How to be Famous

by Alison Bond

  ‘Eventually I’ll have to,’ said Lynsey. ‘We get too many calls from people who have been referred to me.’

  ‘What do you do?’

  ‘I say I’ll call them back, tell the office that people keep making that mistake because we’re friends and then I call them back from the lobby.’

  ‘Have I told you how grateful I am?’ said Serena.

  She hadn’t and Lynsey was occasionally getting a bit tired of the whole thing. She knew she could get into trouble but she kept doing it because it made her feel that unique buzz that comes from having a secret. And Serena could be huge, she really could. If she wanted to officially sign up with CMG Lynsey was certain that they would welcome her as a client with open arms and big promises. But Serena insisted on this conspiratorial approach. ‘I like informality,’ she’d said and Lynsey could hardly disagree with that. Besides, her handful of commissions had kept her hair in perfect shape.

  ‘I’ll make it up to you, I promise,’ said Serena. ‘I owe you a favour.’

  At CMG the next day Douglas Mullraine called for Max Parker.

  Max and Douglas spoke for a few minutes and when the call ended Max shouted out to the office, ‘Who’s free tonight?’

  Lynsey said, ‘Me,’ hoping for a ticket to a premiere or a launch party but when she saw the look on Sheridan’s face she knew she should have kept her mouth shut.

  ‘Great,’ said Max. ‘You’re going out with Douglas Mullraine.’

  Lynsey knew the name and it took her a minute to make the connection: Melanie Chaplin’s brother-in-law – bit of a wanker, if she remembered correctly.

  Douglas was important to Max. The London theatre producer had offered to cut CMG a deal on his three West End theatres, letting them provide the US talent for a set number of productions a year in return for a slice of the CMG commission. This was useful to Douglas because US names pulled in the business, perversely enough with the lucrative American share of the London tourists. They might be willing to fly five thousand miles for a change of scenery, but they all seemed more comfortable with a familiar face on the stage. For Max it meant a share of the box office, and a unique cross-media packaging idea. For CMG it meant reviving a few floundering careers and getting some of the more demanding clients out of the country for a couple of months. For the talent it meant treading the boards in London’s West End, a cultivated addition to any résumé. Everyone’s a winner.

  ‘Get some cash from Linda and show him a good time,’ said Max.

  A free night out, how bad could it be?

  ‘Oh,’ he said, ‘and take a friend. A blonde.’

  ‘Excuse me?’ said Lynsey.

  ‘He likes blondes,’ said Max, as if that explained everything.

  Lynsey clicked the heels of her ruby-red sandals together as she waited for Serena outside the club. This made her feel trashy. She didn’t know much about Douglas Mullraine and she hoped that he wasn’t expecting one or both of them to accompany him back to his hotel. To her surprise, Serena had agreed immediately when Lynsey mentioned Douglas’s name.

  ‘He’s that loaded English guy, right?’ she’d said.

  Lynsey hadn’t expected her to know him. Maybe Douglas was more important than she’d thought.

  But Serena made it her business to know the rich ones. Douglas was a very wealthy man, the sort of man who liked to be seen in all the right places and would pay a thousand dollars a plate to do so. He could help her break into a section of Los Angeles society that was closed to her, the section with the most expensive tables.

  Serena arrived a few minutes later, easy to spot because of appreciative whistles that followed her wherever she went.

  The Boca Bar had opened only a few months ago but had quickly established itself as the place to see and be seen. Sheridan had suggested they went there; she knew Douglas would be desperate to say that he had seen it. As usual a crowd of paparazzi waited outside to get candid shots they could sell to the celebrity magazines. There was a flutter of flashlights when Serena entered and the assembled press prepared to wait for her exit. As a rule, you always got better shots after a few drinks and a little dancing. Sometimes you got lucky and someone fell over or left the club with a member of the opposite sex. They made a note of Serena’s outfit so that they’d spot her quickly on her departure.

  ‘Hi, Lynsey. This place is pretty cool,’ said Serena. She was excited. This would be her first time in a nightclub. It had taken her twenty minutes and thirty dollars to procure a fake ID from a guy hanging out by the video games in Tower Records. She could hear the music and feel the bass through the soles of her silver shoes. ‘Let’s go.’

  Lynsey grabbed Serena’s arm and pushed them both to the front of he queue, elbowing disgruntled clubbers out of her way.

  ‘Do you come here a lot?’ asked Serena.

  ‘Some,’ said Lynsey, although she had never been before. She didn’t want Serena to know that she spent most nights reading scripts or sitting on a rooftop with a couple of pensioners. Sheridan had told her exactly what to do and so she turned on a dazzling smile for the doorman. ‘Hey, Bernie. How ya doing?’

  ‘Hey, girl. Looking the bomb.’

  Sheridan had said, ‘Wear something tiny and pretend like you know him,’ so Lynsey was wearing a sheer black top that only just covered her nipples and making like Bernie was her best friend. It seemed to work. Bernie checked out first Lynsey and then Serena. Serena smiled on cue and Bernie pulled aside the red rope.

  ‘There’ll be a guy looking for me. Can you point him up to the gallery?’ said Lynsey.

  ‘Sure thing, precious,’ said Bernie, swiftly pocketing the folded twenty Lynsey slipped into his hand. ‘What name is it?’

  ‘Lynsey Dixon, CMG.’ She was starting to like the way that sounded.

  He waved them in and Serena and Lynsey entered the club.

  The air inside was warm and damp, the sunken dance floor was crowded and the mixed clientele grooved to heavy R&B. Serena stayed close to Lynsey as she weaved through the crowds, smiling here and there but not stopping to talk. They climbed some stairs and found a table on the mezzanine level with an all-encompassing view of the club. They watched for a while as the clientele moved like an unending samba between the dance floor and the small under-lit tables.

  The music was hard, sensual and too loud to really talk. They grinned at each other periodically instead.

  Lynsey nudged Serena and pointed down into the crowd. Serena followed her gaze until she spotted a man who must be Douglas Mullraine. Douglas looked like a kid in the candy store, eyeing up the female flesh on display. He looked hopelessly out of place in his grey single-breasted suit, a good twenty-five years over the average age of the assorted revellers. His progress was slow. Eventually he climbed the stairs and descended on their table.

  ‘You must be Lynsey,’ he said, wondering if she knew that you could almost see her nipples.

  ‘Hi, and this is Serena.’

  They all shook hands rather formally and Douglas summoned the waitress and asked for champagne, all the while looking at the blonde. Gorgeous, just gorgeous. When Douglas sat down he immediately put his hand on Serena’s thigh under the table. She shook it off but smiled as she did so.

  Douglas seemed to take this in his stride. ‘So, ever been to London?’ he asked, addressing her breasts rather than her eyes.

  ‘No, but I’d love to.’

  ‘I’d be glad to show you the sights,’ said Douglas, managing to load an innocent sentence with as much innuendo as possible. ‘Champagne?’

  ‘I don’t drink,’ said Serena.

  ‘Clever girl,’ he said. ‘Fancy treading the boards? You’d make an excellent Juliet.’

  ‘I bet that’s what you say to all the girls,’ said Serena. She was flirting on automatic pilot, knowing from the way he was looking at her that he would do anything she wanted him to.

  Douglas laughed. ‘Only the beautiful ones.’

  He was loving this. A hot club wit
h a couple of hot women. His wife had suggested that he took Melanie Chaplin out to dinner while he was in town but given a choice between being here with a couple of girls who, let’s face it, were probably being paid to be here and be nice to him, or sitting opposite his sister-in-law trying to thaw the block of ice she seemed to have permanently stuck up her arse, he’d take the Boca Bar every time. He raised his glass at Serena and wondered how to get her into bed.

  Midnight came and went and Douglas got steadily drunk on a second bottle of Cristal, his hand constantly straying to Serena’s thigh. His nose and cheeks were flushed red and when he took off his suit jacket dark patches of sweat showed up on his shirt. When Lynsey suggested a dance Douglas declined but stared at the two girls from his vantage point.

  Eventually he wanted to leave and Serena allowed Douglas to escort her home courtesy of his car and driver.

  ‘You stay,’ she said to Lynsey, who was enjoying the music.

  ‘Are you sure?’ She was having far too much fun dancing to leave yet but she had seen the way Douglas had been looking at Serena and gestured towards him now with a slight tilt of her head.

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ said Serena and Lynsey didn’t need any more convincing.

  The cameras popped when Serena and Douglas walked outside and Douglas loved the way that made him feel important.

  As they hit the freeway Douglas leant across the backseat and when Serena turned her head away he placed a wet and clumsy kiss on her neck. She sprang back as if she had been stung and automatically wiped the damp patch from her skin. Douglas looked crestfallen.

  ‘Oh, come on. The innocent act was fine in the club but we’re alone now. Don’t tell me you’re not that kind of girl.’

  ‘I’m not,’ she said. ‘Get off me.’

  Remarkably, it had the desired effect. Douglas shrank back in his seat like a scolded schoolboy. Serena made a mental note: responds well to direct orders. ‘The Chateau, please,’ she said. ‘Then on to West Hollywood.’

  The car sped off into the night again and true to his word Douglas behaved himself, even asking permission to kiss her cheek when they reached his hotel. Serena was certain that he would call.

  The overnight celebrity shots reached Junket within a couple of hours and Riley Daniels glanced through them immediately. There were a few photos of Serena Simon. One solo shot, she was throwing one of her usual smiles, and one of her being herded into the back of a car by a man he didn’t recognize.

  Riley took a long look at the second picture. The man didn’t look familiar, and certainly wasn’t photogenic, but judging from his car he had some money. He stuck the picture in his back pocket and resolved to find out who it was. Best case scenario: he was someone, next best: married.

  *

  Lynsey decided that the Boca Bar was her new favourite place. She was glad that she had let Serena leave without her. Dancing was good for the soul.

  It was true. California did know how to party. She needed to get out more. And not just to industry freebies where the people and the canapés reminded her of industry freebies at home but with an American accent and a low-fat option. What was the point in a whole new life if the fabric of it remained the same? Work was good, now it was time to play.

  The movement and the music filled her up until there was no room left for idle thoughts, only the tune. It was happiness on a turntable, the needle on the record delivering the drug straight to her heart. It flooded her with a natural high that made her dance with strangers like they were lovers. A sunny melody tripped across a thumping bass beat that rattled the walls and made the dance floor feel like a single beast, moving as one, sharing the beat.

  God, she felt sexy.

  She tried to dance like nobody was watching, as she always tried to do, but when she span around, hands in the air carving the sky, she became aware of a pair of warm blue eyes digging her moves.

  She smiled at him. A come-on smile. The sort of smile she didn’t throw away lightly. It would take a thunderbolt of a man to make her give up the single life she loved and though she missed a warm body sometimes she always resisted the urge to pick up handsome strangers. She didn’t want to turn into a slut, or worse, a heart-breaker.

  Blue Eyes smiled back and continued to look at her.

  She danced a little more provocatively. A toned and shirtless stranger started to dance with her, all muscle and salty perspiration. The music changed and the beat grew even more sensual. All this flesh, all these hot sweaty bodies, it was turning her on. She needed something just for the moment. Her body craved another body that would fit into her and fill her up.

  She watched out of the corner of her eye as Blue Eyes put down his glass and made his way towards her.

  Time for some quick decisions. She didn’t want to act all sexy and then have to back off if she changed her mind. Pricktease is a nasty word.

  Blue Eyes came closer, good smile, good teeth – amazing teeth actually, unlikely to be real – and tall. He towered over her and made her feel instantly petite and two dress sizes smaller.

  Blue Eyes stood behind her and placed his hands on her hips to pick up her rhythm. She decided that if he could dance she’d notch up the flirtation factor to full force. It didn’t have to mean anything.

  Blue Eyes could dance. An hour later Lynsey had found out that his name was Toby and had him pinned up against the wall in the ladies’ bathroom. She could feel his excitement growing. He was huge!

  Even the most committed single girl has to satisfy her urges once in a while. She was a woman; she had needs.

  Meanwhile, Toby Jones, a blue-eyed real estate agent who had come to the Boca Bar for the first time tonight, couldn’t believe his luck. She was mad for him, this gorgeous girl. What a stud he was.

  Lynsey was having a good time and trying to shut out the angel that was perched on her left shoulder telling her that she was being a bad girl and listening only to the devil on her right who was telling her that this felt good. So good.

  Their breath came in fast, hot pants as they stumbled against the walls of the cramped cubicle; she enjoyed feeling the full length of another body against hers and tasting the crunching kisses of an excited man.

  She pulled open his shirt and sank her mouth into his firm chest, loving his sharp intake of breath and the way he grabbed at the hair on the nape of her neck and pulled her into him. His hands were roaming over her back and grabbing at her thin shirt. She paused, it was her favourite shirt, and pulled it over her head. Toby began to kiss her shoulders and her straight-laced angel finally shut the hell up.

  Toby was giddy with desire. This kind of thing never happened to him. This was hot, right? Hot club, hot woman. So why couldn’t he concentrate? His elbow jabbed painfully against the wall and his left arm went dead. He cried out and heard a giggle from the next stall. Two giggles. He remembered where he was. There was something pressing into his left hip, he became more aware of the dull ache there and his throbbing elbow than he was of Lynsey’s bare breasts pressed up against his chest. A woman outside was complaining about a runner in her pantyhose. A few stalls along someone was clearing her throat and he had a bad feeling she was preparing to vomit. The moment was gone.

  With a sinking heart and a similarly affected libido he pulled away. ‘Do you wanna…?’

  ‘Do you have a condom?’ she said.

  He pulled further away and took his unharmed arm from around her waist. He looked at her face. The lighting here was stronger than inside the club. She was a gorgeous girl but she looked a little blurred around the edges and he wondered how much she’d had to drink. He untangled his legs from hers and looked at the damp floor beneath her pretty feet. Her toenails were painted shiny red like ripe cherries.

  ‘Do you wanna take a break?’ he said.

  Lynsey’s passion deflated with a breath of indignation, followed by a rush of shame that coloured her face.

  ‘Hey,’ he said. ‘It’s just, you know, kinda sleazy.’ He smiled to soften his wor
ds but they still came out wrong.

  She backed away as much as she could but there wasn’t much room to manoeuvre. She reached past him to grab her top and pulled it back on.

  ‘Whatever,’ she said.

  Lynsey hoped he would mistake the burn on her cheeks for lingering desire rather than the embarrassment of rejection. Five seconds ago he had been hungry and now he was full? What had she done?

  She fumbled with the lock on the door. It jammed and she swore in exasperation.

  ‘It’s okay,’ he said.

  ‘I just want to get out of here.’ She pulled at the lock and it finally freed, spilling them both out into the line of people waiting for a free stall. There were a few smiles but more disgusted looks. Lynsey grinned and tried to bear it. She was practically running out of the door.

  ‘Wait!’ Toby caught up with her just outside and reached out for her hand. ‘Slow down.’

  ‘It’s fine,’ she said. ‘You’re right. It was sleazy. Forget it.’ More than anything she wanted to forget it. Get outside, get in a cab, go home. She never should have stayed.

  ‘Do you want to get a drink?’ he said.

  ‘We didn’t do anything, don’t feel like you have to buy me a drink.’

  ‘I know I don’t have to. Would you like a drink?’

  ‘I’m going to go home.’

  ‘See, now I’ve made you feel bad,’ said Toby.

  She rubbed her nose and said, ‘I’m fine.’

  She was sure that he must feel as awkward as she did, still hot with the creeping shame of humiliation. She had thrown herself at him. She was a slut, what would her mother say? And worse, he had turned her down. She started to feel distinctly unattractive. Everywhere she looked there were women more beautiful than her. Californian blondes and sultry Hispanics swam in front of her eyes. She wasn’t special.

  ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Let me buy you a beer.’

  He smiled down at her. The smile looked genuine. And even though what she really wanted to do was get outside, get a cab, go home, she said, ‘Okay.’