‘Fuck!’ she hissed.
The temptation to curl into a tight ball and hope she might suddenly develop hedgehog-prickles was strong, but somehow she found an ounce of chutzpah from somewhere and she turned to face Deano Diamond with a weak smile.
‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘Don’t tell anyone I’m here, will you? I’m just somebody who used to work here, collecting some stuff. But they don’t know about it and they’d only get funny with me, so—’
‘Chill,’ he said, interrupting nothing because she’d run out of breath and words anyway.
Good grief. She couldn’t stop staring. She’d seen his photogenic, telegenic face a million times all over every medium, but in the flesh he was somehow even more … even more … Deano Diamond … than he was on TV.
She’d glimpsed him at the exhibition, of course, but there had been such a kerfuffle of couture frocks and flashbulbs and security guards that she hadn’t really had a chance to take him in properly.
But now, looking him full in the face as he stood a couple of feet away from her, she had the vivid impression that he was surrounded by a kind of force field of glamour. Unlike Jenna, he made no effort to tone himself down for Bledburn. Instead, he seemed to light the drab little office room with a million megawatts of sheer charisma.
He was thinner than she expected, almost emaciated, but the whipcord-tautness of his body suited him. Squarish bony shoulders emerged from a ripped-up vest proclaiming him to be a ‘CORPORATE WHORE’ – an ironic allusion to an accusation that had been made by a famous rock critic in a review of his most recent album. Another vest, in jumbo fishnet, was layered underneath it. His skinny jeans were pinstriped and he wore a number of chain belts with padlocks hanging off them. Kayley was startled to see that his feet were bare, and he had a tattoo along the arch of one of them, some kind of whirly-twirly thing that she couldn’t identify in the split-second she spent registering it.
His face was what she really had to look at, long and hard, as if it were a puzzle she had to solve. It was familiar and yet different. She had seen his cheekbones, his multiple-earrings, his slicked back, silver-streaked hair so many times, and they were no different now. What had changed was his eyes. At least – they hadn’t changed materially. They were still the same piercing combination of blue, grey and silver that had gazed out from the poster on her teenage bedroom wall. But the eyes in the poster had been blank and cool, challenging her shelf of Goosebumps books and her collection of miniature troll dolls to find fault with them.
These eyes were looking at her.
These famous, amazing, iconic eyes were looking at Kayley Louise Milton and sort of seemed to be quite enjoying the experience.
Life just got weirder and weirder lately.
Chapter Four
‘IT’S OK,’ HE said.
Famous voice, still with a tinge of local accent underneath all the different upper layers. ‘Don’t look so scared. It’s not the first time a fan’s popped up in my dressing room.’
Kayley pushed back her shoulders.
‘I’m not scared, and I’m not a fan,’ she said. Then, in a quick gabble, ‘Don’t let anyone else in, eh?’
‘It’s cool,’ he said. He shut the door behind him. ‘Though I can’t deny my feelings are a bit hurt. Listen, do I know you? I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere before.’
‘Oh, I didn’t mean I wasn’t a fan. Just that I’m not, like, a stalker fan. It’s a coincidence that I’m here, that’s all. I do like your music.’
‘Oh, well, that’s a relief.’ He smiled and her knees nearly gave way. That smile. ‘Seriously, have I? Seen you before? You’re not, like, one of my third cousins or something? I do keep bumping into them.’
‘No.’ She laughed, a little more than the situation warranted. She felt ridiculous, a little bit high, a kite floating free over the rooftops. ‘But you might have seen me last night. At the private view.’
‘At Harville Hall?’ His face transformed into an expression of keenest interest.
Somebody knocked at the door and Kayley looked urgently over her shoulder.
‘Not now, eh?’ called Deano. ‘Can you have my car brought round?’
He winked at Kayley.
‘But we were going to talk logistics,’ complained a voice from the other side of the door.
Kayley stiffened, her gorge rising.
Lawrence Harville.
Deano seemed to see the alarm in her eyes because his tone was firmer than ever. ‘Not just now. I’ve got business to take care of. I’ll call you, yeah?’
‘Well, I don’t know …’