Lindsey Kelk 8-Book ‘I Heart’ Collection. Lindsey Kelk
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not my problem, James.’ No time to be weak now. So what if I outed him? And destroyed his career? And ruined his life? Meh. ‘I’ve got my own concerns. I’m going to have to make my money somehow given that you’ve probably cost me my job.’
‘Come off it, you’re not a kiss-and-tell girl,’ James stammered. ‘Just come and meet me. Please? We’ll meet anywhere you like. We’ll work out how to save your job and everything, but please just don’t say anything to the magazine. Not yet.’
I should have just hung up. I should have direct-dialled the News of the World and told them to get the La Senza matching set out. But I didn’t. ‘Where?’
‘Definitely not the hotel?’
‘Definitely not the hotel. The opposite of a hotel. As far away from a bed as humanly possible. The most public place on earth would be preferable.’
‘Disneyland?’
‘You’re not kidding, are you?’ I realized I was holding my empty smoothie glass against the edge of the table at a dangerously smash-and-slash angle. And the couple sitting next to me were looking awfully nervous. ‘No, I don’t think The Magic Kingdom is going to be able to sort this, James.’
‘It is the happiest place on earth.’ I could hear a hint of a smile in his voice. How dare he think he was off the hook with this?
‘And I would hate to get blood on those character costumes. I bet they’re a bitch to get dry cleaned.’
‘Right, OK,’ he said, considerably less pleased with himself. ‘You’re on Melrose? And you want to meet somewhere without any even vaguely sexual connotations. Where are you exactly? I’m sending a car.’
‘Fred Segal.’ I placed the glass back on the table and put my hands in my lap, offering an ‘I’m not crazy, honest’ smile to the people beside me, but they were too busy tapping away on their BlackBerrys and Sidekicks to acknowledge my sanity.
‘Because that’s the place to keep a low profile,’ he said. ‘Bumped into Paris yet?’
‘Do you want me to come or not?’ I snapped. Seriously, how come no one looked over when I was trying to be nice but as soon as I raised my voice, I had everyone’s undivided attention? ‘And there’s no way it’s just me and you. Blake comes too.’
‘Oh, Angela, I don’t think so,’ James said quickly. ‘He’s really not in a very good mood.’
‘And he’ll be in a better mood if I out the pair of you?’
Silence.
Sighing.
‘Fine. Just stay there and I’ll send the car.’
Hanging up, I pulled out my make-up bag. Wherever James went, so went the paps. Things were already bad enough without my under-eye circles making the news. I stared at myself in the mirror of my powder compact. How bizarre was this? How did I manage to go from not being able to get served in the Slug and Lettuce in Wimbledon without shouting at a barmaid, to having to worry about whether or not I was going to end up on the gossip page of some tabloid with big red circles drawn all over my many, many imperfections? All I wanted was to crawl into bed and not come back out until all this had gone away. Maybe I’d come out for Christmas dinner but then I’d be going right back in.
Bags banished and blusher blended, I took a deep breath. Time to bite the bullet.
‘Mary Stein’s office.’
‘Hi Cici,’ I said bravely. ‘Is Mary about?’
‘Oh, Angela,’ Cici managed to stretch out my name to last about three minutes. She must have been loving this. ‘I’m not sure she’s gonna be able to speak to you right now. She’s on a conference call with the publisher. You know, because of you.’
‘Right, well, it’s really important,’ I said through gritted teeth. This bit was even worse than actually talking to Mary. ‘Can you try and put me through?’
‘Uh-huh.’ The glee in her voice was unbearable. ‘But if she can’t talk to you right now, I can fill you in on what I’ve heard so far. You know, about you.’
‘Appreciated. Can you please just try and put me through?’
The hold music kicked in for what felt like forever.
‘Well?’
‘Oh, Mary,’ I was a little bit surprised. Mainly because I didn’t think Cici was even going to try and put me through, since she clearly really wanted to tell me all the lovely things that were being said about me in the office. ‘Hi.’
‘No, not hi, well?’ Mary sounded livid. Even though I couldn’t see her, I knew I’d got her full attention, which wasn’t ever a good thing. Mary was much less frightening if she was clicking away on her giant Mac while she was talking to you. ‘You realize you have fucked up on a massive, massive scale?’
‘Mary, please just let me get this out. I know it looks bad—’ I started.
‘Looks bad?’ she interrupted before I’d even finished my first sentence. ‘It is bad. You’re absolutely over.’
‘Mary, please,’ There wasn’t enough blusher in the world to put the colour back in my cheeks. ‘Let me finish. I know exactly what it looks like, but it isn’t. There’s nothing going on with James. And seriously, I have the best interview. I’m sure once you get my copy … once everyone sees my copy, they’re going to love it. And James is going to do the photo shoot. It can be saved, can’t it?’
‘Angela, I think the sun has fried your brain. Do you really think the magazine wants to publish your interview right now? You’re splashed all over the internet as a two-timing star-fucker. We’d get more readers for an interview with your ex right now.’
‘Jesus, will everyone stop saying he’s my ex?’ I groaned. ‘I haven’t bloody done anything.’
‘Unless you’re gonna take an internal exam live on TV to prove you’re still a virgin, I don’t think anyone’s going to believe that,’ Mary replied. ‘Or maybe you could do it on the radio. I’m pretty sure they did that on the Howard Stern Show once.’
‘Mary, honestly, you work in the media. How can you believe the internet over me?’ I was determined not to cry. Not here.
‘I learned not to believe everything I read a long time ago.’ Mary relented slightly. ‘But it doesn’t matter what I believe. People don’t care about what’s true and what isn’t; they care about being entertained, they care about who has the best story. And your interview with James isn’t the best story any more. You are.’
‘I’m not a story,’ I said quietly. ‘I’m just me.’
‘Well, I’m telling you what the publisher told me,’ she went on. ‘So don’t flip out on me. It’s like this. The blog is suspended for a couple of days. We’re not taking it down; we just need to decide what direction we’re going in.’
‘I don’t understand, direction?’ I wasn’t quick on the uptake at the best of times. ‘It’s just my blog. My diary.’
‘It is right now,’ Mary agreed. ‘But there’s been a massive spike in traffic since yesterday, and obviously the new readers want all the details about you and James. But the publishers don’t want to give that away for free online.’
‘And there aren’t any details for them,’ I said.
‘OK, Pollyanna, have you finished?’ She didn’t wait for a response. ‘The publishers want your exclusive story – either you and James or just you in next week’s issue of Icon – and then they want to change the direction of the blog to fit your new … status.’
‘But Mary, it’s not like that.’ This wasn’t happening.
‘This