Shopaholic on Honeymoon Read Online Free PDF

come to LA to see the celebrities, like you go to Sri Lanka to see the elephants.
    But Luke didn’t gasp when we saw Tom Hanks in the lobby of the Beverly Wilshire. He didn’t blink when Halle Berry was sitting three tables away at The Ivy (I think it was Halle Berry). He didn’t even get excited when we saw Reese Witherspoon across the road. (I’m sure it was Reese Witherspoon. She had exactly the same hair.)
    And he talks about Sage as if she’s just another client. Like she’s Foreland Investments. He says that this is what she appreciates about him: that he’s
not
part of the circus. And then he says I’m getting overexcited by all the Hollywood hoopla. Which is totally untrue. I am
not
overexcited. I’m exactly the right amount excited.
    Privately, I’m disappointed in Sage, too. I mean, OK, we don’t exactly know each other, but we did speak on the phone when she was helping me with a surprise party for Luke. (Although she’s got a new number now, and Luke won’t give it to me.) I would have thought she might be in touch, or invite me round to her house for a sleepover, or something.
    Anyway, never mind. It’ll all come good tomorrow. I don’t want to boast, but it’s totally due to my own quick wits that I’m in this Ten Miler race. I just happened to be looking over Luke’s shoulder at his laptop yesterday, when a round-robin email came in from Sage’s manager, Aran. It was entitled
First come first served
and read:
    Dear friends,
    There’s a last-minute place available on the Ten Miler team due to an injury dropout – anyone interested in running and supporting Sage?
    My hands were on the keyboard, pressing Reply and typing
Yes please! I would love to run with Sage! Best wishes, Becky Brandon
before I was even aware I was moving.
    OK, so maybe I should have consulted Luke before pressing Send. But it was ‘first come first served’. I had to act fast!
    Luke just stared at me and said, ‘Are you nuts?’ Then he started going on about how this was a proper race for trained athletes, and who was going to sponsor me, and did I even possess any running shoes? Honestly. He could be more supportive.
    Although, actually, he has a point about the running shoes.
    ‘So, are you in the movie business too?’ Mindy asks as she hands me the receipt.
    ‘No, I’m a personal shopper.’
    ‘Oh OK. Which shop?’
    ‘It’s … actually, it’s … Dalawear.’
    ‘Oh.’ She looks taken aback. ‘You mean, the store for …’
    ‘Older women. Yes.’ I lift my chin. ‘It’s a great store. It’s really exciting. I can’t wait!’
    I’m being super-positive about this job, even though it’s not
exactly
my dream. Dalawear sells ‘easy-wear clothes’ for ladies who rate ‘comfort over style’. (It actually says that on the poster. I might try to persuade them to change it to ‘comfort
as much as
style’.) When I went to the interview, the woman kept talking about elasticated waistbands and washable fabrics and not once about directional fashion. Or even fashion.
    But the truth is, there aren’t that many personal-shopping jobs popping up in LA at the last minute for a newly arrived Brit. Especially a Brit who may only be in the country for three months. Dalawear was the only store that had an opening, because of a maternity leave. And I rocked the interview, though I say it myself. I enthused about their ‘all-purpose floral shirtwaister’ dresses so much, I almost wanted to buy one for myself.
    ‘Can I please buy some running shoes, too?’ I change the subject. ‘I can’t exactly run in these!’ I gesture at my Marc Jacobs kitten heels with a little laugh. (For the record, I did once climb an entire mountain in a pair of shoes just like these. But I mentioned that to Luke yesterday as proof of my athletic ability and he shuddered and said he’d wiped that whole incident from his memory.)
    ‘Sure.’ Mindy nods. ‘You’ll want our technical store, Pump! It’s right across the street.