Shopaholic to the Stars (Shopaholic #7)

Shopaholic to the Stars (Shopaholic #7) Page 146

Resentment is rising inside me. I’m tired of Suze making me feel bad. I’m tired of everyone making me feel bad.

“Your dad’s disappeared without a trace and taken Tarkie with him!” Suze repeats, still on her tirade. “There’s obviously some mystery; they could be in big trouble—”

“Well, what am I supposed to do about it?” I explode. “It’s not my fault if they just took off! I’ve got one chance in Hollywood, Suze, one chance, and this is it! If I don’t grab it, I’ll always regret it.”

“The red carpets will always be there,” says Suze scathingly.

“The TV interviews won’t always be there! Nenita Dietz won’t always be there! I don’t see why I should just sit around, doing nothing, waiting for news. You can do that if you like. Maybe Alicia could keep you company,” I can’t help adding bitterly. And I grab the Danny Kovitz box and march out of the kitchen before Suze can say anything more.

As I get ready, there are two voices arguing in my head. One is mine and one is Suze’s. Or maybe one is Luke’s. Or maybe they’re both mine. Oh God, I don’t know whose they are, but by quarter to six I’m sick of both of them. I don’t want to have to think about whether I’m doing the right thing. I just want to do it.

I stare at myself boldly in the mirror and adopt a red-carpet pose. I look good. I think. I’ve put on a bit too much makeup, but I don’t want to look washed out next to all the celebrities, do I? And Danny’s dress is genius. It’s short and slinky, in a flattering black fabric, and the single shoulder strap is made of a mass of unpolished copper hoops. (They’re digging into my skin a bit, and they’ll probably leave marks, but I don’t care.) I’m wearing the spikiest-ever black stilettos, and my bag is a little copper-framed clutch (it was in the box with the dress). I definitely look like a top celebrity stylist.

Adrenaline is pumping through my body. I feel like I’m about to go into a boxing ring. This is it. This is it. As I’m carefully painting my lips, my phone rings, and I put it on speaker.

“Hello?”

“Becky.” Aran’s voice fills the room. “Psyched for tonight?”

“Definitely!” I say. “Can’t wait!”

“Great! I just wanted to let you know the rundown. You are in demand tonight, girl.” He laughs. “You’ll be talking to NBC, CNN, Mixmatch—that’s a fashion channel …”

As he continues, I can barely concentrate. It all seems so surreal. I’m going to be on NBC!

“So just stay bright and positive,” Aran is saying. “Ooze your British charm and you’ll do great. See you later!”

“See you there!” I give myself a final spray of perfume and look at my reflection. British charm. How do I ooze British charm?

“Cor, strike a light, guv’nor!” I say aloud.

Hmm. Maybe not.

As I walk downstairs, I can hear Suze approaching. I start prickling with defiance and clench my bag tight. She appears in the hall, holding Minnie on her hip, and looks me up and down dispassionately.

“You look amazing,” she says flatly.

“Thanks.” I match her tone.

“Thin.” She manages to make this sound like an accusation.

“Thanks.” I take out my phone and check for texts. There’s one from Jeff, telling me he’s waiting outside, but nothing from Luke. Not that I was really expecting it, but still my heart drops in disappointment. “I’ll have my phone on the whole time,” I add. “In case you … you know. Hear anything.”

“Well, enjoy yourself.” She hoists Minnie to the other hip and I glare at her resentfully. She’s only carrying Minnie to make me feel bad. She could easily put her down on the floor.

“Here are the details of where I am.” I hand her a printed sheet. “Thanks for looking after Minnie.”

“Oh, any time.” Her voice is so sarcastic I wince. She doesn’t mean it, I tell myself. She’s just stressed out about Dad and Tarkie.

I mean, I’m stressed out too. But there’s a bigger emotion overriding the stress. It’s excitement. NBC … red carpet … exclusive designer outfit … How could I not be excited? How can Suze not understand?

“Well, I hope you have the time of your life,” she says as I open the door.

“I will,” I say mutinously. “See you later.”

I step outside and hear a roar from outside the gates. I stop dead and blink in astonishment. Oh my God. Lon must have brought his entire class to see the dress. There’s a whole crowd of them clustered together, pointing cameras and phones at me through the iron bars of the gates.