Shopaholic to the Stars(150)

‘We’ll find them. We will. Suze, just try to get as much information as you can …’ She’s trying to say something else, but I can’t make it out. Her voice is crackling and breaking up. ‘Suze?’

My phone goes dead and I stare at it in dismay. Bryce. Tarquin. My dad. In the middle of nowhere. What’s Mum going to say? What are we going to do?

‘Becky.’ Aran is at my side again. ‘Let me take you to meet Nenita.’ His eyes twinkle. ‘She’s a pretty big deal in your world, huh?’

‘Um … yes. Massive.’ In a daze, I follow him across the red carpet, stumbling slightly in my heels. This is the biggest moment of my career. Meeting Nenita Dietz. I have to put my personal life aside. I have to focus.

Nenita Dietz is holding forth to a group of people, and we wait patiently at the side until she pauses. She looks amazing. She’s in a massive blue fur coat and spiky metallic boots. Her long, dark wavy hair is shining with red and gold highlights under the spotlights and she must be wearing at least three pairs of false eyelashes. From here she looks like a fairy princess.

‘Nenita Dietz,’ Aran says pleasantly. ‘Let me present Becky Brandon.’

‘Becky!’

As I take her hand I feel like I’m meeting the queen. I mean, she is the queen of Hollywood stylists.

‘Hello!’ I gabble nervously. ‘I love your work. Actually, my background’s fashion, too. I was a personal shopper at Barneys and I’d love to get into styling and I’m such an admirer of yours. Especially of Clover. The clothes were exquisite.’

I’ve mentioned Clover because it’s a very low-budget film that she did a few years ago, which most people haven’t even heard of, and I’m hoping to get some Brownie points. But Nenita doesn’t seem interested in my opinion of Clover.

‘You.’ She points at me with narrowed eyes. ‘You’re the young woman who saw Lois stealing and told the world.’

‘Um, yes. I mean, no. I only told one person … or maybe two …’

‘Lois is a wonderful girl,’ she says with emphasis. ‘You should be ashamed of yourself.’ Her words feel like a slap, and I start backwards.

‘I didn’t mean to cause any harm,’ I say hastily. ‘And I honestly didn’t tell the world …’

‘You’ll bring bad karma into your life, you realize that?’ As she leans forward, I can see that her eyes are all yellowed, and her hands are a lot older than her face. She actually looks quite intimidating.

‘Lois’s doing fine, Nenita,’ says Aran. ‘You know that.’

‘Bad karma.’ She fixes me with her yellow gaze and jabs a finger at me again. ‘Bad karma into your life.’

I’m trying not to recoil in horror. I feel like she’s putting a curse on me.

‘Also, your dress is dated,’ she adds disdainfully, and I feel a prickle of outrage on Danny’s behalf. ‘Nevertheless,’ she says, as though bestowing on me a massive honour, ‘I can see that you, young woman, are like me. When you really want something, you have to have it.’ Her eyes run appraisingly over me again. ‘You may call me.’

She hands me a silver-edged card with a telephone number on it, and Aran raises his eyebrows.

‘Well done, Becky!’ he murmurs. ‘Nice job!’

I stare down at the card, feeling a bit dizzy. I’ve done it. I’ve actually made contact with Nenita Dietz.

The crowd is moving towards the movie-theatre entrance, surging around us, and a bulky man bumps into me, causing me to drop my bag. As I stand, I see I’ve been split up from Nenita and Aran and the crush is increasing. Girls in black suits are circulating, telling everyone that the movie will start soon, could they please take their seats. Feeling a bit like a zombie, I follow them in. The foyer is crowded with people and cameras and journalists, and I just let the throng propel me forward. A pleasant young man shows me to a seat in the auditorium, where I find a complimentary bottle of water and some popcorn and a circus-themed goodie bag.

I’m here! I’m one of the in-crowd! I’m in a top seat at a premiere! I have Nenita Dietz’s card and an invitation to call her!

So … why do I feel so hollow? What’s wrong?

My leather seat seems chilly and the air conditioning is making me shiver. As music starts blasting through the speakers, I jump. This should be the biggest treat ever, I keep telling myself. Suze’s voice is ringing in my ears: I hope you have the time of your life – and my own defiant reply, I will.

But the truth is: I’m not. I’m sitting in a cold, dark room full of strangers, about to watch a movie I don’t want to see, without any friends or family to share it with. I’m not famous. Everyone was calling me Betty. I’m not Betty, I’m Becky.