Читать книгу Picture Perfect - Kate Forster, Kate Forster - Страница 13

‘I don’t think I can last here much longer.’ Dylan was Skyping Addie from a corner of the UCLA library. ‘I’m down to my last packet of ramen noodles.’

Addie was lying on the bed in her dorm room at Columbia, a huge poster of movie star Will MacIntyre, looking moody in a dinner suit, behind her on the wall. The computer on her lap was reflecting blue light onto her face, making her look as though she was in a spaceship. ‘Why? What’s going on?’

‘I lost my job with the catering company, I’m being evicted and I’m still no further forward on my research.’

‘Where are you now?’ Addie leaned forward as though trying to see over Dylan’s shoulder.

‘The UCLA library. It’s peaceful here, and I can use their Wi-Fi,’ said Dylan, holding up her mother’s library pass, which was good for all universities across the country. ‘I might end up moving in here if I don’t get a break soon.’

‘You could sell Maggie Hall’s shoes on eBay,’ Addie suggested.

‘What? No way.’ In truth, Dylan had already thought about it, and decided it would be a last resort.

‘Well, you could ask your mom for some more money.’

Dylan shook her head. ‘I can’t ask my mother to fund what she sees as a betrayal. She hates that I’m here, she thinks I’m lowering my intelligence.’

‘Hey, speaking of which, I got you a present,’ Addie cried out. ‘Wait a sec.’

Addie disappeared from camera and Dylan looked at the pile of books on the table from the previous occupants.

Three books on business management, one book about walnut tree growing and two novels. Picking up the first, she glanced at the back, something about a soldier, and another with an ornate painted heart, cracked down the middle.

Her mother would be appalled if she knew Dylan was entranced by the cover of a book, and she heard her voice in her head: Never judge a book by its cover, Dylan, some of the best books in the world don’t have pretty pictures on the front. She turned it over and read the blurb anyway.

‘I’m back,’ said Addie and Dylan looked up at the screen.

Addie was wearing a T-shirt with black writing on the front.

Dylan leaned forward to read it.

‘“Too stupid for New York, too ugly for LA,”‘ she said and then cracked up.

‘And I got me one as well.’ Addie peeled off the T-shirt to reveal another one underneath, and read out, ‘“Too smart for LA, too ugly for New York.”‘

Dylan started laughing so loudly that the other occupants of the library turned to glare at her.

‘God, that’s funny, can you send one to my mom?’ she said, wiping her eyes and leaning on the book on the table.

She picked it up and held it up to the screen. ‘Do you know this book?’

Addie nodded. ‘Yeah, why?’

‘I don’t know, I just saw it here and I was wondering what it’s like,’ said Dylan, turning it over in her hands.

Addie leaned in close as though she was telling a secret. ‘Don’t tell anyone in my lit class but I loved that book. I bawled my eyes out at the end.’

‘Why can’t you tell your lit class?’ asked Dylan. ‘Surely they’re not that snobbish?’

‘Are you kidding? One critic said the book was Marley & Me but with a wife, not a dog,’ said Addie. ‘But he writes really well; it’s worth reading. And your mom would hate it,’ she added.

‘Then I’m gonna read it,’ said Dylan in a wicked voice and Addie giggled.

The sound of her phone ringing broke through the library’s hush again. ‘Hey, I’ve gotta go, this might be the catering company with an emergency reprieve.’

‘Call me tomorrow,’ said Addie before Dylan finished the session, and picked up her phone.

‘Dylan Mercer speaking,’ she said in her most professional tone.

‘Dylan, it’s Maggie Hall. Have you still got those shoes of mine?’

Dylan froze then looked around, waiting for Ashton Kutcher to come out and say, ‘Punked.’ Thank God she hadn’t sold them, she thought.

‘Yes, I do, would you like them back?’

Maggie laughed. ‘No, sweetheart, but I was wondering if you were busy right now?’

‘No, I’m at the library,’ said Dylan.

‘The library? Good for you,’ said Maggie, sounding sort of pleased or proud of her, which was totally weird but Dylan wanted to hear more.

‘Yeah, I’ve been working all morning,’ she lied.

‘Isn’t that great? Now listen, Dylan, do you have an hour to meet with me? I’d like to discuss a job I think might be good for you.’

Dylan did a triumphant fist pump in the air and then realized she looked like a complete idiot.

‘Yes, of course,’ she said casually, but with a hint of deference.

‘Great, meet me tomorrow at Culina at seven,’ said Maggie and before Dylan could answer Maggie had hung up.

Dylan typed Culina into the search engine and saw it was a bar at the Four Seasons Hotel. Jesus, she thought, she had nothing to wear that was close to good enough for either the venue or Maggie Hall.

Perhaps she should call Addie back and get her to FedEx the T-shirt, she thought as she quickly packed up her things and left. But at the door she stopped, rushed back to the table to pick up the book and checked it out using her mom’s library card.

The following evening, at exactly seven o’clock, Dylan was sitting at the bar in the simple black dress she had worn to graduation, paired with Maggie’s shoes, when she felt the energy in the room grow charged.

Turning, she saw Maggie approaching the bar. She was wearing a white jumpsuit split to the naval and silver heels. With her blond hair slicked back showing off her cheekbones and silver dangly earrings showing off her long neck, she looked like she was off to Studio 54 to chill with Jerry Hall.

Maggie kissed Dylan on the cheek and nodded at the barman, who immediately walked them to a private booth.

‘Dylan, how are you?’ said Maggie as she slid into the booth.

Dylan felt the eyes of all the other bar patrons on them, and wondered if Maggie even noticed the attention any more.

‘I’m fine, thank you.’ She wiped her sweating hands on her dress.

Maggie smiled at her and Dylan tried to relax, clenching and unclenching her toes as her father had taught her, but all it did was make her feet hurt even more in Maggie’s shoes.

‘Is your thesis going well?’

Dylan frowned and then remembered her lie in the bathroom at the Oscars party.

‘Well, it’s mostly research at the moment, I haven’t got onto the writing part yet,’ she said.

‘Ah, good, so you write as well?’ Maggie leaned forward and Dylan saw the edge of some tape that was making sure the jumpsuit didn’t gape open.

Dylan nodded. ‘A little,’ she said.

Maggie looked up at the waiter who had appeared at the table.

‘A soda water with lime, thanks. Dylan?’

‘Same, thanks,’ said Dylan, trying to emulate Maggie’s casual body language.

‘Are you twenty-one yet?’

‘Nearly nineteen,’ said Dylan, hoping this wasn’t a problem. ‘I finished school last July and took some time off, before I came out here.’

Maggie nodded, but didn’t seem especially interested in Dylan’s past activities.

‘Well, as I said, I have a job I need to talk to you about. It’s not a long-term thing, it may be just for a few months, but I thought it could work with your college schedule.’

Dylan paused, wondering whether to spill the beans about college. Then she remembered the lone packet of noodles sitting in her soon-to-be-vacated apartment. She needed this job. Beside, she justified to herself, she was going to college next year…

‘And if I were to get the job, what would I be assisting you with?’ she asked politely, as though she was offered jobs by movies stars all the time.

‘Ah, well, you see, you wouldn’t actually be working for me,’ Maggie said, and Dylan felt disappointment wrap around her like a shawl. If Maggie noticed, she didn’t say. ‘It’s for a dear friend of mine, who wants to write a book,’ she went on.

‘Oh,’ said Dylan. She didn’t know how to write a book, and if she lied, she would be found out in a heartbeat.

‘My friend has been sick, and he’s kind of an introvert,’ Maggie added.

Dylan watched Maggie as she spoke. Dylan had grown up watching that beautiful face on the screen. Maggie had starred in so many movies, mostly ones about love, and she was still adored. She was the woman every girl wanted to be best friends with, and the woman every man wanted to marry. Dylan didn’t want to let her down, but she knew she had to tell the truth.

‘I’m sorry, but I don’t see how I can help your friend. I’m not a writer,’ she said apologetically.

Maggie laughed. ‘Oh no, Dylan, I don’t want you to help him write it. I want you to help get him out of the house! ‘

Dylan frowned. ‘I don’t understand.’

Maggie paused. ‘He had a heart transplant and it’s kind of knocked him around. He was sick for a long time before the new heart and we all thought the heart would make him excited to live again, but he’s depressed.’

‘Why doesn’t he try therapy?’ Dylan asked, thinking of her father.

‘He doesn’t need therapy,’ Maggie snapped. ‘Taking about his feelings isn’t going to help anything; he needs someone his own age to help him engage with life again. You know, to take him out to see friends, concerts, movies, go shopping, just to do stuff with him.’

She threw her hands up as she spoke, as though tossing confetti into the air.

Dylan was worried. ‘I don’t know if I can look after someone who’s had a heart transplant.’

‘You don’t need to nurse him,’ laughed Maggie, ‘you need to show him fun things to do.’

‘I don’t know LA that well yet,’ Dylan explained. ‘I’ve only been here eight weeks and I have to find a new apartment and I have no idea where to even start looking,’

Disappointment flooded through her that this wasn’t the opportunity she had hoped it would be. Everything about this person that Maggie wanted her to help sounded difficult. An introvert heart transplant patient who wanted to be a writer? Hell no.

‘Did I mention it’s a live-in position,’ said Maggie, ‘with full use of a car? The salary is a thousand dollars a week.’ She paused for effect, then said, ‘Cash.’

Dylan only just succeeded in not spitting her soda water across the table.

‘Will you at least come and meet him?’ asked Maggie, smiling radiantly. ‘I can’t say any more until you’ve signed a confidentiality agreement, but I really think you’ll like him. He’s gorgeous, such a sweet guy.’

Dylan did a backflip on her thinking. How hard could it be? He was probably some old guy who’d been in love with Maggie, and all she’d have to do was take him to concerts at the Hollywood Bowl and drive him around to medical appointments.

She remembered her mother’s words: You can do anything you put your mind to, Dylan.

‘Sure,’ she said with a smile that she hoped covered her nerves, ‘I’d love to meet him.’

After all, who could say no to Maggie Hall?