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got my attention at that moment.

      ‘Of course I didn’t,’ Jenny said, ‘but it was tempting. Suddenly Daphne had all this money, she stopped doing auditions, started missing gigs. Eventually, she stopped dancing altogether and I felt weird doing it alone. Especially since Daphne had kind of gotten us a reputation. I guess it would have been easier to just do it, but I couldn’t.’

      ‘So you came home?’ I wasn’t used to watching Jenny squirm. It wasn’t nearly as much fun as I’d thought it might be.

      ‘I went back to New York, yeah.’ She looked up and gave me her brightest smile. ‘And thank God I did, or you would have been screwed.’

      ‘She’s not still doing it, is she?’ I couldn’t help myself, even if Jenny was clearly trying to change the subject. ‘Not still, you know…’

      ‘Angie, it scares me that you can’t even say the words at your age. And no, she isn’t. She quit, like, right after I left. She started seeing some rich old guy and I guess she didn’t need the cash any more. And she’s making good money as a stylist now so…’ She trailed off.

      ‘Do you miss living here?’ I asked, even though I didn’t want to. She was my Jenny, my ‘I’m walkin’ here’ New Yorker Jenny, not Daphne’s LA private dancer.

      ‘It’s different now; it was so long ago. I’m not twenty-two any more; everything is so different.’ She gave me a little smile. ‘It is nice to be out in the sunshine again, though. I don’t know, I don’t want the same things I wanted the last time I was here. I don’t know what I want.’

      ‘You’ll work it out,’ I said, watching her pretend not to be bothered. ‘You always do.’

      ‘Yeah.’ Jenny pulled out her bright yellow Miu Miu shoe. It was all sorts of beautiful. ‘I always do, don’t I?’

      ‘I can’t believe you had this big crazy life.’ I was always amazed by Jenny. I’d never ever known anyone like her in my life. It didn’t matter how long we spent together or how long we talked, one way or another, she surprised me every single day. Some days it was with a packet of peanut butter M&Ms, others it was with the fact that she used to be a burlesque dancer while her friend was a high-class hooker. ‘How do you stand behind that concierge desk every day without going mad?’

      ‘I don’t know.’ She pulled a couple of curls out from her ponytail and held them out to inspect for split ends. ‘I guess I had Jeff to keep my mind busy for a while but sometimes, yeah. I don’t know.’

      We ate in silence for a few minutes, Jenny concentrating on her salad, me painfully aware that the waiter was still judging me for asking if the crab cakes came with fries. They didn’t.

      ‘What are you going to do about James?’ Jenny asked eventually.

      ‘What do you mean?’ I stalled, not actually knowing the answer.

      ‘Seems to me that if your boyfriend already thinks you’re sleeping with a super-hot guy who is so clearly into you, you may as well,’ she reasoned.

      ‘He’s not clearly into me,’ I replied sternly, but I couldn’t help a tiny internal smile at the thought that he might be. ‘Just because he got a couple of shops to give us some free stuff. It’s nothing to him, Jenny; it’s like you letting your friend crash in an empty room at the hotel or something. A perk of the job.’

      ‘I could totally get used to these kinds of perks,’ she held up the shoe again. ‘But honey, I’m telling you, just from what I saw last night. He likes you.’

      ‘No, he doesn’t and, even if he did, which he doesn’t…’ I fished around in my handbag for my wallet. Expenses be damned, this was going on the work credit card. ‘…I wouldn’t be interested.’

      ‘Yeah you would. If you didn’t have a boyfriend,’ Jenny said, stealing a bite of crab cake from my plate.

      I considered my answer carefully, knowing she would jump on whatever I said. ‘If I didn’t have a boyfriend and I wasn’t working and he wasn’t this ridiculous actor. Maybe.’

      ‘Oh my God, you’re totally hot for him.’ Jenny clapped her hands together. ‘I knew it! I could so tell last night. Angie, how often do you get a chance like this? How often does anyone get a chance like this?’

      ‘That doesn’t matter.’ I blushed from my cheeks down to my toes. ‘And it doesn’t matter how hot he is or if he likes me. It’s just work. Even if it doesn’t feel like it right now, it’s work.’

      ‘You forgot the “I already have a boyfriend” bit.’ Jenny raised an eyebrow. ‘I’d have thought Alex was quite enough of a reason. That’s interesting.’

      ‘No it isn’t interesting,’ I corrected. ‘That just goes without saying.’

      ‘So things are OK? He hasn’t freaked out about the pictures?’

      There was no point hiding this stuff from Jenny. It would only come back to bite me on the arse when I needed her help later, which I always did. ‘He wasn’t best pleased about them,’ I admitted. ‘But it’ll be fine.’

      ‘I figured as much,’ Jenny nodded. ‘He’s totally the jealous type.’

      ‘No, he so isn’t. Is he?’ I asked. ‘What makes you say that?’

      ‘Come on, Angie.’ She wiped her hands on a napkin and then redid her ponytail. ‘Alex is all deep and meaningful muso boy. You don’t get the love songs, the random three a.m. booty calls because “he just had to see you” without a touch of possessiveness. I just can’t see him being OK with you running around Hollywood with a some hot, slutty guy with all the world watching. Can you?’

      ‘I said he wasn’t best pleased about it,’ I mumbled, giving the waiter my credit card without even looking at the bill. ‘But it’ll be OK, won’t it?’

      ‘He’s your boyfriend, I don’t know,’ she said, passing me her lip gloss. She really was a stickler for detail. ‘What do you think?’

      ‘I think we should stop talking about boys, go and get the car, then go for a swim.’ I took my card and the receipt back from the waiter. ‘And if there’s a spa or something, we should get massages. This is still your vacation, after all, and I don’t have to be anywhere until eleven a.m. tomorrow.’

      ‘Got to say, Angie,’ Jenny stood up and started grabbing our many bags, ‘I have always loved the way you think.’

       Chapter Eight

      Right up until the moment James’s limo pulled up outside The Hollywood at four minutes passed eleven the next morning, I’d been waiting for the phone call from Blake to say that they weren’t coming and the interview was off. But there they were and there I was, Jenny’s giant sunglasses on, Starbucks in hand, and (beautiful but looking more battered by the day) Marc Jacobs bag over my shoulder. Taking a deep breath, I sucked it up and opened the car door. If I thought Alex had been upset and Mary was angry yesterday, then I needed a new word for Blake.

      ‘This is why these fucking “day in the life” interviews never, ever work,’ he ranted as the limo pulled away from the hotel, staring me down. ‘You don’t speak until we’re back in the hotel. This is why we should have met for one hour in a hotel suite with a publicist and a security guard and this would never ever have happened.’

      I couldn’t argue with his logic.

      ‘Would there have been bottled water?’ James asked.

      ‘Of course.’ Blake seethed in my general direction.

      ‘And those tiny pastries?’

      ‘No because you’re carb-free this month.’ He folded his arms

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