The Modeliser (20 page)

“Close your eyes,” he asked. Helena nodded. She felt his hand
on her waist as he eased her outside. The air was close and still so warm and a
small breeze rustled around them. Helena heard a switch flick and then Gabe was
back standing behind her, his hands stroking her arms. “Open your eyes.”

“Wow,” Helena gasped as she was confronted with an exquisite
view of London at night. She spun round realising that Gabe had brought them to
the top of legendary London members club Bonfire & Hoxton. A few flickering
orange lanterns were the only illumination and then Gabe flicked another switch
and the blue base of the open-air rooftop pool was illuminated by a white
light. “How on earth? Isn’t this place closed?” She asked unable to keep the
hitch of breathless excitement from her voice.

“I know the owners,” Gabe replied staring into her eyes and
Helena felt herself becoming breathless.

Helena had been to the club on several occasions but tonight,
with just the two of them, illuminated by the full moon, she felt something
stir in her. Helena whose sartorial choices were conservative almost to the
point of prissiness, who dated sensible men like lawyers and dentists, who was
never reckless, who worked hard to make editor and who had learned through her
parents very public misdeeds never to fuck where you worked. Yet, here she
stood alone with Gabe Tynan – toxic bachelor, omni-sexual, drinker, bad
boy. Her heart raced in her chest and she felt a heaviness settle in her blood,
the sultriness of the night taking her prisoner.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. “Thank you for bringing me
here.” Helena leaned in close and threw caution to the wind. She pulled Gabe
down to her, noting the surprise in his eyes as their lips connected and then
she closed her eyes, floating on the blissful excitement of giving this new
side of herself free rein. She was tentative at first and she knew he was
holding back, matching her, seeing how far she was willing to go. She opened
her mouth against his and her tongue darted into his mouth and it was like
she’d flicked a switch in him. Something like a growl came from deep in his
throat and he grabbed her hips jamming them against his, leaving her in no
doubt of how much he wanted her. Slowly, he eased the intensity of the kiss,
until he was dropping only light kisses onto her jaw, her chin. He began to
lick her neck and a spasm of hot desire shot through Helena. She gave a small
sound of regret as he finally broke the contact. They stared at each other, the
air filled with the sound of their breathing, which was slowly returning to
normal.

“That was…” Gabe stuttered. He was lost for words. Helena
laughed at the confusion in his eyes. She didn’t care that his dark stubble
would leave red marks on her pale, delicate skin. Or that she’d have a hickey
on her neck worthy of a thirteen-year-old schoolgirl. All she cared about was
that Gabe Tynan was lost for words and that had to make a woman feel good. Her
eyes dropped down to his jeans and the bulge that he made no effort to conceal.
She placed her hands on his chest, running down his pecs, stopping for a moment
to tease his clearly outlined nipple through his shirt and then finally she
reached his belt buckle. Almost casually she ran her hand lightly over the
bulge and felt his groan, his hips pushing instinctively into her hand as
though to stall her there longer.

“That cannot be comfortable,” she said teasingly. There was a
wildness in Gabe’s eyes that frightened and excited Helena in equal measure.
The rumours that she’d heard about him raced through her mind – all the
models he’d been with, apparently male and female ones, the rumoured drug
fuelled orgies. Helena stepped back from Gabe and for a moment she stared at
his face; she was walking on the dark side and she shivered with anticipation.
And then with a sweeping movement she unhooked the clasp that held her dress
together and let it fall, pooling around her ankles. Gabe’s eyes ate up the
space between them, his hand moved to his waistband and he was already popping
the buttons on his fly. His tongue darted out to moisten his lips even as he
took in the sight of her pert breasts and the hard pink nipples. His gaze lowered,
past her tiny rib cage and then to the simple white bikini panties that she
wore. “We should cool down,” Helena said and Gabe watched enthralled as she
turned strutting in her high heels, towards the pool-edge before she stepped
out of the heels and dived into the pool.

“And
Cut…” the director called out. “That’s you done for the day Tamara, great job.
Thanks darling.”

Tamara flashed a brief smile at the cockney director and
breathed a sigh of relief; her day on set had felt even more interminable than
usual. The problem with soaps she thought angrily to herself was that there
were so many fucking amateurs. For some actors, the soaps proved to be a
valuable training ground; you learned your trade and you got out, moved on to
better things. But for too many, the soaps had turned into the graveyard where
their one-note talent wouldn’t be questioned. Tamara chose not to question too
closely where she fitted into in this division of things. The fact was she had
been unlucky. Perhaps that was the third category of soap actors. Unlucky
actors, good enough to make it into the big leagues but whose breaks simply
never came. She’d done some theatre, a critically acclaimed one-off TV drama,
even been in two US pilots, which hadn’t been picked up. Her purgatory in the
soaps, wasn’t she mused, down to any lack of talent or hard work on her part.
The scene should have taken no more than an hour to shoot but her inept co-star
seemed unable to remember his cues, his marks or his lines. Tamara had had to
work not to lose her temper. Only the thought of the Modigliani painting that
awaited her at home had kept her smiling.

Tamara
exited the sound stage barely sparing a glance at the crew. She walked slowly
towards her dressing room already plotting how she would signal to Vassily that
she was ready to bring him in from the cold, when a hand gripped her forearm,
causing her to stumble. She spun round furious.

“What the hell..” she began as she came face to face with
Damian, the show’s executive producer. She had managed to successfully avoid
him the last few weeks and she knew Casey had blocked his number and fielded
the calls he made from an anonymous number. Tamara pasted a fake smile on.
“Damian, darling,” she cooed kissing his cheek, before stepping quickly back. She
had no time for his nonsense.

“You haven’t returned my calls, you blank my emails. What the
fuck Tamara?” Damian demanded. Tamara looked at him and wondered what on earth
she’d seen in him. Then she rethought the question. Of course there’d been
nothing appealing about Damian personally, merely his job title but now that
he’d served his purpose she found she could barely stand to look at him.

“Damian, now isn’t really the time,” she said firmly. But he
tightened his grip on her arm.

“I’m leaving her,” Damian said.

“Leaving who?” Tamara asked.

“My wife, I’m leaving her, for you.” Tamara gaped at him
unable to hold back the snort of laughter.

“Don’t be a fool,” she snapped, all pretence at civility
forgotten. “Do you honestly think that you and I..?” Here Tamara trailed off,
the thought of publicly acknowledging any kind of relationship with Damian
boggled the mind. “Look Damian, we had fun but now that’s over,” she stated
firmly. “Let’s not jeopardise our working relationship.”

Tamara watched the stain of colour on Damian’s face. She
noted the lines on his face and the reddened capillaries around his nose and
mouth that told of too much booze and too many late nights. She watched as the
redness spread across his cheeks and a belligerence entered his eyes.

“It’s that pretty boy movie star isn’t it,” he lashed out.
Tamara shrugged. “So that’s is it, you think you’re just going to walk away
from me?”

“I’ve already walked away from you,” Tamara replied matter of
factly.

“I did everything you asked, I fucked over Angelina for you,
I let that storyliner get screwed….” Damian’s words rose and Tamara stepped
close to him her finger jabbing hard into his shirt.

“You keep your voice down,” she ordered, her tone steely.
“You have a family and a good job, just think very hard before you jeopardise
that, understand?” Tamara softened her tone now and rubbed his arm. “You’re a
good guy Damian, just concentrate on making your wife happy alright.” She gave
him a smile and began to walk away.

“But I thought, I thought we had something,” Damian whispered
brokenly. Tamara continued to walk away, rolling her eyes. Men, she thought,
power was wasted on men. As she walked down the corridor, her pace quickened,
her mind already back on track, back on Vassily and she failed to notice the
door that opened to reveal Angelina Starling, on whose face was etched an
expression of horrified realisation.

The
shrill sound of curtains being violently drawn open followed by a painful burst
of sunshine flooding into the room roused Alex from deep sleep.

“Christ,” he gasped as the strong smell of hot coffee flooded
his nostrils. Under his breath he swore again and wondered, not for the first
time, what had possessed him to authorize the hotel to give Talia a keycard to
his room.

“Morning Alex,” Talia said in that false cheerful voice that
he was quickly growing to hate.

“What time is it?” he groaned gingerly, opening his eyes as
Talia stalked back to the sitting room, leaving him to sit up in bed. Alex
spotted a black lace thong, with red trimming, which he quickly stashed under
one of his pillows. The last thing he needed was to worsen Talia’s already low
opinion of him. As he swung his feet off the bed, Alex grabbed the Starbucks
coffee that she had left for him on the bedside table and he took a sip, the
caffeine hitting him like a live electric shock. He padded into the bathroom
and was greeted by a telephone number scrawled in lipstick on the vanity mirror
along with a message,
Paloma – Call Me. xxx.
Suddenly the night before
flooded back, the model with the red hair. Alex smiled in recollection but his
smile quickly turned into a wince as a hard rap sounded on the bathroom door.

“Alex, do you want to go through the coverage any time
today?” Talia called. With a sigh, he pressed the flush and wondered what
masochism had compelled him to hire Talia. The woman was a dragon and
schoolteacher rolled into one. As far as he was concerned, she took things too
seriously.

She
was already sitting at the desk when he entered the sitting room and he took
another sip from the coffee she had brought for him.

“Thanks for this,” he said noting the look of disapproval she
shot him as she took in his shirtless state. “Didn’t we say midday?”

Talia
sighed loudly and pushed her glasses up on her nose. Alex looked to the clock
and smiled inwardly, half past two.
  

“My bad,” he said but she was already flicking through the
notes before her. Alex dropped into a seat next to her. “Anything good?”

Talia shrugged lightly. “Depends,” she replied. “I have three
piles – worthy but dull, mindless but sort of fun and I liked it but
didn’t love it.”

“Ah,” Alex smiled. “Then we pass on all of them.” He said as
she looked up to stare at him.

“But you haven’t read the coverage or any of the scripts?”

“I trust you,” he replied.

“Don’t you even want to take a look?” Alex shook his head.

“There’s a new pile for you to read, Avital sent over a whole
bunch.”

“Right,” Talia nodded slowly, and Alex was filled with the
sudden urge to pull off her glasses.

“Ok spit it out,” he said recognising the look in her eyes
that said that she had something to say.

“Well, this might be more useful, if you told me what you’re
looking for. What kind of roles float your boat? What excites you? What’s the
aim here – another Oscar or big box office…?” Talia trailed off as she
saw Alex’s eyes glazing over.

“You sound like Shay,” he accused dryly. “My old assistant,”
he explained.

“They are reasonable questions, any career takes planning,”
Talia said primly. And once again Alex had a flashback to that moment, seeing
her naked. Why did she do it he wondered, hide that body inside such ugly
clothes? “I’ve watched all your films and I can’t find any real pattern,” Talia
finished.

“Did you like them?” Alex asked wondering at the impulse that
drove the question out of his lips. Talia stared at him seriously and Alex
found himself holding his breath. In a rush he realised that what she thought
mattered to him.

“That’s not the point, is it?” she replied.

“That is exactly the point,” Alex pushed. He watched Talia
take a deep breath before she finally spoke.

“You were good, great even in Hiding Places,” she said gently
and Alex resisted the urge to launch the Starbucks cup across the room. “Some
of the other stuff Stormdrain, The Quest were interesting.”

“You watched The Quest?” Alex asked amused.

“I watched all of your films,” Talia replied.