Tolly chuckles. “Looks like she’s getting real friendly with the locals,” he says in his West Texas accent. But this time, it doesn’t have its magical effect and she can’t find his words funny in the slightest. James … Her dorky, kind boss does not deserve this. She holds the vain hope Bella and James have reached an understanding. A parting of ways as the conference ended, but she remembers James from earlier. Nothing in his demeanour suggested a tinge of sadness at the imminent end of his holiday romance. Not that they were on holiday.
The woman on the lounger stands. It is definitely Bella. Something in the way she moves, the casual shake of her locks, the silhouette against the light from the pool, makes Anna certain. Bella holds out her hand and the male figure rises to take it, re-fastening his trousers before he does. He takes Bella’s hand and follows as she leads him into the darker areas of the garden. The night swallows them and Anna turns her attention back to her partner. She tries to forget what she has seen. She is not Bella’s keeper. Luckily, as Tolly spins her around, swings her up, dips her down, there is little further chance for talk. She concentrates on having a good time. It is not often she gets to dance with someone who knows what they are doing. They jive and rumba and salsa and merengue until Anna is gasping. “Stop,” she calls, laughing. “I need something to drink!”
In a slightly calmer voice, she says, “Besides, it’s safe now. I think Ryan got tired of waiting for you.”
“Don’t you believe it,” Tolly says. “He’s devious. It’s a great trait in an agent, as long as he’s on your side. You had better not leave me alone, or he’ll find some way to sneak me away.”
“You romantics. It’s always drama,” she says. “I’m sure Ryan is completely trustworthy and a great lump like you isn’t going anywhere he doesn’t want to.”
Still, she stays by Tolly’s side as he orders drinks from a passing waiter. He takes her back to the little terrace she saw when she first arrived. She leans against the dwarf wall, staring out at the lights of Los Angeles. It is late, and most of the residential quarters are in darkness apart from streetlights. Tolly looms behind her, the heat from his body welcome as the perspiration from dancing cools on her skin.
“Have you seen much of LA?” he asks.
“I was here last year and stayed on to do the studios. I went to the Getty Centre today. I was hoping to cycle the Strand, but I got side-tracked.”
“The child who got knocked over?”
“No. He was okay. I was side-tracked before that. A bus tour my boss wanted to do.” She is not about to confess to the celebrity home part. Nor does she want to explain the Bella-James-John situation, or to think about any of them in this moment. She wants to be present, here, with Tolly and the night and the stars.
“Have you got plans tomorrow?”
“Nothing fixed.”
“Would you let me show you around?”
“I’d love that.” Anna says the words from politeness, but as she says them, she realises how true they are. “But don’t you already have things you have to do?” She cannot imagine, given his new propulsion to super-stardom, he has time to take a day off.
“The thing about being me at the moment is that I can ask for almost anything and someone will try to make it happen. There are limits. I have to turn up on Saturday night, but other than that, I can make it work.”
“Okay, then.” Is it a date? Or is it just him being friendly? Even Anna would show a friend around London if they’d arrived on a transatlantic flight.
“We’d need to start early in the morning.”
Anna blinks. “Oh. In that case, I’d better go home.”
“You could stay here.” The words are spoken softly.
For an actor, Tolly can be awfully obtuse with his meaning. Anna holds still. For one moment, she considers the temptation of staying with Tolly, of sharing his bed, of her skin sliding against his in the cool air of the dawn.
“I have five spare bedrooms.”
Sense returns with a crash. No. Of course not. There she goes again, reading far more into this than friendship. She doesn’t trust herself to speak, so she shakes her head. Shepushes off the wall, feeling a little more collected. “I must find Bella.”
But Bella isn’t immediately obvious. She’s not on the terrace, nor in the house. Anna prays she hasn’t found some way of circumventing the guard on the stairs for Tolly to find her in his bed later, naked. She would not put that past Bella. But then Tolly calls his security.
“She left earlier,” the guard tells him. “With some guy. Randy MacIntyre. I think they were headed for a club.”
Tolly turns to Anna. “I think you’re on your own.”
Anna shrugs. Like she has been telling herself all evening, Bella is a big girl and knows what she is doing.
They retrace their steps back through the house and garden to the entrance gate. Frank is there, seemingly already alerted for her arrival and standing with the rear passenger door open.
“Pick you up at eight?” Tolly asks.
Anna has no idea of the time, but it must be the early hours already. “You might not need it, but I could do with some beauty sleep. Nine?” she counters.
“Nine.” He smiles his agreement and Anna’s heart loses its pace for a moment. Damn. She thought she was past that. Desensitised by exposure.
