With her slice of pizza halfway to her mouth, Spence stopped as she regarded her friend quizzically. “And how exactly is that supposed to help me deal with Andy?”
“If I’ve pegged Andy right, he’ll forget all about any transgressions you committed against the good order and discipline of Century Consultants as he rounds on Tommy in an effort to impress upon him I’m no-go territory.”
Spence had to laughingly agree until another thought struck her. “Don’t you ever get fed up with the way guys follow you around with their tongues hanging out?”
“You get used to it,” Pamela replied dismissively. “You’ve seen what I look like in grunge cammo. When I’m out and about sans makeup and dressed in trackies and baggy tops, I’m just another face amongst many. The only reason I came dressed as I was today was the shoot I was on was running late. God,” she suddenly added as her entire demeanor darkened. “If that wretched photographer Emmanuel was using today called out, ‘One more shot, darling,’ one more time, he’d be in the hospital right this very minute where a team of proctologists would be doing their all to extract his camera from you know where.”
Then, after taking a bite of her salad, a thought occurred to Pamela, one that caused her to frown as she was chewing. “Naturally, there are some creeps that have a thing for models who aren’t put off by such tactics. Those of us who know better quickly learn to avoid doing anything that might encourage them,” she added.
There followed several moments of silence as the two women turned their attention to their meals before Pamela, wearing a look of concern, put down her fork. “That reminds me. There’s something I’d like to ask you.”
Spence saw the change in her friend’s attitude right off. “Go on.”
“One of the girls at the agency is being stalked online by a real lowlife git, one she can’t seem to shake.”
“Has she reported him to the police?”
“It’s not like he’s following her or has confronted her face to face, at least not yet. But if what Eva is saying is true, which I have no reason not to believe, this one has been proving to be particularly persistent.”
Without having to hear more, Spence knew what her friend was telling her. “I hate cyberstalkers,” she glowered. “As far as I’m concerned, they’re lower than pond scum. They’re the slime under the scum. What’s she done about it?”
“Nothing. That’s the problem. She’s not much more than a kid. Well, she’s eighteen, but seldom acts as if she is.”
“Immature?” Spence ventured.
“Her mother,” Pamela replied bitterly. “That cow tries to control every aspect of the poor girl’s life. She told Eva it was the price of fame. According to that cow, if Eva wanted to be a first-tier model, she’d have to get used to it.”
Spence snorted. “Oh, pushy mom syndrome. I’ve seen that more times than I care to think of. If she’s eighteen she could go to the police herself.”
“Like you said, pushy mom syndrome. I tried to talk to Eva about it, but Mummy dearest insisted she didn’t need the adverse publicity of being dragged through the courts, even if they did catch the slimeball.” Pamela sighed. “It’s a pity. Eva’s such a nice kid. She may not be the brightest bulb in the box, but she’s really sweet. The worst part is she’s taking this to heart. I’ve seen some of the vile stuff he’s sent. It’s enough to turn your stomach.”
“You need to get her to talk to the police. I’ve got a friend in the Met who might be able to help, a Detective Sergeant with the cybercrimes section who hates stalkers as much as I do.”
Pamela nodded before sitting up and motioning to the waiter for the bill. “I’ll try, but don’t hold your breath. If Mummy gets wind of it, she’ll put her foot down. Now,” Pamela chirped as she did her best to change the subject. “Let’s not spoil the evening. Any news on the blog?”
“Oh yes, I almost forgot,” Spence replied as she suddenly set aside all thoughts of Eva and hurried to share the news about their Beauty and the Geek blog. “I received an e-mail today from the editor of a magazine who is interested in picking up our blog.”
“Is it one I might know?”
“I seriously doubt it. It’s called The Lady.”
Pamela stared wide-eyed at Spence. “Shut up!”
“You’ve heard of it?”
Leaning over the table, Pamela looked at Spence in total disbelief. “How long have you lived in England?”
Spence shrugged. “Four, no, five years. Why?”
“And you’ve never heard of The Lady?”
“No, I haven’t. What’s so special about it?”
“Dear girl, you have so got to start watching Downton Abbey.”
“Honey child,” Spence replied in her best Scarlett O’Hara accent as she batted her eyelashes. “I’d rather chew glass.”
“God! You are such a Yank! No wonder we decided to cast your lot out of the Empire.” Pamela giggled, her earlier concerns forgotten. “Now, you promised to show me this monster of an HD screen you got. I hope you’ve got something worth watching to go with it!”
2
As she was reaching over to scoop up another handful of popcorn from a bowl nestled in Spence’s lap, Pamela took a second to look about the only room in Karen Spencer’s flat that did not have a computer in it. “You’ve managed to fix the place up nicely after your late-night visit by the brute squad,” she observed in a soft, lyrical voice that came as naturally to her as the stunning looks that left her in such demand in the fashion world.
Spencer’s response was as different from her friend’s as the image she projected. “It bloody well took me long enough to sort this place out,” she grunted. “If it wasn’t for the fat check from an obscure agency even Andy had never heard of that accompanied the official unofficial, kind-of sort-of apology by Her Majesty’s Government, I’d still be sitting on the floor.”
Like Spencer, Pamela’s father had been military, so she knew how government agencies tended to cover their errors by throwing money at problems even as they were going out of their way to pretend they had done nothing wrong. “I take it all is well and your firm has been accepted back in the fold?” Pamela asked as the two young women sat watching a vintage black-and-white movie starring John Wayne, Jimmy Stewart, and Vera Miles.
“I guess,” Spence replied without much conviction. “Andy made his peace with Eddie Telford, the guy I told you about who hops about various ministries like Doctor Who, solving problems and fighting off the Daleks that run your government.”
“What do you mean your government?” Pamela shot back without taking her eyes off the movie.
“While it may be true I have no choice but to drive on the wrong side of the road these days, I’m still a flag-waving colonial rebel, remember?”
“And they let you root around in Her Majesty’s affairs?” Pamela asked incredulously as she glanced at Spencer out of the corner of her eye.
Spence chuckled. “Andy doesn’t give them a choice. We’re like the Three Musketeers, a package deal. All for one and one for all.”
“Well, you’ve just shot my faith in my government’s judgment all to hell,” Pamela muttered as she slumped further down in the sofa.
When she realized what her friend was implying, Spence reached into the bowl, scooped up a handful of popcorn, and threw it at her friend without looking away from the movie. “That’ll be enough of your sass, Little Miss Muffet,” she muttered. “Now hush and watch the movie. One of my favorite scenes is coming up.”