‘The movie, sweetie.’ She patted Ivy’s arm. ‘Most of the crew have already seen the full screening. I bet you loved dumping that jug of juice on Jackson’s head.’
‘Oh . . .’ Ivy said, realising that they had mistaken her for Olivia, who played a goth in the film. She decided it would be too complicated to explain. ‘Thanks! It was fun!’ she said brightly.
‘Maybe you and Olivia should be a double act?’ Sophia suggested as they walked down the soda aisle.
‘Not a chance,’ Ivy replied. ‘I’ll leave the star turns to her and stick to making things happen behind the scenes.’
‘Like me!’ Sophia said, holding up her digital camera. ‘I’d better go find the Phelps-inator in case she’s doing something particularly headline grabbing with the Platelet Porridge.’ Sophia gave Ivy a hug. ‘See you on the carpet!’
‘But I’m not –’ Ivy began but Sophia had already disappeared. ‘Going on the carpet.’
‘You’re not?’ said an unfamiliar voice behind her.
Ivy turned to see a man with shaggy black hair and a pale complexion. He wore scruffy jeans with a black blazer over a T-shirt from a band that had broken up at least twenty years ago. He must be one of the paparazzi in Jessica’s entourage, Ivy decided.
‘Nope,’ Ivy said, definitively.
‘But you’re all dressed up, man,’ he pointed out, sounding like a hippie from the sixties. Ivy guessed he couldn’t be part of Jessica’s flock of vampire sheep with that kind of slang. He probably wasn’t even a vampire, she decided, and didn’t have a clue about what went on downstairs. ‘Why don’t you want to?’
‘Honestly?’ Ivy asked, not sure why he would be asking.
‘Yeah.’ The shaggy-haired guy nodded.
‘I think it’s all a little bit dumb,’ she confessed. ‘All the stress, the running around and shouting. Has no one realised, this is only a movie?’
Shaggy Guy crossed his arms, grinning. ‘When you put it like that, man, it does sound kinda over the top.’
Ivy was just getting started. ‘Think about it,’ she challenged him. ‘If they would put all the money from this premiere into a fund for graduates to go to film school – or even for underprivileged kids to go and see this movie – it would be money better spent.’
Shaggy Guy laughed. ‘You’ve got your head screwed on, man. That’s not a bad idea.’ Then he walked off.
That was weird, Ivy thought, but it seems like this movie business makes everyone a little crazy.
Olivia felt like Cinderella, frantically searching for her pumpkin carriage before the clock struck midnight – except that instead of running from a palace, she was charging past shelves of pickles and ketchup.
‘Olivia!’
She turned and saw her prince, looking charming in a black tuxedo with silk lapels. His usually wild blonde hair was slicked back and his bright blue eyes were twinkling.
‘Jackson,’ she said, trying not to grin like an idiot. ‘I’ve been looking for you everywhere.’
‘Which is probably why you haven’t found me, because I’ve been looking for you ever since I heard your chauffeur dropped you off.’ He gathered her up in a big hug. ‘You look amazing,’ he whispered into her ear.
Olivia felt like she could float down the red carpet.
‘Are you nervous?’ he asked.
She thought about it for a moment. ‘It’s just walking,’ Olivia replied. ‘How hard can it be?’
Jackson chuckled. ‘Just walking?’ He pretended to be shocked. ‘Just walking! Look, Miss Up-and-Coming-Movie-Star, there is walking and there is Red Carpet Walking.’
Olivia giggled.
Jackson put one hand on his hip. ‘I will demonstrate.’
He half-strutted up the aisle, past the rows of salad dressings, with his shoulders back and his pearly whites on show. He stopped occasionally to pose and half-turn, as if imaginary cameras were flashing all around him. He walked back to her, really hamming it up.
‘That looks easy enough,’ Olivia said.
‘I still think you should have a practice run,’ Jackson advised.
Olivia smiled, tossed her hair and set off striding past the relishes. But when she stopped to do a half-turn like Jackson did, her skirt caught under her shoe and she staggered straight towards a neat stack of soup cans.
‘Eek!’ Olivia squealed.
Jackson grabbed her just before she knocked the pyramid of tins flying. A store assistant who was tidying up the mayonnaise at the end of the aisle shot her a dirty look.
‘Oh no,’ Olivia whispered. ‘Why didn’t I think to practise walking?’
Jackson put his arm around her. ‘I think I might have a solution to your problem. What if . . .’ he said with a twinkle in his eye, ‘you had someone to guide you? Someone by your side to give you confidence and help you with when to stop and pose?’
Olivia realised what he was doing. He was building up to telling her that he wanted to go public and that they could walk down the red carpet together. Her heart started thumping – not quite like when they had their first kiss, but close to it. She readied herself to pretend to be surprised. Don’t grin. Don’t look surprised too early.
She could see the anticipation on his face. He was just as excited about this as she was. ‘Olivia,’ he said, beaming. ‘I want to go public and walk down the red carpet with you!’
‘What?’ screeched a demanding voice. ‘You can’t do that!’
Now Olivia didn’t have to pretend to be surprised. Amy Teller was poking her head around the corner, and she’d clearly been listening to everything they had been saying.
She strode over, her five-inch-high heels clicking along the linoleum floor. Her red hair was pulled back in a severe ponytail and she was wearing an off-the-shoulder calf-length dress made from silver satin. She looked beautiful but fierce, and ready to take charge on the red carpet for her client. She had a phone in one hand and a takeaway cup of coffee from the Meat and Greet.
‘Jackson, Olivia.’ She sighed. ‘We have discussed this. We agreed that you would walk by yourself or with your mother or sister. And since none of your relations are here . . .’
Jackson shook his head. ‘No, Amy,’ he said softly. ‘You talked about this, and you agreed with yourself. I want to walk down the red carpet with my beautiful girlfriend.’