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Contents ( 28)
  1. SHOPAHOLIC TO THE STARS
  2. Sophie Kinsella
  3. ONE
  4. TWO
  5. THREE
  6. FOUR
  7. FIVE
  8. SIX
  9. SEVEN
  10. The Missouri Echo
  11. EIGHT
  12. NINE
  13. TEN
  14. ELEVEN
  15. TWELVE
  16. THIRTEEN
  17. FOURTEEN
  18. FIFTEEN
  19. SIXTEEN
  20. SEVENTEEN
  21. EIGHTEEN
  22. NINETEEN
  23. TWENTY
  24. TWENTY-ONE
  25. TWENTY-TWO
  26. TWENTY-THREE
  27. THE SHOPAHOLIC SERIES
  28. OTHER BOOKS

‘That’s life,’ I say, trying to sound more cheerful. ‘Thanks for the chance, anyway. And maybe I’ll come and work here when things get better!’

‘Maybe. Thanks for being so understanding. I’m afraid I have to go break some more bad news.’ She shakes my hand, then turns and strides away, leaving Danny and me looking blankly at each other.

‘Bummer,’ says Danny at last.

‘I know.’ I sigh heavily. ‘Thanks for the reference, anyway. Can I buy you lunch to say thank you?’

By the time Danny leaves for the airport, two hours later, we’ve had a blast. We’ve done early lunch with cocktails, and a shopping spree for sunblock, and I’ve laughed so hard, my stomach muscles ache. But as I watch his car whisk him away along Beverly Boulevard, there’s a lump of disappointment weighing me down. No job. I was counting on that job. Not just for employment, not just for money – but as something to do. A way to make friends.

Anyway. It’s fine. It’s all good. I’ll think of something else. There are loads of shops in LA, there must be opportunities, I’ll just have to keep looking … keep my ears and eyes open.

‘Hey, lady! Watch it!’

Oops. I was so busy thinking about keeping my ears and eyes open, I didn’t notice a great big crane-thing parked slap bang in the middle of the pavement. A man in a headset is directing people around it, and there’s a bit of a buzz further up the street. As I go nearer to get a look, I can see glinting, and lights on stands … Oh wow! It’s a camera crew! They’re filming something!

I know I need to get back to the hotel and prepare for the Ten Miler race, but I can’t just walk away. Even though I’ve been to LA before, this is the first camera crew I’ve seen. So I hurry along in excitement, heading towards the bright lights. The pavement is cordoned off with metal barriers and a guy in a denim jacket and a headset is politely asking people to step away, to the other side of the street. Reluctantly, I obey, keeping my eyes fixed on the action. There are two guys in jeans sitting on directors’ chairs, and a burly man operating a camera, and several girls scurrying around with headsets too, looking important. I feel massive pangs of envy as I watch them all. I mean, how cool, to be involved in a film. The only kind of filming I’ve ever done was on TV, advising people how to invest their pension. (I used to be a financial journalist. I used to spend all day talking about bank accounts. Sometimes I get an anxiety dream where I’m back in that job and I’m on TV and I don’t even know what an interest rate is.)

Standing on the pavement, all alone, is a woman who I guess is an actress, as she’s so tiny and made-up. I don’t recognize her, but that doesn’t mean anything. I’m just wondering whether to get out my phone, take a picture and text Who’s this? to my best friend Suze, when an older woman, in jeans and a black vest, comes up to her. She’s wearing a maroon peaked cap and has long black braids, and the coolest high-heeled boots.