How to be Famous Read online

  She stood in the doorway for a second and took a deep breath of dry heat and then jumped down.

  ‘Fuck me! Oh, shit. Shit. Shit, that hurts.’

  Later she would swear that she actually heard her feet sizzle on the red-hot road. She hopped on the blazing asphalt and jumped back up onto the step of the bus. The bottom step, the one that was metal and not rubber. It was hot enough to fry eggs.

  ‘Shit!’

  Lynsey fell in a heap just inside the door and started laughing at herself. Father Christmas poured the rest of his Evian over her frazzled feet.

  For lunch they stopped at a lovely bijou place by the side of a six-lane highway with impressive views of the surrounding manufacturing plants. The menu was limited.

  Lynsey looked at the swarm of flies making themselves comfortable on the food counter and decided to try her luck in the annexed general store instead. Everything you could ever possibly need in a small rural town was in this store. God Bless America. There were more hardware supplies than groceries but she found a bag of peanuts that she thought would sustain her until the next burger chain.

  In the next aisle over she saw a row of spray pumps. The cheap plastic atomizers you use to spray your house plants if you like that sort of thing. Or the sort you could use to cool yourself down if you were stuck on a baking bus heading into the desert. She picked one up.

  ‘Can you fill it for me?’

  The clerk looked as though he didn’t understand the question.

  ‘Can you fill it up with water?’

  ‘I’m not sure.’

  ‘Do you have a tap back there?’

  ‘Say what?’

  ‘A faucet. She means do you have a faucet.’ Serena appeared behind her and threw the clerk a beguiling smile. He nodded. ‘So could you fill this with water?’

  They clerk did as he was told and Lynsey was impressed with Serena’s apparent ability to make men obey instantly. A useful skill and one that she would like to master.

  ‘That’s a great idea,’ said Serena and Lynsey felt absurdly proud. ‘Where were they?’

  ‘Back there by the fertilizer. Wait a sec.’ She followed. ‘Let’s buy a whole bunch. Do you have any money?’

  They both knew the answer to that.

  ‘Here, hold this,’ said Serena. She passed her purchase to Lynsey and reached into her waistband, pulling out a twenty. The note was damp with sweat. ‘It was worse in my bra,’ she said. ‘I had to take it off.’

  They gathered armfuls of the spray pumps and started piling them up on the counter. Lynsey counted them quickly.

  The clerk looked confused.

  ‘Let’s do a deal,’ said Lynsey. ‘These are priced at eighty cents. We’ll take them all off your hands for ten dollars if you fill them up. That’s a good deal. What do you get them at wholesale? You can’t be paying more than five dollars a box, am I right?’

  The clerk looked around for his father but he was busy serving dried-up sandwiches to a hungry busload of paying customers, trying to turn them around before the next Greyhound pulled up and he had to start all over again.

  ‘Hey, do we have a deal?’

  He looked down at the two girls. The one with the strange accent doing all the talking was scary but the blonde, oh sweet Jesus, the blonde. He puffed out his chest. ‘Sure.’ He filled them all and gave them boxes to carry them back.

  Lynsey and Serena walked back outside and over towards most of their travel companions sitting in the dappled shade of a lone ponderosa pine.

  ‘How much are they going to love us?’ said Lynsey.

  ‘Who cares? How much are they going to pay?’

  Lynsey stopped. ‘I was just going to give them away. I’ll give you the money. I left most of mine on the bus.’

  ‘On the bus? Are you crazy? Anyone could take it. And you just want to give out presents? What are we all like one big family now? Don’t be dumb. I think we should say two dollars.’

  ‘Who’s going to pay two dollars when they can walk over there and buy their own?’

  ‘He hasn’t got any left.’

  ‘Good point,’ said Lynsey. ‘But still, two dollars is almost triple what we paid. You’re ripping them off.’

  ‘I’m making a profit.’

  ‘So we just walk over there and start hawking our wares?’

  ‘Start what?’ asked Serena.

  ‘How are we going to sell them?’

  ‘Spray me.’ Serena took off her shirt and tied it round her waist. You could see the faint shadow of her nipples beneath her white camisole. ‘Spray me,’ she repeated.

  Lynsey fired with all cylinders.

  The waterfight drew quite a crowd.

  Two dollars seemed like a small price to pay for a slice of the action.

  Father Christmas swapped seats with Serena. After the water frolics everyone assumed they were friends but she ignored Lynsey and tried to sleep. At least she let Lynsey have the window.

  Finally the bus entered the sprawling suburbs of El Paso where the promised replacement bus with functioning air-con awaited them like the chalice at the end of some mythical quest.

  It was inky black outside and raining. The lights of the city swam down the windows in rivers.

  Lightning flared the dark interior and the bus collectively gasped. It was proper hammer-house-of-horror lightning that forked wide and blue across the massive desert sky, sometimes in as many as half a dozen places at once. It burnt traces across the eyes like staring at a naked light bulb.

  Serena stirred beside her, roused by the buzz of activity that the lightning was creating on board. There was a deafening crack of thunder. ‘What is it? What’s happening?’

  ‘It’s a storm. Look at it.’ It was as if all the energy in the universe had gathered here to party. ‘I mean, just look at it. You know, you can keep your stars and your sunsets. I’ll just take the thunderstorms.’

  There was another boom of thunder. Serena squealed and cowered in her seat.

  ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘I just don’t like storms, that’s all.’

  ‘Are you scared? I didn’t think you’d be scared of anything.’

  Serena covered her face with her hands and refused to watch any more.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen, if you could all settle down. We should be arriving in El Paso in about fifteen minutes but we’re a little late and the bus you were gonna transfer to has already left. We have to wait here for a while and then split you guys on the morning buses.’ A rumble of discontent flowed through the seats and petered out in the back row. ‘I’m real sorry, folks, but it has been a pleasure to drive you.’

  The sky cleared and Lynsey knew where Serena would be.

  She took a while to find in the chaos of a late-night border-town bus station but eventually Lynsey saw her in the distance. Near enough to be heard if she screamed, though would anyone pay any attention? But far enough away from the brightest lights. She stood next to her and looked up.

  ‘I never understood the fascination with stars,’ she said. ‘They don’t do anything. They don’t move.’

  ‘No,’ said Serena. ‘But we do.’

  Serena had to wait in line for a free pay phone. She was nervous. She dialled the familiar number that was no longer hers. She was afraid of what he might say. He might be angry, upset that she had left him like this.

  He picked up on the third ring and sounded sleepy. ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Bobby?’ Little Bobby, the brother she had left behind. At least now, aged twelve, he was big enough to defend himself.

  ‘Serena, is that you? Where are you?’

  ‘I’m on a bus. I’m right next to Mexico.’

  ‘Where are you going?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m going to make us some money. I couldn’t tell you because he might have made you tell him. You’ll keep quiet, yeah? If he asks, you’re to say I didn’t say goodbye.’

  ‘Can I come?’

  Tears pricked her eyes at the sweet voice. She remem
bered how sometimes, on a bad night, Bobby would sneak into her room, trying to be quiet even though she was awake and Serena would pretend to be asleep so he wasn’t embarrassed about nestling into the curve of her back.

  ‘Not right now, but I’ll let you know as soon as you can. I’ll buy a house for us, it’ll be on the beach, we can swim every day. I’ll call you soon, I promise. Go back to sleep, it’ll be all right.’

  ‘Bye, Reeny,’ he said, slipping back towards sleep. ‘Happy Birthday.’

  She looked at her watch; it would be past midnight in Maine. Bobby was right. Today was Serena’s fourteenth birthday.

  11

  Fine. Everyone else was right and Lynsey was wrong. Travelling across America by Greyhound bus was a really bad idea.

  She was exhausted, filthy with journey dust and several hours later than she thought she would be.

  In the last few days she had seen the inside of a lot of bus stations and Los Angeles was just the same, only bigger. It was a smorgasbord of activity that was at once intimidating and invigorating. The heady mix of exhaust fumes and conversation was everywhere. She could hear several languages, more Spanish than English and lots she didn’t recognize. She felt as if she was in a sorting office at the end of the world.

  Lynsey picked her way through the swarming people and mountains of luggage towards the air outside. By the time she reached the double doors she felt as if she was drowning. She stepped out and looked up at the grey sky. There it was. The famous Los Angeles smog, She took a deep lungful of the stuff.

  No time for that. Where were all the cabs? In London they queued around the block at all the major stations. She ignored the ‘car? car? motel?’ call of the touts and looked for an orderly line of licensed taxis. But she couldn’t see one.

  ‘Okay, how much?’ she said eventually to one persistent tout that buzzed around her like a fly.

  ‘Where to?’

  ‘Wait.’ She held up her hand and started rummaging in her bag. She was meeting Melanie. In her bag was the piece of paper with the name of the restaurant where they were having lunch. And Melanie’s new mobile number so that she could call her and tell her that she was, in all likelihood, going to be late. ‘Wait. Hang on.’

  Oh no.

  The tout wandered off in search of more organized prey and Lynsey found a quiet spot to upend her bag. She rifled through the pages of her books and checked her wallet (where she was sure she last saw it) three times but could not find Melanie’s note.

  Shit.

  It would be the middle of the night in London and she couldn’t very well call CMG Los Angeles two days before she started work and look so disorganized. Shit. Not a good start to the day, not a good start at all. If she was the sort of girl who looked for omens then this would be a bad one. But she wasn’t. She would trust the universe to provide her with the answers as long as she was open to them.

  She sat on a metal bench screwed down to the sidewalk and tried to relax.

  After a short while there was an unmistakable sign. Amid the clapped-out shuttle buses and long-distance coaches jostling for space she saw a red 1978 Mustang convertible standing out like a diamond in the rough. Her dream car. It was a beauty.

  Hoisting her bag over her shoulder Lynsey walked over. Behind the wheel, studying a city map, was a man with dirty blond hair and green eyes.

  ‘I love your car,’ she said.

  The man looked up. He got this a lot. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘It’s 1978, yeah? What is it? Twin valve turbines with a double fuel injection?’

  He noticed three things all at once: this girl was pretty, British and she knew her cars.

  ‘Riley Daniels.’ He placed the map on the empty seat beside him and stuck out his hand. He’d figure out how to get back to civilization later. His whole morning was shot anyway. This would be the last time he offered a friend a ride to the bus station. He was through being a chauffeur.

  ‘Lynsey Dixon,’ said Lynsey. ‘Are you local?’

  ‘Not to this part of urban paradise,’ he said, indicating the chaos all around them. ‘But if you mean LA, then yes.’

  ‘I need directions,’ said Lynsey. ‘But I don’t know where I’m going.’ She checked him out. Sharp clothes, good haircut. He looked like he knew where to eat. ‘I arranged to meet a friend in a restaurant but I can’t remember which one.’

  ‘There are thousands of restaurants in this city,’ said Riley.

  ‘Yeah, I know, but it’s on the beach and I remember that it had a pretty name.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Riley. He liked a puzzle as much as the next guy. ‘What kind of person is your friend?’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ said Lynsey. She didn’t know Melanie very well at all. Then she realized how stupid that sounded. ‘She’s an actress.’

  ‘Working or resting?’

  ‘Working. Definitely working, she just got a big part in a new HBO drama.’

  Riley was intrigued. ‘So it will be somewhere classy?’

  ‘Probably. But not too flash. Maybe with good views.’ Wouldn’t any tourist want to look at where they were while they ate?

  ‘And a pretty name?’

  ‘That’s right. Any ideas?’

  ‘Moonshadows?’

  ‘Oh my God, that’s it! You’re amazing! Truly. Wow.’ The sparkle of serendipity lit up her smile and she grinned widely. ‘Thank you so much!’

  ‘You’re welcome,’ said Riley. Her enthusiasm was catching and suddenly he felt like a hero. ‘It’s in Malibu. I can give you a ride if you like.’

  A flicker of hesitation dented Lynsey’s grin and Riley saw it. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘You can trust me. I’m not a psycho.’

  ‘And if you were would you tell me?’

  Riley laughed. ‘Here,’ he said. He reached into the glove compartment for his wallet. ‘You can keep hold of this all the way to the beach if you like. It’s got my ID.’

  Lynsey took the wallet and studied the driver’s licence like a cop. Riley Daniels, thirty-two, bad picture. A ride to the beach in the car of her dreams sounded like a perfect solution. She climbed in.

  ‘So tell me about your actress friend,’ he said. One last look at the map, turn the radio on and away. ‘What’s her name?’

  ‘Melanie Chaplin. You won’t know her.’

  He didn’t.

  ‘This is her big break.’

  ‘So it’s a big deal this show?’

  ‘Oh, yeah,’ said Lynsey. She was proud of Melanie, as a friend would be.

  ‘Who else is in it?’ asked Riley.

  ‘Fabien Stewart. It’s about lawyers.’

  Riley’s face fell.

  ‘But in a dark cool way,’ said Lynsey.

  ‘Dark cool lawyers?’

  ‘Apparently.’

  ‘What’s Melanie like?’

  ‘I don’t really know,’ said Lynsey. ‘I’ve only met her a few times. She seems nice. I should find out more soon.’

  ‘Oh, yeah?’

  ‘That’s why I’m here. I have this new job at CMG. It’s an agency.’

  ‘Cool.’

  Riley let her talk while he navigated the late-morning traffic. She told him all about her old job in London and her hopes for this new one in La La land.

  ‘Oh, I love this song,’ she said as the familiar Lipps Inc guitar riff heralded ‘Funkytown’.

  ‘Seriously?’

  ‘It’s a disco classic.’

  ‘Is there any such thing?’

  Lynsey stuck out her tongue and turned up the volume.

  They made good time zipping along Santa Monica Freeway in an attention-grabbing car. Lynsey felt like a movie star. Catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror she grimaced. She may feel like a movie star but she looked like shit. As if, as her mother would say, she had been dragged through a hedge backwards.

  ‘Is Moonshadows fancy?’ she asked.

  Riley looked at her combat trousers and vest top combination and saw her point immediately. ‘You sho
uld probably change.’

  ‘I need a shower.’

  ‘That’s easy.’ Riley pulled the car off the main highway and onto a cross street that led down to the Pacific Ocean. It was a sea like any other but it had a subtle magnitude imbued in every roll of surf and every countless inch of blue. It was beautiful. It was her first time.

  Not much between here and China except Japan.

  She was so lost in this spectacle that for a second she thought that Riley meant she should wash in the sea then she saw the showers punctuating the promenade like bus shelters on Oxford Street. She took a moment to recall what she was wearing under her clothes and then deeming it acceptable she shrugged off her jeans, grabbed her washbag, and ran out of the car in her underwear.

  Riley changed the radio station.

  The cold water felt invigorating. She drenched her hair, knowing that it would dry wildly but hoping it would be so outrageous she could pretend that it was supposed to look like that, a style decision. When she had finished a slight breeze made her hurry back to the car.

  She dried herself as they cut back onto the main highway and she pulled on a summery dress the colour of spring leaves that never needed ironing no matter what she put it through. She wrapped the towel around her waist to put on dry knickers, wriggling in the seat and making Riley laugh. She ran her fingers through her hair to try to make sense of it, applied a slick of Jemmalips gloss and was ready.

  They pulled into a narrow strip of parking lot that looked like a car dealership.

  ‘This is it,’ said Riley.

  Lynsey looked unimpressed.

  ‘It’s better inside. Try and get a table in the Blue Lounge.’ He helped her with her bag and then shook her outstretched hand.

  ‘Thank you. You saved my life,’ said Lynsey.

  ‘See you around, Discogirl.’ Riley climbed back into his car and was about to drive away. ‘Wait, you dropped something.’

  It was, of course, the all-important piece of paper with nothing written on it except Moonshadows and a telephone number.