The Liar, The Bitch and the Wardrobe Read online

  I rushed about the studio, trying to make myself useful while remaining unobtrusive, hoping to avoid Stefano, who was agitated and anxious about the shoot and most definitely would take it out on whoever was in his path. I replaced dirty towels, picked up trash from the floor and handed out ashtrays. After tossing a pile of dirty towels into the laundry room, I checked my dress for smudges and lint as I walked through the narrow hallway. While concentrating on the status of my clothes and not watching where I was going, I slammed right into a shirtless Jax Phoenix. “I . . . I am so sorry . . . I’m really . . . just very . . .” Embarrassed and overcome, I got locked into his bedroom eyes.

  “Sorry! I think I’m lost,” he joked in a British accent through his boyish smile.

  “Yeah, me too.” I fell back against the wall, which seemed to knock a little sense back into me. “Wait. You’re lost? Where are you lost . . . to?” I could hear the gibberish that was spewing from my mouth and I wanted to die.

  Jax opened his arms, and in one hand he held up a hanger with a royal blue D&G dress shirt, and in the other he held a matching satin tie. “I just need to wash up before I change into this. Is that the washroom?” His immaculate physique was distracting and turned me into a babbling idiot. Nodding yes, I watched him walk into a room and immediately walk out. “Should I put myself on the permanent press or the delicate spin cycle?” I had sent him to the laundry room! Idiot!

  “Oh! No! The restroom is the door straight across,” I corrected, pointing to another door.

  As he walked toward the restroom, he paused to face me and held out his hand, simply stating the obvious, “Jax.”

  I put my hand in his. “Lucy.”

  He lifted my hand to his lips and kissed it gently. “Thanks, Lucy.” My entire body went numb and I had to consciously keep my jaw from staying ajar. Jax turned to continue his quest to get dressed.

  From the slightly open door closest to me, Roman’s hand reached out and forced me sideways into the dressing room. Liz and Roman had been watching the scene unfold and we all quietly gushed, “Ohhhh my God!” Like a symphonic trio we engaged in a contained chorus of oohs and aahs before collecting ourselves and proceeding to the set to continue our duties on the shoot.

  An incredible carousel had been delivered the week before. The art directors had painted the entire thing a glossy black. Lit exquisitely from behind, the carousel was dazzling. Each of the stars was dressed and specifically placed to complement the dramatic scene. Paige was posed front and center in a dazzling purple Elie Saab halter gown, resting her head against the lead horse. She evoked a classic Elizabeth Taylor Black Beauty aura. Brett was shirtless, dressed only in Rag & Bone jeans, seated backward on the same horse and tipping an orange Stetson. Brooke stood on top of the horse behind them and to the left, draping down the pole, sizzling in a sequined yellow Armani tube dress. And finally Jax, in his dress shirt and tie, leaned against a palomino, his chin on his forearms, gazing seductively into the camera and simply oozing sex appeal.

  After nearly a thousand flashes, Stefano stood and yelled, “Stick a fork in it, y’all! We are done!” The stars climbed off the set and huddled around Stefano. Brooke’s ever-present mother, Lisa, joined the group. “We need to celebrate. Come on, everybody!” Throwing her arms around Stefano and pressing her breasts into his arm, she batted her eyes. “What do you say, Steffie?” Liz shot me a raised eyebrow and a look that read, What the hell? Was Lisa Sands hitting on Stefano? What was wrong with her? Was her gaydar out of batteries?

  Stefano appeared oddly flattered. “That’s a great idea! Roman, get us a table somewhere fabulous. Lushy, we need a limo—maybe two.”

  “We have a limo!” Brooke shouted as she headed out of the room with her entourage.

  “Alright then!” Stefano stood up, raising his arms to stretch as he headed into the office. “So, what do we have tomorrow, guys?”

  Roman’s assistant handed Stefano a printed e-mail. “The shoot has been scrapped, something about a direction change for the album. We’ll know more tomorrow.”

  I removed the Vuitton from under Roman’s desk—nice try buddy—and placed it in the crook of my forearm. “Since you’re going out, I guess I’ll just see you in the morning. Bright and early, right?”

  “Actually, we could use an extra hand in the production office tonight, if you’re interested in learning the ropes?” Roman offered. I’d been waiting for those exact words for so long!

  “Lucy! Absolutely not! You have to go with them. Jax Phoenix is hot for you!” Liz insisted. She clutched her throat. “Oh my God . . . I’m living vicariously through . . . her?” Poor Liz was far too sober to accept this devastating epiphany. I looked up at Stefano and shrugged. The studio wasn’t going anywhere—but the lure of a glamorous outing with the celebrities seemed few and far between. Shit . . . I wanted to prove myself in the studio and earn my keep, but I also wanted to establish that I was no longer a stupid wallflower . . . And, obviously, Jax-freaking-Phoenix! Need I say more?

  Never one to mince words or miss an opportunity to belittle, Stefano looked me up and down with distaste and replied, “I’d say come along but you are hardly dressed for the nightlife.” I smiled. This was another encounter I had hoped for. I dropped the bag and pulled out a pair of neon pink patent Brian Atwood pumps. I tucked away the flats and stepped into the heels. Roman approved. “You go girl!” I shook my hair out of the chignon, fluffed it out Bardot-esque and stepped forward. I couldn’t help but think Bella would be so proud! Wallflower no more!

  “Jesus Christ. Have we met?” Stefano stammered. I put my arm through Stefano’s and escorted him to the waiting limo.

  “Always be prepared, right?” I confirmed. Most people have out-of-body experiences when they are about to possibly die. This was mine. I saw myself walking in an incredible dress and towering stilettos, with my va-va-voom hair. I knew that I was moving my body as if on the prowl, like I had seen girls do on a runway—on TV, of course. It was like a dream. I made my way into the white lights—the limo’s headlights, that is. A bewildered Stefano looked behind him at his equally amazed crew as we joined the others. The geek in me wanted to completely freak out and break into the running man, however I remained cool, collected.

  The limo raced through the city in search of a location worthy of the group’s patronage, finally pulling up in front of a setting all too familiar to me. As we entered the G-Spot, my mind was flooded with not-so-distant memories of joining the staff for free family meals in the kitchen and getting grilled by my own family in the dining room. Why couldn’t I get away from this place? Was Julie working? Would she even recognize me in this getup? I was not sure how to be both versions of myself in the event that she did.

  Jax seemed to sense my awkwardness, and he took my arm to make sure I didn’t get left behind with the salivating paparazzi. While once I had been too timid to approach my idol in this very place, now I was arriving as his guest and on the arm of the hottest rock star in the world. The seasoned young celebrities were unfazed by the throngs of photographers, even lingering awhile so that their images could be frozen as they saw fit to grace the pages of the tabloids. A hostess that I did not know led us toward a large round table in the back. I took note of the stares of other patrons. Among the gawkers was Julie, completely awestruck in her all-black servers uniform. I released my arm from Jax’s and made a beeline to her.

  “Oh, my God. You’re working! I didn’t even know we were coming here until we pulled up! We just wrapped a shoot so we came out to celebrate and . . .” Julie had not taken her eyes off the party who proceeded to take their seats. She could hardly contain herself and exploded with shock.

  “You were holding hands with Jax Phoenix! The Jax Phoenix! He’s my screensaver! Is that Paige Sheedy? What are you doing with them?” She grabbed my forearms, hoping to engage in a gabfest. I looked back at the table where Stefano was motioning, demanding my return.

  I slipped my arms from her grasp and held her anxious
hands. She was smiling and staring at me intently, waiting for me to fill her in as she always had done with me. She squeezed my hands and pushed, “Well?” Where to start? There was just so much to tell. Again, I glanced back at the table where Stefano was still glaring at me. Jax had kept the seat next to him open and had his arm draped over the top of the chair. I visualized myself sitting there, his arm being around me. I released one of my hands from Julie’s and nervously ran it through my hair. The pressure from both sides was off the charts and I didn’t know what to do! Although I just saw her yesterday, our time was limited and I wanted more than anything to catch up with Julie one on one to make sure that our friendship was still intact. But I also really wanted to be at that table to continue living out my fantasy evening. When would another night like this ever happen to me again? Julie had been my best friend for years and she wasn’t going anywhere . . .

  “I, umm . . .” I took a few steps backward toward the table, letting my other hand go from hers. “I want to tell you, but I can’t right now. But I heard someone mention going to Hidden after dinner! You and Sebastian should meet us there! I’ll call you on our way, I’ll take care of you—I promise!” Julie looked on as I quickly made my way across the room and took the last open seat, apologizing for my tardiness.

  I sat down and looked back at Julie, who was visibly flustered. I’m sure she too couldn’t help but be thrown by the turning of the tables. In what world was I being summoned by the cool crowd while gorgeous Julie paid her dues? I hoped it wasn’t too big of a blow to her ego. Although, mine soared excitedly for the first time. So this was how it felt to be “cool.”

  Tapas-style plates were passed over conversations about first on-screen kisses, and rumors of on-set behaviors swirled. I tried to appear engaged and not as if the words “Oh my God, Oh my God, Oh my God” were consuming all of my thoughts. When we did make our way to the exit like a school of fish, I was able to catch Julie’s eye and gestured to her as if we were talking on the phone while mouthing the words, “I’ll call you.”

  Upon arrival at Hidden, I had put together that Brooke and Paige were both under twenty-one and, had they not been rich and famous, they certainly would have been carded and denied entrance. Once again, a sea of photographers was drawn to the limousine like moths to a flame. The group was immediately hustled past the red velvet ropes and into the tiny venue. The bass from the music was so intense I could feel my blood vibrating to the sounds. Gesturing to a side door, Jax motioned if I cared for a smoke. Now, I do not smoke and I despise the smell of cigarettes. However, the notion of some time alone with Jax seemed worth the health risk. Jax led me through the door, through the kitchen and out the back door. He seemed to know his way around. The night was balmy and it felt good to get away from the dark intensity that permeated the club. Jax lit two cigarettes, handing me one, and smiled wickedly. “What?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said, leaning his hand on the wall just above my shoulder. I squeezed Bella’s Cartier bracelets behind my back, hoping they’d magically instill some confidence or luck or miracle or whatever magic they might possess. I guess it worked, because I don’t know what came over me as I cocked my head and arched toward him in a teasing manner, out of nowhere finding confidence I never knew that I had.

  “Oh really?” I purred.

  “Really.” He leaned in closer. He exhaled a stream of smoke and I tried not to gag.

  Our solitude was interrupted as the door was flung open and a dapper man stepped out. “Hey, kids, you’d better get back to class before I start handing out detention slips.” Jax looked delighted as he faux-punched the man in the stomach. He responded by picking up Jax and then putting him down. Jax introduced us.

  “Lucy, meet Quinn. He owns all the best bars in LA, including Hidden.”

  “Establishment, my friends. Bars are for savages. Lovely to meet you, Lucy,” Quinn said as he gallantly held out his hand. Quinn’s appearance was the epitome of Hollywood. He had slicked-back hair, wore a shiny suit and topped it off with Ray-Ban sunglasses even though it was nearly pitch black inside. I was transfixed on the cocktail straw he gnawed on as he passed it from side to side with his tongue.

  “Likewise.” I accepted Quinn’s hand as I air-kissed both his cheeks. Repeat: I air-kissed both his cheeks! Why the hell did I do that? I have never air-kissed in my life! Did he think I was European? Did I think I was European?

  “Ready to get completely knackered, Miss Lucy?” Quinn asked in a mischievous tone. Jax offered his elbow as we followed Quinn back into the club, er, establishment. I ditched my cigarette outside while Jax, above the no-smoking-inside law, kept on smoking. Quinn led the way up a stairway to a private room with a balcony that overlooked the dance floor. Settled in already were Stefano, Lisa, Brooke, Paige and Brett. They had been joined by Presley Dalton and her friends. In the darkness, I could make out a private bar and plush leather couches surrounding a large mirrored table. Quinn turned to lock the door. He pulled a large manila envelope from his suit jacket. “Who’s ready to fucking party?” Presley threw her arms up in the air and let out a wild “Woohooo!” With that, Quinn ripped open the envelope and dumped copious amounts of cocaine onto the table. I gasped out loud, and if it weren’t for the deafening music below, everyone definitely would have heard it. Reaching behind the bar, he tossed a handful of straws into the air. Everyone cheered as they were showered in straws. Those seated around the table scooted in closer to it.

  Presley was yelling, “Lindsey! Lindsey!” I glanced up and realized that Presley Dalton was calling out to me.

  “Friend of yours?” Jax teased. I gave him a playful shove and crouched down beside Presley.

  “Hey Presley! It’s Lucy, remember?” I shouted.

  “Of course I remember! How can I forget the girl that saved my shoot? Hope you didn’t bring any cops with you tonight! Ha! Here, sit with us!” She scooted to the side, making some room for me. “These are my friends, Deb and Amalia. Girls, this is Lucy! She’s a way important person in photography.” The girls nodded with enthusiasm as they sipped their cocktails. Presley continued, “Deb’s dad like owns Mega Records and Amalia is a huge pop star in Armenia that Deb’s dad just signed. How hot is that? Here, let’s do a line together!” Presley snorted a line off the table and handed the dollar bill to me. All three girls were looking at me with their enormous approving pupils; the debate of should I or shouldn’t I wasn’t really an issue. I leaned in for the kill.

  “No!” Stefano swiped the bill from my hand. “Don’t you know what kind of diseases are carried on dollar bills? That’s disgusting, Presley. Think about who might have touched that dollar!”

  “You’re so right! Gross people rarely touch hundreds, and I think I have one . . . Oh yes, here you go!” She rolled up the hundred-dollar bill found in her clutch and handed it to me. I snorted the line. Followed by another and another. Close to two in the morning, the group decided the current hot spot was getting cold.

  While waiting for the car, Jax opened his arms and warmed me with his hands. As I nuzzled my head on his chest, I looked at the line of hopefuls waiting to get into the club. I remembered my not-so-distant days of waiting in line, hoping that I was “cool enough” to make it past the velvet rope. I looked over those in line, one after the other, in their desperate-for-attention slinky dresses and bedazzled shirts, wondering who would actually make the cut. Quinn and an equally as slick promoter stepped in and out, judging and vetoing people as if they were Heidi Klum and Michael Kors on the season finale of Project Go-away. Auf Wiedersehen, losers! And then, I saw them. Sebastian and Julie stood staring at me with their mouths wide open. With horror, it dawned on me that I had failed to make my promised call. I hadn’t even checked my phone, which I just knew had dozens of their missed calls and unanswered texts! As they stared at me with anger and hostility, I didn’t even have enough time to acknowledge them. The limo pulled up and Jax pulled me in. I felt helpless and completely out of co
ntrol. I fell back into the car just as it quickly sped away.

  chapter eighteen

  All in a Day’s Work

  The next morning, I woke up in bed. But it wasn’t my bed. I shut my blurry eyes and tried to recollect what had happened the previous night. I remembered arriving at Presley’s house, declining the Ecstasy Lisa had offered, and watching an impromptu inebriated performance by Amalia. Maybe these memories need not be recollected, I joked to myself. I slowly stretched as I unfolded a heavy comforter away from my body, looking up to find a massive portrait of Presley seducing me from above the bed. Location verified. I had fallen asleep wearing my dress. My pink heels were next to the bed on an end table. Propped against them, was a note: “A diamond amongst the stars. JP” I pressed the note to my heart before putting it in my bag. Was I really in the midst of a reciprocated crush with Jax-freaking-Phoenix? Why yes, I was!

  I freshened up in the bathroom before heading downstairs. The entire house was decked out in glamour shots of Presley and mirrors—lots of mirrors. Her style was flashy and feminine, and very over the top. In the kitchen, I discovered Presley having her hair and makeup done. Through the bay windows, a photo crew was setting up by the pool.

  “Hey doll! How wasted were we last night?” Presley inquired, expertly not moving her lips as the makeup artist applied rouge lipstick with a tiny brush.

  “What happened? I don’t even remember going to bed.” A housekeeper handed me a mug of coffee. “Thank you.”