‘All done!’ I said, zipping everything away.
‘Is it my turn now to take advantage?’ he slurred, the whisky hitting strong.
‘I don’t think so, Blake. You’ve got a wife for that, remember.’
Twenty-seven
Saturday 7thSeptember
Phoebe:I’m outside and Ryan-ready! Come and get me!
I was full of adrenaline as I left Blake to it and ran down the corridor, stashing my kit in the make-up room on my way to collect Phoebe. I hoped I could trust Gem. For all I knew, there were flesh-eating mites in that bag, now sprinkled through Blake’s Hollywood bouffant. I checked my phone and it was 8 p.m. So 9 p.m. would be showtime. Still no reply from Tony, but let’s face it, LA wasn’t very convenient for London. I felt my old walls coming up, my old voice in my new headlet him go, move on to the next one, you’re better off on your ownand it felt alien to me. That wasn’t how I felt anymore, not about Tony.
‘Mason, for Barrington,’ I called from the door, and Phoebe waved her pass at me in relief.
‘Take your time,’ she shouted at me, as Chiara let her through.
‘I am working, you know,’ I said, exasperated. Phoebe looked spectacular. Dressed to impress in black, crushed velvet, holding a traditional Venetian mask. White clay with silver and black around the eyes, the top section encrusted with gold. ‘Nice mask. Did you get me one?’
Phoebe flashed me a guilty look. ‘Er… no… I didn’t think you’d be bothered with all that.’
‘Oh. Thanks,’ I said. The two of us were a sight for sore eyes in our red and black get-up – we’d blend in perfectly with the crème de la crème of Hollywood. Even better that we could hide behind our masks and watch the show unfold, without being seen. ‘Lucky that Gem lent me a mask from the Golden Globes then, isn’t it?’ I said, producing it from behind my back.
‘Whattttt? What do you mean? Whose was it?’ Phoebe trailed after me asking questions as I walked her through a maze of corridors to the wrap party reception. It was being held in the ballroom, where the awards had taken place, and it was absolutely stunning. The art on the walls was decoration enough, but the tall gold tables and dramatic floral displays added an extra layer of glitz and glam. There were pyramids of Champagne glasses, and waiters circling with trays of canapés as we walked down the cream carpet and into the party. I half-expected somebody to announce us.The right honourable Ms Abigail Mason, with her agent, Ms Phoebe Barrington.We’d smile and wave at the crowd, our masks firmly in position.
‘Oh. My. God. This is amazing,’ Phoebe said, gaping in awe at the room.
‘Isn’t it,’ I murmured, swiping a couple of tiny tartlets from a passing waiter. I hadn’t eaten all day, so I’d need another fifty or so once he came back.
‘Is that Sofia Coppola over there?’ Phoebe whispered. ‘With one of the Kardashians…?’
‘Calm down! It’s not like you haven’t been to a celeb party before. Play it cool.’
We both took a glass of Champagne and sidled our way into the crowd.
‘There you are!’ Gem appeared by my side, with a small bowl of risotto. ‘I was keeping my eye out for the mask. It is you, isn’t it?’
‘It sure is,’ I replied, flattered that she’d sought me out, unless she was worried I’d run off with her rubies. ‘And it’s Phoebe with the scary white face, in case you didn’t recognise her. Finally finished, then?’
‘Yep. I had one last client to do while you were with Blake – how did that go by the way?’ she asked, eyes gleaming. ‘Did you do it?’
‘Do what?’ Phoebe’s ears pricked up at Gem’s tone.
‘Er… nothing,’ I said, not sure Phoebe would approve. ‘I told you – he wanted me to do his make-up for the party.’
‘Course he did. Honestly – the front of him! A freebie from you ashisway of saying sorry. He needs his head read.’
‘Well, his mask looks amazing, even if I do say so myself. And he’s promised to pay me inexposure, whatever that means. He might change his mind before the night is over.’
‘Highly likely,’ Gem added, with a laugh. ‘He’s over there, talking to Javier Bardem. And I totally agree. His mask does look incredible – really beautiful work – you’re hugely talented.’
I arched my neck to see, as Blake laughed like a drain at something Javier said, surreptitiously scratching his head at the same time, as if it was part of the action. It was already working. Javier moved on and I watched from behind my mask as Blake made his way over to Benji and the wardrobe team, scratching as he walked.
‘The scratching activates it,’ Gem whispered. ‘The more he does it, the worse it will get.’ She gave me another one of her wicked smiles and walked off. Christ. I wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of her.
‘What’s with all the whispering?’ Phoebe said, nibbling on a smoked salmon blini.
‘It’s nothing really. I put a tiny bit of itching powder on Blake’s head, as part of his make-up and it’s started to activate.’
