Havana Adams - Black Diamond

Other people shed when they were heartbroken but as she glanced back at her bed and saw the empty wrapping of two boxes of cookies, she had her answer. Grace shook her head at her appearance. The suit with the boxy jacket and fishtail skirt had been unflattering enough when The Pastor had presented it to her two years earlier but now, carrying so many extra pounds, she looked like a beached whale. Grace sighed, ran a comb through the little hair that she had and walked downstairs.

Throughout the service, Grace had sat stony-faced. She had started to realise that without The Pastor’s permission, her dream of escaping to Oxford was dead in the water. The collection baskets were going around for the second time when Grace felt her mother shift beside her. Grace looked up in surprise as her mother rose to her feet and began to walk up the central aisle towards The Pastor’s pulpit. Grace felt a shaft of fear: what was her mother doing? A few of the congregation were starting to look up interested, for it was rare to see The Pastor’s wife take to the pulpit. Grace’s eyes darted anxiously and she saw the instant that The Pastor saw his wife. His eyes narrowed, his nostrils flared, Grace was sure that his fists might have flexed but here in front of his congregation he could do nothing but watch as his wife took to the pulpit, angling the microphone down towards her. By now the choir had gone quiet and Grace watched, her heart almost in her mouth, as her mother began to speak.

“Hallelujah,” Simbi said. And the congregation echoed her with hallelujahs of their own. Grace watched as, her voice faltering, her mother spoke again.

“The Pastor and I have some happy news to share with you. Our beautiful daughter is going to Oxford University for her interview this month, so pray for her, pray for her success and her courage and that she will take the right path in life.” As her mother spoke, a burst of applause spun through the church. The congregation were on their feet applauding. “And praise my husband The Pastor, for his foresight in encouraging Grace to be the best she can be.” And once again the congregation were clapping, the choir had broken into song. And The Pastor knew that he had been bested by his wife. Grace watched the flicker of emotions that he fought to conceal – fury, rage, incredulity. His wife, who never fought back, had utterly outmanoeuvred him and for now, at least, there was nothing he could do about it. He’d been backed into a corner.

Grace felt a pat her on the back, someone else was shaking her hand and another woman pressed a £20 note into her palm, for her books. Grace rose to her feet joining in with the clapping and singing that swelled through the church. There would be hell to pay, but for now as she stared at her mother, frail and yet determined up on the altar, Grace vowed that she would nail that interview, she would ace those exams. She would go to Oxford. She would do whatever it took to make her mother proud.

CHAPTER 4

What a difference a few months made.

Lola walked down the steps of the LA County Court and shook her hair over her shoulder. It was months since the crash that had put her in hospital but luckily a few cracked ribs and a broken arm had been the worst of the damage. Lola had emerged with only a probation sentence, she’d survived yet another stint in rehab, she’d weathered the two lawsuits from the other drivers that night and one thing was clear: Lola had emerged from it all with the potential to be a star.

A local magazine had acquired her mug shots and suddenly Lola had gained almost cult status in her neighbourhood with people wearing T-shirts with her picture on them. Lola had all the makings of a modern star: glamour, celebrity status and of course being a car crash both literally and figuratively helped. Whoever said there was no such thing as bad publicity clearly knew Hollywood well because in the time it took to write off a one hundred thousand dollar Porsche, Lola Wilde had gone from Hollywood offspring brat to celebutante in her own right. Not since Paris Hilton’s sex tape had any celebrity profile been so utterly transformed overnight. Flanked by Amber and her lawyer Gayle, Lola basked in the LA sunshine and the relief that her liberty was secure. As they climbed into the waiting Escalade with blacked-out windows, Lola gave a sigh of relief.

“Thank God that’s over.” She turned to Gayle. “Thank you so much.”

“Don’t thank me, you heard the judge, let’s keep clean and sober and not have to go back in there?”

Lola nodded, she had no intention of ever going back in there. She turned to Amber.

“So what now?” Amber smiled one of her mischievous smiles and Lola gave her friend a warning look.

“We are not going drinking.”

Amber pouted. “Who said anything about drinking? I’m not going to be your enabler.”

“OK. So what have you got up your sleeve?” Lola asked, her curiosity piqued but the only response she got was Amber’s smirking profile. Lola watched as her friend tapped into her cell phone.

“Amb?” Lola asked again.

“Well, let’s just say that since you’re the new and improved Lola, I’m the new and improved Amber.” Lola grunted.

“And that tells me what exactly?” Amber gave a small laugh and Lola felt all the more unnerved.

“You’ll just have to trust me.” Sitting back in the plush leather seats, Lola watched as the freeway gave way to the ocean views of Santa Monica. She thought with foreboding about every other time that Amber had uttered the words “trust me” and she felt a knot of disquiet grow in her stomach. She couldn’t afford to end up in any more trouble.

They’d dropped Gayle off at her office and finally the Escalade came to a halt outside a nondescript building several streets away from the beach on 7 thAvenue.

“What are we doing here?”

“You’ll see.” Lola had no choice but to follow Amber as they walked through the cool reception. The receptionist on the desk, a blonde with a pixie cut, immediately stood to attention.

“Ms Wilde, Mr Longwall is expecting you both.” And with those words Lola had her answer. As they followed the receptionist down another corridor Lola turned to Amber and mouthed a question at her.

“Tyler Longwall?” But they were already entering a spacious conference room and Lola knew she’d have to wait to get any answers. Behind a huge antique oak desk, Tyler Longwall, surfer dude turned TV presenter turned media mogul in the making, rose and came around to greet them.

“Amber, Lola, great to see you. Has Peyton offered you anything to drink? Coffee, water, protein shake?”

“Two diet cokes is fine,” Amber answered for them both as they settled into a plush sofa and faced Tyler.

“You’ll be wondering why I got Amber to bring you here,” Tyler said. Lola smiled, grateful that he was cutting to the chase. “The thing is, Lola Wilde, I think you have something. I think you have what it takes to be a star.” Tyler let the sentence hang in the air and Lola stared at him wondering how best to react. For a moment, she felt her heart soar, perhaps Tyler Longwall would be the man who made her into somebody, not just Scarlet’s rebellious daughter. And then she was brought sharply to earth. Tyler Longwall didn’t create critically acclaimed actresses; he grew reality TV stars and farmed them out 24-7. There was no quibbling with the numbers, Tyler won ratings battles, but it was a fact that when it came to his brand of entertainment shows, talent was optional. Lola took a deep breath and stared at Tyler’s expectant face. Lola felt a subtle kick at her ankle from Amber who was practically glaring at her.

“She’s just overwhelmed,” Amber said and there was a small laugh between the three of them. Lola took a sip of the coke that the receptionist had quietly set down.