Shopaholic to the Stars (Shopaholic #7)

Shopaholic to the Stars (Shopaholic #7) Page 74

“Why?” interrupts April.

“To remember him by.” Dylan sounds a bit flummoxed. “That’s her motivation.”

“But she can remember him without a scarf. Why would she risk his life for the sake of a scarf?”

“She’s a woman,” says Dylan feebly. “She’s sentimental.”

“She’s a woman?” retorts April, sounding suddenly livid. “She’s a woman? That’s no kind of answer! Just because she’s a woman, it doesn’t mean she’s an imbecile! I’m not doing it,” she says firmly. “I’m not taking out the scarf. Gwennie isn’t a moron. She wouldn’t do it.”

“But you have to take out the scarf!” says Dylan in consternation. “That’s the point of the scene!”

“Well, you’ll have to find a different point for the scene.”

“April, sweetie,” says Ant, breathing hard. “You have to take out the scarf. If Eduardo doesn’t see the scarf, then he won’t launch the attack on the Fleet of Foes. That’s the whole second act. That’s the whole fucking movie.”

“Well, it doesn’t make any sense,” says April obstinately. “Becky’s right.”

“Becky?” Ant sounds at the end of his tether. “Who’s Becky?”

Reluctantly, I raise my head from April’s skirts to see Ant staring at me with a thunderous disbelief.

“Oh, hi,” I say nervously, and risk a little smile. “Fab directing,” I quickly add. “Really inspired.”

“You again?” says Dylan incredulously.

“Who the fuck are you?” Ant expostulates. “You’re derailing my movie!” He almost looks like he might hit me.

“No, I’m not!” I say in horror. “I mean—I didn’t mean to!”

“You should be thanking her!” says April. “The scene has a big hole in it, and she’s the only one who noticed.” She stands up. “Sort out your scene, gentlemen. I’ll be in my trailer. Gilly, Uggs?”

One of the wardrobe girls hurries forward and unlaces April’s button boots.

“April!” says Ant. “Don’t be ridiculous!”

“If you don’t pick it up, the critics will,” she snaps. She steps into a pair of Uggs and strides across the soundstage. She’s leaving. Oh my God.

“Come back here!” says Ant furiously.

“Fix the scene!” she retorts over her shoulder.

I can see Ant and Dylan exchanging perturbed looks.

“April, be reasonable.” Ant hurries after her. “Look, we’ll discuss it.”

As I glance around, all the extras and crew are watching, riveted. What do we do now?

There’s a hurried confab going on between Dino and some other guy in a headset, then Dino strides toward the set.

“OK, lunch. Lunch, everybody.”

At once, the extras all start to head off, and Suze bounds across the set to me, as fast as she can in her big skirt.

“What did you do?” she demands.

“I didn’t do anything!”

“Well, everyone’s blaming you.”

“Really?” I stare at her in dismay. “That is so unfair!”

“No, they’re pleased. They might get overtime. Shall we go and get some lunch? They might have some more of that sushi. You know, I might become a full-time extra,” she adds as we walk along. “I’ve learned such a lot. There’s a special agency you join, and there’s plenty of work if you have the right look. You can make good money!”

Good money? I want to point out to Suze that she already has good money, what with her husband being a squillionaire, only she looks so animated, I don’t like to.

“And if you can ride a horse, that counts as a special skill,” she’s saying when a fresh-faced girl hurries up to us.

“Becky? Is one of you Becky?”

“That’s me,” I say, a bit nervously.

“Miss Tremont would like to see you in her trailer.”

Suze and I look at each other, agog. A trailer! A proper movie star wants to see me in her trailer!

“Can my friend come too?” I say.

“Sure. This way.”

I’m slightly disappointed in the trailer, to be honest. I was expecting it to be full of roses and champagne buckets and cards from the producers and maybe some signed photos from George Clooney, not just look like a mini-caravan with magazines and bottles of Evian and energy bars scattered around. April is on the phone as we enter, and I sit down cautiously on a bench-thing next to Suze.

I wouldn’t mind having a trailer, I find myself thinking idly. Imagine if, everywhere you went in life, there was a little trailer waiting for you to go and relax in whenever you felt like it.