Love, Lipstick and Lies (8 page)

I had planned to wear a long white crocheted dress. It was a designer number by Pucci that I’d thought would look striking. It probably did flash a bit (okay, a lot) of flesh, but that’s me … I always want to stand out at those kinds of events, which is easier said than done in Hollywood as everyone else is trying to do just that. This was a big red-carpet event, FFS! And I wanted to look the business. I’d hated the dress I’d worn the previous year to the same party: an electric blue sequined gown decorated with two huge corsages. Everyone else had loved it but I didn’t think it was me at all and had felt uncomfortable in it all night. It felt too sophisticated and grown-up. Maybe when I’m older I’ll appreciate it. Put it this way, it’s the kind of dress my mum loves to see me in. But I reckon I’ve still got
it
, and while I have … well, I’m going to flaunt it. I decided I needed a dress with the wow factor.

As we were in LA that shouldn’t be too difficult, I thought. During Oscars week they have these events called ‘gifting suites’, where designers display their dresses and accessories for celebrities to borrow. I went looking with a stylist I knew and between us we found
a dress that I liked. It was a black sequined halterneck, showing off plenty of cleavage, with a short puffball-style skirt so my legs were out too. That so-called style ‘rule’ where you show either cleavage or legs …
please
, it’s not for me. I needed the dress to do most of the work as I was not at all happy about my hair, which still hadn’t recovered from a botched bleach job in December. I had gone from brunette to blonde and had new extensions that cost me a fortune, plus I had flown out to LA to have it done. But back in the UK, to my horror, my hair began breaking and the extensions pulled it out from the root. It had cost me another fortune to rectify the damage, and it took ages for the remaining hair to recover. In the meantime I had these honey-brown extensions that I didn’t like, although everyone else thought they looked fine.

But apart from the hair, I felt I was good to hit the red carpet. I’d had my teeth polished, to achieve the ultimate Hollywood smile; I was tanned and I’d had Botox. On my face that is – I hadn’t gone to the extreme of having it injected into my armpits to stop any sweating, as apparently so many actors do before they hit the red carpet. Hold the front page! Shock, horror … leading actress shows off sweat rings as she waves to the crowd. Actually it probably
would
make the front page. When Julia Roberts revealed a less than fuzz-free armpit at a film premiere the tabloids went mental.

Day four of our whirlwind trip saw Gary and me getting ready for the Oscars party. This would be the
third year I’d been to Elton’s extravaganza. The first time I had gone with Pete. It hadn’t been a good experience. We weren’t getting on well, and he had his eye on me all night, making sure I didn’t have anything to drink. It wasn’t as if I was going to get wasted and make a show of myself. I simply wanted a glass of champagne, like every other person there … but, oh, no, that wasn’t good enough for Pete, who always hated me having anything to drink and always had a go at me if I did. Now that was something I
didn’t
miss from my first marriage … The second year I went on my own and met up with my good friend Tanya. To be honest, though, I couldn’t wait to leave. I went back to the hotel, took off the blue dress and put on my trackies to order room service of chips and hot chocolate. Bliss. This time it was going to be Gary and me, partners in crime. Or, as he joked, a pair of Californian twins with our ‘blonde hair, black outfits, white teeth and orange tans’.

‘Cheeky bastard!’ I shot back, laughing. ‘You can speak for yourself with the orange part. I’m a perfect bronze … it’s you who’s overdone it.’

‘Pot – kettle,’ muttered Gary.

I’ve been up countless red carpets but I still get nervous beforehand. So does Gary. In fact, we were both panicking and winding ourselves up as we were driven to the Pacific Design Center on Melrose Avenue, where the party was being held. Would we get in once we had walked up the red carpet, or would we be turned away and have to do the walk of shame in front of the world’s
media? It was completely illogical as I knew we were both on the guest list and I had the invitation in my hand! But in any case, I don’t like being on red carpets because you know you will be photographed from every conceivable angle – and some of them are far from flattering.

‘Here goes,’ said Gary as the car pulled up at the kerb. And then our driver was opening the door for us. It was now or never.

But we made it up the carpet, posed for the photographers, flashed our perfect smiles and were allowed in.

We both needed a drink after that and headed straight for the bar area where we ordered our vodka and Cokes. We were happily people watching and star spotting (Heidi Klum, Seal, Kim Kardashian, Paul Rudd, Sharon and Kelly Osbourne for starters) when we both noticed an incredibly handsome guy in a tuxedo walk past. He looked straight at me.

‘Fucking hell!’ I exclaimed, grabbing Gary’s arm. ‘How good-looking is he!’

‘Absolutely gorgeous,’ Gary agreed.

‘Do you reckon he’s gay?’

‘Yeah, I’m pretty sure,’ he replied. Of course we found out later that Gary’s gaydar was completely off. It was a case of wishful thinking … But at that moment I thought, Oh, well, he’s probably right. The guy’s far too good-looking to be straight. Just my luck. Then I thought, Kate, don’t even go on the manhunt. Just relax, enjoy the party.

We downed a couple more drinks and then had to take our seats for dinner, during which we watched the Oscars live on a big screen. Our table included editors from American
OK!
magazine and the Hollywood actress Tori Spelling and her husband. But I couldn’t get that good-looking guy out of my head and kept scanning the room, hoping to get another glimpse of him. And then I saw him walk by our table, and we both locked eyes, and … wow! I felt a spark of instantaneous attraction. He was so fucking fit! Tall, well over six foot, broad-shouldered, with what looked like a muscular body, boyishly handsome face, dark chocolate-brown eyes – possibly Spanish or Latin American. I couldn’t keep my eyes off him. And there I was, saying I was off men … Never say never.

Lots of people are restrained at these kind of celeb events, pacing themselves with the amount they drink, sipping mineral water so they don’t end up doing anything they’ll regret or get photographed looking shit-faced as they stumble out of the party. Lots of people … but it probably won’t surprise you that I am not one of them. I was out to have a good time and I was getting happily pissed. So after dinner, the events of that night are all a bit of a blur. I remember talking to Jamie Foxx, the Hollywood actor, and he was chatting away to me. But as for what he said, I have absolutely no idea.

At one point I went off to the ladies’ and when I came out I saw Gary standing with the handsome guy. Well,
hello! It was like one of those moments when everything and everyone else seems to fade into the background. All I focused on was him and that gorgeous face of his. Yes, I could still focus, just about.

‘
Hola
,’ he said to me when I joined them.

Ah, so not English then. And, as I very quickly discovered, not able to speak English either. Not a single word. Gary and I worked out that he spoke Spanish, for all the good that was going to do us as neither of us could speak a word. Yet even from this brief encounter I could sense that there was great chemistry between the mystery man and me. And all the time I was thinking, OMG! He is so gorgeous!

At one point a woman joined us and was able to translate our conversations and at first I thought he must be with her, but he wasn’t. Incredible as it seemed, he was single. We found out he was called Leandro. We spent the rest of the night together, taking photographs of each other and ourselves together. Once the Oscars ceremony was over there was apparently some amazing entertainment, with Elton John performing with Florence Welch, but I only had eyes for Leandro … or Leo as I decided to call him, as it was much easier to say. I felt like pinching myself, hardly able to believe that this man was interested in me! Me, a mum of three over thirty. I wouldn’t in my wildest dreams have imagined someone like him giving me a second glance. And yet here he was, gazing deep into my eyes. I hadn’t planned to go out and meet someone. It had just happened.

Gary wanted to go on to a gay club and I said, ‘We have to take that guy Leo with us!’ I wasn’t leaving him behind. So then Gary and I had to mime that we wanted to leave to go dancing, for Leo’s benefit. Acting may not be our strong point, but he willingly came with us. I’m not sure if he had any idea where we were taking him.

It was a cool night outside and Leo was a perfect gentleman and put his coat round my shoulders. Later we discovered that someone had taken a picture of us and, while I hate being photographed in public, this one was really sweet and showed Leo with his arm round me, all protective and reassuring. A proper romantic gesture.

I should have gone straight back to my hotel room, like a good girl, and had a large glass of water and a couple of painkillers and gone to bed as I had the all-important shoot for
OK!
USA the following day. Should have. Didn’t. We spent the next few hours going wild at the gay club, dancing and drinking and having a fantastic time. Fucking hell! I thought to myself, as I danced with Leo. How did I manage to pull
him
?

Our flirtation didn’t end at the club. Leo came back to my hotel suite with me.

Here you go, you dirty stop out! I thought as we tumbled on to the bed together, kissing passionately. And I knew full well it wasn’t going to end with a kiss. I knew I was going to have sex with him. I was probably never going to see him again, he didn’t know who I was. So what if he didn’t speak English, he was so fit! Why
would I turn him down? I was single. I’d just come out of a dysfunctional relationship that had really messed with my head. Fuck it! I’ll do it! I decided. And do it we did. All night, or rather what remained of the night. And, believe me, the fact that we couldn’t speak the same language didn’t matter one bit. The language of lurve and all that …

* * *

I think I had an hour’s sleep. Somehow I dragged myself out of bed the following morning even though I would rather have stayed right there with Leo. He looked every bit as good in the morning as he had the night before. I’m not sure if the same could be said about me. I felt wrecked, but also blissed out. It had been quite a night.

There’s only one cure for a hangover. Food. A lot of models starve themselves before a shoot, take diuretics and God knows what, but that’s never been my style, hungover or not. The very first photographer who took pictures of me during my Page 3 days, a lovely guy called Beverley Goodway, who sadly died a year ago, used to think it was hilarious that before we started the shoot, without fail, I would have two jacket potatoes with beans and cheese. I’d always be starving after driving up from Brighton to the London studio. I got very good at breathing in, put it that way. There is a real art to making sure you don’t show too much ribcage.

Leo and I went out for breakfast with the gang at a nearby café. Because of the language barrier it was like
playing a game of charades as we tried to work out what Leo did. He mimed something that looked like a plane and from that we came to the conclusion that maybe he was a pilot. Or I hoped pilot rather than cabin crew, though to be honest I didn’t care. I’ve never minded what the men I fancy do, so long as they do something! Later, we found out that he was trying to tell us that he was getting a friend’s private plane back to Miami. There was no chance we were ever going to get
that
from his mime. I couldn’t resist taking a picture of us together and putting it straight on Twitter. I think I must still have been drunk because I never usually do that kind of thing. We swapped numbers and then he was gone and we had to head to the Hollywood Hills for my shoot with
OK!

All I can say is, thank God for cosmetics. I was knackered and shagged out. Literally. Leo had been a very energetic and passionate lover. I needed Gary to work his magic, pile on the slap (a technical term) and make me beautiful! After a good two hours, he had transformed me from hungover, dirty stop out to swan. You would never know to look at me that I’d only had an hour’s sleep, or what I had been up to all night.

The shoot was at a stunning modern house in Beverly Hills, with an infinity pool and breathtaking views of the whole of LA. But all I could think about was Leo. Please let him text me or call me, I thought, checking my phone at every available opportunity during the eighteen costume changes. I even broke my own rule
and texted him first, saying,
Hi, it’s Kate. Hope you had a good flight and to hear from you soon
. That sounded so polite and formal after our wild night of passion. What I wanted to say was,
Text me! I can’t stop thinking about you!
I kept looking at the picture I’d taken of him. He was so gorgeous! I
really
wanted to see him again. I didn’t know anything about him, not what he did for a living nor how old he was. Nothing apart from his name, Leandro. Nor did he know anything about me. He definitely didn’t seem to know that I was famous back in the UK, which was all to the good.

My plan to stay single was in shreds. I was head over heels in lust with a man who couldn’t speak English, but the chemistry was so strong I couldn’t resist it. Believe me, I know it sounds nuts after being with someone only a matter of hours, but it was true. Of course at that stage it was a purely physical attraction because I couldn’t really tell what his personality was like. He certainly looked the part. It was only much, much later, when his English had improved, that he turned out to be the biggest prick of all the men I have ever been with!

It’s hard, because of how my relationship with Leo turned out, to look back on that time in February 2011 and be objective. I do feel a great deal of bitterness about the things he said and did when we split up, which made me question if he had ever been genuine … But if I keep all that out of my head, the fact was that the start of our relationship was very romantic. There we were, two strangers who had fallen for each other straight away. It seemed like fate.