“Becky, you don’t do anything,” Aran says bluntly. “You’re not on a TV show. You’re not dating a celebrity. If Lois pleads guilty, there won’t even be a court case. If you want to stay out there, you need to be out there.”
“I want to be out there styling.”
“Well, then, style.” He shrugs. “But that is not the super-fast route, I can tell you.”
The car pulls up in my drive, and he leans over to kiss me lightly on each cheek. “Ciao, ciao.”
I get out, followed by Jeff, and the car drives off, but I don’t approach the house. I go and sit on a low wall, thinking hard and chewing my lip. I let my thoughts simmer down into a decision, then determinedly pull out my phone and jab in a number.
“Becky?” comes Sage’s sleepy voice down the phone. “Is that you?”
“Listen, Sage, are you going to the Big Top premiere tomorrow? Only, I’d love to put an outfit together for you. Remember, you said you wanted me to style you? Remember we were talking about it?”
“Oh.” Sage yawns. “Sure.”
“So … are you going to the premiere? Can I dress you?”
I’m crossing my fingers tightly. Please say yes, please say yes …
“I guess so.”
“Great!” I exhale in relief. “Fantastic! Well, I’ll put some looks together. I’ll call you later.”
As I head into the house, my spirits are higher. So what if the interview today wasn’t brilliant? I’ve taken charge. I’m styling Sage Seymour. I’m doing the red carpet. Everything’s coming together!
I can hear Luke in the kitchen, and my stomach gives a twinge of apprehension. I haven’t spoken properly to Luke since yesterday. He came to bed after I’d fallen asleep, and I left him dozing when I got up for the TV show. So we haven’t seen each other since our row.
No, not row. Discussion.
“Why don’t you sit there for now,” I say to Jeff, and point to one of the big chairs in the hall. “I guess Mitchell’s patrolling the garden.”
“You got it,” says Jeff, in that expressionless way he has, and settles his huge frame down on the chair. I take a deep breath, then saunter into the kitchen, humming, like someone who’s totally OK with everything and didn’t have a tense moment with her husband last night.
“Hi!” My voice is a little too high-pitched.
“Hi.” Luke looks up from some document in a plastic binder. “How was the interview?”
“It was … good. How’s things with you?”
“How’s things?” Luke gives a short, humorless laugh. “To be honest, things have been better.”
“Really?” I look at him in alarm. “What’s up?”
“I thought that wretched Sage was up to something, and now, sure enough, I discover she is.”
“Oh, really?” I say, my heart pumping a little faster. “Um, what?”
“Both of them. Sage and Lois.” He glances at the door. “Shut that, will you? I don’t want your goons hearing.”
I do as he says, my mind working quickly. What’s he found out? How did he find out?
“They staged the whole thing. The whole feud, the stealing, the row at the awards: fake. The whole lot of it.”
“No!” I exclaim, trying my best to sound shocked. “You’re joking!”
“Aran discovered it last night. We’re meeting later on. Obviously this goes no further—” He breaks off and his dark eyes suddenly narrow. “Wait a minute. Becky?”
“Er … yes?” I falter. He comes right up near and eyes me closely. I can feel my cheekbones quivering under his scrutiny. And my lips. I think my hair is shaking too.
“Becky?” he says again, and I feel a horrible sense of foreboding.
Oh God. The thing about Luke is, he knows me really, really well. How am I ever supposed to keep anything from him?
“You knew?” he says at last. “You knew about this?” He seems so scandalized that I gulp inwardly.
“Kind of. I mean, I only found out yesterday afternoon.”
“And you didn’t tell me? Even when I asked you directly?”
“I couldn’t! I mean, Sage said … I promised her …”
I trail off feebly. Luke doesn’t only look angry, he looks hurt. And weary. He looks like he’s had enough, I think with a lurch. But enough of what? Of Hollywood? Of me?
“Don’t worry, I get it,” he says, sounding tired. “You rate your loyalty to Sage above your loyalty to me. That’s fine. I know where I stand.”
“No!” I say in dismay. “That’s not … I just …” Again I trail off, twisting my fingers miserably. I can’t find the words. Maybe there aren’t any words, except the ones I don’t want to say because he’ll think I’m shallow, which I’m not.
Well, OK, maybe I am. A little bit. But, then, everyone in Hollywood is shallow. I mean, compared to lots of people here, I’m deep. I’m profound! Doesn’t he realize that?
“They’ve been really clever,” I say at last. “You have to admit that. Lois thought up the whole thing. No one has any idea.”
“I think you’ll find they’ve been less clever than you think,” says Luke drily. “When this gets out, neither the press nor the public will be very impressed.”
“Maybe it won’t get out.”
Even as I’m saying it, I know I’m being naïve. Everything gets out.