Free Going La La by Alexandra Potter Page A

Finally, after a rush of callers, he collapsed into the wicker chair that hung from the ceiling.
    Rita came back inside from next door and flopped on the sofa. ‘So you like the view, then?’ Her voice broke Frankie away from her thoughts.
    ‘It’s amazing.’ Frankie smiled as she came back inside. ‘Do you get the same one from your apartment?’
    ‘Not quite. Dorian’s got the more expensive view. We’ll go next door in a minute and you can have a look.’
    ‘Yeah, I’d love to. Better get Fred and Ginger as well, the poor things must be starving.’
    ‘Don’t worry. I’ve just fed them. They’re already asleep on my duvet.’
    ‘God, thanks.’ Frankie smiled appreciatively. ‘They must be as knackered as I am.’
    ‘Knackered. Knackered ! ’ Dorian mimicked her like a mynah bird. ‘You can’t be knackered, you’ve only just arrived.’
    ‘I know, but I think I’ve got jet lag,’ Frankie tried feebly to protest. She didn’t want to come across as a boring old fart in front of someone she’d just met, but quite frankly she felt like putting on her pyjamas, having a cup of tea and going to bed. Even if it was only early.
    Dorian was having none of it. Beaming brightly, he rubbed his hands together as if he was trying to light a fire. ‘In that case I’ve got just the thing to perk you up.’
    ‘Not that bloody awful liquorice tea,’ interrupted Rita, fanning herself with a copy of the National Enquirer .
    Dorian tutted. ‘Have you no faith, woman?’ Standing up, he put his hands on his hips, legs akimbo, and declared dramatically, ‘What I have is a party.’
    A party? Frankie widened her eyes in horror and mouthed the words to Rita. It was the last thing she felt like. Unfortunately, Rita didn’t appear to share her misgivings.
    ‘A party, whose?’ She gripped the edge of the sofa excitedly.
    ‘Aha.’ Dorian smiled smugly, satisfied with the response. ‘I’m not telling, but I do know there’s going to be dozens of celebrities, fountains of champagne and –’ he paused and winked mischievously – ‘even though I know you won’t want to look at another man with me by your side, I’ve heard rumours that there’s going to be lots of prime rump for ladies such as yourselves.’
    He beamed at Frankie, who smiled weakly. First he’d waved a gun in her face, now he was offering her prime rump .
    ‘Great!’ enthused Rita. ‘Randy’s away on business, so I’m footloose and fancy free.’ She caught Frankie’s forlorn expression. ‘Come on, Frankie, it’ll do you good. A party’s just what you need.’ Sitting on the edge of the sofa, she squeezed Frankie’s hand comfortingly.
    ‘Yep, I know.’ Frankie nodded, trying to look enthusiastic but fooling no one.
    Dorian wasn’t about to take no for an answer. Pouring out three tequila shots, he passed them round. ‘This will help get you in the mood.’
    He knocked his back eagerly, as did Rita. Frankie was less enthusiastic, screwing up her face as the liquid scorched the back of her throat. Refilling his glass, Dorian picked up one of his remote controls and flicked on his stereo. Suddenly Flamenco music was beating down from the overhead speakers.
    ‘Come on, you’d think we were going to a funeral,’ he hollered, slamming his shot and picking up a pair of castanets. He rattled them at Frankie, who was still coughing from the tequila fumes. ‘I guarantee you’ll have a fabulous time.’ He gripped her around the waist and, before she had time to stop him, began twirling her around the sofa, his leopard-print bathrobe flapping around his ankles. ‘You’re with me –’ suddenly tipping her backwards, he pressed his mouth to her ear and growled – ‘ and I’m a party animal .’

10
    Sunset Strip was chock-a-block with traffic and they sat bumper to bumper with white stretch limos, watching the overhead traffic lights change from red to green to amber and back to red. Frankie pressed her nose against the tinted