Baby Be Mine

with wide eyes.
    ‘Thank you!’ I smile and pour her a glass before putting the bottle back in the mini-fridge.
    The first time I came to one of these things I remember getting dressed up to the dozen and I was a bit embarrassed when Kitty turned up wearing jeans. I soon learned my lesson. But tonight I’m throwing caution to the wind. I haven’t been out properly since way before Barney was born – and I’m damn well going to make the most of it. Plus, I have an excuse. Johnny gave me a silvery-gold Rodarte dress as a belated birthday present. Maybe he got Lena to buy it, but I don’t care. It’s beautiful.
    I’m wearing glittery grey eye shadow and lashings of mascara and my blonde hair is piled up into a tousled bun on top of my head. I’m also wearing strappy gold heels, which I can totally get away with thanks to Davey dropping us practically at the door.
    ‘You look lovely, too.’ I clink her glass and take a sip before collapsing into giggles.
    ‘How much have you already drunk?’ she demands to know.
    ‘Nothing! This is my first one.’
    ‘I don’t believe you.’
    ‘I swear! I’m just so bloody excited to be going out for a night!’
    ‘What’s Johnny doing tonight?’ Kitty asks casually.
    ‘I don’t know. Hanging out with Dana, probably.’
    ‘So Lena’s looking after Barney?’
    ‘Yes.’ Kitty knows Lena through the CPA circuit, although not well. I don’t think Lena goes out very much, which is a shame because Johnny gets so many free tickets to premieres and parties and they’ll be going to waste.
    ‘That’s nice of her,’ Kitty says.
    ‘You’re telling me. Her partner is helping out.’
    Katya is lovely. Very pretty, just like Lena, but with short black hair, dark-blue eyes and a petite frame. Her nose is pierced with a diamond stud.
    ‘Johnny’s plans with Dana were too important, then?’
    ‘What do you mean?’ I ask.
    ‘For him to look after Barney?’
    All of a sudden I feel a bit funny. Why didn’t he offer to look after Barney? He’s his father, after all. All he could think about was a nanny or a babysitting agency.
    ‘Er, yeah, I guess so,’ I reply.
    On second thoughts, would I actually want Johnny to look after Barney? And Dana? No. No way. I can imagine the two of them getting drunk, stoned or worse. I shudder at the thought.
    ‘Are you okay?’ Kitty asks with concern.
    ‘I’m fine. Drink up!’
    Davey drives the limo right up to the entrance to the red carpet on Hollywood Boulevard. We step out, camera bulbs flashing like strobe lights around us, and my heart starts hammering with adrenalin. The screams from the crowd are deafening as the stars in front of us walk down the red carpet, signing autographs and posing for pictures. We’re mostly ignored and that’s fine by me, but it’s amazing to soak up the atmosphere. I don’t even feel like an idiot dolled up like this. I’ve been let out for a night! I should be wearing my hair down, not up . . .
    We make our way into Grauman’s Chinese Theatre and take our seats, and then settle down to watch the action on the big screen. A camera crew outside is filming interviews with the stars as they arrive, so this part is even more fun than the film itself.
    ‘Look, there’s Will Smith!’ I say.
    ‘Good old Will. Phwoar, Jared Leto is looking pretty hot these days . . .’ Kitty comments.
    ‘Mmm, yes,’ I agree. ‘Isn’t that the blond bloke from Glee ?’ I ask.
    ‘Ooh, yeah! I so fancy him. Hey, and there’s Scott from Contour Lines!’ Kitty says. ‘Who’s that new bird on his arm?’
    But I’m not looking at the girl he’s with; I’m scanning the crowd for Christian. My whole body is tense. Is he here? Will I see him face to face? He’ll be shocked to find me in LA. Will he refuse to speak to me? I wonder how he’ll feel when the news about Barney hits the press. It’s only a matter of time. I can’t even imagine how horrendous that will be for him. I have to get hold of him before that happens, whatever it takes.
    Christian is nowhere to be seen, but two hours later, when we climb back into Davey’s limo and head to the after-show party, I’m still wrought with anxiety. I eventually confide in Kitty.
    ‘I didn’t even know he was writing their biography,’ she says. ‘I thought he was writing novels?’
    ‘He still is. Kind of,’ I explain. ‘His first book didn’t do so well. So he’s gone back to his roots.’
    ‘I read his Johnny Jefferson book,’ she tells