Charlotte hovered behind Jessica, clearly eavesdropping and trying to get the starlet’s attention. Ivy ducked behind a potted topiary in the shape of a peacock, so she could get closer without being seen.
When Jessica looked over, Charlotte turned on her biggest smile. ‘Oh, hi, Jessica!’ she said, trying to pretend that she just happened to be standing there.
Jessica raised one eyebrow.
Ivy leaned forwards and pushed away a twig that was sticking out from the peacock’s tail and tickling her nose. She was hoping for a delicious cut-down. After all, Jessica wasn’t nice to anyone and surely the Hollywood vamp was going to tell Charlotte to get lost.
‘I just love those Bibble Bubble shoes,’ Charlotte cooed. ‘They must be next season’s because I haven’t seen them anywhere.’
Jessica looked Charlotte up and down, clearly evaluating whatever pink, fashion-victim code she was presenting, and deciding that Charlotte passed.
‘You’re right,’ Jessica said. ‘François sent them to me straight from the prototypes.’
‘Oh, you’re so lucky!’ Charlotte said.
Ivy let out her breath. What a let down! It seemed the two shallowest people currently in residence in Franklin Grove were destined to be friends. Ivy had been hoping for some kind of spontaneous combustion. Still, with two egos that size, there might be some fireworks to come.
‘I love your hair, too,’ Charlotte was saying. ‘And your ice sculpture is so fab.’
‘Thanks!’ Jessica said to Charlotte. Then she narrowed her eyes. ‘You must live here.’
Stop the press, Ivy thought. The girl is a genius.
Charlotte nodded eagerly.
‘That means,’ Jessica went on slyly, ‘you must go to school with . . . oh, what’s-her-name . . .’
‘I know everyone who’s anyone,’ Charlotte bragged, flipping her hair.
‘Dark hair, green eyes,’ Jessica went on vaguely. ‘Had some minor role in the movie.’
Charlotte was like a baby bird waiting for its breakfast, desperate to get the answer right. ‘Um . . . oh, I know! Olivia! Olivia Abbott!’
‘Hmm,’ Jessica said and Ivy wanted to dump the full potted plant’s worth of soil over her head.
How dare she pretend not to know Olivia’s name! Ivy thought.
Ivy was just about to step out and let Jessica have it when someone tapped her on the shoulder. She whirled around to see Mr Harker wearing what looked like the same pair of scruffy jeans from last night but with a different band’s T-shirt under his black blazer.
‘I was hoping to run into you, man,’ he said, as Ivy sheepishly stepped out from her hiding place. ‘Although I’m not sure I would have expected to do it behind a manicured plant.’
Ivy offered a weak smile. Maybe he will just decide I’m an idiot and not want me to star in any of his movies, she hoped.
‘Let’s find somewhere a little more quiet to talk,’ Harker commanded.
Ivy followed him through the throng to the drinks table.
‘Hello, sir,’ said the bartender, clearly aware who Harker was. ‘What can I get you?’
‘I’ll have what she’s having,’ Harker replied and the two of them waited for Ivy to decide.
‘Uh,’ she stammered. ‘Apple juice.’
While the bartender busied himself getting glasses, Ivy decided to be straight with Harker about her lack of acting ability. ‘Look,’ she said. ‘I’m not really . . .’
But the sound of Jessica’s forced laugh split through the crowd’s murmuring and interrupted her.
‘Always has to be the centre of attention,’ Ivy muttered.
‘That laugh is one of the most grating in Hollywood,’ said Mr Harker. ‘And there are some hyenas, let me tell you.’
Ivy hesitated, not sure if she should bite her tongue. After all, he cast Jessica in a movie – so maybe he didn’t find her that annoying. But Ivy was never very good at keeping her mouth shut.
‘Her laugh is the only thing faker than her tan,’ Ivy said. ‘Unless you count her hair extensions.’
Mr Harker chuckled, grabbing a stick of beef satay from a waitress’s tray.
Ivy was on a roll. ‘It is simply not possible to be that interested in a story about someone else’s finger nails.’ She sighed. ‘She is obviously very good at what she does, or she wouldn’t be so successful, but . . .’
‘Jessica does have the looks,’ Mr Harker said, but he leaned in and whispered, ‘Don’t you think she could do with filing her teeth more often?’
Ivy stepped back in surprise. Only a vampire would know to say that! And that must mean he knows that I’m one, too.
‘I did a little research,’ Harker explained, ‘and saw the VAMP magazine articles on you two. You’re already stars in the making, ready for the big screen,’ he said.
He must have been talking about the big feature that Georgia Huntingdon did on them before Christmas, when they had just found out they were twins. And there was the one with the Queen of Transylvania.
‘No, really, I –’ Ivy started. How can I tell him that a wooden stake would be better than me on screen?
‘Dude,’ Mr Harker said, ‘I don’t want you being modest. I’ve already got my lawyers drafting a studio contract to send to your agent. You do have an agent, don’t you?’
Ivy spotted an opportunity. ‘No, no, I don’t! Guess I’m just an amateur – shouldn’t be let near a movie set.’
‘I like your style,’ Mr Harker replied. ‘You negotiate your own terms. Excellent!’
Ack! Ivy thought. What do I have to do to put him off?
‘Harker!’ said a grey-haired man, grabbing a bottle of beer off the table. ‘The board is all round the table, waiting for you.’
‘Perfect timing, Greg,’ Harker said, thumping the guy on the back. ‘I’ve got a new star to introduce.’
Ivy gulped.
Chapter Four
‘Dudes,’ announced Mr Harker, ‘and Dudettes.’ He nodded to the three women around the table. ‘You’ve got to meet the Next Big Thing!’
He stood aside so that everyone could get a good look. Ivy wished she could sprout bat wings and fly away.
Harker had dragged her over to a side room that opened on to the main area, where the display of the Empire State building and the Statue of Liberty was overshadowed by a round mahogany table. It was piled high with nibbles and drinks, but Ivy was too uncomfortable to get excited about the mini quiches. The sounds of the party faded as they stepped further into the room.