Tasmina Perry 3-Book Collection: Daddy’s Girls, Gold Diggers, Original Sin. Tasmina Perry

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СКАЧАТЬ of claret and waved the bar’s wine waiter over for a refill. Serena sat back in her banquette and basked. She was loving the attention that Feldman was lavishing on her, eyeing her up like a trainer inspecting a prized stallion.

      ‘That said, honey, you’ve got a lotta problems,’ he said picking a speck of dust from his camel Brioni cashmere jacket.

      Serena looked at him, startled. ‘Problems?’ she spluttered, almost spilling her cocktail. ‘You’ve just been telling me how wonderful I am!’

      ‘Sweetie, just hear me out,’ he said, pursing his lips. ‘If we’re going to get you up there with Julia, Catherine and Gwyneth, we’re gonna have to make some changes, which starts with getting a proper support system around you. I can’t believe you haven’t already got a manager!’ he said incredulously. ‘Honey, even waitresses in LA have a manager.’

      ‘I have an agent in LA and London and a publicist in London and it’s worked for me so far,’ she replied, trying to contain her annoyance. If Feldman didn’t have such a fearsome reputation, if he hadn’t worked wonders with the careers of Hollywood legends like David Sanders and Michael Montgomery, she would have been long gone.

      ‘It’s worked in London, honey. You’re playing with the big boys now,’ smiled Feldman, running his hand through his highlighted blond hair. ‘Plus, you don’t have Tom Archer by your side any more. Sure, he was cute, he was going places – he’s even got Oscar buzz around him now, but he’s gone. Now you have to get noticed by yourself.’ Feldman started stroking his chin, thinking up an angle. ‘Hooking you up with Hollywood royalty wouldn’t hurt. Look how Zeta-Jones skyrocketed after she met Douglas. Or what about the real thing? Hey, why not have a discreet affair with Prince William? You must know him, right?’

      They ordered another round of drinks and Feldman took her through his plan. It was both dizzyingly exciting about the future and brutally critical of her past. Serena, he pointed out brusquely, had spent the last five years working on her celebrity not her career. Did she think Julia Roberts or Tom Cruise had made it without a carefully considered strategy? Yes, Feldman had watched some of Serena’s tapes, he said, but they had been mediocre movies with mediocre performances. However, there was some good news. Within five minutes of meeting her, Feldman said, he had known that Serena Balcon could be a good actress and, more importantly, a big, big star. She had a fabulous voice; a little plummy, sure, but rich and sexy, and there was charisma and expression in every little gesture she made. And her physical beauty was awesome.

      ‘So we’re going to get you to some acting classes,’ he told her bluntly. ‘I know a great woman, Ellen Barber, worked at Lee Strasberg for years, now she does a lot of stuff for me.’

      Serena squirmed, caught between anger and embarrassment and still thinking about this so-called ‘Oscar buzz’ around Tom. Where did that come from? Not that poky little arthouse film that had had blink-and-you-miss-it distribution, surely?

      ‘Acting lessons? At this stage?’

      Feldman just raised his eyebrows and looked at her. Serena met his gaze for a moment, then just nodded. Pleased, Feldman carried on with his vision. She would sign up with Greg Bloomberg, former whizz kid at the huge talent agency CAA, who had recently formed the SPK super-agency with some other talent from William Morris and CAA out in LA. He wanted her to be personally looked after by one of the top publicists, not one of their underlings – Pat Kingsley in LA, Lesley Dart or Muffy Beagle in New York. Most importantly, she would have to move to LA.

      ‘LA,’ she stuttered, instantly balking. She cast her mind back to several years earlier, shortly after she had been expelled from St Mary’s school, when she had flown out to LA to ‘make it’. It had been the only time she had met serious opposition from her father and the only time she had failed at anything. Six months, hundreds of auditions, and a bit-part in a mobile phone commercial later, she had returned to Britain with the stale taste of America’s West Coast in her mouth.

      ‘But I hate LA,’ she said, ‘the whole city is one big car park!’

      Stephen laughed. He had been right about Serena: the girl was a diva already. ‘Sure, and that’s why I spend half my time in New York.’

      ‘Well, why couldn’t I then?’ asked Serena, pulling her best little-girl face.

      Feldman thought for a moment. ‘I guess you could. Liv Tyler, Uma, Julianne Moore, lots of the big girls are based here. You’d still have to go out regularly to build up your profile on the West Coast, but I guess you could do it. The main thing is that you gotta forget about London and come to where the action is, baby!’

      ‘Well then,’ said Serena, lifting her flute, ‘I guess we’re in business.’

      ‘Damn straight!’ replied Stephen, clinking his glass against hers. ‘By the time we’ve finished, you’re not going to be just an actress, you’re going to be an international business brand – clothing lines, perfumes, real estate. J-Lo’s gonna shit when she sees you coming. We’re gonna be rich, baby, real rich!’

      As she left the hotel and stood by the steps waiting for Michael Sarkis’s car, Serena looked into her compact mirror. She was pleased with the reflection. Her cream Stella McCartney trouser suit, left tantalizingly bare under the jacket, was the right side of casual but with enough chic to impress the Upper East Side ladies she was about to meet.

      ‘Just a low-key supper,’ Michael had said, insisting she come and meet some of his friends. Serena had been cautious, but flattered by the invitation. Since their passionate night in Mustique, Serena and Michael had been on as many dates as his hectic schedule would allow. There had been a night in Michael’s Mayfair apartment when he had been over in London on business, a dinner at the Voltaire in Paris when she had been doing the European junket and then there had been the weekend in New York. They had stayed in, eaten Chinese from little white cartons, and had had great sex in every room of Michael’s Fifth Avenue duplex; in the Jacuzzi, on the Philippe Starck coffee table, over the white leather couch. She’d been left exhilarated but uneasy. She had no idea whether their relationship was just fabulous, frenzied sex or whether they were edging towards something more. This invitation to meet Michael’s friends suggested it might just be the latter. And, to her surprise, she found herself hoping that might be the case.

      ‘Serena, baby. You look good enough to eat.’ She stepped into the back of the black Lincoln in which Michael was waiting, sinking into the deep leather seat. He motioned to his driver to close the privacy window. As the glass hissed upwards he slipped a hand under her jacket, brushing his thumb across her nipple.

      ‘Remind me who these friends are again?’ she mumbled softly, running her hands inside his cashmere overcoat. ‘Couldn’t we just turn around and go back up to my suite?’

      ‘Later, baby, there’re some people who want to meet you,’ smiled Michael.

      Serena sat bolt upright in the black leather. ‘What do you mean, want to meet me?’

      ‘Relax. It’s just that word about us is getting around, darling,’ he laughed gently. ‘Apparently Liz Smith wrote a diary piece about us yesterday. I didn’t see it.’

      Serena was shocked, but not surprised. On the one hand, it was surely good news that the big gossip columnists were writing about her, but on the other hand, she had only wanted word to get out about her and Michael after she was sure about their relationship. Tom was fading from her mind so swiftly that she sometimes had to ask herself if she had really spent five years of her life with him. But, as they pulled up to the dignified townhouse on East Seventieth Street, she wondered whether she really СКАЧАТЬ