status. Two things she didn’t have.
Reading her mind, Stella practically cooed, “You can do it. I’m at the end of the phone line when you need a second opinion.”
“Thanks Stella. What would I do without you?”
“Sometimes I wonder,” replied her best friend. “Now, I’m gonna go so I can send this email. Promise me you’ll send me a photo of the dress before you commit.”
“I promise. Speak soon.”
Holly disconnected, took a deep breath, then picked up her handbag and sunglasses off her bed. She slipped the sunglasses atop her head and gave herself a talking to. She would go to Rodeo Drive. She was here to attend the Oscar Awards for crying out loud. In this city, that was status.
She made her way to the local bus stop—reasoning if there were any media-type people watching, they’d expect her to take a chauffeured car. Head down, she paid the driver for a ticket and then slunk into a seat in the middle of the bus. To her benefit, the bus was filled with tourists. Young couples wrapped in each other with the glow of love on their faces. Gray-haired duos with cameras round their necks and money belts round their waists. And at the back a group of what had to be private school teens playing hooky. Most of them were too consumed in staring out the window to take any notice of the girl who’d just boarded the bus, although she guessed she was probably the only one with an Academy Awards invitation in her bag.
She relaxed into her seat enough to look out the window and take in the sights. As they passed the famous Beverly Hills sign, Holly snapped a quick pic on her phone and sent it to Stella. This time she noticed so much more than she had when driving in the car with Nate. Then she’d been consumed by his overwhelming presence and also the presence of the paparazzi. Now she had time to really take things in.
As the bus crawled along the busy street Holly saw shops and restaurants but no industry or advertising billboards, parks and the odd church but no sign of a hospital or cemetery. Perhaps people around here preferred to pretend death didn’t exist. Her stomach twisted as she thought of Daisy. A cold feeling washed over her but she couldn’t tell if it was due to thinking about her sister or the fact the bus had stopped.
Lost in her thoughts she almost missed her stop. She jumped up and nearly tripped as she hastened down the aisle. Stepping onto the sidewalk, Holly glanced ahead of her and gulped. She could already make out the names of elite boutiques. Familiar not because she’d ever shopped in any of them—her most expensive outfit ever had been her wedding dress and she’d been conservative compared to most—but because they were simply international icons. Versace. Ralph Lauren. Prada. Dolce & Gabbana. These were only the start.
Oh. Lord.
It would have been so much easier if Stella were here.
* * *
It had taken years but Nate Devlin pretty much had everything he’d always wanted. He no longer lived in a rundown shack in actual Hollywood but outright owned his architecturally-designed, environmentally friendly house in Bel Air. He had so much money he couldn’t imagine ever being poor again. He had a successful and sought-after business taking photos of the best subjects around—people who loved themselves enough to like being photographed. Neither him, his mom nor his sisters had seen his scumbag of a dad for over a decade. He had overseas vacations whenever he pleased, not only one but two cars worth more than some people’s homes, and a number of women who were happy for him to call on them whenever the urge struck but who no more believed in commitment than he did.
He had it all. Life was sweet. At least it should be, but lately he’d been feeling unsettled.
Not one to usually spend much time analyzing anything, he’d made an exception and tried to work out what the hell was wrong with him. Was it the futility of life? The fact that no amount of money, status or
Reading her mind, Stella practically cooed, “You can do it. I’m at the end of the phone line when you need a second opinion.”
“Thanks Stella. What would I do without you?”
“Sometimes I wonder,” replied her best friend. “Now, I’m gonna go so I can send this email. Promise me you’ll send me a photo of the dress before you commit.”
“I promise. Speak soon.”
Holly disconnected, took a deep breath, then picked up her handbag and sunglasses off her bed. She slipped the sunglasses atop her head and gave herself a talking to. She would go to Rodeo Drive. She was here to attend the Oscar Awards for crying out loud. In this city, that was status.
She made her way to the local bus stop—reasoning if there were any media-type people watching, they’d expect her to take a chauffeured car. Head down, she paid the driver for a ticket and then slunk into a seat in the middle of the bus. To her benefit, the bus was filled with tourists. Young couples wrapped in each other with the glow of love on their faces. Gray-haired duos with cameras round their necks and money belts round their waists. And at the back a group of what had to be private school teens playing hooky. Most of them were too consumed in staring out the window to take any notice of the girl who’d just boarded the bus, although she guessed she was probably the only one with an Academy Awards invitation in her bag.
She relaxed into her seat enough to look out the window and take in the sights. As they passed the famous Beverly Hills sign, Holly snapped a quick pic on her phone and sent it to Stella. This time she noticed so much more than she had when driving in the car with Nate. Then she’d been consumed by his overwhelming presence and also the presence of the paparazzi. Now she had time to really take things in.
As the bus crawled along the busy street Holly saw shops and restaurants but no industry or advertising billboards, parks and the odd church but no sign of a hospital or cemetery. Perhaps people around here preferred to pretend death didn’t exist. Her stomach twisted as she thought of Daisy. A cold feeling washed over her but she couldn’t tell if it was due to thinking about her sister or the fact the bus had stopped.
Lost in her thoughts she almost missed her stop. She jumped up and nearly tripped as she hastened down the aisle. Stepping onto the sidewalk, Holly glanced ahead of her and gulped. She could already make out the names of elite boutiques. Familiar not because she’d ever shopped in any of them—her most expensive outfit ever had been her wedding dress and she’d been conservative compared to most—but because they were simply international icons. Versace. Ralph Lauren. Prada. Dolce & Gabbana. These were only the start.
Oh. Lord.
It would have been so much easier if Stella were here.
* * *
It had taken years but Nate Devlin pretty much had everything he’d always wanted. He no longer lived in a rundown shack in actual Hollywood but outright owned his architecturally-designed, environmentally friendly house in Bel Air. He had so much money he couldn’t imagine ever being poor again. He had a successful and sought-after business taking photos of the best subjects around—people who loved themselves enough to like being photographed. Neither him, his mom nor his sisters had seen his scumbag of a dad for over a decade. He had overseas vacations whenever he pleased, not only one but two cars worth more than some people’s homes, and a number of women who were happy for him to call on them whenever the urge struck but who no more believed in commitment than he did.
He had it all. Life was sweet. At least it should be, but lately he’d been feeling unsettled.
Not one to usually spend much time analyzing anything, he’d made an exception and tried to work out what the hell was wrong with him. Was it the futility of life? The fact that no amount of money, status or
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