where are your special clothes? Where are your dresses and your shiny things? What do you wear when you've got a wedding to go to? Or a party? Or a night out?'
Cath looked straight up at Annie and replied, 'Oh, I've nothing to wear, so I don't go.'
'Oh babes,' Annie looked back at Cath and forgot about the camera completely, 'that is the saddest, saddest thing I've heard in a long time. But what about when it's your birthday? Everyone's got to have something lovely to wear on their birthday.'
At this, Cath's lower lip trembled slightly and out came the revelation she'd had absolutely no intention of making on TV: 'My husband left me on my birthday,' she blurted out. She didn't need to say anything else. Now everyone understood why there were no party clothes in Cath's wardrobe.
Finn caught the eye of his assistant and mouthed the word: ' Woohoo! '
Chapter Eight
Connor on his bike:
Tiny black shorts (Nike)
Tiny black bike shoes (Adidas)
Bluetooth wireless headset (Motorola)
Total est. cost: £120
'I can talk and burn, baby.'
Connor McCabe, star of ITV's top-rated Sunday teatime show, The Manor , co-star in the box office hit Never Sleep by director Sam Knight, was on an exercise bike out on his balcony in the Californian sunshine.
No British actor transplanted from London to LA can ever quite get used to the fact that the sun really does shine here almost every single day. Well, OK, there was a little bit of smog, cloud cover and drizzle now and then, but really, he thought as he adjusted his shades, stretched out his arms, then put them back on the handlebars, it was not a bad life. Not a bad life at all.
It was late afternoon. He'd spent his obligatory two hours in the gym first thing this morning. Every single actor out here spent two hours in the gym every single day. There was no get-out clause. It was mandatory. Like brushing your teeth. Otherwise some much fitter, leaner, more muscular piece of beefcake would Get Your Part. No matter how well you'd played Prince Hal at Stratford-upon-Avon two years ago, if a centimetre of waist flab poked over the edge of your trousers, it was over.
He'd been on the phone to his agent for half an hour, he'd gone for a meeting with a producer and now he was going to burn some more calories and catch a few rays before going out tonight with Hector, his boyfriend of . . . well . . . erm . . . Connor wasn't quite sure exactly, because there had been a break, but that was all over now. Long forgotten. They were totally together and committed now.
The phone in a holster round his waist began to ring and when he picked it up he was pleasantly surprised to see the words 'Annie babes' on caller display.
'Annie, babes!' he said with pleasure.
'Connor! Can you talk? You're not about to shoot off to a high-powered meeting, or rustle up a bean sprout salad or something?'
'I'm on my bike, I can talk and burn, baby, burn.'
'On your bike? In LA? What about the traffic . . . or getting mugged?'
'On my bike on my terrace in the sunshine. Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere.'
'Oh.' Annie tried to understand. But really, it was too strange. She still thought of Connor as a charming, but quite lazy actor who had sort of stumbled on success somewhere between the pub and his latest bedroom conquest. She couldn't get her head around this all-new Californian fitness- and career-focused star. She didn't want to think of him like that, because then she couldn't think of him as her best friend any more. And he was definitely, despite the eight-hour time difference and the vast Atlantic Ocean now between them, still her best friend.
'I've been thinking about you,' he said, only slightly out of breath from the cycling.
'Oh really,' she teased, 'and it's making you pant.'
'Absolutely. How is stardom suiting you? How are you looking on the small screen? Any hot men tried to bed you yet? I know all about the aphrodisiac of fame . .
Cath looked straight up at Annie and replied, 'Oh, I've nothing to wear, so I don't go.'
'Oh babes,' Annie looked back at Cath and forgot about the camera completely, 'that is the saddest, saddest thing I've heard in a long time. But what about when it's your birthday? Everyone's got to have something lovely to wear on their birthday.'
At this, Cath's lower lip trembled slightly and out came the revelation she'd had absolutely no intention of making on TV: 'My husband left me on my birthday,' she blurted out. She didn't need to say anything else. Now everyone understood why there were no party clothes in Cath's wardrobe.
Finn caught the eye of his assistant and mouthed the word: ' Woohoo! '
Chapter Eight
Connor on his bike:
Tiny black shorts (Nike)
Tiny black bike shoes (Adidas)
Bluetooth wireless headset (Motorola)
Total est. cost: £120
'I can talk and burn, baby.'
Connor McCabe, star of ITV's top-rated Sunday teatime show, The Manor , co-star in the box office hit Never Sleep by director Sam Knight, was on an exercise bike out on his balcony in the Californian sunshine.
No British actor transplanted from London to LA can ever quite get used to the fact that the sun really does shine here almost every single day. Well, OK, there was a little bit of smog, cloud cover and drizzle now and then, but really, he thought as he adjusted his shades, stretched out his arms, then put them back on the handlebars, it was not a bad life. Not a bad life at all.
It was late afternoon. He'd spent his obligatory two hours in the gym first thing this morning. Every single actor out here spent two hours in the gym every single day. There was no get-out clause. It was mandatory. Like brushing your teeth. Otherwise some much fitter, leaner, more muscular piece of beefcake would Get Your Part. No matter how well you'd played Prince Hal at Stratford-upon-Avon two years ago, if a centimetre of waist flab poked over the edge of your trousers, it was over.
He'd been on the phone to his agent for half an hour, he'd gone for a meeting with a producer and now he was going to burn some more calories and catch a few rays before going out tonight with Hector, his boyfriend of . . . well . . . erm . . . Connor wasn't quite sure exactly, because there had been a break, but that was all over now. Long forgotten. They were totally together and committed now.
The phone in a holster round his waist began to ring and when he picked it up he was pleasantly surprised to see the words 'Annie babes' on caller display.
'Annie, babes!' he said with pleasure.
'Connor! Can you talk? You're not about to shoot off to a high-powered meeting, or rustle up a bean sprout salad or something?'
'I'm on my bike, I can talk and burn, baby, burn.'
'On your bike? In LA? What about the traffic . . . or getting mugged?'
'On my bike on my terrace in the sunshine. Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere.'
'Oh.' Annie tried to understand. But really, it was too strange. She still thought of Connor as a charming, but quite lazy actor who had sort of stumbled on success somewhere between the pub and his latest bedroom conquest. She couldn't get her head around this all-new Californian fitness- and career-focused star. She didn't want to think of him like that, because then she couldn't think of him as her best friend any more. And he was definitely, despite the eight-hour time difference and the vast Atlantic Ocean now between them, still her best friend.
'I've been thinking about you,' he said, only slightly out of breath from the cycling.
'Oh really,' she teased, 'and it's making you pant.'
'Absolutely. How is stardom suiting you? How are you looking on the small screen? Any hot men tried to bed you yet? I know all about the aphrodisiac of fame . .
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