I nod, and immediately afterwards want to cry again, this time with relief more than anything else.
I can’t believe Tom texted me last night. I still haven’t texted him back, but I will. I wonder if he is one of the ‘friends’ that I’ll be telling the truth to? First things first: I ring Natalie.
‘Hi!’ she exclaims when she answers.
‘Hi!’
‘I thought you were going to call me earlier?’ she says. I’d forgotten I said I would when I texted her from the limo. ‘I was going to go and get ready for bed in a minute,’ she adds.
‘Sorry. It’s been a bit hectic here.’ It went through my mind to call her last night when I got back from the gig, but my head was all over the place, and after the way she reacted when I told her about Johnny, I still wasn’t sure I wanted to confide in her.
‘Where are you?’ she asks.
‘Still in LA.’
‘When are you coming back?’
‘A week on Sunday,’ I reply.
‘So are you going to tell me what’s going on? You’re with your real dad?’ She sounds a little detached. I suppose she feels like I’ve shunned her by barely seeing her before I went away, and then disappearing for weeks. I can’t blame her.
‘Yeah,’ I say slowly.
‘Wow. That’s mental.’
I hesitate. ‘You know what I said about Johnny Jefferson?’
‘Yeah,’ she replies carefully.
‘Well, it’s true.’
I hear her snort. She doesn’t sound very amused. ‘Have a look online,’ I say calmly. ‘We’re putting out a press release today so the news that Johnny has a daughter will be up there soon. But we’re not telling anyone that it’s me. We’re going to try and keep my identity a secret.’
Silence.
‘Natalie? I mean it. You can’t tell anyone who I am. I want to remain anonymous.’
More silence, then, ‘This is getting a bit beyond a joke, Jess.’
I take a deep breath, and I can’t help but sound angry when I speak. ‘How would I know that there’s going to be a press release put out about Johnny Jefferson’s fifteen-year-old daughter who wants to remain anonymous because she’s still at school? Hey? Why else would I be in LA for God’s sake?’
She doesn’t answer.
‘Call me back when it hits the news,’ I say, and then I hang up.
Bloody hell. Next I ring Libby.
‘Hey!’ she exclaims as warmth rushes through me. It’s good to hear her voice. ‘I got your message about your new number. I’ve been meaning to text you.’
Then why didn’t she? Probably because she still hasn’t forgiven me for treating her the way I did.
‘I would have called you sooner, but it’s been a bit full-on here and—’ My voice cuts off as I hear a girl speaking in the background.
‘Hang on a sec,’ Libby says, and the line is muffled while she covers the receiver. She comes back on the line. ‘Sorry, I’m staying over at Amanda’s,’ she says casually.
‘Oh, right.’ This revelation should hardly be surprising, let alone hurt me, but hurt it does. Has Libby spent every day of her summer holidays getting closer to Amanda, having sleepovers and living in each other’s pockets, like she used to do with me? I wonder if she misses me, even a little bit? I press on, because this needs to be said. ‘I just wanted to tell you that that secret I told you about, you know, the one you’re not allowed to repeat to anybody?’
She hesitates before answering. ‘Yes . . .’
‘Well, it’s about to hit the press.’
‘Oh!’
‘Johnny is going to tell everyone he has a daughter, but he’s not going to release my name, Libby. So you still have to keep quiet about it. Don’t tell Amanda,’ I add, wincing at the thought of her doing just that, the moment she hangs up.
‘I’ve already told you I won’t,’ she snaps.
But even as we end the call, I’m not sure I believe her.
I bring up the text from Tom. I think for a long while before replying.
I’m still in LA. Lots to talk to you about when I get home. Definitely still on for that movie x
I press send and flop back on to the bed. Thinking about Tom reminds me how much I do like him. He is gorgeous with his brown hair and brown eyes. Boy-next-door hot and his texts show he likes me back. But then there’s Jack. Rock-God-in-the-making, Jack. I roll over and hug a pillow to my chest. My phone beeps again and I snatch it up.
You free this afternoon? Want to grab a coffee?
Agnes x
I bolt upright. Agnes? How did she get my number? What’s she doing texting me? There’s only one way to find out. My head is buzzing as I reply with a yes.
Chapter 26
‘I’d rather you didn’t go,’ Johnny says when I ask if Davey can take me to the Mondrian Hotel. Apparently there’s a bar there with a swimming pool where Agnes claims she likes to hang out. She says she’ll grab a table with a view.
‘Why not?’ I feel crushed. I’m desperate to find out why she wants to see me. What if it’s about Jack?
He puts his mug down on the kitchen table. He, Meg and the boys are having an afternoon snack of tea and chocolate chip cookies. I still don’t have an appetite.
‘Annie is putting the press release out any minute. You might be followed.’
‘I won’t be if I leave now,’ I say quickly.
He stares at me. Meg puts her hand on his knee. ‘Let her go,’ she says. ‘The limo is darkened anyway, so Davey will get her back without being papped.’
Johnny sighs. ‘OK,’ he mutters. ‘But be careful.’
‘Thanks!’ I run upstairs to get ready.
Agnes is already at the Skybar, as I discover it’s called. I half expect to see Lissa or Charlotte with her, but she’s sitting alone on a cushioned bench, in front of a wall of glass overlooking the city, her face in an e-reader with a cup of coffee on the table in front of her. The bar is open-air, with a swimming pool taking up a large chunk of the floor space. Giant, white, square-shaped ‘beds’ are dotted around the space, providing very laidback seating.
‘Hi,’ I say when I reach her table.
‘Hi!’ she exclaims, jumping to her feet and kissing me on my cheeks. She’s wearing flats and I’m in heels, so we’re about the same height. ‘I’m glad you came.’
I tentatively take a seat beside her, leaning my back against one of the cushions pressed up against the glass, and trying not to look down. It’s almost enough to give you vertigo. Agnes is wearing a short dress with a geographical pattern on it. I’m in a navy blue maxi dress. We’ve both got our sunnies on.
‘I was surprised by your text. How did you get my number?’ I ask.
‘I stole it from Jack’s phone.’ Her reply is causal, but I tense up when I hear his name.
‘I’m sorry about Eve,’ she surprises me by saying.
‘What about her?’ I try to sound unbothered.
‘She really needs to get a life. No girl should fall for my brother,’ she adds, and I wish I could see her eyes behind her dark glasses.
I raise one eyebrow at her.
‘He told me about Johnny being your dad.’
I freeze. Now it all becomes clear. She’s suddenly interested in me because of Johnny.
‘Well, I’d appreciate it if you kept that to yourself.’ There’s a sharpness to my tone, and I’m sure she can hear it.
‘Oh, Jeez.’ She waves me away. ‘I don’t care about crap like that. You think I haven’t heard enough gossip? Been subjected to enough of it, myself?’
I instantly feel humbled. I guess when you come from this kind of background, finding out a rock star has a secret child is no big deal.
She beckons a waitress over. ‘You want a coffee?’ she asks me.
‘I might just have a lemonade,’ I tell the waitress. It’s late in the day, but it’s still hot and humid. ‘I’m confused,’ I say to Agnes when the waitress has gone off again. ‘Why did you invite me here???
?
She shrugs. ‘You seem interesting. Different. There’s not much of that around here.’
‘Oh.’ I feel strangely honoured. ‘What about Jack?’
‘What about him?’
‘Well, you know, if he’s back with Eve . . . Do you really think he’ll want me hanging out with you?’
‘If I let that sort of thing bother me, I wouldn’t have any friends at all,’ she says drily.
Does she mean . . .?
‘Jack gets around a lot,’ she clarifies, seeing the look on my face.
Great. Yes, she does mean that. The waitress returns with my drink. I take my sunnies off and clean them on my dress.
‘I wasn’t lying yesterday, though. He really was bummed when you left.’
I glance at her. ‘What do you mean by that, exactly?’
‘Moping around, looking like a sad, sorry little puppy dog. He’s not usually like that over a girl.’
Hope sparks inside me, and I wish it wouldn’t. I don’t want to care about him. Not now. Not after last night.
‘That’s what I thought,’ she says calmly.
‘I didn’t say anything.’
‘You didn’t have to.’ She leans forward and takes a sip of her coffee. ‘I can tell by your expression that you’re still into him.’
What does this girl want with me?
‘Hey, you wanna come with me to Lottie’s house later?’ She surprises me with a complete change of subject.
‘Lottie?’ I put my sunglasses back on.
‘Charlotte. I call her Lottie. Known her since we were kids,’ she says.
‘Charlotte Tremway? Is she having a party or something?’
‘No, she’s just hanging out with some friends.’
‘Sorry, I just don’t know why you’d be inviting me to Charlotte Tremway’s house.’ Obviously I’ve been there. I went there for Michael’s birthday, but that was with Johnny. ‘I don’t know her. I barely know you.’
‘Yeah, but you will. And this is a good place to start.’
Bizarrely, I find myself agreeing. I don’t know why. Agnes even talks me into going back to hers first, as she seems to think she has something perfect for me in her closet to wear. Again, I have no idea why I agree to this. Going back to Jack’s house? Surely not smart. But then I figure, what the hell. I’ve got nothing to lose. And if Agnes really thinks I’m interesting? Well, the feeling is mutual. There’s certainly something about her, and in the absence of my friends back home, I could do with some girl company.
Her car is valet-parked at the hotel, so we wait outside the foyer until a gleaming white Ford GTI pulls up. I still can’t get used to the wheel being on the opposite side of the car, so when she climbs into what is the passenger’s side in the UK, I’m momentarily confused. Then I realise my mistake and get in the car beside her.
‘I thought you were expecting me to drive for a minute,’ I say.
‘My friends and I all drive each other’s cars. I wouldn’t have minded,’ she replies nonchalantly.
‘I don’t have a licence,’ I say. ‘I’m only fifteen and a half.’ Wait a minute. ‘Haven’t you just turned sixteen?’
‘Yeah, and?’
‘Do you have your licence?’ I’m suddenly a little bit worried.
‘Yeah!’ She laughs. ‘You can get your licence at sixteen here.’
‘Oh, right.’ Actually, I think I do know that from watching American TV shows. ‘Are you sure Charlotte isn’t going to mind me gatecrashing?’ I seem to be doing a lot of that lately.
‘Hell, no. The more the merrier.’
I have to ask, even though the question makes me feel ill. ‘So has Jack slept with Charlotte, too, then?’
‘No,’ she scoffs. ‘They’ve messed around, but he’s not that stupid. She’d have him by his balls.’
That doesn’t make me feel much better.
‘What about Lissa?’ I know I’m not going to like this.
‘Same,’ she replies.
OK. No sex, just . . . messing. Yuck.
‘Bryony?’ I ask wearily.
‘No, not Bryony.’
Phew.
‘Yet,’ she adds.
Bloody hell . . .
‘As for Eve,’ she says. ‘Yeah, I’m sure they’ve gone all the way.’
No! I didn’t want to ask that question and I certainly didn’t want the answer. I feel like I could throw up now.
‘But she’s not right for him,’ she adds flippantly.
It doesn’t take long for us to get back to her house, and during that time I’ve had to text Johnny back and forth and convince him that yes, it is a good idea to go to Charlotte’s place with Agnes. He finally gives in, but I don’t doubt that Davey will be collecting me, probably sooner than I would like him to.
Agnes takes me upstairs to her bedroom, and I can’t help but feel on edge wondering if Jack will appear at any moment. But soon we’re inside Agnes’s bedroom and I start to relax. Posters of bands and sexy young actors plaster the walls, and her wardrobe doors are open to reveal rows of neatly hung clothes and tidy racks of shoes. Her double bed is unmade, its hot pink sheets crumpled in a mess on the floor. Fairy lights are twirled around the white iron bedhead and candles and incense sticks are lined up on the windowsill. The room smells of incense and perfume. It’s strangely comforting. I have so few belongings in my room at Johnny’s. Being here makes me miss my room at home – and my friends.
I sit on the bed while Agnes goes to her wardrobe. I see on the wall that she has the same picture of Joseph Strike that Libby had behind her door: the film publicity shot of him from Sky Rocket, looking all toned, fit and gorgeous with his top off.
‘Have you seen Two Things?’ I ask, making conversation while Agnes rifles through her clothes.
‘Yeah, it’s awesome. Have you?’ She glances over at me.
‘Not yet. I’m supposed to be seeing it with a guy I know when I get home.’ It’s surprisingly satisfying being able to say this to Jack’s sister.
‘Oh, really? Anyone special?’
Excellent. She’s taken the bait.
‘Maybe.’ It’s not a lie. It’s just too hard to be thinking about Tom with everything that’s going on over here.
‘Hmm.’ She turns back to the wardrobe and finds what she’s looking for. ‘Here it is!’ she chirps, throwing me an emerald-green-coloured garment.
‘Try it on,’ Agnes urges.
I turn my back on her and pull my maxi dress over my head, replacing it with the green . . . Erm, what is it? It barely covers my bum, but it does. Just.
‘Is this a dress or a top?’ I ask uncertainly.
‘A dress.’ She says it like I should know. ‘Try it with this.’ She passes me a skinny purple belt, so I put that on, too.
‘Shoes?’ I ask, glancing down at her feet. They’re at least a size larger.
‘Your heels look great,’ she says. ‘So does your hair.’
I’ve got it down today.
‘But your make-up could do with some tweaking.’ She motions for me to sit at her desk, and there’s something about her which is strangely persuasive, so I do. Five minutes later, I’m wearing shimmery gold eyeshadow across my lids with black mascara and black eyeliner – not quite as thick as she wears hers. I’m not sure I could carry that off. Peachy blusher and lipgloss finish off the look. Finally, she passes me a chunky gold necklace and a handful of mismatched, mostly gold bracelets. I slip on the bracelets, and she spins me around to do up my necklace.
‘Perfect,’ she says approvingly.
I regard my reflection in the mirror. I do look pretty hot, even if I do say so myself. My legs are tanned and look longer than they ever have, and my eyes – whoa – they look really green, complimented by the dress.
‘You’re good at this,’ I tell her.
She grins. ‘Keep telling me that.’
‘You’re good at this,’ I say again and she laughs.
‘I really want to go to art school,’ she reve
als.
‘Jack told me you want to be a fashion designer,’ I remember.
‘Did he?’ She looks pleased.
‘Is he going tonight?’ I ask hesitantly, stuffing my maxi dress into my bag.
She averts her gaze. ‘He might be. But don’t worry about it. We’ll have fun no matter what, OK? Just stick with me.’
‘So tell me about Johnny?’ she says on the drive to Charlotte’s house.
‘What about him?’ I ask warily.
‘Have you always known he was your dad?’
‘No. No, I found out only recently.’
Who knows why I feel I can trust her not to spill my story to the gossip mags, but for some reason I do.
‘I can’t believe Jack thought he was my . . . That I was his . . . Ew!’
‘My brother is an idiot.’ I’m glad to see she agrees with me. ‘Johnny looks just like you. Jack was too busy battling the green-eyed monster to notice.’
I screw up my nose. ‘He wasn’t jealous.’
She glances across at me. ‘Aren’t you listening to me?’ She tuts. ‘If you like him as much as I think you do, play it cool. He won’t be able to resist. But,’ she adds, before I can deny it, ‘he’s trouble. Especially when it comes to girls. Don’t say you haven’t been warned.’
I recognise Charlotte’s house as we approach. Actually, I recognise the wall surrounding it – I can’t see the house.
She pulls up in front of some high wooden gates and waves up at a camera perched on the gateposts. Moments later, the gates open and she drives through them. I didn’t even notice the driveway when I came here last, but I can see the back of the house up ahead, behind the ostentatious swimming pool with its big slides and OTT fountain, and then I see the log cabin between the silvery tree trunks on my right. Dozens of coloured lanterns hang from green branches and there’s a small group of girls and guys sitting around on deck chairs and seats fashioned out of logs outside the cabin. Agnes stops the car.
‘We’re not up at the house tonight?’ I check.
‘Nah. Lottie hates her stepmom. Her dad has just given her the cabin so she won’t legally divorce him as her guardian and move out. If anyone needs her own space, it’s Charlotte,’ she says wryly, unclicking her seatbelt.