The Stylist

‘It’s a pig.’

‘You’re not an animal lover, AJ?’

‘Mona’s asked for you. I’ll take over from here.’

I handed him the lead and headed back inside, where an area had been lit with a bright, free-standing light and the camera was trained on Mona and Beau going through the rail.

‘You can afford to go more cocktail for the pre-events,’ Mona was advising, holding up a cute on-trend floral cocktail dress from Oscar de la Renta, ‘but you still want to make an impact.’

‘Hmmm, I know it’s very now, but florals are not the new me, Mona, I’m trying to get more serious roles. Do you have anything sexier or edgier, maybe?’

Beau had taken off her hat and fur now and you could see just how slight she was—the human version of her teacup pig.

‘The camera adds ten pounds, you know—everyone will be thin beyond belief,’ Mona had warned me earlier, when I remarked on how miniature all the clothes appeared. ‘No one in Hollywood is larger than a size two sample.’

‘There’s this sexy Dolce & Gabbana,’ Mona said, pulling out a glamorous leopard-print, stretch-silk dress. ‘I’ve got the perfect Dolce cuff and clutch to go with it. Trey will go wild!’

‘Sold! I love it!’ Beau exclaimed, holding it to her chest and turning on that million-dollar smile for the camera.

‘Why don’t you try it on, along with the Oscar de la Renta, just for comparison? Amber will help you.’

Mona directed her towards the bedroom door and beckoned me over to the accessories table, to load up with suitable ‘finishing touches’—a thick, studded gold cuff and matching clutch, plus some black Jimmy Choos with buckles around the ankle and a delicate pair of high gold sandals. I prayed she wouldn’t ask me to try them on first, knowing full well that my size seven sausages wouldn’t have a hope in hell of squeezing into those delicate beauties. The film crew headed to the terrace for a break and I noticed Rob tickle Pinky under the chin en route, muttering, ‘All right, mate?’ The movement made the muscles flex in his upper arm. I quickly looked away, scuttling across the living area to the bedroom.

After tentatively knocking on the door, I was ushered in by a semi-naked Beau, the leopard dress at her svelte hips, revealing her ample bust encased in a turquoise lace bra. She had big boobs for a girl so slight; I wondered if they were fake. That was something Vicky would have been able to deduce instantly—one of her favourite hobbies was pointing out boob jobs. Beau wriggled as she pulled the dress up around her shoulders.

‘Give me a hand with the zip, would you?’

I struggled slightly to do it up, it was skintight even on her bony frame.

‘There we go. Oh wow …’

She surveyed her perfect physique in the wardrobe’s floor-to-ceiling mirrors, flicking her luscious locks, and turning left to right and back again. I undid the buckles on the Choos, ready for her petite feet to slip into them like Cinderella. Then a loud twinkling sound emanated from her bag, lying on the hotel bed.

‘Chuck me my Burberry, would you, babe?’

I stretched across to retrieve it, thinking how surreal this all was. She delved into the bag to grab her iPhone and looked at it in silence for a moment; then she slumped down and sat on the edge of the bed.

‘Shit.’ She fixated on the phone, reading the message again, then whispered: ‘You absolute shit.’ And then she buried her head in her hands and burst into tears. I looked away, feeling uncomfortable. Has she not got a part? Maybe the casting agents don’t think she’s cut out for ‘edgy’ after all? She began pumping air out of her mouth in short, sharp breaths, like a woman in labour. Perhaps it was helping her fight back the tears. Has someone died? Talk about #awkward. Then, phone still in her hand, she appeared to steady herself and stood up decisively, smoothing the dress over her washboard stomach and miniature hips, and resumed admiring herself in the mirror. Seconds later, her phone rang. She lifted it to see the caller’s identity, then threw the handset down, hard, on the duvet behind her.

‘Fucking asshole!’ She hurled herself onto the bed after it, crumpling the dress and letting out a shriek not unlike the sound Pinky might make if you accidentally stood on his trotter. Then she buried her head in the pillow and began to wail.

I looked up from the corner of the room, where I had been pretending to busy myself straightening a curtain. A noise like that meant I couldn’t ignore her any longer. Cautiously, I inched closer.

‘Um, is everything okay?’

She thumped the duvet. ‘No, it is not!’ she screeched, turning onto her side to face me, as I stood, hesitantly, by the side of the bed. Her eyes were red, make-up smudged, and the ivory pillowcase now sported two charcoal grey blotches and a dab of cherry lip gloss. Was this a prima donna hissy fit because she was last on the waiting list for the new Chanel bag? Such things did actually happen … A loud thud made us both look at the door.

‘Is everything all right in there, Beau?’

Her big blue eyes fixed on my own and, in them, I saw genuine fear. She waved her arm at the door, signalling she didn’t want AJ to intervene.

‘Yes, we’re fine, thanks, AJ!’ I shouted back. ‘Just a stiff zip!’

‘All good!’ she seconded. At least he’d know I hadn’t murdered her or anything.

‘Okay, well, we’ll see you out here.’ I heard him move away.

‘Thanks, honey, you’re a babe.’ Her pretty eyes were wet with tears.

‘Is there anything I can do?’ I asked.

‘I don’t think so.’ She sniffed.

‘Well, if you want to talk about it …’ I perched on the edge of the bed. She seemed to want me there.

‘Really?’ she snivelled, as though no one had ever offered her support before.

‘Really. Er—a problem shared …’

I put an uncertain hand onto her thin, childlike shoulder, wondering if there was a law against making physical contact with a vulnerable, crying, miniature celebrity. It wouldn’t have surprised me if AJ had her wired.

Chapter Six (#ulink_304d778d-88d3-5e97-abd9-0e9a8a3087d4)

We were suddenly interrupted by another knock on the door and Mona’s head appeared around it.

‘Just me, darlings!’ she announced, as she clocked the scene—me looking worried, and Beau dishevelled. ‘Jesus, has someone died? Do you hate the dresses, Beau? Seriously, honey, if you don’t like the Dolce, there’s plenty more on the rails.’

Beau played along brilliantly. ‘To be honest, Mona, I’m having a fat day,’ she wiped smudged mascara from under her eyes. ‘Amber’s been trying to talk me into the Dolce & Gabbana, but nothing feels right, you know?’ She squeezed a non-existent love handle for added effect. Mona nodded sympathetically.

‘Do we have to do the filming today?’ Beau continued. ‘I’m just thinking—if I skip dinner, get a colonic and wear Spanx, it’ll look much better in the morning.’

‘Little sparrow, there’s nothing of you as it is!’ Mona said truthfully. ‘But I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t feel comfortable with. The important thing is that we look after you! The TV people will have to understand.’

I stood up and crept towards the door, guessing that I’d be in the unenviable position of having to tell the 20Twenty crew they’d made a wasted trip.

‘But can Amber stay with me, please?’ Beau asked, intercepting me. I was shocked that she had remembered my name. ‘I’m feeling a bit sick, too. I just need to sit quietly in here for a little while. With Amber.’

Looking perturbed that Beau had chosen me as her confidante, Mona pursed her lips and forced a smile. ‘Sure.’

Left alone in the room once more, Beau was suddenly much more forthcoming.

‘The truth is, Amber, I’m being stalked.’

‘You’re what?’

‘Someone, a man, is stalking me.’ She gripped my hand. ‘And I’m scared.’

She welled up again, her breathing becoming short and irregular. This was either really good acting, or the red blotches and the tears were real—I suddenly felt like we were at a high school pyjama party gone wrong. I dashed to the bathroom to grab her a handful of tissues and took a moment to gather my thoughts. What am I supposed to do now? I remembered hearing a story about a stalker being caught hiding on a shelf in Simon Cowell’s walk-in wardrobe, and hoped the windows in this suite were locked.