The guide has moved on, now appearing to give a list of people have died in the surrounding houses. But before it can become a tour of graveyards rather than homes, the bus pulls into Beverly Hills. Everyone is offloaded at the sign for a rest break and a photo opportunity. Anna manages a quick selfie by herself before James summons her over for a group one. A German tourist agrees to take the shot and Anna finds herself crushed between Bella and her brother, tucked under John’s sweaty armpit, the most delightful position. On the instruction to smile, she forces her lips into a show of merriment. God forbid she be stuck in position for longer than absolutely necessary. As soon as she can, she escapes to the restroom – the one place safe from John.
She briefly ponders missing the bus departure and finding her own way back. But the tour was a gift from James and it would be incredibly rude. So, as the time to re-alight rolls around, Anna joins the rest of the group, clambering back onto the bus. Unfortunately, the break seems to have loosened John’s resentment.
The second part of the tour focuses on Los Angeles’ celebrity sights. As the bus passes Chateau Marmont and the guide lists the films shot there and the by-now mandatory rollcall of famous dead, John leans across to Anna.
“I know the maître d’s son,” he announces. “Even on the most crowded nights, I can get a table there like that.” He snaps his fingers two inches from her nose. It seems he is very well-connected among the wait staff as he has similar connections in Whiskey-A-GoGo and the Beverley Hills Hotel.
As they roll down Rodeo Drive, he leans back in his seat, feet pushing against the chair in front. At the jolting, a little girl looks around, frowning, but John ignores her. He points to one of the shop fronts. “That’s RiRi’s favourite,” he says.
“RiRi?” Anna asks before she can think.
John smirks. “Rhianna,” he says. “Met her in Jamaica. We’re like that.” He twists his middle finger over his forefinger and gives it a little shake for emphasis.
Privately, Anna hopes Rhianna has more sense than to be besties with John. But then again, she is the only person on this bus who seems to find him unappealing, so anything might be possible. She catches an echo of Rhianna’s name on the lips of the Germans behind her. They are obviously impressed by John’s boast.
Anna cannot understand the effect of celebrity. She wonders if it is because she spends her professional career with people laid out like slabs of meat, stripped of marks of rank, like expensive watches and cars. But then again, she knows plenty of medics who are over-impressed by famous people. Bella is one.
Anna admires clever people and courageous people, those pushing the boundaries of knowledge and those challenging accepted norms. She acknowledges extraordinary talent and dedication, like Olympic athletes or exceptional artists. But so much of fame seems to proceed from money, often inherited, or charisma. These people she discounts. Although money and charisma are often sufficient to facilitate the achievement of power. It’s an unfortunate characteristic of the human psyche.
Her phone beeps, interrupting her dismal train of thought. She glances down and her heart leaps.
Sexiest Man Alive:I’m hiding in the toilet. Outer space is looking pretty good right now. I’m on my 20th interview and they all ask the same questions.
Bet no one has asked: what if I fart while I’m asleep?
Do you get that much?
All the time. They’re actually asking: what if I poop?
What if they do?
It happens. The ORA cleans it up and we move on.
Good to know but got to go.
The bus pulls up at the drop-off point and Anna raises her head. John is watching her suspiciously. She realises she is grinning and relaxes her face into a semblance of normality around him. Her scowl is perfect. She puts her phone in her pocket, even though it is uncomfortable, and resists the temptation to take it out, even when she feels it vibrate with a message. Tolly has kept her waiting long enough at times. It would be good for him to suffer a little, too. And it will do her no harm to endure, either. Tolly is dangerous if he can set her alight when he isn’t even physically present.
She waits out the end of the trip in the stultifying heat. For once, John is quiet, his face turned away from her as he gazes at the scenery. When the bus pulls to a stop, and the guide bids them farewell with a final helpful reminder about tips, Anna stands, ready to disembark. After the other passengers exit, Anna follows Bella off the bus, pressing a tenner into the guide’s palm. It was not his fault she had little interest in the trip. She notes James also tips, but John doesn’t. It is no matter. John is exactly as she thinks; it would take a minor miracle to rescue him in her eyes.
“Wasn’t that amazing?” Bella is fizzing. “I didn’t realise Michael Jackson lived opposite the Presleys. It explains so much.” She throws herself on James as he joins them. “That was such a great idea.”
James’s face turns pink with the praise. “Didyouenjoy it, Anna?”
There is nothing to do but lie. “Very much so.” She nods her head in emphasis.
Anna finally checks her phone and is disappointed to find it’s just an app reminding her to leave a review. She puts it away, wondering how to make her escape. She reckons if she leaves now, she may just be able to fit in the Getty Centre and her planned bike ride along The Strand before it gets fully dark. It will be tight and she may have to cycle far faster than desirable, but it would be just about doable.
“I’m glad,” James says. “And I’ve booked lunch for all of us at Bubba Gump Shrimp.”
“Like in that film?” Bella asks, eyes wide and hopeful. “Where the guy runs a lot?”
When James nods, Bella squeals and throws her arms around him. Anna looks from James to Bella and back again. Los Angeles is full of fantastic restaurants and foodie places; a chain restaurant was not her top choice. She prefers Mom and Pop-type places herself where their passion for cooking shows in the food. But, she acknowledges, while it may not be a world-class gastronomic experience, it will probably be hygienic and the food will be competently cooked. She stifles her inner sigh before it can escape and forces a smile.
They pile into a rideshare, Anna making sure she sits up front beside the driver. He seems pleased with the seating arrangements and regales her for the entire journey with the details of the script he is writing. It’s a dystopian fantasy, set in California after an earthquake has sundered it from the rest of the USA. In this barren land, a group of blood drinkers preys on the survivors. The plot sounds ludicrous to Anna, but what does she know? She would never have thought there was a market for a book about a vampire attending a high school, let alone a whole series of films. She thinks wistfully of Frank, the driver Tolly organised, and his quiet proficiency.
The rideshare drops them at their destination, sadly disappointed by Anna’s refusal to give him her number. Jamestakes the lead and they shuffle into the restaurant. Anna glances around at theForrest Gumpfilm memorabilia. She liked the film despite the bitter-sweet ending, but she isn’t a particular fan. Her appreciation is cursory. Bella, though, gets James to take countless photos of her posing beside various displays. The waiter waits patiently. Anna guesses he is used to it and has long since suppressed his eye-roll reflex. When she’s finished, he leads them back outside to a table under a cheerful red umbrella. Anna’s heart plummets when she sees the tables are set up like booths. As Bella slides into one, Anna steps in front of James to sit beside her, taking care to chatter to her friend as she does so. It’s only a comment about the joys of alfresco dining but Bella agrees warmly. James blinks a couple of times and takes the seat opposite Bella. John faces Anna. Not the best layout but not the worst either. She would sooner suffer having John in eyeshot than arm’s reach.
The menus come and the drink order is taken with brisk efficiency. It is sweltering outside. Though the umbrella gives ample shade, the heat reflecting off the paving of the pedestrianised area is unrelenting. Only the British are mad enough to think it preferable to the air-conditioned comfort inside the restaurant. Even though it is a weekday, as they are in the heart of the tourist area, there are still a fair few passers-by, but the sound of the LA traffic has dropped away.
