The Making of Mia (20 page)

Amelia shook her head. ‘Granny’s not coming over until November and she’s pleased to have someone staying in the condo when
nobody is here. You’re welcome to stay until you sort yourself out. Are you sure you’re going to stick with Miami? Why don’t
you move to New York and get a staff job on a magazine? You know you’re good enough.’

Jo shook her head. New York would have been too much like London, and after taking a long, hard look at her life Jo knew she
needed a break from the rat race. When she finally admitted to herself that she’d lost weight and was on track to being the
thin, sparkly Joanne Hill that she’d always wanted to be, she imagined what her life would be like when she got back to London.
The thought of going back filled her with dread, and she suddenly realised that apart from wanting to have her revenge on
Garnet there was nothing to go back for. She had no friends, and no love life – even though she knew William liked her, he
clearly didn’t have the feelings he
once had for her. She was in love with him – and probably always would be – but he didn’t feel the same way, and she just
had to accept it somehow. On top of that Jo knew her career in London was finished, and she was damned if she was going to
go from being Olivia Windsor, darling free-lancer of
Gloss
, to being another nobody trying to kick-start her career again.

The problem, Jo thought, was that she wasn’t a nobody – Joshua Garnet had a personal vendetta against her – and she knew she’d
not be able to get any work on a magazine in London if he could help it. Knowing how spiteful Joshua could be, Jo didn’t doubt
his threat for a second. What she had to do, she decided, was keep a low profile. There was no way she wanted Joshua Garnet
keeping tabs on her, as she needed an element of surprise when she finally gave him what he deserved, whatever that might
be. New York would have been a difficult place to work as Joshua had contacts crawling all over Manhattan, so Jo decided to
live in Miami while trying to freelance for some of the bigger women’s glossies. She thought it was time that Olivia Windsor
tried making a name for herself in America.

Jo sighed and smiled at Amelia. ‘You know, the whole point of freelancing is that you can do it anywhere, so why would I want
to leave Florida?’ She shot her friend a grin and looked down at herself. ‘After all, I do have a tan to keep up.’

Amelia gave Jo another hug, and they both heard the call for the flight back to Heathrow.

‘Let me know when you’ve got a place in Miami sorted,’ Amelia said, giving Jo one final hug before picking up her immaculate
Gucci hand luggage. She refused Louis Vuitton on the basis that Victoria Beckham and Jordan both used it. She flashed Jo a
dazzling grin.

‘I’m proud of you, you know,’ Amelia said. ‘You’ve come a long way, baby.’

Jo smiled, and she could feel tears pricking at her eyes again.

‘I know. And thank you for the wonderful summer.’

Amelia laughed. ‘Thank you for coming out to see me! Look, I’ve got to dash, but good luck.’ She started to walk towards the
gate, and just before she got there she spun round and beamed at Jo. ‘Have a nice day, ya hear?’ she said in a perfect American
accent.

Jo grinned at her and walked towards the taxi rank to get a car back to Longboat Key. She had an apartment to find and a career
to begin.

Jo watched him gulp down a cold can of Coke as he leant against a doorframe. Beads of condensation dripped down the side of
the can and Jo smiled to herself. Right in front of her was what appeared to be the original Diet Coke-break man in the flesh
– he was the American Dream, with blond hair, piercing green eyes and broad shoulders that tapered down to a tight bottom
clad in baggy Levi’s. If David Beckham had been raised on a ranch rather than in Essex even he wouldn’t be as masculine as
this waiter was. He was pure sex. As a customer made a joke he let out a laugh and Jo shivered with pleasure. And even though
he hadn’t noticed her amongst the bikini-clad blondes and gorgeous tanned guys that were hanging out at Ernie’s Famous Deli
– a fashionable 1950s-style diner where it was rumoured Britney had ordered three chocolate milkshakes in a row – Jo knew
he could feel her eyes on him.

Jo shifted in her seat restlessly and tried to eat her pastrami on rye. It was near impossible – she was on a high from being
close to one of the most handsome men she’d ever seen. He wasn’t William – he didn’t even come close – but when she’d tried
to phone William at The Royal Oak to let him know she was staying in America she’d found out he’d
moved on. He was out of her life for good, and she didn’t know how to deal with that sense of loss. Luckily there were some
distractions.

‘Not hungry today, huh?’

Jo forced herself to tear her eyes away from the Adonis, and then shivered in disappointment when she saw the Latino-looking
waiter standing in front of her with a bemused expression. His black hair curled on to his forehead and, while he was attractive,
he had nothing on the blond waiter who had now begun to serve a group of giggling teenage girls. She shook her head and gave
him a weak smile.

‘Lemme know if I can get you anything else,’ he said, and he gave Jo a megawatt grin before sauntering off. Jo followed him
with her eyes and shook her head. She had to hand it to the South Beach serving staff – they really knew how to work the customers
for their twenty per cent tips.

Jo had been hanging out at Ernie’s Famous Deli on Ocean Drive in Miami for the last few days, ostentatiously working on her
pitches for
Glamour
and
Seventeen
, but mainly watching the waiter, who she’d first noticed catching rays on the beach. She’d never seen anyone like him outside
of a Hollywood blockbuster – he was so good-looking he didn’t seem real. When Jo had tried to describe him on the phone to
Amelia she could barely get the words out – he was as striking as Owen Wilson but as chiselled as Rob Lowe. He was Action
Man, He-Man and Superman all in one. And as he served his customers with a winning smile he always, without fail, made girls
blush and the gay guys grin. Nobody was immune to his looks, especially Jo.

Looks aside, Jo could tell he wasn’t the brightest man in South Beach. But she didn’t care. The intensity of her feelings
surprised her – apart from William, Jo had never had a crush before, especially not one so carnal. It was almost as though
by losing weight she had unleashed this part of her,
and as the feelings swept through her body she surrendered to them. At night Jo imagined him stripping her clothes off and
exclaiming that he had never been with a girl so sexy. Jo conveniently forgot about the loose skin and stretch marks on her
stomach, that she still had cellulite and that her breasts had sunk low and lost their fullness. When she had the waiter,
she thought, she would be somehow perfect. And, she said to herself with a tiny sigh as she heard him talking in his preppy,
college-boy voice to a customer, she wouldn’t let him speak. They wouldn’t need conversation.

As he walked past her table, Jo quickly focused on the magazines in front of her and held her breath. Jo followed his back
and bottom as he walked away, and she smelt a faint scent trail behind him as she breathed in. He smelt of expensive, musky
aftershave and something else, something deeply masculine. Jo struggled to get a grip. She absolutely had to get some ideas
down on paper, but the fluorescent lights on the art deco hotels outside made her head spin with excitement, and the blond
waiter inside Ernie’s made her knickers fizz. She had lost control, and it was down to being in Miami. She had allowed her
emotions and lust to take over, and it felt good. Damn good.

The moment Jo had stepped into Miami International Airport she had felt like she’d arrived home. To her, the horseshoe design
of the gleaming airport represented good luck, and as she’d carried her luggage to a cab she couldn’t believe downtown Miami
was so close, that she had picked the most perfect hotel. The Shore Club –
the
place to stay in Miami Beach – was everything Jo had fantasised about. The hot boutique hotel had a minimalist deco lobby
complete with gorgeous, helpful bellboys, and Jo’s room had a smooth stone floor, 400 thread-count bedding, a huge powerful
shower, Molton Brown products and the fluffiest white towels
she’d ever touched. Jo sat on her bed and looked out at the ocean happily, and she phoned for a butler who brought her a raspberry
martini. She did everything she could to stop herself fantasising about William sharing the enormous bed with her.

Jo had decided to hang out at the Shore Club for a week while she found somewhere to live, and she emailed Lucy at
Gloss
a short, curt note telling her where she was and suggesting that the magazine would benefit from a hotel review. Lucy had
responded with an over-friendly, nervous email asking Jo how she was, but she also added that
Gloss
would love a piece on the hotel with a restaurant review by Olivia Windsor. In return the magazine would pick up the bill,
and Jo whooped with pleasure. She had Lucy wrapped round her little finger and was determined to milk her guilt for all it
was worth. And if that meant
Gloss
– and more importantly, Joshua Garnet – picked up a $4,500 bill then even better. Jo had grabbed her purse and a copy of
the
Miami New Times
and sat on the beach, organising appointments to see apartments on her recently purchased mobile phone.

The first apartment Jo had seen was so stunning she took it straight away without caring that there were roaches in the communal
hallway and a tiny kitchen without an oven. The floor-to-ceiling windows had a fabulous view of the Atlantic Ocean, the furniture
was low-slung and contemporary and, most importantly, the air-con worked. Jo paid for three months in advance and sat in her
red and black living-room watching the sun setting over the Atlantic Ocean. She was, she thought, in heaven. If only the girls
who had bullied her at school – especially Dominique – could see her now.

But despite being in a perfect apartment in what seemed to be a perfect city, Jo felt lonely, and she wondered if she’d find
some friends to entertain her while she cracked the American freelance market. Getting commissioned on
Gloss
on her first
day in Miami was only the start, and Jo was convinced she’d get some work on certain American magazines easily.

The only problem was, she was so exhilarated by Miami life that she couldn’t focus, couldn’t concentrate. The warm air brushed
against her tanned skin like delicate kisses, and the scent of the city – the smell of sweat, sex and fun – made her feel
like a carefree twenty-two-year-old, rather than the downtrodden girl who Joshua Garnet had walked over. And because of that
she found she wasn’t in the mood to work. She wanted to live for the moment, savour the different flavours and sounds of Miami,
and find happiness as an all right-looking plump British girl. The moment Jo had seen the blond man walking on the beach she
knew she was a goner. She absolutely had to meet him, so she followed him to Ernie’s Famous Deli and became a regular who
always ordered food but never seemed able to eat it because she was too in lust with their star waiter.

‘You know, if you eat that sandwich we’ll give it to you for free.’

Jo glanced up from her magazines and electricity ran through her as she looked into the green eyes of her blond waiter. She
didn’t know what to say and could feel the beginning of a blush rising up her neck. He sat down on the stool opposite her
and smiled. His teeth were white and perfect.

‘Gable,’ he said, and Jo, who couldn’t stop grinning, nodded at him.

‘Right,’ she said. Gable stared at her for a moment and then raised an eyebrow. Jo wanted to faint.

‘And you are …?’

Jo knew her face was bright red. ‘Jo,’ she said. ‘I’m Jo, and I’m from London.’ Jo didn’t think she could speak. She couldn’t
believe the most gorgeous man she had ever seen
was in front of her and asking her name. She tried desperately not to swoon – it was like meeting William for the first time
all over again.

Gable leant back on his stool and looked so laid-back that Jo wanted to jump on him.

‘If you just tried the sandwich you’d love it. Or are you, like, on a kind of diet where you look at food instead of eating
it?’ Gable looked genuinely confused and Jo wondered if he was joking. She quickly remembered people in Miami were deadly
serious about looking good. The South Beach diet had not been named after the area for nothing.

‘I want to eat it, but I just can’t seem to do it,’ Jo said in a squeak, hoping her voice wouldn’t crack. ‘I’m sure it’s perfectly
lovely.’

Gable let out a little groan. ‘Oh, man, that English accent gets me every time. “Perfectly lovely” – you sound like Liz Hurley.
Say something else …’

Jo felt like she couldn’t breathe. ‘I … I don’t know what you want me to say.’

Gable burst out laughing. ‘Sorry,’ he said, clearly enjoying himself, ‘I shouldn’t laugh at your accent. It’s cute.’

Jo gulped.

‘You new to the area? You look like you are.’

Jo nodded. ‘I’ve been here for about a fortnight,’ she began, before spotting Gable’s puzzled expression. ‘Two weeks,’ she
clarified. ‘I’m a journalist for a magazine back in London and I’m hoping to start writing for some mags out here.’

‘Hey, that’s cool. I’m an actor.’

Jo tried not to laugh out loud. Of course he was – he couldn’t have been anything else.

‘So why aren’t you in LA?’

Gable took a long look at Jo before speaking. He seemed uncomfortable. ‘I just wanted a change of scene,’ he said. ‘I
lived out there for a while but, like, I wanted to get out of it for a bit. Take some downtime.’

Jo nodded earnestly. ‘I know how that feels. I love London, but I need a break from it.’ As she eyed Gable’s face she felt
her heart leap. She couldn’t get over how perfect his features were, how sparkling his green eyes were, how every single bit
of him complemented every other part. His nose was strong but not over-large, his chin defined, and he had cheekbones that
any model would be jealous of. His eyebrows were perfect without looking plucked, his stubble a day old and sexy-looking,
and his hair was immaculately tousled. If Jo had a camera with black and white film in it she could have taken a photograph
of him that would have been hotter than a Calvin Klein advert. Jo wondered if he knew how good-looking he was, and if he could
ever be interested in her.