I’m determined to make things fun for Tom. I don’t want him leaving me for his stupid friends, so when he turns up tonight I have a surprise.
‘Let’s go out tonight,’ I say, after I loop my hand around his neck to pull him down for a kiss.
‘But you’re invisible,’ he says, like I’m dying. It’s just an act—he always mocks me about the invisible thing like I’m a hypochondriac or something. I wish I made this thing up.
‘So you don’t want to go to SkarNutter?’ I ask him, enjoying how his face transforms with complete disbelief.
‘SkarNutter? Are you serious?’
I hand him my phone. On the screen is the media invite: SkarNutter; tonight at Spectrum Stadium.
Tom almost drops the phone. ‘You’ve got tickets? How?’ he demands. ‘They sold out in like two minutes.’
I shrug, enjoying myself immensely. ‘Just one of the perks of being a celebrity reporter.’ I walk into the living room where Rose sits painting her toenails black. Tom follows eagerly.
‘Hi Rose. Can you believe this? SkarNutter! I mean …’ Unsurprisingly Tom can’t find any more words to express his excitement.
‘I take it you’re a fan?’ Rose says, still looking at her nails. ‘They sound like they belong in a mental asylum to me.’
‘What? Even “Bacon Deal”?’ Tom is shaking his head. ‘It’s a classic.’
I reach up for his hair, it’s warm and golden flecked like a butterscotch cookie. ‘I’ve got backstage passes too.’
‘Backstage? Holy hell!’ Tom just about shouts it. He is wriggling on the spot now, as excitable as I get sometimes. I can’t help laughing.
But Rose is scowling. ‘From Dawn?’
Dawn is an awesome PR chick who is always doing me favours but Rose thinks she’s fake and pretentious.
‘Why do you have to have such a problem with her? She’s my friend.’
‘She’s paid to act like a friend,’ Rose corrects me. I ignore her. Dawn and I are close. We speak probably once a week on the phone. Sure, we’ve never exactly met face-to-face, but that’s not an option is it?
‘Well, she sure hooked me up tonight.’
Rose just sighs and dips the brush back into the polish.
Tom flops down next to her. ‘So you’re not coming?’
‘I don’t have a choice. I’m a Social Butterfly.’ The words drip with sarcasm.
Social Butterfly is the name of the gossip column I write under the alias Wynona Wyatt. Wynona has become somewhat of a city phenomenon over the years and is famous for her undercover discoveries: celebs behaving badly, secret hook-ups, shady business dealings. Nobody quite knows how she does it. Of course it’s just me snooping around unnoticed. It’s not that hard with my unique gift. But Wynona needs a face or people would get suspicious—that’s where my reluctant sister comes in.
Tom looks confused.
‘Rose is the “face of Wynona”,’ I explain. ‘I do the writing and reporting, Rose just swans around getting the royal treatment.’
Rose snorts. ‘It’s not that fun, believe me.’
‘It’ll be better with Tom there,’ I tell Rose. ‘You’ll have company.’
Rose’s mouth twists as she looks at him. ‘So you want to go?’
‘Of course!’
Rose goes back to her nails with another heavy sigh. She was hoping Tom would rather stay home but he looks so excited she’d have to stick her heart in a freezer to say no to him.
‘You’re sure he can pick up the rules in one night?’ she asks me.
‘There are rules?’ he says.
‘There are many rules,’ Rose replies. ‘And if you don’t master them you look a straight fool.’
‘Like what?’ he says.
I start the list. ‘Don’t stand in a thoroughfare or people will try to walk through me. Open doors for me or it looks like there’s a spook in the house. What else?’
‘What else? Ha!’ Rose snorts. ‘Don’t talk to her, don’t look at her—’
‘Don’t look at me?’ Now that is disappointing.
‘Well, don’t make weird, “what do you want to do now?” faces. Remember that night at Hoi Jai’s? That photographer snapped me pulling a shocker!’
Reluctantly I admit she’s right. ‘It’s all about maintaining your cover.’
‘So I have to pretend you’re not there?’
I don’t like the thought of that at all. It is okay when it’s Rose, I don’t mind her going off and having fun, but with Tom, suddenly I can’t stand the thought of him there by himself, a gorgeous beacon pulling women toward him with that cracking smile.
‘Maybe it is too much …’
‘What? No. Please! Come on, I can do it,’ Tom pleads.
How can I say no to that face? It’s off to SkarNutter we go.