Charlotte and the Starlet (2 page)

A long way away on the other side of the world from
Charlotte, a very frustrated man was trying to reason
with another thirteen-year-old girl. The man was
Tommy Tempest and he was a movie director, at this
very moment on location shooting a movie. It was his
job to help the actors understand what they needed
to do and to make sure that the sound people, the
lighting people and the camera crew all filmed
the actors doing what they were supposed to do.

Tommy Tempest had directed three very successful
films at the box-office, which all involved a young girl
and her horse. The young girl was played by Sarah-Jane
Sweeney, the thirteen-year-old who he was
currently finding very, very frustrating. For every
minute that they were talking and not shooting film,
it was costing the film studio more than twenty
thousand dollars. The film studio did not like losing
money. If Tommy couldn't start shooting soon it might
cost him his job. He tried to explain it once more.

'You don't actually fall, but it looks like you're
going to and then you haul yourself back onto the
saddle.'

Sarah-Jane blinked her baby blue eyes at him. 'I
understand that, Tommy, but what's my motivation?'

Tommy was ready to scream. 'To win, Sarah-Jane,
that's your motivation.'

Sarah-Jane pretended to consider that. 'Hmm,' she
moaned doubtfully. 'But see, I won in
Spills and Thrills
when it looked like Amanda was a certainty to beat
me and in
Dressage To Kill
I caught the murderer
in the last stride. Can't we do something less ...
predictable?'

Tommy started what was soon to become a high-pitched
wail. The only reason it didn't become a
fully fledged yell was because he saw his assistant's
worried face.

'What now?' Tommy snapped.

Mitch, the assistant, was used to his boss' moods.
'She's refusing to come out of her trailer.'

Tommy Tempest turned to Sarah-Jane, forcing a
smile. 'With you in a minute, Sarah. Why don't you
have a flavoured yoghurt or something?'

He pulled Mitch aside. 'Tell Leila we've got an
Entertainment Tonight
crew here. That always works.'

Mitch was deadpan. 'I already did. Nothing.'

The movie location involved fields surrounded by
thick woods. In a small clearing in the centre of the
woods sat a very large trailer. The most modern and
expensive that money could buy. From inside came
the voice of a young woman. The sort of young
woman who lives in Hollywood, parties a lot with
celebrities and is used to getting her own way.

'Sarah-Jane thinks she can throw a tantrum and get
them all running after her. I'll give them tantrum. I'll
show them who the real star is.'

As she spoke, Leila studied herself in her custom-made
mirror. It was the largest mirror in Hollywood, a
town with many large mirrors. It needed to be that big
to get all of her in. Not that Leila was grossly fat. But
even a perfectly proportioned bay filly like Leila
needed a substantial sheet of glass in which to study
her reflection. And a vain one like Leila wanted to be
sure she could see the sheen of her mane and the flare
of her nostrils. She turned herself around, looked over
her shoulder and studied the reflection of her butt.

'You can go on the treadmill all you like, Sarah-Jane,
you can eat your lunch on it, you can even
sleep-walk on it, kid, but you ain't never gonna have
hindquarters like these.' Revelling in her superiority,
Leila laughed to herself in a short, asthmatic whinny.

Feathers, a pink and white cockatoo who shared
the trailer, looked down through the bars of his cage.
Leila's ego was getting out of control.

'You want to be careful, Leila. That filly Chiquita is
just waiting in the wings to take your place.'

Leila snorted through powdered nostrils. 'Chiquita?
She can't understand human. When she hears Tommy
talking about what he'd like the horse to do, she won't
move automatically into position because to her it's
gibberish. Little Leila, though, she knows exactly what
they're wanting. Na, a few more hours and they'll be
eating out of my hoof.' She turned her head to the side
and studied her profile. 'Who's this new cameraman?
Do you know what he's like? And what happened to
Francesco anyway? Francesco was good.'

'Francesco got sick of you and Sarah-Jane's
tantrums and found somebody easier to shoot.'

An inveterate gossip, Leila was curious. 'Who?'

'Russel Raven.'

Leila had heard about Russel Raven. He seemed to
always be in trouble fighting somebody. His pictures
didn't make as much money as hers but he was an
Oscar winner. She liked the idea of starring opposite a
real actor as opposed to that ... brat with freckles. She
felt she and Russ could push one another to new
heights, whereas with Sarah-Jane she simply wanted
to push her
from
very great heights. Still studying
herself, she said, 'Yeah, well, the new guy better shoot
my best profile or there'll be hell to pay.'

Feathers had had enough. 'There's no "best
profile". You haven't been working out, you're eating
junk. Look at this place.' He threw out a wing at a
litter of empty fast-food cartons and soda cans. Leila
had gone on another binge. 'There's only one way
anybody could make your fat, ugly butt look good,
and that's shooting it next to your fat, ugly face.'

'Watch it, no nose, or you might wake up with your
claws glued to your perch.'

Feathers wasn't backing down. He'd known Leila
since she was a foal. 'If your mother were here ...'

If only Leila had a dollar for every time she'd heard
that. 'But she's not, is she? She's off in Mexico or
Madrid reading her fan mail and wasting her time
with those stupid exercises, and playing up to all
those past-it stallions.'

This made Feathers angry. 'You don't know what it
was like for her. A single mom. She only wanted the
best for you ...'

'Oh, I had plenty of Swedish stablehands to look
after me while she was on tour, I know.' The hurtful
memories still burned in Leila's brain. When she had
been a vulnerable foal Leila hadn't wanted 'the best',
just a mother beside her to protect and teach. But
instead of being with her only daughter, her mother
was always off headlining some show, dancing around
the world in another exotic location. Hour after hour,
day after day, little Leila had waited vainly for a glimpse
of her mother but, as the shadows grew longer and
Leila's hopes of ever seeing her mother faded like the
light, she had grown harder, made herself less caring.
Instead of her mother's heart beating beside her at
night, Leila had fallen asleep to the sound of humans
on television. Maybe that's why she understood human.
Because the television had been her mom and dad.

'You don't know what you're talking about, Leila.
Your folks had a tough life. Your dad working two-bit
rodeos. Your mom doing double shifts on a dude
ranch carting around tourists from Peoria right after
the all-you-can-eat buffet. When they got their break
in
Dances With Wolves
, even though it was just as a
couple of cavalry horses, they seized it. They wanted
the best for you. That's why your dad took on all the
hardest stunts –'

'And that's what killed him,' snapped Leila.

'Exactly. So your mom felt it was all up to her.'

Leila didn't want to listen to any justification. As far
as she was concerned she'd been abandoned. And it
still hurt. Not that she would let anyone see that. She
didn't want to ever be vulnerable again, and if that
meant kicking somebody else before they kicked you,
tough luck. She was going to show her mother that
she didn't need her. She didn't need anybody. She was
the prettiest, richest horse around.

She tossed her mane.

'Well, Mom doesn't need to worry about me now.
I'm getting paid twice what she is for that dancing
horse schtick in Vienna. And I have my own trailer.'

Feathers got back on course to where this had all
started. 'You won't have it for long, the way you're going.'

Leila didn't believe that for an instant. She
understood human language perfectly. Other horses
might pick up a smattering here or there but Leila
could actually talk human. Not that she'd ever let
humans know. She was way too smart for that. If you
were dumb enough to let them in on that little secret
you'd wind up with electrodes in your head and a
thermometer up your butt. So she kept her mouth
closed and ears open. She would overhear Tommy the
director talking and know exactly what he wanted.
Then she'd give it to him ... at a price. She admired
her shiny bay coat in the mirror.

'Butter dipped in fur,' she purred.

'And the way you're going it'll soon look like lard
dipped in vinyl,' Feathers cracked.

Leila was about to retort when she heard somebody
approaching. As the door opened Leila dropped to the
floor and made herself look ill.

Tommy Tempest entered. His face fell.

'Come on, girl, we need you.'

He squatted beside her and stroked her muzzle.
Leila knew what was required to make him think she
was trying to communicate with him. She threw her
head around and blew through her nostrils.

What a ham, thought Feathers, watching the
performance from his cage.

Tommy sighed. 'The vet says there's nothing wrong
with you. I tell you, Leila, if I didn't know better, I'd
think that you were trying to outdo Sarah-Jane. I
know she can be difficult, but she's young and still
learning.'

Oh, she's going to learn a whole lot more before I've
finished with her, thought Leila.

Tommy Tempest stood, pulled out his cell phone
and dialled. 'Joel? Tommy.'

Yes! Leila was pleased. Joel Gold was the producer,
Tommy's boss. It was good that things were going to
the highest level.

'Leila's very listless. I can't get her out ... No, the
vet says she's fine. He thinks she might be jealous. I
mean, if she were an actress I'd just promise her top
billing over Sarah-Jane.'

Whoa! Way to go, Tommy. Leila quickly got to her
feet and trotted briskly out of the trailer, leaving
Tommy thunderstruck.

'She just got up, Joel. Sometimes I swear she can
understand what we're saying. I'll call you later.'

Tommy bounced back to the set. Things were
looking up.

Leila quickly made her way to the make-up area and
soon she was draped in her specially embroidered
pink satin horse blanket, having mascara put on her
long lashes by one of the make-up girls. Leila could
never remember their names and why did she need
to? She was the star. All she had to remember was
numero uno. Next to Leila, another make-up artist
worked on Sarah-Jane.

She saw Tommy jump up onto the flatbed of the
open truck. A camera was mounted on the back. They
were getting ready for the shot. Tommy called over to
the make-up girls, 'Okay, standing by,' and suddenly
everybody scattered, leaving Leila and Sarah-Jane.
Leila felt the freckled brat mount her, but her eyes
remained focused on the clapperboard.

'And ... action!' commanded Tommy.

The board operator clapped it shut and Sarah-Jane
dug her heels into Leila's ribs.

'Yaaaa,' screamed Sarah-Jane.

'Aaaaa!' yelped Leila to herself. She hated that. It
hurt. And after all, she knew she was supposed to
gallop as soon as the board clapped.