Page 36 of Star Struck

‘A dinner date with Gethryn Tudor-Morgan,’ Jared said slowly, as if it was necessary. Behind me, a girl who had her fingers crossed so tightly that her hands were white, was muttering ‘please God, please,’ and the lady in the Quo shirt crossed herself furtively.

Jared opened an envelope, someone in the crowd shouted, ‘Oscar for Best Picture goes to—’ and everyone laughed, diffusing some of the tension that had built around us. It was like waiting for a thunderstorm to break. My hands were sweating.

‘Jennifer-Lee Warner!’

To my left a girl with long, blonde hair gave a scream. ‘That’s me. Oh, thankyouthankyou . . .’ and began spinning around to receive the congratulations coming from everyone standing near. I was ashamed of my sudden relief and managed a ‘well done’, accompanied by a smile which probably looked quite scary from the other side of my face.

‘Hey, Skye.’ Felix squeezed my fingers until I turned to face him. ‘First prize now.’ His eyes were very wide, firmly fixed on the slender figure in the tight jeans on the stage. I wasn’t sure if it was lust or ambition burning behind them.

‘Yeah. First prize. Hooray.’

But he didn’t hear, or chose not to.

Jared looked at the crowd from lowered lashes and Felix gave a small moan. ‘First prize,’ Jared repeated. ‘A part in the new series. I’ve seen the scripts for the two-parter, and, man, is it going to be exciting. I think Jay gave some hints yesterday as to what we can expect.’ He held out a hand and I noticed Jack for the first time, standing behind some of the other crew members at the edge of the stage. He gave a half-smile and a shrug. ‘Whoever wins this prize is gonna get some huge surprises, not only a part but the entire series’ scripts autographed by the whole cast, a day on set, you name it.’

Felix’s lips were moving as though he was praying.

‘And the winner.’ A rip of paper. ‘Skye Threppel!’

Felix sagged. ‘You did it,’ he whispered. ‘You actually did it.’

The crowd looked around. I hadn’t made a sound, suddenly empty of all feeling, and my fingers crept up to my scar. I’d won a prize I couldn’t even use. A mutter rose as everyone wondered where the winner was.

‘Here!’ Felix held up our joined hands. ‘Skye is here!’

And then I was surrounded, hands reaching out to touch me, pat me, as though my luck was a communicable disease, a solid push of bodies crowding me. I began to gasp.

‘You did it.’ Felix was still whispering. ‘I’m on the show. This is it, Skye, this is my break.’

My skin prickled with sweat and I felt suddenly sick. My lungs wouldn’t work, there was more air going out than getting in, too warm, no oxygen . . . and then the dark, rushing over me, pouring like water behind my eyes, and I was dropping . . .

* * *

When I opened my eyes again, I was lying on a bed. The light was muted and soft and the air con was turned down low, so that the temperature was cool but not unpleasantly so.

Jack was standing at the window with his back to me. I half-raised my head, took in my surroundings, and flopped down again. ‘I don’t know why I don’t just move in,’ I said. ‘All my most embarrassing moments seem to have happened in here.’ My mind jumped away to the overheard conversation of the night before, Lissa’s quiet sadness at his intransigence. She’d sounded as though she’d expected nothing else from him, as though a lack of concern, a lack of caring was normal for him and yet, here he was, rescuing me yet again from an awkward situation. Which was the real Jack Whitaker? The intense writer with the wicked grin, or the man they called the Iceman — emotionally arid? And — my mind held the question up in front of me but didn’t dare even to put it into words — where did Gethryn feature in all this?

He turned round and smiled at me. He certainly didn’t look like a man without feelings. ‘You passed out.’

‘I kind of gathered that.’

‘I carried you up. Told them I’d do the publicity stuff later, said I was feeling a bit ill myself. They’re all down there now drawing up the paperwork in case it means that there’s something contagious going around; I think that they’re two minutes from putting out a Legionnaire’s alert.’ He gave a grin that lightened his eyes and sat on the edge of the bed. ‘Felix says you’d agreed to give the part to him if you won?’

‘Yes, sort of.’

‘Sort of.’ Jack repeated, shaking his head.

‘It was for Faith.’ I felt ashamed for some reason, as though I should be explaining myself.

‘You think you owe Felix something because his sister died?’

‘No, I don’t owe him. But I can’t take the part anyway, Jack. The scars . . .’

He leaned forward and ran a finger over my face. ‘There’s always something. You could be a Thulos telepath.’

‘Yeah. Silent, under fourteen layers of latex. What’s that, your perfect woman?’

He smiled again. ‘Yowza.’ Then the smile faded. ‘You went along with it for second prize though, didn’t you? I saw your face, waiting for the announcement.’

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