I Heart Hollywood. Lindsey Kelk

and, if you do it right, could even go international,’ Mary explained. ‘If this goes wrong, the publishers are hardly likely to want to continue with your blog, are they?’

      ‘No,’ I said, suddenly feeling very sick.

      ‘Look, no one’s expecting a Pulitzer prize-winning article, just go out there and talk to this man. There are a lot worse ways to spend a week in March. You’re getting an all-expenses-paid trip to LA, plus you’re getting paid. Suck it up, go buy a bikini and interview the handsome man.’ She waved me out of my seat. ‘I’ll see you in two weeks. And don’t screw it up.’

      I felt a bony grip on my shoulder and rose tentatively out of my chair. Please let it be Death, I prayed silently, gathering up my sweaters, gloves and coat.

      ‘Can we please hurry this up?’ came the snide voice attached to the Vulcan death-grip. ‘I have other things to do today.’

      ‘Oh, Cici,’ I said, trying not to be disappointed. She might be as bony as Death but Cici was a lot more dangerous.

      ‘And then, as if I wasn’t freaked out enough, she basically said they only want me because I’m an amateur.’ I dropped my head onto the table in Scottie’s Diner, across the street from our apartment, toppling the tomato sauce into Jenny’s fries. ‘Shouldn’t I be insulted?’

      ‘OK, firstly, you kinda are an amateur, aren’t you?’ Jenny gulped her Diet Pepsi and shrugged. ‘I just mean you’ve never interviewed anyone before, right? And uh, hello, you’re going to LA on Saturday?’

      ‘Yes,’ I started, ‘but—’

      ‘Shut. Up.’ Jenny held out her hand. ‘You’re being paid to fly to sunny, hot LA from cold, fugly New York. In March. To interview one of the hottest men in the entire world. Who has specifically asked for you. And they’re paying you for it. I see no bad here. It’s a massive step for your career, you’re interviewing one of the hottest men in the world. And you’re going to LA. With one of the hottest men ever. In LA.’

      ‘I can see that you’ve found a couple of positives.’ I frowned, sipping my hot chocolate. ‘But—and I know I sound like a whiny cow, but the more I think about it, it just doesn’t feel like a good idea. I don’t want to take on such an amazing opportunity and then cock it up because I don’t know how to interview someone, let alone some Hollywood super-stud. Plus, I don’t really want to disappear off to LA for a week on my own. Not at the moment…’ I tailed off and looked into my hot chocolate, painfully aware that I had said absolutely the wrong thing.

      Jenny shook her head. ‘Uh-uh. You are not doing this: it could be my only chance to meet James Jacobs. And, you know, it would be nice to head out to LA again,’ she pointed with a floppy fry. ‘If you even suggest turning this down because you’ve just got back into Alex’s shorts, I will be so angry with you.’

      ‘Firstly, that’s not what I meant,’ I lied, pulling the fries across the table. Most days, I loved that Jenny knew exactly what I was really thinking, no matter what actual words made it out of my mouth, but sometimes it was just irritating. ‘And secondly, when were you last in LA? And thirdly, you’re coming with me?’

      ‘Firstly, yes I am, secondly a few years ago, I’ve so told you before and you never listen and, thirdly, that is exactly what you meant and it’s bullshit.’

      ‘It’s not that I don’t want to go, or at least not because of Alex. I-I don’t know. I’ll miss him. Is that the saddest thing ever?’

      ‘Yes, it is.’ Jenny gave me her best ‘you’re being ridiculous’ look. ‘You don’t think he’s going to cheat on you?’

      ‘No, of course not,’ I shrugged. The thought might have crossed my mind. ‘Things are just going really well right now. But things were going really well before and look what happened.’

      ‘Oh Angie,’ Jenny said, ‘it’s different this time. Any idiot can see it’s real between you two.’

      ‘Wasn’t it real before?’ I asked. It had been everything I could do not to even think these things all day and now here I was, saying it all out loud. ‘And he walked away. And did God-knows-what with God-knows-who. Who’s to say I go away and he’s out with his friends and, well, you know. Have you seen him? He’s bloody gorgeous.’

      ‘Yeah, so over that and hello? He won’t cheat on you because he loves you.’ Jenny stabbed at me with a fry loaded with ketchup.

      ‘He hasn’t said so.’

      ‘Have you said it?’

      ‘Nope.’

      ‘Do you love him?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘Huh. So you’ve been thinking it but not saying it?’

      ‘Er, yes.’

      ‘So what makes you think he isn’t thinking it but hasn’t said it either?’ Jenny reasoned.

      ‘But what if I say it and he thinks I’m moving too fast and dumps me again?’ I countered.

      ‘So you don’t say it,’ Jenny held up her hands. ‘Or you do. Whatever.’

      ‘Hmm.’ I nibbled a fry thoughtfully while Jenny wolfed down a whole handful. ‘You were there on holiday?’

      ‘Where, LA?’ Jenny asked through a mouthful.

      I nodded, trying not to look at the big potato-ey mess. For a very beautiful girl, Jenny could be foul sometimes.

      ‘Way to change the subject. OK, don’t laugh, but before I decided to become the new Oprah and before Tyra frickin’ Banks beat me to it, I thought I might give acting a shot. So I spent a while in LA, stayed out for the pilot season, but it wasn’t for me so I came back to New York. It might be nice to go back out, see some friends. Maybe we could stay at The Hollywood. I could take a week’s vacation and you know, you can introduce me to James Jacobs.’

      ‘OK, OK, this is too much.’ I couldn’t help but grin at Jenny. ‘And don’t you dare try and change the subject—that’s my thing. You went to Hollywood to be an actress?’

      ‘And I’d have been a silver-screen goddess but the West Coast wasn’t for me.’ Jenny shook her head. ‘Can we leave it?’

      ‘Fine, I just—well, I can’t imagine you playing anyone other than Jenny Lopez,’ I said.

      ‘It’s the role of a lifetime.’ Jenny gave me a quick flash of jazz hands. ‘You do mean me and not the other one, right? Because I’d have to kick your ass.’

      ‘You’re more of a diva,’ I agreed. ‘So what’s The Hollywood?’

      Jenny waved at the old silver-haired man behind the counter. ‘Sister hotel. It’s The Union in New York and there’s The Hollywood in LA, The Strip in Vegas and, uh, The Something Else in Paris. I can never remember. Scottie, could we get some more fries, please?’

      ‘How many times do I tell you, my name it is not Scottie, it is Igor,’ the guy behind the counter trundled over with more fries. ‘I buy this place from Scottie, this is why it is called Scottie’s Diner.’

      ‘Thanks, Scottie,’ Jenny gingerly picked up scalding hot chip and blew on it, ‘you’re good people.’

      ‘Are you sure we could stay there? The magazine said they would put me up in an apartment somewhere.’ I couldn’t believe the amount of crap Jenny could eat and never gain a pound. A true disciple of WeightWatchers, I had forgone almost all foods with a calorie content higher than that of a carrot for a whole year to slim into my ill-fated bridesmaid dress. Walking the streets of New York City every single day helped, but I could never be one of those girls who scarfed ice cream, pizza and chocolate all day long without putting on weight. A girl like Jenny, who only ever put on a couple of pounds—tops; which went straight to her already curvy curves and never ever to her tiny waist. If she weren’t