“Which client?” Sage looks put out.
“Just a … um … this girl …” I’m knotting my fingers. “You wouldn’t know her.…”
“Well, tell her you lost it.” Sage pouts winsomely. “It’s too cute. I have to have it.”
“But I’ve promised it to her.…” I try to swipe it, but she dances away.
“Mine now!”
Before I can stop her, she’s moving into a cluster of guys in black tie. The next moment she’s gone.
“Luke!” I let out all my stress by banging the table. “How could you? You’ve ruined everything! That clutch wasn’t for her!”
“Well, I’m very sorry, but I thought I was helping you!” he replies hotly. “You’ve been telling me for weeks how you want to be Sage’s stylist.”
“I do! But I’ve got this other client—”
“Who is this other client?” He doesn’t look convinced. “Does she even exist?”
“Yes!”
“Well, who is it?” He turns to Suze. “Do you know this client?”
“I think Becky needs to tell you herself,” says Suze in disapproving tones.
“Er … Luke,” I say with a small gulp. “Let’s go to the bar.”
As we make our way to the bar, I’m lurching between two feelings. Glee that I’ve finally got a client, and dread at having to tell Luke. Glee–dread, glee–dread … My head is spinning and my hands are clenched and my legs are shaking, and altogether I’m glad when we reach the bar.
“Luke, I have something to tell you,” I blurt out. “It’s good but it’s not good. Or it may not be good. Or …” I’ve run out of possibilities. “I need to tell you,” I finish lamely.
Luke eyes me for a moment without saying anything. “Is this a stiff drink kind of a something?” he says at last.
“It could be.”
“Two gimlets,” he instructs the barman. “Straight up.”
Luke quite often orders for me, which is because I can never decide what to have. (Mum’s the same. Phoning for Chinese honestly takes about an hour in our house.)
“So, the good news is, I’ve got a client.”
“So you said.” Luke raises his eyebrows. “Well done! And the bad news?”
“The bad news is …” I screw up my face. “My client is Lois Kellerton.”
I’m bracing myself for Luke to explode, or frown, or maybe bang his fist on the bar and say, Of all the movie stars in all the towns … and stare murderously into the middle distance. But instead he looks puzzled.
“So?”
I feel a little indignant. How can he look so calm when I’m tying myself up in knots?
“So! Sage will be livid! I’ll be on Team Lois and you’ll be on Team Sage and it’ll all kick off and—”
“It will not kick off.” Finally, Luke does sound angry. “I’m not having this anymore! The so-called feud is over. Sage is a grown woman, and she needs to start acting with a little dignity and maturity.” He glowers at me, as though it’s my fault.
“It’s not just her,” I say, to be fair. “It’s both of them. Lois wore the same dress as Sage to an event, and then Sage bailed out of this charity thing—”
“Whatever.” Luke cuts me off. “It’s over. And as for your career, you are an independent woman, and if Sage has any problem at all with you working for Lois Kellerton, she can answer to me. OK?”
He sounds so forthright, I feel a glow of pleasure. I knew all along he’d support me. (Well, I kind of knew.) Our drinks arrive, and Luke lifts his up to clink mine.
“To you, Becky. First client in Hollywood. Bravo. I hope for your sake she’s not as nutty as my client.”
I can’t help giggling. It’s so unlike Luke to dis his clients—he’s usually far too discreet.
“So, is Sage difficult to work with?”
Luke closes his eyes briefly and takes a swig of his drink. As he opens them, he’s smiling wryly. “Trapped inside that gorgeous, curvaceous body is a spoiled teenage girl with arrested development and the biggest sense of entitlement I’ve ever come across. And I’ve worked with bankers,” he adds, rolling his eyes.
“She’s worse than bankers?” I say, playing along.
“She thinks she should be able to do exactly as she likes. All the time.”
“Can’t movie stars do what they like?”
“Some can. When they reach a certain level.” Luke takes another gulp. “Sage thinks she’s Hollywood royalty. But she’s not. Not yet. Her trouble is, she had very easy, very early success, and nothing since has quite matched up to it.”