The Modeliser (24 page)

Having exhausted the shops and boutiques of Sloane Street,
Tamara had felt a yen for Central London and had hopped into a cab that dropped
her outside Selfridges. She strode into the Department store when ahead of her
she spotted a young black woman staring at her. For a moment she fought to
place the face and then it came to her; the storyliner – Talia; who
somehow was now working for Alex. She would have liked to simply pass the girl
by but somehow they seemed to be on an inevitable collision course and within
moments, they were face to face. Tamara would have left her acknowledgment at
just a nod but as she moved to go past Talia, a hand snaked out to stop her.

“Don’t you have something to say to me?” Talia demanded.
Silently Tamara gave the girl a bravo, it seemed the mousy little thing had
learned to roar.

“Darling is that you.” She watched Talia’s mouth drop open
and next to her, her friend, a tall black girl with incredible bone structure
stared at her with daggers in her eyes. But Tamara wasn’t fazed. She had
several years on these children and she had faced bigger enemies than them.

“You screwed me,” Talia snapped.
 
“You destroyed my career.”

“You’ve landed on your feet now, haven’t you? Working for
Alex and obviously he pays you well,” Tamara replied nodding at the bags that
Talia and Simone were weighed down with. You were just a nobody. I did you a
favour, so just thank me and run along.” Tamara watched the shock flicker
across the girl’s face and waited for her comeback. In her dark mood, Tamara was
enjoying the confrontation and she wondered how far the girl would take it. She
watched Talia’s eyes flicker and then she nodded and turned and walked away,
her friend following closely behind. For a moment Tamara was disconcerted,
she’d been sure that Talia would push harder, cause a scene but what she had
seen in the girl’s eyes had been different, there’d been a hardness there and
Tamara understood, more than most, what hardness did to people. For a moment
she wondered if she’d played it wrong, perhaps she should have been a tad more
remorseful or at least heaped the blame on Damian. Then with a shrug Tamara
shook it off moving towards the perfume counters. In the grand scheme of things
this storyliner was a nobody. She need not concern herself with her.

Helena
looked up with trepidation at the imposing façade of her mother’s building on
the
Rive Gauche
of Paris. Gabe emerged from the car that had ferried them directly from
Gare du Nord and he too looked up at the building and whistled, it was an impressive
sight, majestic even. It had been a while since Helena had visited her mother
in Paris and if she’d been alone she might have stopped and allowed herself to
admire the grandeur of the architecture, she might have turned to stare at the
lapping waters of the Seine, which today was dappled with streaks of sunshine.
But in her current mood, she simply wanted to get the impending ordeal over
with as soon as possible.

“You ready?” Gabe asked her with a smile. The first words
they’d exchanged since boarding the train at St Pancras in London.

“Are you ready?” Helena replied with a measured expression.
As Gabe nodded with his usual casual confidence, Helena turned and walked
towards the concierged entry to the building and she smiled inwardly. Gabe had
no idea what he’d let himself in for with Sula and that, she thought grimly,
was the only up side to the mess she was in. They rode up the lift in silence
and as they stepped out onto the penthouse floor, Helena smiled as her mother’s
friend and assistant Segolene stepped forward, greeting her with a kiss on each
cheek in the customary Parisian way.

“Segolene Ça Va?” Helena asked with genuine warmth. If not
for Segolene’s work no doubt Sula would have bankrupted herself by now. “Vous
êtes bien?” Segolene nodded as she took in Helena’s outfit.

“Helena you look well, very thin,” she finished with a nod of
approval as she turned to acknowledge Gabe. Before Helena could make the
introduction. Gabe had stepped forward himself.

“Gabe Tynan,” he said. Segolene smiled leaning forward to
kiss him on both cheeks too.

“But of course, I know your work,” Segolene said before
turning to walk back into the apartment with Helena and Gabe behind her.

Though the apartment had been in the family since she was a
child, Helena never grew tired of the incredible spacious sitting room. One
whole side of the room was dominated by three sets of French doors, which
opened out on a magnificent view of the Seine and the île St Michel and beyond
that the spires and gargoyles of Notre Dame cathedral. Helena felt a smile
spread across her face, as she remembered summers spent in the apartment as a
child, when Alex would chase her around while they waited for Sula, and
whichever lover was currently in tow, to return from some glamorous party or
dinner. Behind her she heard Gabe whistle as he moved to one of the open French
doors and took in the view.

“Nice,” he said and then he turned back to Segolene, an
expectant look in his eyes. Helena meanwhile dropped into a comfortable
armchair, as Segolene took a seat primly in another chair. Gabe remained
standing watching them both with a puzzled expression.

“So...?” He finally asked, a note of uncertainty creeping
into his voice as he watched Segolene pluck at an imaginary thread on the hem
of her skirt. Segolene looked to Helena who shrugged.

“So where is my dear maman,” she asked flatly.

“She was very excited when Tobias called, but you know how
she gets, excited, hyper and then nervous…. She’s gone.” Segolene finished.
Helena rolled her eyes even as she saw Gabe start in shock.

“Gone!” He exclaimed, “Gone where?” Segolene gave a
quintessentially French shrug.

“With Sula who knows. But she always comes back usually
within days sometimes weeks.” Segolene nodded with finality even as Gabe gaped
at her before spinning around to face Helena.

“What the hell are we supposed to do now?” He practically
shouted. Helena rose with a bland smile.

“You want her for your cover? Then we wait,” she said.
Turning to Segolene, Helena bestowed another pair of kisses on her. “Vous me
téléphonez quand elle returner?” As Segolene nodded, Helena turned to watch the
bemused expression on Gabe’s face as he reluctantly fell into step behind her
following her out of the apartment. As they waited for the lift, Gabe turned to
her a look of accusation in his eyes.

“You knew this would happen didn’t you?”

Helena
gave him a tight smile.

“I told you my mother was… difficult.” They stepped into the
lift and Gabe stroked his stubbled jaw with frustration. “Don’t worry,” Helena
assured him with a smile, “she almost always turns up.” She heard Gabe mutter a
curse under his breath and Helena hid her smile. Welcome to my world, she
thought with a burst of schadenfreude.

Talia
sat at a small table in the garden, luxuriating in the bright midday sunshine
as she typed up yet another set of script notes for Alex. Thankfully the
quality of the scripts had improved slightly but Alex seemed hardly inclined to
read her notes let alone the scripts. She tossed another script onto the pile
and was leaning over to pick up the next one when she jumped as she noticed
Alex standing in the kitchen doorway looking out onto the garden, watching her.

“Damn,” she muttered. “Alex, you scared me.” Slowly he walked
towards her.

“Sorry.”

Talia
watched him as he came towards her. The sun seemed to spark off him, making him
seem even more, well, golden. She shook her head as she tried to dispel the
daft notion, but there was no denying that in the long khaki shorts and linen
white shirt he looked like a male model who’d just stepped off a Ralph Lauren
catwalk.

“How long have you been standing there?” she asked hoping he
would not notice that he’d flustered her.
  

“A while,” he said as he took a seat at the table and
continued to stare at her. “Nice hair cut.” Talia’s hand darted to smooth down
her sharp new bob and she smiled, her face warming at the compliment.

“Thanks,” she finally replied. Since the incident with Buzz
magazine and following her shopping trip with Simone, Talia had started to take
her appearance seriously. She’d not yet managed to convince herself to wear
make up everyday but with her hair cut and the new clothes, she felt confident
that she was making a good start. She watched Alex glance at her – she
wore a white sundress and she saw his gaze lower, as he tilted to the side of
his chair to stare at her feet which she’d slipped into a pair of red wedge
heels that morning and which lengthened her legs but were still comfortable to
walk in.

“New look?” He asked with interest. And Talia raised an
eyebrow at him, fighting to keep a look of embarrassment from her face.

“Trust you to notice,” she replied. “But if you must know
– yes.” Talia said nervously playing with a strand of hair. “Did you see
some of those comments about me in Buzz?” She snapped and then tried to take
the sting from her tone, it wasn’t Alex’s fault that women could be cruel. Alex
looked blankly at her. “There was a photo of us in that…. rag,” she explained.
“And they weren’t very kind about me.” Talia saw a nod of understanding on
Alex’s face and then he laid his hand over hers on the table.

“You really shouldn’t read that shit.”

“I don’t usually,” she admitted. “But sometimes these things
are unavoidable.”

“Sure they are,” Alex replied. “I never read any of those
things.”

“Never?” Talia asked.

“Never.” He confirmed firmly. Talia shook her head, no wonder
famous people could be so out of touch but then her one tiny experience of
being in the press made her realise that perhaps for one’s sanity avoiding the
papers altogether was a necessity.

“So what do you think of the new look?” She asked and then
immediately bit her tongue. Even to her ears, the question sounded flirtatious
and she had no business and no interest in flirting with Alex. Their eyes met
and held.

“I like,” he said quietly before he broke eye contact and
turned his gaze to her laptop screen, which had gone into screensaver mode. A
photograph of the Mulberry bag that she coveted was now floating about the
screen. “You like handbags?” He asked.

“Oh it’s silly,” Talia muttered. “I should change it.”

“Why was it there?” He asked.

“It was supposed to be my gift to myself when I got the
promotion, on Encounters… but obviously that didn’t quite work out.” Talia
finished quietly. Alex was quiet as he watched the shadowed expression that
flitted across Talia’s face.

“You don’t need them.” He finally said.

“Oh I don’t know,” Talia said lightly. “According to your
girlfriend, I’m just some nobody...” She watched the confusion on Alex’s face.
“Tamara,” she elaborated not hiding the contempt in her voice.

“Yes – Helena mentioned that you two had a run in..”

“A run in! That silly bitch destroyed my career for no
reason,” Talia snapped. She was spoiling for a fight and if Alex defended
Tamara she might just hit him.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” he replied. Talia snorted as he
leaned back in his chair. She watched as a gleam entered his blue eyes.

“What?”

“It’s too hot to work,” he said snapping her laptop shut.
“Let’s do something.”

Talia
had not expected something to lead them to the Mulberry store on Bond Street.

“What are we doing here?” She demanded as they jumped out of
a black cab. As Alex paid the driver, there had been second and third glances
as the mix of shoppers and tourists suddenly noticed the movie star in their
midst. Alex turned to her taking her arm and they strolled into the store. For
a moment Talia gloried in the surroundings, all around her handbags were
displayed to perfection and then she snapped out of it.
 
“Alex what are we doing here?”

“You are going to buy that bag.” He stated as he cast his eye
around the displays as though looking for something. “That’s it isn’t it?”
Talia turned and Alex was pointing at the exact bag that she’d wanted.

“Alex, I can’t buy that bag.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t have that kind of money and I should be
saving and it’s an unnecessary extravagance.” She finished lamely. It was
boring she knew but unlike Helena and Alex, she didn’t come from money.
   

“You want this bag, so you should have it. It’s your two
fingers up to those bastards at Encounters, show them that you are a star, that
you will make it without them, that they will eat your dust.” Alex’s words dug
into her consciousness and slowly Talia let herself reach out and touch the
bag. She picked it up from the display and tested it on her shoulder.

“This bag is what I would pay in a month for rent,” Talia
said quietly.

“You’ll make the money,” Alex replied confidently.

“I don’t know that. You don’t know that.”

“Sometimes you’ve got to bet on yourself. If you won’t who
else will?” The question hung in the air between them and Talia continued to
stare at the bag. Tamara’s words came back to her. “You’re a nobody.” And
Talia’s heart hardened. She would show them all. With a determined stride, she
marched to the cash desk.