‘Where will you be?’
‘Maidenhead, innit.’
‘What?’
I giggle, amused by my insider lingo. ‘England.’
‘Is that where you’re from?’
‘You’re quick,’ I tease. He grins and my insides go all jittery.
‘Obviously I knew you had an accent.’ Pause. ‘You look really familiar. Have I seen you around?’
‘I doubt it. I’ve only been here since Sunday.’ I fold my arms.
‘What’s your name?’
‘Jessie.’
‘I’m—’
‘Jack!’ a guy interrupts him with a shout. We break eye contact and look over to see four other teenagers from the dodgems waiting approximately ten metres away: two girls and two guys, one of whom is responsible for calling his name. ‘Are you coming on the slide?’
My spirits dip.
‘There in a bit,’ he calls back nonchalantly, his gaze returning to me. ‘I’m Jack, by the way.’
‘So I heard.’ I purse my lips, sensing that we still have his friends’ attention. One look over and I’m proved right – they haven’t moved. In fact, one of the girls – a tall, skinny blonde in a floaty lilac-coloured dress – seems a bit put out. Is she his girlfriend? Perhaps not, if he’s still here chatting to me, but I bet she wants to be. Who wouldn’t? For some reason, at that very moment, my brain chooses to show me a mental snapshot of Tom laughing.
‘You wanna come with us?’ Jack asks me, jerking his head in their direction while simultaneously jerking my focus back to him.
‘Sure.’ I’m leaving soon, and how many Hollywood parties am I likely to be invited to? I’d be stupid for not making the most of tonight. Jack is super-cute, and it’s not like Tom and I are even going out.
I follow him over to the group. The girl I noticed earlier shifts on her feet, but shoots daggers at me.
‘Hey guys, this is Jessie.’ Jack introduces me, then points to each of his friends. ‘Morgan, Miles, Bryony and Lissa.’
They all say hi – some more enthusiastically than others. Morgan is tall and skinny with short dark-blond hair and scuffed blue jeans, Miles is a bit shorter and broader with dark hair dyed orange at the tips – he’s dressed all in black – and Bryony is my height with medium-length dark hair. Lissa, the blonde one, barely even meets my eye. The girls are wearing expensive-looking dresses, which makes me feel better about my outfit, especially because the boys are pretty scruffy.
‘Take your time,’ Lissa says moodily to Jack.
‘You don’t have to babysit me, darlin’. I would have met y’all over there,’ Jack replies in a fake country accent. Lissa huffs. ‘So what’s your story?’ he asks me in his normal voice as we walk on. ‘Who are you here with?’
‘My . . .’ I almost say ‘my dad’, but I catch myself just in time. ‘Just some people who know Michael.’ I force myself to say Michael and not Michael Tremway so I don’t sound completely clueless.
‘Are you an actress?’ Lissa asks over her shoulder, in a slightly condescending way.
I throw my head back and laugh. ‘Hell, no.’ She looks even more put out as Jack smirks.
‘What about you?’ I ask him. ‘Why are you here?’
‘Oh, my dad knows Mike.’
Mike, not Michael. Bugger. I didn’t sound as clued up as I had intended.
‘How long are you in LA?’ he asks as we reach the helter-skelter.
‘Just until the day after tomorrow,’ I reply, as he passes me a mat to use on the giant slide.
‘What a shame,’ Lissa comments cattily, her disposition visibly improving.
‘Chill out, Lissa,’ Jack snaps. She stomps up the stairs huffily in front of us. We follow her to find a short queue at the top.
‘Excuse me!’ I move to one side as someone pushes past me, then I see who it is.
‘It’s the pushy old lady from the dodgems!’ I tug on Jack’s arm and we look after her with astonishment.
‘Who are you calling an old lady?’ she shouts angrily over her shoulder.
Shit, she heard me! I clap my hand over my mouth.
‘I’m forty-nine!’ she yells at the top of her voice as she shoves her way to the top.
Jack and I glance at each other and crack up laughing. The sound of her squealing as she rides down the slide only makes us laugh harder.
I’m still giggling when I come down the slide myself, and even the sight of Lissa whispering to Bryony at the bottom doesn’t wipe the smile from my face. Jack is behind me anyway, so I turn around to wait for him.
‘I wouldn’t get too close to him if I were you.’ I glance over my shoulder to see Lissa and Bryony have edged forward, but it’s Bryony, not Lissa, who spoke.
I raise one eyebrow. ‘Is he trouble?’ I’m being completely sarcastic, but it’s lost on them.
‘Yeah,’ they both reply in all seriousness.
‘OK. I’ll keep that in mind tonight.’ As if I’m going to fall for him in the next few hours. I roll my eyes and turn back in time to see Jack whizz down the slide. Trouble or not, he’s hot.
‘Are you sure we don’t know each other?’ he asks again as he walks over to me.
‘Trust me, if I knew you, I’d remember you.’ I can’t believe I said that without blushing.
He chuckles and shakes his head. ‘You really remind me of someone.’
And then it hits me. Does he mean Johnny?
‘What?’ he asks because I must’ve looked a bit on edge.
‘Nothing,’ I brush him off.
‘Come on.’ He touches his hand lightly to my back and a shiver goes down my spine. ‘Catch you later,’ he calls back to his pals.
Taylor Swift’s ‘I Knew You Were Trouble’ starts to play out of the speakers and it’s everything I can do not to laugh out loud. Maybe Taylor’s trying to tell me something.
Jack digs his hand into his pocket as we walk, pulling out a crumpled packet of cigarettes. He nods up ahead. ‘Let’s go around the back. The music’s better.’
‘You don’t like Swifty? I prefer indie rock myself, but you can’t deny a catchy tune when you hear one.’
‘My little sis is obsessed. But there’s only so much Taylor Swift a guy can take.’ He pauses and offers me a cigarette. I’m semi-tempted, but I decline. I don’t really need one and I’m sure Meg and Johnny wouldn’t approve.
‘I bet Harry Styles would agree with you.’
‘Who?’ he asks through a trail of smoke as we keep walking.
‘Harry Styles from One Direction. He went out with her.’
‘Oh, them.’ He glances at me. ‘Now it’s all coming out. I thought you liked good music like the Wombats.’
‘I do!’ I exclaim. ‘Anyway, you’re the one with a Zayn Malik comic-book tattoo.’ I grab his wrist and twist his arm so his tattoo is on show. ‘He’s got one like this, only his says ZAP!
Jack stops in his tracks and stares at me directly. ‘Zayn?’
I shrug. ‘He’s in One Direction too.’
‘Jesus Christ,’ he says with a grin. ‘Katy Perry, Taylor Swift, One Direction . . . You are so not a rock chick.’
I frown. ‘Who says I like Katy Perry?’
‘I saw you dancing away to her on the bumper cars.’ He raises one eyebrow at me and keeps on walking.
‘Did you?’ He noticed me before I noticed him? We reach the path lit by torches, hanging back as a kart whizzes past.
‘Moments before you nearly took me out,’ he adds, crossing the path to the grass on the other side.
‘Yeah, well, this is coming from someone who has a One Direction tattoo,’ I tease.
‘I do not have a One Direction tattoo,’ he says firmly, stopping again and facing me.
‘He who protests too much,’ I say in a pretend plummy accent.
‘I bet I got mine done first,’ he says.
‘Bet you didn’t.’
‘How much?’ He raises one eyebrow.
‘How much what?’
&
nbsp; ‘How much do you want to bet?’
I laugh. ‘Are you serious? You really want to have a bet about this?’ I hesitate. ‘OK, you’re on,’ I decide. ‘What are the odds?’
‘The loser has to jump in the pool naked.’
My mouth falls open. ‘No way.’
‘OK, in their underwear,’ he concedes, walking on.
‘Are you taking the piss?’ I walk after him. ‘There is no way in hell I’m getting into that pool in front of all of those people. I wouldn’t get in, even if I was wearing a bikini.’
‘Why not?’ He takes a casual drag and eyes me up and down, a smile playing about his lips. My stomach ties itself in knots as he takes me in.
‘I’m not that much of an exhibitionist,’ I reply. ‘I saw Macy slip over on the marble earlier in her wet bikini. Fell flat on her arse.’
‘Macy?’
‘Yeah, you know, Michael Tremway’s daughter.’ There I go again, saying Michael instead of Mike.
He grins. ‘You mean Charlotte?’
‘Hey?’ Then I realise my mistake and start to laugh. ‘I’ve been calling her Macy inside my head since I arrived. Little Miss Mulholland is one of my favourite TV shows.’ Was it really uncool to admit that? Oh well, add it to the list.
Jack looks amused as he takes a final suck on his cigarette and flicks it on the ground. I step on it and grind it into the grass with the sole of my shoe. ‘You trying to start a fire?’
‘You sound like my mom,’ he says wryly.
At least he’s got one.
That’s the first time I’ve thought about my mum all evening. ‘I need another drink. At least they don’t seem to care about the age limit here?’ I pause. ‘How old are you, anyway?’
‘Eighteen,’ he replies. ‘And here that’s still underage. Good thing it’s a private party. You can get away with a lot of stuff.’
The way he says ‘a lot’ seems ominous.
We spy a serving girl near the corner of the house and swipe a couple of glasses. The music is louder than it was when we arrived and there are a few less people in the pool. The sky is now dark blue up above, an orange tinge visible on the horizon behind the far-off trees. I wonder what time it is. I hope Meg and Johnny aren’t looking for me.
Jack sits down on a sunlounger and stretches out, crossing his legs. He pats the one beside him.
‘Take a seat.’
I’m careful not to flash my knickers as I do. From here we have a perfect view of everyone in the swimming pool and the house behind it. All of the lights are on inside now and the windows are casting a warm glow which reaches us even from this distance.
Cold War Kids’ ‘Hang Me Up To Dry’ comes on the sound system. ‘I like this song,’ I say.
‘My bro’s DJ-ing,’ he tells me.
‘Is he really? That’s cool.’
‘He won’t be playing any One Direction, though,’ he says to mock me.
‘Aw, I’m so sorry for you,’ I mock him right back. ‘Come on, then, I’m not jumping into the pool naked or in my underwear, so you may as well just tell me when you got your tat done,’ I say, taking a sip of my drink.
‘About four years ago.’
‘Bullshit!’ I splutter. ‘That would have made you fourteen!’
‘Yep.’
‘You’re not allowed to get tattoos until you’re eighteen! Believe me, I checked. At least, not without parental consent and there’s no way in hell I was getting that.’ I remember that particular argument with Mum. Libby was on Mum’s side, as usual. She couldn’t believe I was considering getting a tattoo. It was a month or so before Mum died, but even then we’d already started to grow apart. I try not to dwell on it. I’m having too good a time to spoil it now. ‘Is it different over here?’
‘I don’t know,’ he says. ‘My older brother’s buddy did mine.’
‘Didn’t your parents go mental?’
He shrugs. ‘My parents don’t really mind what I do.’ My face falls and he notices. ‘Not minding is not the same as not caring,’ he points out. ‘They’re just pretty laidback, that’s all.’
‘Oh.’ They sound like Natalie’s parents, and that’s not so bad.
‘What are yours like?’ he asks.
‘Um . . .’ Conversation killer alert! I seriously don’t want to talk about this. ‘Is that Macy?’ I sit upright as I see a girl coming out of the house.
Jack follows my gaze. ‘You mean Charlotte?’
Whoops. Did it again. ‘That’s the one.’
He smirks. ‘You want me to introduce you?’
‘You know her?’
‘I know Charlotte,’ he says pointedly. ‘She’s a friend of my sister’s.’
‘No way! Is she nice?’ Out of the blue I feel nervous. ‘I mean, is she . . .’
‘A bit of a bitch?’ he interrupts. ‘Oh, yeah, comes with teen star territory,’ he says nonchalantly. ‘But you seem to be able to handle yourself.’
I raise one eyebrow. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
He grins, but ignores me. ‘Here she comes.’
I look back over to see her approaching the pool. A couple of her friends sitting on nearby sunloungers stand up and wave her over. Jack gets another cigarette out of his pocket, but stays where he is. I decline his offer, too edgy to smoke, ironically. She glances over at us and her face lights up.
‘Hey, Jack!’ She leaves her friends looking after her as she heads over to us. ‘Where’s Agnes?’
Who’s Agnes? Is that his girlfriend?
‘Not here tonight,’ he replies.
‘Oh yeah, I forgot about her and Drew.’
She leans over and gives him a hug, then spies his cigarette. ‘Oh, let me have a drag.’ She takes it from between his fingers, but he doesn’t seem to mind. She perches on the edge of his sun-lounger, facing away from me. Her dress is low-cut at the back and she’s so skinny, I can see her ribs as she inhales deeply.
‘I needed this,’ she mutters, taking another long drag before handing the cigarette back.
‘You want one?’ Jack asks.
‘No. Mike’ll go crazy if he sees me.’
Mike? Does she call her dad, Mike?
Jack taps her shoulder and jerks his head in my direction. ‘This is Jessie, by the way.’
I’ve been sitting here, watching this entire exchange and feeling totally left out, but now she swivels around and looks almost surprised to see me. I didn’t know I had invisible powers.
‘Oh, hi,’ she says, then frowns. ‘Sorry, who are you?’
‘Jessie,’ I repeat.
‘That doesn’t answer my question.’
‘Jessie likes your show,’ Jack says calmly.
‘Oh.’ That seems to placate her, strangely.
‘She’s over here from England for a few days.’
‘I love England!’ she says, warm all of a sudden as she swings her legs over Jack’s to face me. ‘Which part?’
‘Berkshire.’
She wrinkles her nose up.
‘It’s not that far from London,’ I explain.
‘I love London,’ she says, her blue eyes widening. ‘It’s so pretty and so . . .’ She thinks for the right word and comes up with ‘quaint.’
I’m not sure about that, but I’m too distracted to comment. I can’t believe I’m sitting here talking to Charlotte Tremway.
She pats Jack’s thigh and nabs his fag again. ‘So how have you been, baby?’
‘Yeah, I’m good. You know me.’
‘Yes, I do.’ She blows smoke over the top of his head and I seem to have invoked my powers of invisibility once more. I don’t even want to know what she means by that comment. She certainly seems very comfortable with him.
‘Are you all set for the seventh?’ she asks.
‘Pretty much,’ he replies as he takes his cigarette back. ‘My band’s playing a gig on August seventh,’ he tells me.
‘Cool,’ I say.
‘Way cool,’ Charlotte adds, not looking at me. ‘I
’m still working on getting you guys on my show.’ She pats his thigh again.
‘Charlotte, do you want a drink?’ one of her friends calls from nearby.
‘There in a minute,’ she replies over her shoulder, in a bored-sounding voice.
Are all of the girls in LA complete bitches? Much as I’m a fan of the show, I really wouldn’t mind if its leading actress buggered off right about now.
‘So what’s up with you?’ Jack asks her, and I start to think that maybe it’s time I went to find Meg and Johnny.
‘Usual crap. C driving me insane. Mike being an A-hole. Did you know he’s letting them kill off Bessie in this next series?’
‘You know I don’t watch it,’ Jack replies, while I wrack my brain to think which character is called Bessie in real life. I give up. I can’t be bothered to think right now and I find myself tuning out.
‘Maps’ by Yeah Yeah Yeahs is playing now. I lean my head back on the sunlounger and look up at the stars that are starting to appear overhead. I hum along.
‘OK, you’re starting to win back some of my respect,’ Jack says. I realise his comment is directed at me.
‘You’ve still got a long way to go,’ I reply without missing a beat.
‘How do you two know each other?’ Charlotte interrupts with a frown, her eyes drifting to the slit up the side of my skirt and my bare midriff.
‘We met tonight,’ I tell her, sucking in my tummy as a precaution. I am so not Hollywood skinny. At that point I see Lissa and Bryony on the terrace. They’ve spotted us.
‘Charlotte!’ Lissa calls.
Great, they’re friends. Of course they are.
‘Where the hell have you been?’ Charlotte exclaims as she scrambles off Jack and hurries over to her.
Alone again. At last.
‘Heart-Shaped Box’ by Nirvana starts to play. Johnny looks a bit like a cleaner-cut Kurt Cobain, I muse. I should probably go and find Johnny and Meg soon. But I really don’t want to leave Jack, yet . . .
‘Your brother has got good taste in music,’ I say, forcing Johnny and Meg out of my mind for a bit longer.
‘Come meet him,’ Jack says suddenly, standing up.
‘OK.’ I get up, touched that he wants me to meet his brother.
‘You know, you still owe me a forfeit,’ he says as we walk alongside the pool. ‘I won the bet.’