Chapter 7: Thurs 31st October – What to wear in LA

I'm in my bedroom, which is a rather dull cream with an even duller cream wardrobe, built in – nice. I intend to funk it up a bit but by injecting some colour but if I'm not working, I'm studying for more training qualifications. Patsy insists all her trainers are qualified in everything from kettlebells to basic Pilates. On the up side, it doesn't look like they intend to end my employment with them any time soon. I open said dull wardrobe and stare into the void that should be filled with designer frocks and cool bags; it's not. In fact two thirds of the space is taken up with workout gear. I let out a sigh and flop onto the bed – cream by the way  – when I hear my phone buzzing. I grab it from my sports bag and see it's my mum calling.

"Hi Mum."

"Wanda, what the hell is going on?"

"What do you mean?"

"I've been following your Move Makers on Twitter and found a link to a video of you kicking some poor man in the head. Why would you do that? I think you may need to come home now, this has all been very exciting but it is obviously too much for you there."

Twitter? I can't believe my mum even knows how to use Twitter! "Mum, I'm fine. I only had to stay in jail for a little while."

"Oh my goodness, you were arrested!"

"Oh, didn't you know?"

"No I did not young lady! You mean you have been in Los Angeles for less than two months and now have a criminal record?"

"Well technically I don't have a record as Madeline spoke to the restaurateur who dropped the charges but I was in jail for a couple of hours."

"So what exactly happened? Madeline Harvey hardly seems like a woman who could get you into trouble."

I relay the whole debacle about the kick, the YouTube video and my subsequent career climb and by the time I get off the phone I have exactly thirty minutes before I meet Rolo and Kristen so I take up position in front of my open wardrobe and stare. I have no idea what to wear. I could call Rolo's number but I don't want to come across as though I have no idea how to dress for certain situations, which I haven't. As I open and close various drawers looking for inspiration I find it: my Time Out guide to Los Angeles. I bought it at the airport and I'm sure it tells you everything about everything. I flick through the pages. There it is.

... Some people still dress like slobs here, however. One's power is inversely proportional to the quality of one's threads, and often the richest guy at the table is wearing flip-flops - because he can.

So maybe if I wear flip-flops everyone will think I'm rich. I read on; 'With the new cocktail culture ...' oh goodie this is me, '... has come a new sense of occasion, and it's now common to see men wearing jackets and women in hats and heels.' Great help. So what I should be wearing is my Ascot hat with rubber flip-flops. Excellent; I'm sure it'll look stunning.

I finally settle for a decent pair of jeans and a polka dot short-sleeved blouse. I then decide on heels as Kristen is tall and I need all the help I can get. I make my way out of the door after managing to French plait my hair in thirty seconds and  pop a pair of flip-flops in my bag – just in case.

"Are you not hot in that jacket?" I ask Kristen who is wearing a thick leather jacket.

"No, it's freezing. You're British you don't feel the cold," she says giving me a playful nudge.

"You're probably right; this is like a summer evening in England."

We order drinks and peruse the scant menu.

"So what are we going to eat?" asks Rolo.

"I have no idea what any of that stuff is."

Our drinks arrive and as I take the first sip of my Margarita I notice a tall thin woman walking up to the bar and promptly spit out the contents of my mouth as she turns around. "Good grief, what the hell happened to that woman?"

Rolo looks across at her. Her face resembles the Joker from Batman and her eyelids seemed to have disappeared into her head.

 "Face lift," he says casually then turns back to the menu.

"Jeez I know it's Halloween but I think she may have taken it a bit too far." I can't take my eyes off her. "Why would someone do that to themselves?"

Kristen lowers her voice as the woman is heading our way. "Because she wants to look younger."

"Christ, if she looked like that when she was younger, I hate to think what she went through at school."

Kristen looks up as the woman comes over to our table. Oh crap I hope she isn't her mum.

"Kristen darling," the woman says doing the LA mwaa mwaa to each side of Kristen's face. "I must come back to the gym but my doctor says I have to wait another six weeks."

"Well you look wonderful as usual, Carlotta, book in with me when you can. Don't want that butt slipping do we?"

"Not much chance of that darling, I've had implants." With that she turns to show us her bottom, pats it and walks off waving. "Ta ta."

Only in LA.

When the food arrives it looks beautiful; it also looks like a serving for one! Rolo and I glance at each other."

I curl my lip slightly and Rolo laughs. Kristen is oblivious. We begin to chat about places I ought to visit when the waiter comes over to ask if we want another cocktail. Thank God; I've been sucking up melted ice for the past twenty minutes. Kristen orders water and so does Rolo. Great, now I'm torn between being the new Hollywood me who enjoys salad and sushi or the English me would order another four cocktails and could murder a doner kebab. I decide to adopt a bit of both and order another cocktail with some water on the side. Rolo looks like he wants another drink but I think Kristen scared him earlier.

"So do you know each other just through the gym?" I ask.

Kristen places her hand on Rolo's. "Rolo was my make-up artist when I was acting in a movie a couple of years ago. We got to be good friends and I suggested he came to the gym. I have been training him ever since, not that he ever does as he's told," she says gently slapping his hand.

"So you were an actress?"

Kristen leans in and speaks in a low voice again. "Actor darling, one doesn't say actress any more."

"Oh, sorry. Good tip though, thanks."

"Anyway I did a couple of minor roles but found the whole thing boring to be honest. I loved fitness so I decided to change careers."

"Good for you," I mumble as I stuff another piece of sushi in my mouth.

Rolo eats the last piece and asks, "What would you usually be doing if you were going out on a weekend in England?"

"Erm well, we would go to Povkas bar perhaps, have far too many cocktails, sing karaoke with a stranger and eat a kebab and chips on the way home."

Rolo looks me up and down. "How did you stay skinny eating that lot?"

Kristen was also waiting with her eyebrows raised.

"I didn't, I lost weight for the Main Event competition and have kept it off as I have been constantly working or studying since I got here."

"Oh my God you were fat!" Rolo says with a massive grin of satisfaction on his face.

"No I bloody wasn't you cheeky sod!" I punch his arm. "I was a little heavier than I am now, that's all."

"I believe you. So how's the gorgeous Ethan Caldwell?" Rolo says nicking a sip of my drink whilst Kristen is not looking.

"He's really nice but I didn't get to chat with him as he was too busy trying to breathe."

"Absolutely right." Kristen nods and stares at Rolo. "What do you think of him Rolo?"

"I don't know him."

"I mean do you think he's hot?"

I screw up my nose as I watch for his reaction. Is Rolo gay? I know he's quite flamboyant and he's a make-up artist but that doesn't make him gay.

Rolo looks as though he's thinking. "I suppose he's okay as Scots go," he says finally.

So here I am again in a position where I'm trying to establish whether or not a new work friend is gay! Why does this always happen to me? The same situation arose in my gym in England but my brother, Jared, is gay so I used his gaydar to figure it out – after about three months. I assume Kristen must know whether or not her friend is gay but I'm sure I have seen him oggling her boobies when she's training him. His answer to the Ethan question was vague so I decide that I'm not going to spend the next three months guessing, I'm going to wait until we are alone and ask him outright. The new me can't be doing with all that dithering about, I shall just ask my question and then I'll know – or I might leave it until tomorrow.