Page 121 of Kiss Heaven Goodbye

A petite girl with waist-length copper-coloured hair came into the suite carrying a tiny dog.

This was a promising start, thought Sasha to herself. Nicole Barton was the star of the hottest new ABC drama and a fixture in the US celebrity style magazines. She had been nominated for Best Supporting Actress for her first big screen role as a downtrodden servant girl in a lavish adaptation of a Henry James novel.

‘Am I the first?’ she said, running over to the rail of dresses with a little squeal of pleasure.

‘Of course you are, Nicky,’ said Sasha, pouring on the fashion charm. ‘We wanted you to have first pick. We have so many wonderful gowns, but I thought this one would look amazing on you . . .’

By three o’clock there had been a steady stream of celebrities and superwives – the partners of Hollywood producers and directors – passing through the suite. Nicole had been so delighted with her amber scooped-back column dress, she had phoned all her young Hollywood friends and told them to get over to the Peninsula immediately. They had quickly adopted an efficient system: Philip and Marina would entertain the incoming actresses, stylists and assorted hangers-on in the living room while Sasha took the next in line into the bedroom for a consultation.

With a break in the traffic, Sasha flopped down on the bed and helped herself to one of the exquisite hors d’oeuvres standing on a crystal tray: perfect choux pastry wrapped around Ligurian truffles. They had remained completely untouched throughout the day: no one ate so close to the ceremony. Peeking around the door to make sure no starlets were still inside, Philip came in to join her.

‘This is getting out of control,’ he moaned, taking off his suit jacket and fanning himself with a room-service menu. ‘Marina is telling all of them that if they wear the gown on the red carpet they can keep it!’

‘I told her to say that,’ said Sasha calmly. ‘I’m absolutely sure Armani is saying the same thing.’

‘But what about the dresses that get taken and not worn?’ said Philip, exasperated. ‘How many of those do you realistically think we are going to see again?’

Sasha sighed. She was getting tired of his penny-pinching. ‘Does it matter?’

‘Of course it matters!’ cried Philip. ‘Forty dresses have gone out so far and their wholesale price is three thousand bucks apiece. Assuming we never see thirty of them again, that’s almost a hundred thousand dollars we’re going to have to write off.’

‘Which is a bargain if we even get five celebrities to wear a Rivera dress down the Oscars red carpet,’ said Sasha patiently. ‘That’s what we’re doing this for, remember?’

Marina popped her head around the bedroom door. ‘Important client alert,’ she whispered. ‘Ginger Wilson.’

Sasha and Philip looked at each other.

Ginger wasn’t strictly speaking a celebrity herself, but as the wife of Steven Goldberg, one of Hollywood’s biggest producers, she was one of the most powerful women in LA. The fifty-something walked in wearing fitted jeans and a cashmere T-shirt with a crocodile Hermès Birkin hanging from the crook of her arm. Pulling off her sunglasses, she went straight over to the clothes rail.

‘Oh my God, I just love this,’ she said, removing a long sequinned sheath dress and holding it aloft so it shimmered in the light. ‘I’ve just got to try it on.’

‘A perfect choice,’ smiled Sasha, shooing Philip out of the room as Ginger grabbed a pair of silver shoes to go with it. Sasha had noticed that in Hollywood, the richer the woman, the more she wanted a freebie. Sasha didn’t mind, as long as she could get something in return.

‘This looks amazing,’ said Ginger, admiring herself in the mirror.

‘Well there’s more where that came from,’ said Sasha. ‘It’s the opening of the Rodeo Rivera store next month. Maybe we could talk later about you hosting a little launch there.’

‘Absolutely,’ gushed Ginger. ‘I just know all my girlfriends are gonna go green when they see me in this.’

The doorbell rang again and Sasha was dumbstruck when Ben Rivera flounced into the room.

‘Ben?’ said Sasha and Philip in unison.

‘In the flesh,’ he said. ‘I just couldn’t stay away.’

‘So you’re the design genius I’ve been hearing about,’ said Ginger, extending her hand. ‘One of my girlfriends came here this lunchtime and said your stuff was to die for. I had to come and ch

eck it out, and you know what? She was right.’

‘Umm, that colour is so good on your skin,’ said Ben, one camp finger to his lips. ‘Although I think I might be able to add something here . . .’ he said, pinching the material at the waist.

‘Could you?’ she gushed. ‘My husband’s mistress is going to be there on Sunday. I want something that’s going to knock them both dead.’

‘I will make you even more stunning than you already are.’ He smiled.

‘Actually, I’m having a little pre-Oscars drinks party tonight,’ said Ginger. ‘Perhaps you could come over and we can talk about it? My girlfriends will love meeting the man who’s going to make them look so pretty tomorrow night.’

‘Of course,’ said Ben. ‘That is what I am here for!’