Tears are welling up in my eyes, and one suddenly trickles down my nose. Another is following it as my phone rings, and I hastily wipe them both away as I answer.
“Aran! Hi! How are you?”
“Hey, babe,” comes his easy voice. “I hear you’re styling Sage for the Big Top premiere. Congratulations; that’s pretty big!”
“Thanks!” I try to sound as bright as I can. “I’m so excited!”
“Did you tell Luke? Is he psyched?”
“Kind of,” I say after a pause.
Not only is he not psyched, I want to say miserably, he isn’t even a tiny bit proud. He thinks I should fire the bodyguards. He won’t eat grain soup. He doesn’t want to be an A-lister. I mean, if you don’t want to be an A-lister, why come to Hollywood in the first place?
“Well, guess who wants to meet you at the premiere? Nenita Dietz.”
“No!” I gasp. “Nenita Dietz has heard of me?”
In spite of everything, my spirits rocket up. I spent that whole stupid studio tour trying to find Nenita Dietz. And now she’s trying to find me!
“Of course she’s heard of you.” Aran laughs. “We’ll set up a meeting, a photo opportunity on the red carpet; maybe you guys can chat at the party. How does that sound?”
“Amazing!” I breathe.
As I ring off, I feel heady. Nenita Dietz and me on the red carpet. Making friends and talking fashion. I couldn’t even have dreamed that.
“Hey, guess what?” I call out, before I realize that there’s no one to hear me. A moment later, Jeff appears around the door.
“You OK?” he says.
“I’m going to meet Nenita Dietz!” I say. “On the red carpet! She’s asked to meet me. Do you know how important she is?” Jeff’s face is blank, but I can see his eyes reading my expression for clues.
“Awesome,” he says at last, and nods. He disappears again, and I quell a feeling of disappointment that he wasn’t more excited. No one’s proud of me, not even my bodyguard. Another tear suddenly rolls down my cheek, and I brush it away impatiently. This is stupid. Stupid. Life is great. Why am I feeling like this?
I’ll call Mum. The solution hits me out of the blue. Of course. Mum will make me feel better. I should have thought of this ages ago. And I can reassure her about Dad too. It’s evening in the UK. Perfect. I lean back in my chair, dialing the number, and as I hear her familiar voice answering, I feel a relief all over my body.
“Mum! How are you? Listen, I’m styling Sage for a premiere tomorrow! And I’m meeting Nenita Dietz! She especially called Aran to say she wanted to meet me! Can you believe it?”
“That’s lovely, Becky.” Mum sounds tense and distracted. “Listen, darling, where’s Dad? Can I speak to him?”
“He’s out at the moment. I’ll get him to call you back.”
“Well, where is he?” I hear a shrill of alarm in her voice. “Where’s he gone? Becky, you said you’d keep an eye on him!”
“I am keeping an eye on him!” I retort, a bit impatiently. Honestly, what does she expect, that I stalk my own father? “He’s been out with Tarquin, Mum. They’ve really bonded. It’s so sweet. Yesterday they went sightseeing and had supper together and—” I break off just before I say “got drunk.” “They had a good time,” I amend. “Mum, you mustn’t worry.”
“But what’s this all about? Why did he suddenly fly to L.A.?” She still sounds distressed. “Have you found out? What’s he said to you, love?”
I feel a huge twinge of guilt. I should have made more time to talk to Dad yesterday. I really should. And I should have got those autographs for him. I feel terrible about that.
“He hasn’t said that much,” I admit. “But we’ll have a big old talk tonight. I promise. I’ll wheedle it out of him.”
As I put the phone down ten minutes later, I feel both better and worse. Better because it’s always good to talk to Mum. But worse because I can see how I’ve let things unravel. I’ve been too distracted. I should be more on the case with Dad.… I should have been there for Suze.… I close my eyes, burying my face in my palms. Everything feels painful and wrong. I’ve messed up in all directions, all at once, and I didn’t even realize I was doing it, and now I don’t know where to start to put things right.… What am I going to do?
For what seems like ages, I simply sit there, letting my thoughts whirl round and gradually settle. Then, full of determination, I grab a piece of paper from the kitchen notepad and write a heading: Resolutions. I’m going to make my life work for me. I’m not going to let it whirl round like a kaleidoscope anymore. It’s my life, which means I get to choose how it goes. Even if that means wrestling it to the floor and bashing it on the head and saying, Take that, life!
I scribble hard for a while, then sit back and look at my list with resolve. It’s quite a lot—it’ll be a challenge—but I can do it all. I have to do it all.
Resolutions:
1. Bring peace to Luke and Elinor. (Like St. Francis.)
2. Go on the red carpet and get a million autographs for Dad.
3. Come up with perfect outfit for Sage and get hired by Nenita Dietz.
4. Make friends with Suze again.
5. Save Tarkie from cult.
6. Find out reason for Dad’s trip and reassure Mum.
7. Buy strapless bra.
OK, so the last one isn’t quite as life-changing as the others, but I really do need a new strapless bra.