A few were signing autographs. Lilia had told Miles that lots of stars turned out for these shindigs – some were supporting friends in the business, or as a favor, but others were just dolled up because their agent wanted them to be seen in the spotlight.

I was past being surprised by those sort of stunts now. Pretty much.

Miles

As we inched our way toward the Cinerama Drome, a line of black limousines in front of us, I caught a glimpse of the red carpet stretching out like a lolling tongue. Lilia grabbed my hand, her eyes glistening with excitement.

“Feel how fast my heart is beating,” she gasped.

I didn’t know if she meant me to grope her boob, or whether she just wanted to share her rush of adrenalin.

“You look so beautiful,” I whispered into her neck. “It’s hard to believe you’re real.”

She turned and stared at me, her glossed lips a tantalizing inch from mine.

“Why do you say such lovely things?” she said, and her voice sounded sad. “Why are you so nice to me?”

I didn’t understand. “You’re my girlfriend. Why wouldn’t I be nice to you?”

She shook her head as if shaking off an unhappy thought. I wanted to ask her about it but didn’t get the chance.

“Want a blow job?” she said, running her hands up my leg.

It took my brain a second to catch up, and I was sure my eyes bulged.

“What? Here and now? Hell, yes!”

She laughed. “I thought you’d say that. Too late – we’re here. Game face on.”

“Can I take a raincheck on the blow job?” I pleaded.

I thought she was going to answer but then the door to the limo was jerked open and I winced from the shock of noise.
I was going to be deaf after this
. I climbed out, smiled as instructed, even though it felt like I had to glue my lips into position. Then I leaned down and held my hand out to Lilia.