A/N: I'm on quite a roll, considering I'm supposed to be busier than I've ever been. I quite like this chapter, so I hope you do too. Thanks for the reviews, ever-brilliant fans!
"That was Susannah Simon's latest single, everybody, and that's it for now on Carbonated FM, we'll see you same time tomorrow…"
The DJ winked at me, and I gave a little smile back before averting my gaze. I was back in LA, doing popstar things, though all I wanted was to be out in the sunshine soaking up rays. My newest single had topped all the charts, including Carbonated FM's airplay chart, and I'd played several sold-out shows in the city, and although it was all beyond a dream come true I'd never been more tired. I wanted nothing more than a day off.
Or a week.
I glanced at Paul, who, as my publicity officer as well as agent had to sit-in on every interview I gave, was sat in the corner, engrossed in whatever he was doing on his phone. Since I had returned to Carmel, and given him a brief summary of what had gone down – as in there was no Jesse-and-Suze, I have it under control – he had been avoiding me whenever possible. You would think it would be hard, considering how much responsibility he had over me, but he was managing quite well.
I cleared my throat and Paul looked up, looking through me rather than at me. I gestured with my bag that I was ready to go and he shrugged, getting to his feet and moving to shake hands with the DJ. "Here," he said, in the low, gruff voice that I missed more than I should, "you should come to the record label party tonight. It'll be a blast."
It would be a blast, for all those people I didn't know who were invited. Considering it was a party for me – an event aiming to tip my album into the top spot again after it had dropped to Number Two – I couldn't name you five people on the guest list I had actually shared a conversation with. It was my duty, Paul's assistant had informed me, to sip champagne politely and schmooze my way into cliques, and I was not looking forward to it one bit.
We stepped out into the sunshine, and as I slipped on my shades I spotted a photographer crouched in the bush opposite the studio. I waved absent-mindedly before sliding into the car that was waiting for me. No doubt that shot would be in tomorrow's People.
"God," said Kelly, as I fastened my seatbelt next to her.
"No, Kel," I corrected her, "I'm Suze. Remember?"
Kelly probably rolled her eyes at this, but I couldn't see, as she wore her own shades – dark, round Aviator ones – despite the fact that she hadn't ventured into the sun this early this morning as we'd left the hotel. Instead of verbally replying to me, she only offered me gum. I shook my head.
"No, thanks," I said, and I settled back in the leather seat and listened as Paul talked minimally to the driver in the front. "I prefer food I can actually swallow." Kelly lay back next to me and sighed, her breath not quite its usual minty-freshness. In fact, I was pretty sure I smelled cigarettes.
"God," she moaned again, and she raised a hand to fluff her hair. Which, now I noticed, wasn't its usual clean self. It looked kind of… greasy.
O.K, who was this alien and what had they done with Kelly Prescott?
Not that I cared, really. She was only here because Paul was. Or she'd gone a week without having her picture in Us Weekly and was getting fame withdrawal effects. She'd been snapped a couple of times in the past month – eager face in the corner of a shot of me shopping, as the 'mystery girl' holding hands with Paul out and about – and she seemed to be sucking up as much as she could.
"You wanna go out tonight?" Kelly asked, trying to seem nonchalant. I was wrong – she was the Kelly I knew and hated. She was just a little rough around the edges. "I'm feeling that new nightclub on the strip."
"I can't," I replied, feeling for the first time grateful about the record company party. "I have a thing to do. Paul will get pissed if I ditch."
"That's exactly what he needs right now," Kelly remarked, sourly. "To be pissed at someone. God knows he hasn't done it enough recently. He's still annoyed at you, right?" I nodded, and I was sure I saw a sad smile play on her lips. I turned away.
"I guess I could turn up for an hour, clink glasses with Miley Cyrus for the press and then leave again," I suggested, my irritation with Paul Slater refuelled by Kelly's bitterness.
Kelly grinned. "Awesome," she said. "Be ready by eight-forty-five."
-x-
At eight-oh-five, I had Paul Slater banging on my door. For all the wrong reasons.
"Are you ready?" he demanded through the door, and I scowled as I applied my last layer of lipgloss. "We have to be there at eight-thirty, Simon, and you know the traffic is hell on Sunset on a Saturday." I grabbed my clutch and threw my door open, nearly causing Paul to fall flat on his face.
Almost. I'd get him next time.
Though the expression on his face was almost enough to satisfy the fact that his chin had not made contact with the floor. His eyes were wider than I'd ever seen them, and that was probably due to the fact that my skirt was shorter than it had ever been before.
I looked good.
"Ready to go?" I asked Paul, politely, and he merely nodded, offering me his arm. Finally, I was in control.
We descended the stairs in silence, me gearing myself up for the torture that lay ahead, and Paul… I had no idea. I would have given my soul to the devil to know what he was thinking, as always.
We faced the usual onslaught of photographers and the dating rumours – and as usual I wished with all my heart that they were true. We slid into the limousine and I glanced at my watch, counting down the minutes till I could leave.
The party looked great – the function room we'd hired stuffed with people I only recognised off the cover of Cosmo or TeenNow or something equally as commercial, there were silver streamers hanging from the ceiling and posters of me and my new album everywhere I turned. But all I wanted to do was leave. Paul clutched my arm, keeping me rooted.
"Don't even think about it," he growled in my ear.
I helped myself to a glass of champagne – no-one was going to stop me, I mean this was my party – and sipped it quietly as various people came up to me and introduced themselves. I nodded and smiled as I'd been taught to by Paul's assistant though I'd never been more bored. Was it time to leave yet?
Just when I was debating throwing myself out the open window, Kelly appeared in the gap between crowds and my heart gave a huge sigh of relief. I was glad now, however I'd felt earlier, that I'd agreed to this. Kelly glanced over my shoulder, where I'd last seen Paul, before clutching my hands and giving me a little shake.
"O.K, we need to do this craftily," she said, and I noticed her eyes were a little bloodshot. "The last thing we need is for Paul to catch us. O.K?" In fact, she looked a wreck. I hoped she was going to be able to last the night. The last thing I needed right now was to cart home an unconscious bimbo.
"Suze." Kelly snapped her fingers in front of my face. "Comprende?" I nodded, and she took a few steps backwards to merge with the crowd. "I'll give you the signal when it's clear." I nodded again, and took another sip of champagne. It tasted good. The bubbles felt good on my tongue and it took the top layer off of my senses.
I was just about to get up and get more before I saw Kelly give the signal (or at least, I thought it was the signal. Unless standing on one leg and clucking was the latest dance craze). I nodded, carefully put down my champagne flute and made my way towards her.
"Let's go!" she cried as I reached her, and with cold hands she clutched me and we raced out of the double doors and into the fresh, cool air. I was free!
And I'd never felt better.
-x-
"Come on." Kelly's fingers were pinching the soft flesh of my arm, urging me after her as she leapt out the cab and charged full force towards the club in front of us. The lights of the Sunset Strip had blinded me – I'd never really been allowed far from the hotel or various studios before and I was in awe of it all – and I staggered in my high heels after her, praying there wasn't a photographer anywhere to snap a 'drunken' shot.
The music from the crowd was loud; the building almost pulsating with the beat – a remix of Lady Gaga, I think, though I couldn't be sure, it was so loud – and I cupped my hands over my ears as we crossed the threshold, the only thing we needed to get in being Kelly's dazzling smile. Something told me she was a regular.
A couple of boys waved her over as we entered the club, and I gazed in wonder at the mirrored ceilings and twinkling skylights. It was all so surreal, like I'd entered a parallel universe. I'd never been anywhere remotely like this before and I couldn't be sure it wasn't something I had dreamt up. The music was deafening, the air was thick with perfume and smoke, and it was dark inside the club, despite the tiny lights dotted on the ceiling. I followed Kelly blindly as she led me to a booth where those boys were waiting.
"Hey, Kel." One of them greeted her warmly, obviously a known acquaintance, though his eyes were lacking kindness as they raked her intrusively. I sat at her side, somewhat uncomfortable as his eyes turned to me. "Don't I know you from somewhere?"
I squirmed, but Kelly took the reins. "This is Suze," she said, nonchalantly. "She's a friend from back home." The second boy nodded acceptingly.
"A NoCal chick," he mused, and he pushed a sweating bottle of beer towards me. "Here, on me." I took it with a timid smile, and but didn't drink it. I knew enough about stranger danger not to be that stupid.
"So, what do you have for me tonight?" Kelly asked, and for a moment I was confused, before the first boy retrieved something from his pocket and I felt like a brick had plummeted to the pits of my stomach.
Oh, my God.
"Only the finest for you, Kel," he said, and he set it alight with an emerald lighter. I watched as it began to smoulder and Kelly leaned in, eyes glittering. The boy saw me observing me in horror, and asked, "You want the first hit?" I could only shake my head silently. Suddenly it all made sense: Kelly's weird behaviour, late nights, red eyes, sweaty hair…
Drugs. I couldn't believe it.
Kelly sat up, eyes rolling back in her head in ecstasy and she relaxed against the leather booth, sighing. "That's good," she said, to the boy, before she noticed my expression. "Oh, Susie, relax. It's harmless. It'd even do you good. You're far too cranky." I shifted away from her a little, looking frantically at the door. No one was watching. In fact, I couldn't see anybody of authority hanging around at all.
"Kelly, let's leave," I said, urgently, and I scrambled for her hand. I turned to see that she had now started cuddling up to the boy and was letting him put his dirty hands all over her – in her hair, on her legs, up her shirt. The second boy was looking at me as if he'd like to do the same.
"Kelly," I repeated, a little more anxiously. What had I been thinking, coming here? And where was the Kelly I had known back in Carmel? Even she hadn't been this reckless. She was clutching at these fifteen minutes of fame with both hands and both feet but it looked like she was losing her grip. "Kelly, please, we've got to go home…"
But I didn't get much chance to persuade her further. Because the next thing I knew, a strong warm hand was on my shoulder and I saw blue and red lights dance on the wall opposite. Just when I thought my stomach couldn't drop any further, it did.
"See here, little missy," the copper said. "You're under arrest."