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made her feel plugged in and part of something crucial, an integral cog in a great and glorious machine. The party she had attended on Friday provided the perfect excuse to hang for a few days and tonight she was catching up with A-list actress Ava Bennett. The women had met at a film premiere two years ago and had swiftly become friends.
    ‘You look gorgeous,’ Ava told her as they were seated for dinner, tossing her sheet of shimmering platinum hair. Turquoise had chosen her usual spot in Giovanni’s, a cosy, family-run Italian on Waverly Place. ‘Who’re you fucking?’
    Turquoise nearly spluttered out her martini. ‘Excuse me?’
    ‘That glow,’ Ava said, mercifully stalled while a deferential waiter came to take their order. Once he’d gone she elaborated, ‘It’s written all over your face. Who is he?’
    ‘There is no he,’ Turquoise lied, deciding that Bronxdidn’t count. There was no relationship on the cards so why waste time talking about it?
    ‘You’re lying,’ observed Ava slyly, but Turquoise knew her friend wasn’t any the wiser. She was a good liar. The best.
    ‘Tell you what—’ Turquoise raised her glass and they clinked ‘—let’s talk about you.’ She loved hearing about Ava’s job and, no matter how famous she herself became, she would always attach a certain enchantment to the movies. ‘How’s work?’
    ‘Ah, you know.’ Ava waved a bejewelled hand. ‘Promotion for Lovestruck ’s going through the roof.’ Ava was playing the young mother in a new teen romance. Songstress sweetheart Kristin White had penned the music and it was causing quite a stir. ‘Cosmo’s been insufferable about this script he’s writing, mind you. He’s being ever so secretive.’
    Turquoise’s heart pounced. It was easy to forget that Ava was married to her nemesis.
    When her friend and Cosmo Angel had first got together Turquoise had tried to cut contact, feigning illness whenever Ava wanted to meet or claiming her diary was against it. But Ava was a loyal companion and hadn’t given up, and short of explaining why she had embarked on the avoidance campaign there wasn’t a great deal she could do. It meant that on occasion she was forced to see Cosmo, to shake his hand and exchange empty pleasantries as though they were strangers. Never would she risk going closer. Never would she visit Ava’s house. Never would she spend any more time with the man than was absolutely necessary.
    ‘He’s writing a script?’ Turquoise ventured, relieved whentheir appetisers came and hoping that might change the subject. Her throat had closed. She couldn’t eat.
    ‘It’s a break from acting. He wants to give something back. You know, get creative.’
    He sure knows how to do that .
    ‘What’s it about?’ The words were like glue on her tongue. Even as she asked she had the horrible sensation of already knowing the answer.
    ‘This is the thing,’ Ava exclaimed through a mouthful of basil gnocchi, ‘he refuses to say! It’s centred around a murder; that’s all he’ll give me.’
    ‘What kind of murder?’ Her voice was tiny.
    ‘Beats me.’ She laughed. ‘Ask him yourself.’
    Turquoise averted her gaze. She scrambled for something to say. It was horrible deceiving Ava, they were close, but she had vowed to take the truth to her grave…the truth of what she’d done and where she’d come from…the truth of what happened.
    Secrets she couldn’t tell a soul.
    Especially when Ava was Cosmo’s wife .
    Fortunately Ava changed tack for her. ‘You seen this?’ she asked, producing a paper from her purse and tapping its front page. On it was an image of Jax Jackson pumping iron.
    The article was about the athlete landing yet another brand affiliation. Its headline read: JAX ‘THE BULLET’ JACKSON FIRES A WINNER.
    ‘Two words for you, honey,’ said Ava. ‘Hot. As.’
    Turquoise disagreed. ‘I hung with him once. He’s not all that.’
    ‘Really? Where?’
    She batted off the question.