Whaaaaaat? She could swear that brain cells were exploding in her head right now. But Jessie McLean hadn’t worked with the public for a lifetime and not learned how to act fast and fake it. Big smile. Cheery voice. ‘Ah, she mentioned that, but I haven’t heard the latest. She’ll be here soon though, so fingers crossed.’
‘Here you go, Jessie,’ Saint Loretta of the Holy Thankful Interruptions appeared, brandishing a large glass of something bubbly, allowing Jessie to shift the focus. She took it, then, balancing it carefully, hugged the two of them in turn.
‘Off you two go and get a drink of your own. I’m looking forward to that duet!’
Somehow, she managed to keep the smile up until they turned away, then it dropped like a stone. What the hell? A job in Colorado? What was that about? And why hadn’t Georgie told her?
She took a large slug of her bubbly.
As soon as Georgie got here, Jessie was going to find out exactly what was going on. And she had a feeling she was going to need something stronger than Prosecco.
22
GEORGIE
Georgie knew she was going to be a little late for the party, but she also knew that her mum would be in shindig-heaven, surrounded by all her pals, and wouldn’t even have noticed that she wasn’t there yet.
As soon as Flynn had bolted out, sparks coming off his heels, she’d headed for the shower and soaked under the hot jets until she’d washed the duplicity of their conversation from her mind.
As she’d rinsed off her favourite mango bodywash, the little angel that lived on one of Georgie’s shoulders, the mature, conscientious, paragon of positive co-parenting, had told her that by handling it the way that she had, without full disclosure or accusations, they would have a healthy, friendly relationship moving forward. In a couple of years, they would celebrate Kayleigh’s twenty-first as a family, they would link arms and beam with pride when she graduated, if she chose to get married (and right now Georgie would strongly advise against it), they would dance at her wedding and they would cry happy tears if she made them grandparents.
However, the little devil on her other shoulder hadn’t beenable to get past hoping that Monica would dump him on his arse and he’d wither away, loveless and sexless until his penis fell off. The devil watched too many crime shows.
When she’d got out of the shower, Georgie had pulled the rubber cap off her head and let loose her wild, tangled mane of copper curls, giving thanks that big hair was back in fashion and she didn’t have to spend the next hour of her life straightening it and forcing it to behave. Instead, that time had been spent whipping on a smoky eye, a matte base, a bit of contour and a nude lip, figuring that maybe if she was worried about spoiling carefully applied make-up, she wouldn’t cry when she thought about the job she was giving up, or the fact that she was saying goodbye to her mother. She still wasn’t sure which one was breaking her heart more.
Face done, she’d pulled her favourite silver slinky frock from the wardrobe, deciding it was close enough to Christmas to go out looking like a disco ball from the eighties. Besides, she didn’t get out much and it had been a tough week, so for once she’d been going for a bit of glamour.
She’d hung the dress on the front of her wardrobe, while she’d slapped on some Chanel No. 5 body lotion, then pulled on her dressing gown, just as there was a knock on her bedroom door. Her stomach had flipped. If that was Flynn back, saying that he’d reconsidered and wanted to sign up for more fatherhood, she was leaving the country in her mother’s suitcase tomorrow.
Thankfully, it was Kayleigh that had popped her head round the door.
‘Mum, it’s time to go. Oh. Not ready.’ Her daughter had pointed out the obvious.
‘I’m running late, sweetheart. You and Uncle Grant go ahead, and I’ll meet you there.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes! Cover for me and hopefully Gran won’t notice I’m late. It would be embarrassing to get grounded at thirty-eight.’
‘I’ll create a diversion, don’t worry. I’ll tell her I’m pregnant or on bail for something juicy.’
Georgie had chuckled. ‘I said cover for me, not kill her.’
‘Okay, maybe something not quite so dramatic then. We’ll see you when you get there.’
The next thing she’d heard were shouts of goodbyes and the front door opening and closing.
Still in her dressing gown, she’d sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled her laptop out of the drawer beside her. The producer fromThe Clansmanhad told her they’d be sending over all the details of the job offer today, but she’d been too busy dealing with an ex-husband, his girlfriend, three dancing retirees, and trivial things like her existential crisis about the future of her life, to check her emails.
The decision to refuse the job had already been taken. She wasn’t going to risk the future of a salon that was her mum’s life’s work and greatest gift to her, but she might as well torture herself by seeing what she was missing.
After she’d fired up the laptop, she’d scrolled through multiple emails offering discounts on everything from skin care to fashion to – slightly worryingly – a three-day course to explore her inner goddess. Her inner goddess decided that all she wanted to do was find the bloody email from…
Clansman Productions. There it was.
Just seeing it had made her skin tingle. The fact that a company like that knew who she was blew her away, even if it was via the star pulling some strings.
As she’d begun to read it though, Georgie had realised that opening the document had been a mistake. It was a six-monthcontract, but the salary was more than she’d earned last year. She’d be provided with accommodation in a hotel or apartment of a commensurate standard. Yes, she’d be expected to be on set for approximately ten hours per day, five days per week, but all food and expenses would be taken care of, including return business-class flights from her home city to the location of the shoot.
