Swan (23 page)

‘No way!’ I gawped. My body was frozen from shock.
If this was a dream, I didn’t want to wake up. But if it wasn’t a dream then,
well ...

Slowly, Chet walked over to me, knelt down, and took
my hand. His palms felt warm and soft; his eyes incisive and clear.

‘Tell me I’m dreaming,’ I murmured. ‘Tell me it’s
the booze, tell me you spiked it. This can’t be real. No way!’

‘This is real,’ he replied, ‘
I am real
. Touch me, Madeline.’

Oh my God
. His accent! That smooth, silky American accent I’d
heard so many times on screen was now speaking directly to me. He placed my
hand against his chest. I felt his heartbeat. This was too much. Too much!

I looked up at the ceiling, muttered silent prayers.
Then, I looked back at him. He was smiling at me now, his face benign, joyful.
I snatched my hand away, trembling.

I began pacing up and down the room. I couldn’t look
at him. Dared not look at him. I was convinced I must have been hallucinating.

‘Oh my God, oh my God, I’ve completely lost the
plot. This isn’t real, can’t be real. I know it isn’t, it isn’t. I’ll wake up
tomorrow and it’ll all be a dream. Yes, that’s right, it’ll all be a dream. No
way, no how am I standing here having a conversation with Chet Vincent.’

Chet, David, or whatever his name was, looked very
concerned by my behaviour. I was growing increasingly erratic – not a
good look I’ll admit.

‘Listen, Madeline, I know this has come as a bit of
a shock - ’

‘That’s a bloody understatement!’ I roared. The
alcohol had made me bold, given me a level of courage I didn’t think I was
capable of. It allowed me to voice what I was thinking and damn the
consequences. I was convinced that this was all a dream – a mirage, a
fantasy with no basis in reality. It had to be. Nothing else made sense.

‘I suppose you want an explanation,’ Chet murmured.
‘And who can blame you? You deserve one. So, I guess it’s best to start at the
beginning...’ He spoke with an air of detachment, like he was reciting some
other movie star’s biography from Wikipedia and not his own. He talked about
his childhood in Minnesota - his parents, his brothers, the little house he grew
up in. His mother Jen sounded like a typical showbiz mom - pushy, driven and
very money-oriented. His father Kirk was a casual labourer with a violent
temper and a drink problem.

Chet explained his early rise to fame, his first
foray into showbiz as a child model, and how he swiftly progressed from
commercials to movies. He spoke of the strain of becoming his family’s chief
breadwinner at the age of just twelve, of his parent’s bitter custody battle
when he was sixteen (which he suspected was fuelled more by who would gain
control of his finances, rather than for love of him). He spoke of questioning
his whole existence when he was nineteen, of taking drugs to relieve the
malaise caused by early stardom, and wondering if he had what it took to make
the transition from child star to king of Hollywood. He talked of his
loneliness, his crippling insecurities as an actor, and wondering whether
people were really interested in him or his fame. He found it particularly
difficult, he said, to forge relationships with women because he often
questioned their motives – was it him or the money they were after?
Having been a star from such an early age meant that he had never really
associated with people who were not aware of his fame, not aware of his larger than
life status in the world.

When Chet had finished talking, he looked at me,
trying to gauge my reaction. I said nothing. I was still too shocked to speak.

‘I suppose I should explain about David too. You
know, Madeline, it’s very difficult for me to put into words exactly how I came
to be in this situation. What started out as something so simple has grown into
something much bigger. Huge in fact, out of control. But, well, I’ll try my
best to help you understand.’

Chet stood up and started walking around the room.
His voice was quiet and calm. He started by explaining to me his relationship
with
Panikkos Panteli (or Pani as he
was affectionately known). He said they had been friends since the mid ‘90s
when Pantelli had served as executive producer on a number of his films.
In the elite crowds they moved in, the billionaire
was a keen gambler known for making outlandish bets. For instance, in 1998
Pantelli had wagered a business rival fifty thousand dollars that Elvis would
resurface before the new millennium. Obviously he lost the bet, but that wasn’t
the point. Pantelli’s motto in life was that nothing was impossible, and often
used his own rags to riches tale to demonstrate this. Born into poverty,
Pantelli had turned a humble cleaning business into a multi-billion dollar
empire famous for its string of luxury hotels. Chet said the billionaire was
bombastic by nature, a larger than life character who took great pleasure in
rubbing his detractors’ noses in his success.

He then went on to explain in meticulous detail
exactly what had happened
that
night
on the yacht. He said the party had started out like any other – the
usual shallow gossip, posturing, mingling
. Then Maria had thrown one of her diva tantrums,
accusing him of flirting with one of the other guests. After a heated argument,
during which she had thrown a glass at his head, Chet had gone off to cool
down. Gazing out at the dark night sky and sipping his favourite Martini, he
had started to contemplate a life without Maria. A life out of the spotlight.

Presently, he was joined up deck by
Pantelli. The two men talked about the highs and lows of Chet’s film career, and
Pantelli said it was a crime that he hadn’t yet won an Oscar. Chet joked that
the only sure way for an actor to secure an Oscar was to die and win it
posthumously. This throwaway comment had caught the billionaire’s imagination.
Pantelli then speculated that early death enhanced one’s celebrity in a way
that no amount of expensive PR could do. Chet agreed, citing James Dean and
Marilyn Monroe as examples. With a devilish gleam in his eye, Pantelli then
asked Chet outright if he’d ever consider faking his own death to test out this
theory.

At first Chet had laughed it off, thinking
his friend was just fooling around. But, the more Pantelli pushed the idea, the
more it started to intrigue him. Was it really conceivable for someone of Chet’s
profile just to disappear off the face of the earth?
[E13]
 
Where would he go, what would he do? He asked
Pantelli as much, to which the billionaire stated that not only did he believe
it was possible, he was willing to assist him in any way possible to prove it.
It was at this point that what Chet invariably described as an extreme PR stunt
combined with a social experiment came into being.

Late into the night, the two men continued
to discuss the possiblities, during which they agreed the following: the con
would work on two levels: first to prove Pantelli’s Oscar theory, and secondly
to test Chet’s skills as an actor. He would use the opportunity to take his method
acting to a whole new level – go out into the world, assume a new
idenitity, become someone else, live among ordinary people. If Chet could pull
this off successfully, it would be the greatest performance of his life.
His magnum opus
. And so, the seed for
David Powell was planted.

At around four am Pantelli arranged for Chet
to be smuggled discreetly off the yacht by one of his assistants (the man who
had approached us in the salsa bar). Chet was then transported to one of the
billionaire’s properties in Sardinia where he laid low while the whole world
searched for him. It was here that a team of make-up artsists created the prosthetics
and body suit for David Powell. For days, he worked to perfect the quirky
mannerisms of his bizarre creation – the walk, the voice, the back
history. Chet said the easiest part to fake was the British accent, which he
had perfected years earlier whilst playing Reith Winchester in the
Chronicals of Sherlock Holmes
. Then,
about two weeks after his ‘death’ Pantelli flew him out on a private jet to the
UK, where Chet was given meagre accomodation and a fake ID.

I asked him why he had made David a
freelance photographer, and Chet explained it was a chance for him to indulge
one of his greatest passions - photography. He also said he had chosen to move
to London because he had always admired the city’s architecture. It would be a
chance for him to explore one of the few parts of the world he hadn’t lived in.
In short, Chet saw his deception as a holiday from his life as a celebrity, a
chance to explore what his life could have been like had he chosen an ordinary,
mundane existance.

Now that the transformation was complete it
was now just a matter of him lying low until Oscar night, at which point ...
well, he hadn’t seemed to have thought that far ahead.

‘And there’s my problem Madeline,’ Chet said
quietly. ‘I’ve got myself into a real mess. It started out as a joke, but now,
to be honest, I’m not sure where it’s all heading. I sort of feel like Jekyll
and Hyde. I’m not sure which life I prefer: my life as Chet or my life as
David. You see I ... Madeline, what’s wrong? Have I said anything to upset
you?’

I couldn’t hold back anymore. ‘So let me get
this straight. Everything about you was a lie. David Powell never existed. The
hair, the accent, the nose, the bad teeth – it was all fake!’

‘Well, actually, the teeth are mine. I took
out my veneers.’

‘Oh whoopie do. Ladies and gentlemen, the
teeth were real. Give the the man a round of applause.
’ I glared at him. ‘So Krav Maga, the salsa dancing,
your time in Israel. That was all lies too?’

‘Well, not exactly. I did learn those skills, and I
did spend some time in Israel, but it was in order to get into character for
past movie roles. You must know how dedicated I am to my craft. After all
Madeline, you are my biggest fan.’

‘Don’t take the piss. I can’t believe how naïve I’ve
been. You must have been having a jolly good laugh at my expense, pulling the
wool over my eyes. My God. When I think about the stuff I’ve told you, private
stuff – stuff I’ve never told anybody. It makes me cringe!’

‘Madeline, please. Don’t take it that way. I
- ’

‘You bastard!’ I cried. ‘How can you sit
there so calmly, knowing that you’ve done something so ... so wrong. Do you
know how many people you’ve hurt? I mean, think about your family, Maria, your
fans ... you broke all their hearts, left them thinking you’d died so that you
could win a bet? Conduct a social experiment? Do you know how cold and callous
that is? How, how crazy and fucked up that is? Everyone thought you were dead, Chet.
I
thought you were dead. You’ve just
got no idea have you? You haven’t got a clue. I can’t believe this, I just
can’t, I can’t.’

There was a long, dark silence. Chet blinked
at me with an impassive expression.
I
looked at him through glacial eyes. ‘So was I part of this social experiment, Chet?
What was I - some kind of charity case? Thought you’d take a break from
models and actresses and shack up with a fat bird from Blackwall, did
you? No wonder you can’t bear to touch me, no wonder! I kept thinking, “when’s
he gonna make his move?” Ha! Some hope. What is it, Chet? Am I not slim enough
for your taste, not pretty enough? You were never interested in me, were you?
No, I was just part of your bloody experiment!’

‘Now don’t go too far, Madeline, I’m warning
you!’ He was shouting now. ‘You’re not so perfect yourself. You lied to me too.
You lied about your age.’

‘Excuse me, but fibbing about my age doesn’t
exactly rank up there with doing a Reggie Perrin!’

‘Who’s Reggie Perrin?’

I let out a loud sigh of exasperation. ‘Look
David – Chet - whatever your name is. Just please tell me one thing: why
me? Why did you choose to bring me into your web of deceit? Why? Are you a
sadist as well as a liar?’

He faced me head on. ‘Do you really want to
know? If you want me to tell you then I will, but I don’t think you’ll like the
answer.’

‘Just tell me for Christ’s sake!’

He paused, bit down on his lip. The beauty
of the man was astounding but I was too mad to care. ‘I felt sorry for you.’

‘Right, so that’s confirmed then – I
was
a charity case. I knew it!’

‘Shut up and just listen, will you? When I
moved here, I tried to keep to myself, tried to draw as little attention to
myself as possible. Then I started to notice you around. I noticed your routine.
You did the same thing every day. Work then home, work then home. You stayed in
all weekend. No friends, no visitors. I used to hear you crying at nights, I
heard you talking to yourself. I sensed your loneliness. Sensed your yearning
to be loved. And I know what that feels like. I know what it’s like to be
lonely, to feel so isolated and alone that your tears are your only company.’

‘Oh, my heart just weeps for you’.

Chet ignored my sarcasm and continued: ‘I
reached out to you, Madeline, as one person does to another. Yes, I’ll admit I
engineered that first meeting with you. I hadn’t lost my keys, but it was the
only ruse I could think of to enter your life. Yeah and maybe I wanted to try
out David on you, to see if I could get away with it. But there was much more
than that. I sensed your vulnerability, your hositility towards strangers. I
had to do it. I couldn’t bear to hear you crying any more. I knew you needed a
friend.’