Page 34 of The Sun Sister
‘Thanks,’ I said. As soon as both of them retreated I downed half the tonic water then topped it up with some Goose as planned.
The past two weeks had been the worst of my life, literally,ever, I thought as I took two large gulps of my drink. Everywhere I’d gone, there were photos of Mitch with his Very Plain Fiancée plastered on the front of magazines and newspapers, the TV replaying the moment he’d announced he was going to marry her onstage at Madison Square Garden. Everyone was talking about it on shoots, their voices disappearing to a hush when I appeared. Just like the news on CNN, the whole nightmare circus went round and round in a reel inside my head. And of course, I couldn’t evenbeginto look as though I cared. Any hint of the sad ex-girlfriend about me would give the media what they wanted. So I’d partied: every night I’d been seen at a movie premiere, a nightclub or a glitzy gallery opening. I’d called up any high-profile male friend I could find to accompany me – Zed had come in handy and there’d been pics and column inches debating whether we were officially ‘an item’. I’d done all this because there was justno wayanyone was going to see me cry.
‘No one,’ I mumbled as I drained my glass.
‘Your noodles and salad, Miss D’Aplièse,’ said the cabin attendant, appearing like Tinker Bell beside me. He pulled out my table and another attendant arranged a tablecloth and silverware on it before the food was put in front of me.
‘Can I get you anything else?’
‘Maybe I’ll have a glass of champagne,’ I smiled up at him.
‘Why not?’ he agreed, then moved to clear away my almost empty tonic water glass.
‘I’ll have a refill of the tonic too, if you don’t mind.’
‘Of course not, Miss D’Aplièse.’
Christ, I thought, it was tiring being me. Even thirty-two thousand feet above the earth, I was still pretending to be someone I wasn’t. A me who was clean, sober and in control.
After the noodles, I had another vodka tonic, then flicked through the movie selection. Halfway through the latest Harry Potter (rom-coms were definitely off the menu right now) I fell asleep and then woke up when everyone else had their lights turned out, their duvets wrapped around them and their seatbelts strapped on top. After getting up to use the restroom, I arrived back in the cabin, and with the eerie blue lighting thought it resembled a flying space lab.Sleeping humans are so vulnerable, I mused as I climbed back into my own area, which had magically morphed into a bed while I’d been away. And the one thing I could never show was vulnerability; any sign from me that I was struggling and the media would broadcast the sordid details around the world. People from Tallahassee to Tokyo would nod at each other across their dinner tables and say that they’d seen it coming and they’d be glad ithadcome because, they’d say, that was the price of success.
Maybe it was, but, I thought as I looked out of the window and saw the lights of what must be South America below me, I hadn’t everaskedfor it. So many ‘celebrities’ I’d met had told me that they’d dreamt since childhood of getting rich and famous. I just dreamt of a world where I didn’t feel like an outsider, a world where I belonged. Because that’s all I’d ever really wanted.
‘Jeez, it’s hot! Can we take a break now?’ I asked the director. It was three in the afternoon and I was seriously flagging.
‘Just one more take, Electra, and I reckon we can wrap for today. You’re doing great, honey.’
Biting my tongue hard – I’d never yet broken my golden rule of doing anything more than complaining mildly on a shoot – I walked back across the soft sand of Ipanema Beach to stand on my marks. The make-up lady was ready for me, caking more powder on my face to mop up the perspiration.
‘She’s good to go!’ she shouted above the strong, burning wind on the beach.
‘Okay, Electra!’ the director boomed through his megaphone. ‘Three paces forwards, then start to raise your arms until I say cut.’
I gave him a thumbs up.
‘And...action!’
Off I went again for maybe the twentieth time, praying it would be the last and I could strip off the white chiffon robe – with its bulging hood that shot out like a parachute behind my head, the underslip clinging wetly to me – and throw myself into the massive waves roaring behind me.
‘Okay, cut!’
I stood where I was, waiting for the director to check the frame.
‘People, that’s a wrap for today!’
I almost tore the robe from my body and stumbled across the sand to the wardrobe tent.
‘Anyone for a swim?’ I asked as both the director and Mariam poked their heads inside.
‘I’m not sure the insurance covers you for swimming in the sea with that kind of swell, Electra,’ the director cautioned me.
‘Oh, come on, Ken. I can see little kids swimming further along the beach.’
‘How about tomorrow afternoon when we’re done? Then I’ll happily allow you to drown,’ he quipped. ‘Joaquim has just arrived, so it’s all looking good.’
‘Okay. I’ll go back to the hotel and take a dip in their pool. Now, if you don’t mind, I need to get changed.’
‘Sure, honey.’ Ken left and Mariam stayed, handing me a bottle of water.
