The Hollywood Waitress

Chapter 17

Café' launch day had finally arrived and I couldn't have been any less excited.

Don't get me wrong to see it go from a, dilapidated greasy spoon into an exclusive gourmet hot spot was a true miracle in its own right.

But the prospect of spending an evening with Scott and Josie as the new 'Power Couple' of Hollywood (okay slight exaggeration) somehow made sticking pins in my eyes seem way more attractive.

And as they stood together admiring the newly installed 70's juke box looking every bit ''the perfect couple'' it was then that broken down coffee machines complete with mouse droppings didn't seem so bad after all . . .

'Come on you it's time to get our glad rags on' said Poppy excitedly

I managed to squeeze out a smile before following her to her mini cooper that now had its very own parking space right outside ''The Hollywood Spot''. A name which apparently had taken Poppy and Josie weeks to think up.

'Right' said Poppy, carefully hanging her black cocktail dress off the sunroof to her car. 'Time to get glammed up!'

'I don't have a clue what I'm wearing.' I sulked

'Don't you worry your pretty little head,' she smiled, 'I have the PERFECT outfit in mind.'

Flipping her black sunglasses over her eyes she pulled the car into first gear and sped out of the carpark to the sound of Taylor Swift's 'Trouble'. And as we made our way to Poppy's apartment, there wasn't one track on the ''1989'' album we didn't ruin at the top of our lungs.

Half a bottle of prosecco later . . . and we were slipping CORRECTION falling into our party dresses!

Poppy in a lovely black, backless number and me, in an off – the shoulder red pencil dress that she'd been kind enough to let me borrow. And despite my reservations she was absolutely insistent that I try out some of her red YSL lipstick.

'Voila!' she exclaimed, like an artist admiring his own artwork. 'Look at you... STUNNING!

'Wow . . .' I said, pouting my new designer lips in the mirror, 'and you're a genius!'

'Hmmm . . .' she pondered 'there's something missing. . . '

Disappearing into her walk – in wardrobe, which apparently was one of the reasons she took the apartment in the first place, (luckily her parents were quite well off hence the fabulous apartment and top of the range car . . . a small price to pay for getting your child out of your hair apparently . . .) she eventually reappeared with the most gorgeous pair of black stilettos I'd ever seen.

'Chanel.' She said, holding them up like a Nobel Prize. 'One stain on them and you're dead.'

Hypnotised by the petite shiny finish I slipped both feet inside. 'Oh Poppy, they're perfect. Are you sure?' I asked, already feeling like a million dollars as I took my first step in two thousand dollars - worth of shoe.

'Yep,' she shrugged, 'only for tonight though . . . and I wasn't kidding about the stain.'

The decoration at the café was nothing short of fabulous. It was all glitter balls and canapes and champagne flutes – very sophisticated! And such a far cry from its greasy spoon days!

But unfortunately for me as the Prosecco started to wear off, so did my confidence. . .

Skulking in a corner on my own wasn't exactly helping my street cred either, so I decided to go and look for Poppy who had somehow got chatting to some Z List TV presenter. It was her fault for suggesting that we go our separate ways to 'mingle' in the first place.