Taking Pearl Places
an excerpt

FULL TIME PAY, PART TIME WORK
MAXIMUM FUN

Fancy getting paid to live in a luxury London pad, party with the stars and mingle with the media?

Are you a girl with attitude?
The sort that no matter where you go or what you do, you are always in control?

Our client is looking for a live-in media liaison manager. Someone who can write snappy copy, someone who is attentive to details, has great diplomatic skills with the ability to help organise lives and make a difference.

This is the once-in-a-lifetime chance to go places and live the dream.

Send us a picture and a letter telling us why we'd be mad not to give you the DREAM JOB.

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ONE

The thought crossed my mind as I rubbed her back while she threw up into a nightclub toilet, that I might not actually have the dream job I'd hoped for. It was the first time I'd worn them, but my new suede boots were ruined. I held back her hair and waited for the next hurling spasm.
'There now, get it all up,' I said with what little sympathy I could muster.
'It must have been something I ate,' Pearl Brookes croaked.
'Yes,' I replied, though Pearl never really ate, she just grazed. Like any young starlet in the public eye, she starved herself for days at a time.
'It'll be that sushi,' she struggled to her feet and smoothed down her dress, 'Find out who the chef is at this shit hole and make sure he's sacked.'
'I'll do that right away, Pearl,' I lied.
'And Faith …'
'Yes?'
'Phone Jimmy Woo.'
'I can't do that, Pearl; you know what Finley said…'
'Oh sod Finley. Who pays your wages?'
'You do Pearl.'
'Then get Jimmy down here now or find yourself another celeb to sponge off.'
When I took the job as Personal Assistant to Pearl Brookes, the first rule laid down by her manager Finley Gardener was that under no circumstances should she have access to someone called Jimmy Woo. Jimmy was, according to Finley, 'very bad news'. I soon learned that Pearl had different ideas. Jimmy frequently turned up at Pearl's front door. He never stayed for long and never spoke more than a few words.
She stumbled over to the sinks and stared in the mirror. When she tossed her hair back, a piece of regurgitated sushi landed on my cheek.
'Bugger me, I look rough. Where's my bag?'
'Here you go,' I handed her the tan Chloe Paddington that I'd lugged around all evening.
'Are you still here?' she sighed.
'I'm just going.'
Back out in the corridor I ducked into an alcove and fished out my phone. The line rang out. Jimmy's answering service picked up. I left a message asking Mr. Woo to meet Pearl at the club. As I hung up, someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned to face a row of expensively capped teeth.
'Is Pearl still here, I've got someone who's just dying to meet her.' It was one of the researchers from the show. A horsy girl whose name escaped me. After a while they all merged into one.
She's just powdering her nose,' I explained, 'If you let me know where you'll be, I'll have her come and find you.'
'Jolly good. We're over near the VIP enclosure,' she lisped and cantered away.
I was the 'plus one' at a launch party for a new series of 'Family Ties', a TV show that tried unsuccessfully to reunite Pearl with her father. The producers were on a hiding to nothing. She forgot to mention that her mother told her years before about how he died of a drug overdose in prison. It made for great television when she showed her vulnerable side, breaking down when told the sad news on camera. It took three takes to get the scene right.
I'd already spent much of the evening making small talk with media people. Boys called Toby, Josh or Ben, girls called Arabella, Minnie or Mimi. Boarding school confidence allowed them to speak loudly while saying little of any consequence. I went from expensed lunch to product launch, expected to network on Pearl's behalf. I'd been in her employ for six weeks and still didn't know where her talents lay.
Pearl first stepped into the public eye as the silicone-enhanced mistress of a chinless right-wing politician known for staunch anti-gay, pro-family speeches. A lurid bedroom expose ended his hateful excuse for a career and launched hers. She landed on Planet Fame just as the producers of a reality TV show needed a last-minute replacement for glamour model Starr Warner, who was spending the summer in rehab after a botched suicide attempt. Pearl was quickly signed up and spent three weeks living in a small house with nine other low-grade well-past their sell-by date celebs.
The Great British Public loves an underdog, even more so if they're as thick as pig shit and don't mind who knows it. When Pearl famously asked aging Hollywood heart throb Byron West if Wales was in America, viewers took her to their hearts. In amongst all the tired egos and attempts to out-do each other, she was a breath of fresh air.
What nobody watching knows is that Pearl isn't thick at all. She's as sharp as a tack; I'm employed to make sure nobody finds that out.
'Where the hell have you been?' I turned to see Pearl glaring at me, 'And where is Jimmy?'
'I've left a message with his service; I'm just waiting for him to call me back.'
'How long do we have to stay here?'
'Well they're doing a little presentation to Gordon Meyer soon; I guess after that everyone is free to go.'
'Who on God's earth is Gordon Meyer?'
'He presents 'Family Ties'. He was the one who went with you to the prison. He's celebrating twenty years in television.'
'The old letch with ginger hair, green teeth and a tendency to spray food when he talks?'
I nodded. Pearl looked confused, 'I thought his name was Kevin.'
'Look out; ginger-haired letch at three o'clock.'
Pearl greeted Gordon with a winning smile.
'What's my favourite girl doing over here chatting to the hired help?' he said, giving me the sort of look people reserved for something unpleasant found on the bottom of a shoe.
'Pearl's a bit tired,' she lisped in a little girl voice. The voice she always reserved for speaking to men old enough to be her father, 'I'm not used to all of this attention. I mean compared with you, I'm nobody am I?'
'Of course you are, darling, you're a star. One of the biggest in the business and don't let anyone tell you different.'
'You!' - He was talking to me - 'Get me a gin and tonic and whatever this lovely lady is having.'
'Just a diet coke for me,' Pearl giggled.
'Oh go on, be a devil, have a real drink.'
'It goes right to my head; I don't want to end up doing anything I'll regret.'
'A little of what you fancy does you good,' Gordon was flushed and almost dribbling; while rubbing himself up against Pearl's thigh. I excused myself.
When I returned, they'd both vanished. This wasn't good news. Pearl wasn't above offering blow jobs in dark corners to a ginger-haired letch, if she thought it might further her career. My phone rang.
'Pearl?' a familiar voice whispered.
'This is Pearl's assistant, Faith, who is this.'
'Jimmy.'
'Oh hi,' I tried to sound friendly, 'How are you?' There was no reply. 'Pearl wondered if you could meet her.'
'Where?'
'Right now we're at Spike; any chance you could get down here?'
'Fifteen minutes, outside.'
The line went dead. I needed to find Pearl quickly. I pushed through the crowds of liggers catching snatches of conversation. Everyone was trying to talk themselves up, trying to work out if whoever listened was of any use. Someone grabbed my arm.
'Aren't you that girl off 'The Friday Night Party'?' My way was blocked by a wiry man with a dark floppy fringe.
'No,' I tried to get away.
'It is you, isn't it? He wasn't going to give up.
'Honestly, I'm not famous. I'm just someone's PA,' I said.
'Oh,' he abruptly let go of me, a look of disgust spread across his face. He'd actually touched someone who worked for a living, someone so completely not famous, so utterly pointless and useless. He stood aside to let me go.
I spotted Pearl chatting to the horsy researcher girl near the VIP enclosure. I tried to get her attention. The music changed, the lights went up, people started to cheer, it was show time.
Pearl spotted me and started to make her way over. She seemed unsteady on her feet; I gathered she'd taken up the offer of having a proper drink.
'Where've you been? I'm getting out of here, I'm off to Stringfellows,' she hissed in my ear.
'You can't, you're banned.'
'Since when?'
'Since you relieved yourself in a pot plant.'
'Oh yes,' Pearl smiled, 'Never mind, they'll forgive me, everyone does.'
Pearl was right, no matter how badly she behaved, everyone did tend to let it go.
'Where's Jimmy?' she asked.
'He said he'd be outside. But are you sure you ought to …'
'Give it a rest Faith. I don't need to hear it.'
I picked up my bag and retrieved hers from where she'd dropped it at my feet. Pearl stopped to lean against a pillar; she looked down at the floor. Was she about to be sick again?
'I can't walk in these,' she pulled off her shoes and threw them in my direction.
Outside the club, flashbulbs popped, Pearl waved. I spotted Jimmy across the road, standing near a burger van. I couldn't risk Pearl being photographed with him. I took hold of her elbow and tried to steer her towards a cab. Although Stringfellows was a scant five-minute stagger away, she would never dream of arriving on foot.
'Get off me you big dyke,' she bellowed. This was Pearl's 'public' voice, the one people expected to hear. A loud cheer went up from the crowd outside the club; a few more photos were taken.
'We need to get into a cab.' At times like this I became like a mother scolding an unruly child, speaking through gritted teeth, trying to smile and speak without moving my lips.
All attention was diverted from us by the arrival of Jez Dawson, a member of the latest hit boy band. Pearl escaped and ran across the road to Jimmy.
'Where is she?' I smelled stale beer and a cigarette, Gordon Meyer was looking for Pearl.
'She's just talking to one of her friends,' I tried to remain civil.
'Fucking prick tease, I'll show her.' He started to stagger across the road and was forced to jump back onto the pavement when a car swerved to narrowly avoid him.
'I think it might be better if you just go back inside,' I said firmly, waving at a bouncer. Pearl was forever getting into scrapes like this. The first few times it happened, I'd been scared; it quickly became run-of-the-mill. The doorman came to my rescue and started to steer the TV veteran back inside, just as Pearl bounded over.
'Give me my shoes,' she demanded.
'Where did you vanish to?' Meyer slimed.
'Oh hi,' Pearl sounded bored. 'We're off to Stringfellows now, so see you around.' She flagged down a cab and climbed inside. Meyer wasn't taking the brush off easily and stumbled in beside her.
'Are you coming, Faith?' she called, I sighed and joined them.
Two full minutes later, we pulled up outside Stringfellows. Pearl was first out of the cab, making her way up the steps, waving at anyone who was willing to take her picture. Meyer was just a couple of steps behind, grinning at the photographers. I handed the driver a twenty pound note, he made no attempt to find change, he simply handed me a blank receipt.
'Faith,' Pearl was waiting for me at the door, 'get a frigging move on you dozy cow. Bring me my handbag.'
'What?'
'My handbag; hurry up. I need something from it.'
'Did you leave it in the cab?'
Pearl frequently misplaced bags. There was never anything of any value lost.
'Of course I didn't leave it in the cab, I gave it to you.'
'No you didn't Pearl. Is there any chance you left it at Spike?'
She gave it some thought.
'No. I definitely had it with me when we came out. Where else would I stash the shit?'
She stopped talking, sensing she had said too much and tried to win me back over with a smile. I pulled her to one side.
'What shit?' I hissed.
Just a little something from Jimmy.'
Alarm bells began to ring. She waved at someone over my shoulder.
'Hi sweetie, how are you?' she cooed. I turned to see the leathery features of legendary gossip columnist Laura Kenton-Warner. She raised a bony hand in recognition.
'What was in the bag?'
'Just a little something.'
'What sort of something?'
'Something to perk me up.'
'Pearl, tell me what else was in the bag. Is there anything that can tie you to the contents?'
'I don't know what you mean.'
'What else was in the bag? Hairbrush, perfume, what?'
Laura was working the room, getting closer. I could already smell what some hacks unkindly called her trademark coffee breath.
'Yes, that sort of stuff.' Pearl seemed unconcerned.
'Anything else? Money?'
'A bit,' she looked at me and put on one of her supposedly endearing faces, 'is Pearl a bad girl, Faithy Waithy?'
'Just as long as there isn't anything that can tie the bag to you.' I snapped.
Laura arrived and gathered Pearl up in a flurry of air kissing and inane banter. They locked arms and tottered away. I was forced to follow.
Pearl demanded a table where everyone could see her and ordered a bottle of vintage champagne.
'Take my credit card and get them to start a tab at the bar,' she ordered.
'Your credit card?'
'You do know what a credit card is?' She looked around the table, 'It's so hard to get good staff these days,' she said. Her drinking companions laughed, I felt myself going red, not with embarrassment, but anger.
'I don't have your credit card. You have it,' I replied.
As the words fell out, I already knew what had happened. The card was in the bag with whatever Class A drugs Pearl had bought off Jimmy Woo. I pictured the taxi driver rubbing his chubby hands together with glee, phoning one of the red tops to sell his story.
I had no choice. This was why I was employed to look after Pearl. I had to deal with things.
'I'll take care of the tab,' I said handing over my own card and smiling evenly, trying not to give the game away. Laura was a pro; she could smell a story a mile off. I needed to tread carefully. Out of earshot, I made two calls, one to Pearl's manager - thankfully, I got his machine - and one to the cab firm. If I was to have any chance of keeping my job, I needed to find that bag.