Diamonds Are a Teen's Best Friend (5 page)

Now I really pause. ‘The signal?’

Marc looks cagey. As if he shouldn’t be telling me this. ‘We have a “Save me” signal. You know, for the weirdos and the freaks who don’t look like weirdos and freaks initially. Sometimes it’s hard to tell. Anyway, Holly can signal me and I’ll know to come and rescue her.’

‘Oh. So, what’s the signal?’

Marc’s busy buttering another roll. ‘Well, I can’t tell you that. She might want to use it on you.’ He laughs slightly at this.

Complete and utter silence follows his comment. Marc continues buttering until, mid-buttering stroke, he realises what he’s just said, freezes and looks over at me. ‘Sorry, Nessa, that was an awful thing to say. I didn’t mean …’

I almost want to cry. I’d thought Holly and I had had
such a great time together earlier today. I thought I was her new best friend and now …

‘Nessa.’ Marc reaches out and touches my arm. ‘It was just a joke. Holly’s not going to use any signal on you, believe me. She was raving about you all afternoon.’

I perk up a bit on hearing this. ‘Raving? About me?’

Marc laughs. ‘Yes, you. She thinks you’re quite a character for a sixteen-year-old. That’s why I was coming to see the maitre d’. To see if he knew who you were. Holly wanted you on her table for dinner.’

So that’s how … hang on. Holly Isles wanted
me
on her table? Me? My brain takes a while to register what Marc’s just said.

‘You don’t need to look so surprised.’

‘But I am surprised.’ Not including the fact that I’m surprised everyone’s buying the sixteen-year-old thing.

‘What? No-one’s ever wanted to sit with you before?’

Now I laugh. ‘Maybe it’s happened once or twice in the school cafeteria, but it hasn’t happened with an Oscar-winning actress before, that’s for sure.’

Marc shrugs. ‘That’s not all she is …’ And there’s that gruff tone again. I watch as he returns to his roll.

‘You’re pretty protective of her,’ I say slowly, watching him.

Marc pauses, sizes me up and then nods. ‘Everyone around Holly’s protective of her. Sometimes I wonder who’s looking after whom, really. I guess we’re looking out for each other. And, look, I’m sorry if I seemed a bit into myself this afternoon, and just now, but you have to be careful. Holly’s very …
trusting
, I guess, is the word. She lets people into her life too easily sometimes, and certain types of people take advantage of that.’

‘Well, I’m not trying to.’

He sighs. ‘I know. I know. It’s just hard to tell sometimes. And when it happens, you just get so angry. Like the maitre d’ this afternoon. I mean, he didn’t care that you’d hurt yourself. And he wouldn’t have cared if I had either, except that he knows I’m travelling with Holly Isles.’

Now there’s a question I’ve been meaning to ask. I place my knife and fork down on my plate so I can give Marc my full attention (and this is saying something – the chicken really is good). ‘So why are you travelling with Holly?’ I ask. And then the conversation really starts.

As we finish off our mains and move on to dessert, then on to a scrumptious cheese platter, Marc fills me in on, well, Marc. As it turns out, we’ve actually got quite a lot in common. Marc comes from a family pretty much like Alexa’s and mine – nomadic. His parents (yes, he has the whole set as well) are surgeons who’ve spent the past two years working for Médecins sans Frontières. (That’s ‘Doctors Without Borders’ to non-French-speaking plebeians like me.) According to the latest letter he’s had from his folks, they’ve been travelling to Sri Lanka and are hiding out on an island just north of their destination, trying to avoid a particular Tamil Sea Tiger stealth boat. So far they’ve been searched twice and all their supplies have been confiscated by the army. (My eyes grow wider and wider as Marc tells me about their adventures – it doesn’t exactly sound like Club Med.) While his parents have been dodging bullets overseas, Marc’s been living with Holly in order to finish high school (unlike me, the lucky thing’s got less than a year to go).

‘That must be weird,’ I butt in then.

‘What’s that?’ Marc stabs a piece of blue cheese.

‘Living with Holly.’

‘Well, not really. She’s my aunt. Always has been. Even when she wasn’t Holly Isles, if you know what I mean.’

I nod. ‘I guess. Don’t you miss your parents?’ Talk about the most uncool question that’s ever left my lips. I must remember to introduce my brain to my mouth sometime this century.

But Marc doesn’t seem to think so. He looks straight at me when I ask this. ‘I worry about them. A lot. They weren’t going to go until I started college, but they were needed. They’re both brilliant surgeons. They can really help the organisation out. I talked them into it in the end.’

I bet he did. I would too, given half the chance. But then I look over at my dad and change my mind. He wouldn’t last five minutes being chased by a Tamil Sea Tiger stealth boat. He’d probably try to win the rebel fighters around by inviting them over for Devonshire tea and a good old chinwag about something sad like the theory of evolution. (That’s the oh-so-exciting topic he’s raving on about at the moment with Holly, who, amazingly, still hasn’t sent ‘the signal’. Maybe she’s forgotten it?)

‘And Holly talked
me
into being here,’ Marc continues.

‘On the cruise?’

Marc nods. ‘It was supposed to be her honeymoon. Her and Kent’s. The first thing we had to do on boarding was move into a suite with two bedrooms and two normal beds.’

Two bedrooms? I can only dream. ‘Oh.’

‘The honeymoon suite had a mirrored four-poster.’

Ugh. I make a face.

‘My thoughts exactly.’

I glance over at Holly for a second. Sitting beside my dad, she looks happy, like she doesn’t have a care in the world. She really is a good actress. ‘It must be awful for her. Is she very upset?’

Marc glances at Holly as well. ‘She’s good at hiding it. After the last few times …’

I nod.

‘If she hides her feelings, the magazines make less of it and it’s easier for her, I suppose.’

I just don’t understand it, I think to myself, shaking my head as I stare at my plate. Maybe if I’d met her and she’d been a complete cow. If she hadn’t been like she seemed in all her films and interviews – the happy-go-lucky girl always willing to sign an autograph and talk to her fans.

‘What is it?’ Marc asks.

‘Why?’ I look at him, puzzled.

‘Why what?’

‘Sorry, I mean why do they always dump her? She’s so nice. I can’t believe anyone would dump Holly.’

Marc snorts. ‘It’s always the same reason. Always. The guys – they’re such losers. They’re intimidated by her. By her success. Kent’s the perfect example. A couple of his films flop, hers don’t, and he’s off. They just can’t bear it. It’s pathetic, really.’

I think back to her last fiancé – Tom Hollings. And to the one before that – Jude Johnson. Maybe Marc’s right. Tom had tried to move from being a sitcom star to a film star and failed miserably. Jude had ended up directing a film that ran way over budget and was still a real turkey.

‘What she needs is a guy who isn’t in the industry at all. A guy who isn’t even interested in it. But she never meets anyone who
isn’t
in the industry.’

‘Oh, come on …’

Marc leans forward. ‘No, it’s true. Have you been to Hollywood? LA, even?’

I shake my head.

‘Well, it’s really like that. It’s like living in a different universe. And the industry’s everything – you can’t get away from it. If you go and buy coffee, the barista will try to get your agent’s number. If you hire a new cleaning lady, she’ll leave a film script on the toilet cistern in the hope that you’ll read it. It’s weird. I’ve been trying to convince her to move to New York, but she’s still umming and ahhing about it.’

‘Wow.’ I can hardly believe what Marc’s just told me. ‘Is that really true, about the cleaning lady?’

He nods. ‘And that’s not all. The last time Holly’s clothes came back from the drycleaners, there was a film script packed into the bottom of one of the bags with a note begging her to read it.’

‘Weird.’

‘Definitely. Anyway, like I said, if she’s got any hope of having a lasting relationship, she needs to meet different kinds of men. All sorts of men. That’s why I ended up saying yes to the cruise. I thought she should get away from LA. Even if it’s just for a bit. France isn’t really far enough, but it’s a start. And she wouldn’t go without me. So here I am.’

I laugh at the idea of France not really being far enough away and, beside me, my dad turns around. ‘Having a good time, pumpkin?’

I give him the ‘Do I look like a vegetable in my exquisite get-up?’ face. And he must be having a really good time with Holly, because he’s Mr Playful. He reaches out and pinches my cheek. ‘You’ll always be my little pumpkin.’

Oh, great.

Next to him, Holly laughs, her own cheeks pink. She looks like she’s been having at least a half-good evening. ‘You’re lucky to have such a great dad, Nessa.’

Mmm. Yeah. Sure. Right.

‘You ready to go, sweetheart? I’ve got an early start tomorrow.’

I nod. If I eat even one more grape off that cheese platter, I might pop.

Holly sighs. ‘I didn’t even get a chance to talk to you. I meant to pop down to your cabin this afternoon and give you something for your lip. I’ve got this cream – it works miracles on bruises. How about I come down tomorrow morning?’

I think about our cabin. I don’t think there’s room for
a third life form in there. Not even a mosquito. ‘How about if I come up?’

Holly nods. ‘Sure. That would be great. Should we say 11 am?’

After we say goodbye to Holly and Marc, Dad and I both turn, link arms and start the long, stumbly walk back to the bottom of the boat. (High heels – who invented them? A man, that’s who.) We pause outside for a moment in the cool, salty-smelling sea air, lean on the railing and look out to sea.

‘Holly’s lovely, isn’t she?’ my dad says, after a while.

‘For an actress?’ I shoot him a look.

‘I never said that.’

Hmmm.

‘This afternoon, when you came back to the cabin, you didn’t tell me you’d met her.’

I hadn’t had a chance. And then later I’d been racing around like a mad thing trying to get ready for this evening, hassling the maitre d’, bumping into people and making myself bleed, putting single-serve Coke cans in my hair and drawing on fake moles. You know, that kind of thing. Girl stuff.

‘You must really like her,’ he says. Dad then takes my arm again and I wobble across the deck to the stairs that lead down to the next set of stairs that leads down to the next set of stairs that leads down to our cabin.

I look up at him. ‘I do. But, why?’

‘Well, she said you gave up one of your maraschino cherries. I should be so lucky.’

This makes me laugh. As he starts down the first stair, I stop and plant a kiss on his right cheek. Mwah. ‘Dad, I’d give you one of my maraschino cherries any day, and you know it.’

He looks smug. ‘Well, yes. I thought as much. But I wanted to hear it from the horse’s mouth.’

It comes to me in the middle of the night. With the ship’s engine going full steam ahead next to my left eardrum, I sit straight up in bed. That’s it! All through my shower, getting changed, crawling into bed (literally – this room is so small, I don’t have much choice) and trying (unsuccessfully) to fall asleep, Marc’s words about Holly had reverberated in my mind. That Holly is always getting dumped because men are intimidated by her. That Holly needs to meet different kinds of men. All sorts of men. That she needs a guy who isn’t in the industry. But now, now I’ve got it. I know how I can help Holly out. I know what I have to do.

But first … I turn my head and check on Dad. Not that I really need to – he’s snoring. In time with the
engine, no less. Excellent. Quietly, quickly, I reach over and grab my jeans, a t-shirt, woollen wrap (that’s the nice way of saying ‘downmarket pashmina’ – I don’t think I could be trusted with the real deal) and my green flip-flops, and get changed out of my pyjamas. Then, again, quietly, quickly, I locate Sugar Kane and tiptoe out of the cabin, slowly, slowly opening and closing the door behind me.

Then I stop, and wait on the other side. What I’m waiting for is my dad to bounce out of bed and spring the door open with an ‘Aha!’

Waiting, waiting … Phew. Looks like I’m okay.

I head up to the deck where I’d been with Holly earlier today and sit in the chair she’d cocktailed and maraschino-cherried in, for inspiration. I look around me as Sugar Kane boots up. There’s absolutely no-one about. Not a great surprise, as it’s 1.30 am and more than a bit chilly. But I’ve got better things to think about than being cold. I know how I can help Holly out. How I can help her to attract a different sort of guy. How I can get her out of her rut. Me, Nessa Joanne Mulholland, I’m going to help Holly Isles out of her hobo collecting. And I can’t believe
I didn’t think of it before. After all, this is my biggest Marilynism yet. The biggest one of my whole life.

Come on, Sugar Kane! My fingers are dancing around, ready to begin. They hover over the keyboard, waiting. Finally. I press the button to start up Word. Almost there …

And how could I not have seen it? I mean, this cruise, Holly hearing my Lorelei line, her always gravitating towards the wrong guys … it really is
Gentlemen Prefer Blondes
all over again. Holly is Dorothy and I’m Lorelei, and being Lorelei, it’s up to
me
to find her the right guy. Like Lorelei says about Dorothy in the film, ‘She needs someone like I to educate her’! Am I going too fast for you? Sorry. It’s simple, really.

It’s like this: Holly’s greatest attribute is that she’s gorgeous and smart, mine is that I’ve done an awful lot of research (read: watching Marilyn Monroe attract men in film after film); so, with my smarts and Holly’s … everything, we really should be able to meet every guy on this boat. Okay, so we might skip the guy who’s having his 107th birthday tomorrow, but everyone else, as far as I’m concerned, is fair game. All that I need to do now is teach Holly everything I know about men (and thank god for
Marilyn, or I’d know nothing). Goodbye intimidation, hello … Damn, I can’t think of the right word. How about: ‘Goodbye intimidation, hello beating them off with a stick’? Hmmm, that’s not bad.

Still, I bite my lip (ouch! I forgot I’d hurt it for a second there) when I think about how this is going to look. I mean, what I’m about to put down on paper (well, computer screen), it’s not exactly something the feminist movement would applaud. But it works. I’ve seen it work (maybe not in person, but Marilyn certainly pulls it off time after time). And if Holly can pull it off too (and why shouldn’t she – she’s an A-grade actress, just like Marilyn), I guarantee she’ll get to know every man on the ship. If she tries what I’m suggesting, no man on earth could possibly be intimidated by her. Then, when she’s done attracting them all and has worked out which ones she really likes, she can throw out the dead wood and slowly but surely introduce the stayers to the real Holly. It’ll be easy. In fact, she’ll probably have too many guys to choose from. Yes. It’s the plan of the century. Foolproof. But to put it into action, Holly will need to study, and study hard. And, thankfully, now Word’s loaded, I can get on with her first
lesson – Lesson I. (Everything looks more scholarly and important when you use Roman numerals, you know.)

NESSA’S LESSONS IN LOVE

Right. I think that’s it. I sit back in my chair and puff my cheeks out, only feeling the cold again because I’ve stopped concentrating so hard. At least my fingers are warm. I bring my hand up to my face to warm my cheeks, checking my watch as I go. Three am?! I snap Sugar Kane shut and jump up. I’ve really got to get some sleep. After all, tomorrow’s going to be a big day. I’ve got to convince Holly that a little bit of love study is in order. And something tells me that’s not going to be easy.

‘You’re kidding, right?’ Holly looks up from the piece of paper I’ve given her and laughs. Laughs long and hard. And, yes, it’s the ‘Nessa’s Lessons in Love’ piece of paper I’m talking about here. And, hang on, let me go back and rephrase that … Holly looks up from her sumptuous
cream silk-padded bay window seat, silhouetted against her stunning, endless sea view. Oh, and that’s in her
private
lounge room. (Marc has one of his own, which is a good thing because I’m not sure he’d exactly approve of the Nessa’s Lessons in Love message if he was here.)

‘Tell me this is where the cameras come out. Nessa, sweetheart, you can’t actually believe this.’ She holds the paper out in front of her, pinched between two fingers as if it’s got some kind of disease.

I go over from my spot in the middle of the (cream plush-pile-carpeted) room. I retreated there after I gave her the missive so I could see her reaction, and I guessed it would be something like this. Now for the convincing. ‘I knew you’d say that’ are the words that come out of my mouth with a sigh.

‘Are you really surprised? This is advice from the dark ages!’ She brings the paper in again to read aloud from it. ‘Keep it giggly. Never get serious. Gaze at him attentively. Shapely calves and ankles should definitely be displayed … Nessa, I’m ashamed of you!’

Wow. I guess this really
is
going to take some convincing. Maybe even more than I thought. I keep moving over
to sit down beside Holly in the bay window seat (adopt me, please).

She shakes her head as she reads over the lessons once more. ‘How could I follow any of this? I’d look like a complete bimbo.’

‘Aha!’ I’m quick to jump in here with a waggle of one finger. ‘But that’s the point, isn’t it? It’s all about the bimbo. The bimbo always gets the guy!’

Holly looks up.

‘Well, she does, doesn’t she?’ I say.

‘I don’t think that’s a good thing.’

‘Aha!’ I jump in again. ‘That’s true. But only for
us
. It suits the bimbo just fine though, doesn’t it? The thing is, we’ve learnt that being a bimbo is bad. But is it really? Maybe it’s fun. Who knows if you never try it?’

Holly keeps on looking at me.

‘It’s not like bimbos ever hurt anyone, do they? So they look a little dumb, but so what? It’s just flirting, and all flirting really is is making other people feel good about themselves. It’s about being interested in
them
. In really listening to them and what they’re saying, rather than thinking about what you’re going to say next.’

Silence. And then, across from me, Holly’s brow crinkles thoughtfully. In a ‘Huh, that’s funny, I never thought about it that way before’ kind of way.

Excellent. I’m making progress. But, um, er, now what? Maybe I should try to explain it another way. Really hit the message home. In the continuing silence, I gather my thoughts until I come up with something. ‘Look. I don’t mean to be rude, but whatever you’ve been doing for the past number of years, it’s not working for you, is it?’

Sitting across from me, Holly’s eyebrows raise a tad.

‘So maybe you should try something else for a change and see how it fits?’

Silence. Again.

‘But …’ Holly looks confused when she finally speaks.

‘But what?’

‘Well, even if I thought this was a good idea – which I don’t – it’s not me, is it? I know I’m no genius, but I’m not stupid. I’m not a bimbo. What if I act like a complete bimbo and then I meet someone I really like? What do I do then? I’ve pretended to be something I’m not.’

‘No, no, no. That’s not how it works. It’s only for the initial attraction. The point is to attract as many guys as
possible, filter out the ones you’re not interested in, pluck out the A-grade ones, and then slowly but surely start showing the real you.’

Even more silence.

‘Holly?’ I try eventually.

‘Um, I don’t know. It seems kind of silly …’

I go for the clincher. ‘How many times have you been engaged?’

Holly looks down at the lessons again. ‘Three,’ she mumbles. She reads over the entire sheet of paper once more before she looks up at me. ‘You know what this reminds me of?’

I shake my head.

‘Something one of my girlfriends did a while back. It was called “The Rules”. She gave me the book when she was done with it. I thought it was the stupidest thing I’d ever read. All about how you shouldn’t call him back for a certain amount of time after a date, so you don’t look too desperate. Things like that. I think I threw it across the room in the end.’

‘Oh.’ I’m not quite sure what to say to this. But then I think of something. ‘What happened to your friend?’

Holly’s eyes look straight into mine. ‘She got married six months later. She’s just had a baby. And she’s blissfully happy.’

‘Oh.’

‘Yes. Oh.’ There’s a pause. A long pause. ‘You really think this will work?’ Holly finally speaks, shaking the piece of paper.

I think of Marilyn and I nod. Hard.

She takes a deep breath. ‘Maybe I should humour you, even if it’s just for a few hours. If it worked for my friend, it could work for me, too, right?’

Holly’s eyes look as if she doesn’t truly believe this statement, but I nod again, harder this time, encouraging her.

Holly sighs, watching me. ‘You know, you put up a pretty good argument for someone so young.’

I scoot over closer to her, animated now. ‘Well, I’m sixteen. I’ve already been around the block a few times. And believe me, I don’t read all my dad’s essays for nothing.’

Holly nods slowly, all the time biting her bottom lip.

‘What’s up?’

She frowns. ‘I’m sorry I dumped all my problems on you yesterday, Nessa. It wasn’t fair. I guess I’m just a bit …’

‘Lonely?’ I finish the sentence for her.

Holly pauses for a second and then shrugs.

‘Don’t worry about it. Now, listen up, because I’ve got a few ideas …’

As I sit there and fill her in, my excitement rises. I can’t believe I’m fourteen (almost fifteen) and I’m on board a cruise ship. Sitting beside Holly Isles. Giving her advice about love. It’s not like real life at all. It’s like something that would happen in a movie. Just as I’m thinking this, strangely, I catch sight of our reflections in the mirror opposite us.