Page 44 of One Hollywood Sunset

‘I hope it goes OK. Give me a call later,’ she urged, leaning into the car for a little privacy.

‘I will. I’ll see you.’ He kissed her lips.

‘It was nice to meet you, Nick. Maybe we could get together some time, have a drink,’ Jonathan called.

‘Yeah, sure.’ Nicholas pulled up the windows and drove towards the exit.

‘That is a great car. I have one myself of course, but not that particular model. And mine’s yellow. I was told the red version was just a little too Magnum.’ He followed the car with his eyes as Nicholas left through the gate.

‘I’m sorry I’m late; I’ve had a bit of a hectic morning. Can I just check in with Sasha before we go to lunch?’ Freya asked moving towards the door of the building.

‘Of course. Shall I wait in the car?’

‘Do you still have the driver?’

‘Yes I do.’

‘Then you’d better go and keep him company. I won’t be long.’

She pushed open the door and entered the reception area. The part-time secretary was behind the desk.

‘Hey, Avril. Where’s Sasha?’

‘Hello, Miss Johnson. Sasha had to go out on an appointment so she asked me to come in a little early. I didn’t mind.’

‘Oh, OK. Well, make sure I pay you for the extra time, won’t you? Keep reminding me, Avril. Write it on a Post-It and stick it to a patisserie bag if you have to.’ She leafed through her appointment book.

‘I will. Patisserie bag, noted.’

‘Right, well, I’m going on a lunch appointment with Mr Sanders. I should be back by three but I don’t have my mobile with me so you won’t be able to contact me. I assume Sasha has briefed you about the journalists.’ She backed towards the door.

‘Yes she has; we are making no comment. Miss Johnson?’ Avril called before Freya could exit.

‘Yes, Avril.’

‘I do like your hair that colour. It makes you look very mature.’

‘Mature? Mature as in old? Oh my God, does it?’ She scrutinised her reflection in the glass panels of the door.

‘Perhaps that was the wrong word.’

‘Perhaps I was too hasty saying I would pay you overtime.’

She left the building and made her way over to Jonathan’s car. She opened the back door.

‘Do I look old?’ she asked him.

‘Hmm, you’ll have to get a little closer for me to tell. I can’t quite get a good enough look at the bags under your eyes from this angle.’

‘God, it’s useless asking you. Where are we going for lunch?’

‘Where d’you want to go?’

‘Can we just get a hot dog or something? I really don’t feel like a restaurant.’

‘Of course. Ken, take us to the best hot dog vendor around here,’ Jonathan called to the driver.

‘I promise I won’t get chilli sauce on your seats.’

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