‘Here?’ said Olivia, looking around at the pastel-packaged baby milk.
‘Well, underneath here,’ Sophia said.
The only thing underneath the FoodMart was . . . of course! The BloodMart.
‘That is so rude!’ Ivy declared.
‘What is?’ asked Olivia, clearly baffled.
‘Jessica must have decided she needed a snack from the Blood Mart before facing the cameras,’ Ivy growled, realising that the people she didn’t recognise would be the ones following Jessica around. There was a girl in head-to-toe pink ‘JP’ merchandise and two heavyset men with sunglasses hovering nearby. ‘She’s made hundreds of people wait so she can grab a Vampish Delight or something.’
Sophia nodded. ‘I’ve been assigned to her press entourage by VAMP magazine and she decided halfway to the Picturedrome that she simply had to stop for a snack. She’s downstairs now, browsing like she has all the time in the world.’
‘You’re on official magazine business?’ Mr Vega asked, looking impressed.
Ivy knew that Sophia had made friends with Georgia Huntingdon, editor of the most popular fashion magazine in the vampire world, earlier this year when the twins were on the cover.
‘I’m the new Franklin Grove photo correspondent,’ Sophia said with a proud smile.
‘Killer,’ Ivy said.
‘With all the celebs in town, it’s keeping me very busy,’ she said, snapping a photo of Ivy and Olivia.
‘Stop it!’ Ivy said, batting away the camera gently, but Sophia just grinned.
‘You two were in the movie, and you look fantastic. If it gets me a photo credit in VAMP, I’m gonna go for it!’ She snapped a second photo, ignoring Ivy’s protests.
‘You were in the movie just as much as me,’ Ivy said. They had been extras in one of the diner scenes – along with the unbearable Charlotte Brown.
‘Yeah, but I’m not the sister of the newest up-and-coming star,’ Sophia said, winking at Olivia, but she wasn’t paying attention.
‘Sophia, have you seen Jackson? Is he here, too?’ Olivia was wringing her hands.
Sophia nodded. ‘I think he was by the vegetables when I walked past a few minutes ago,’ she said.
Ivy hoped Jessica’s little food mission hadn’t messed up Jackson’s plans for the red carpet. She thought it was high time that her sister could stop hiding in the shadows.
‘Thanks.’ Olivia turned to Mr Vega. ‘Can I go find him?’
‘Sure, honey,’ he replied. ‘Just find me before you head out of here.’
The crowd was starting to thin a little, as Olivia slipped away. Near the butcher’s counter, Ivy saw a short man with his back to her, waving his arms angrily in front of an assistant wearing headphones.
‘. . . think she can do this! Non, non!’ he was saying in a heavy French accent.
Ivy guessed right away who it was: Philippe, the director of the movie. She knew from her time as an extra that no one did grumpy like he did, and he must be livid about Jessica’s little detour.
‘Think I should try for a picture?’ Sophia said.
‘If you want to get your hand bitten off,’ Ivy replied. ‘He looks worse than usual.’
‘Ivy! Sophia!’ A trim woman in a tailored black pantsuit waved at them from in front of the fish display.
‘It’s Lillian,’ Sophia said, waving back.
‘Come on.’ Ivy grabbed her dad’s hand and pulled him over. ‘Dad, this is Lillian Margolis. She was the assistant director on The Groves.’
‘Second assistant director, actually,’ Lillian said, extending her slender hand. She was wearing a simple but elegant silver bracelet. Her usually messy black hair had been tamed into a classy bun, held back by a pretty onyx hair clip. She looked like Audrey Heppingburn in the classic vampire flick Breakfast of Tiffanies.
‘How do you do?’ Mr Vega asked, with a little bow. Two pink spots appeared on his usually pale cheeks as he took Lillian’s hand in his. ‘A pleasure to meet you,’ he murmured. ‘Please call me Charles.’
‘Charles,’ she said gracefully, smiling a little. ‘Lovely to meet you, too.’
She gave Ivy and Sophia each a hug then turned back to Mr Vega. ‘You have two very talented daughters, Charles. I hope Olivia enjoys the final product tonight.’
‘Oh, I’m sure we all will,’ Mr Vega replied, smiling. ‘Uh . . . How long have you been in the movie business?’
‘That’s dangerously close to asking a lady her age.’ Lillian waggled her finger at him, pretending to tell him off.
‘No, no,’ Mr Vega looked sheepish. ‘I meant –’
Lillian cut him off cheerfully. ‘Let’s say that I’ve worked on fifteen films and counting. And what do you do?’
‘He’s an interior designer,’ Ivy boasted. ‘If you like things dark and velvet, he’s your guy.’
‘Really?’ Lillian raised her eyebrows. ‘My home in LA actually needs refurbishing.’
‘Ooh, LA!’ cooed Sophia.
‘I love LA,’ Mr Vega said brightly, taking Ivy by surprise. He had only been there once, and with all the sunshine, it wasn’t exactly a vamp-friendly place.
Lillian smiled at Mr Vega’s eagerness, while Ivy had to double check that her father hadn’t been taken over by aliens: pale skin, not green . . . check. Two eyes not five . . . check. Still a vampire, not an alien. But her dad was acting excited. Well, as excited as her super-composed father ever got.