The Modeliser (26 page)

“I handled this badly,” Gabe said, a note of apology in his
voice. “Look while Sula is… gone, I thought it would be good for you to try to
get used to being photographed.”

“So you sneak into my bedroom unannounced?” Helena did not
keep the scepticism from her tone and she saw Gabe wince.
       

“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” he admitted. Slowly
she replaced the telephone receiver as Gabe spoke again. “Look, like it or not,
you’re going to be photographed with one of the most iconic models of the
twentieth century. Forget she’s your mother, forget your job – you need
to be as comfortable as a real model, you need to handle the shoot and I need
to know you can step up, when I need you to.”

Helena stilled as she heard the thread of tension in Gabe’s
voice – he also had a lot riding on this issue. His first foray back into
the world of fashion in three years and he had a hell of a reputation that
would be tarnished, if the issue bombed.

“Ok,” she finally answered. She watched horrified as once
again, Gabe lifted his camera. “No! At least give me a chance to have a
shower.”

“No.” Gabe replied as he continued to snap off a series of
shots as he edged closer towards her. Helena put her hands out to ward him off
but expertly he dodged around her reeling off more shots.

“Gabe…”

“Seriously, you do the “just got out of bed” look very well,”
he said.

“I look a mess.”

“Then get comfortable with that, I need you to be
comfortable, relaxed, regardless of what I throw at you.” Slowly, Helena
allowed her arms to fall. For a moment she stared blankly into space even as
Gabe continued to snap shots.

“What should I do?” She asked, biting her lip, unable to keep
the doubt from her voice. And finally he stopped clicking away and the room
fell silent. Gabe moved towards her and traced a finger over her lower lip,
where she’d bitten it.

“You’re a beautiful woman,” He said softly.

“I’m not Sula,” Helena said simply. “This isn’t me.”

“I don’t want you to be Sula. Just be yourself and I’ll bring
out the rest.”

Helena looked away uncomfortable, still unable to stare
straight into his camera lens and she felt another emotion rear its head. This
was the closest they’d been since that night by the pool and she felt desire
stir – felt it in the tightening in her breasts and the heat that was
spreading through her. Her eyes somehow drifted down to look at his full lower
lip and in a heartbeat, she knew how to stop him snapping his photos. She
leaned towards him, pulling him close and kissed him gently. For a moment he
allowed her this diversionary tactic but once again he raised his camera.

“Trust me,” he said as he began to snap again. His voice was
gentle and Helena allowed him to seduce her into the moment. Even the harsh
sound of the camera’s snapping shutter failed to break the cocoon of lust that
had settled around them. Finally, he set the camera down and she allowed him to
ease her backwards towards the bed, telling how gorgeous she was, how beautiful
she looked.

Helena felt the back of her knees touch the bed and she sank
down onto the mattress, not sure that her legs would hold her up much longer.
There was something heady about the moment. Gabe wearing a thin, threadbare
t-shirt and low slung jeans and her with only her robe covering her. He
continued to move towards her and with a small sigh Helena let herself fall
backwards until she was sprawled on the bed. Pausing, for a moment Gabe reached
down and loosened the belt that kept her robe together. He hesitated for a
moment, as though waiting for Helena to stop him and then slowly he parted the
two halves of the robe.

“How do you want me?” Helena asked her husky question
deepening the sexual tension.

“Put your hands above your head and grip the headboard,” Gabe
growled and immediately Helena complied uncaring that the movement widened the
gap in her already gaping robe, that through his lens, Gabe would be able to
see her thin vest and her nipples jutting out. “Smile for me,” he ordered and
Helena practically purred; she wasn’t the only one getting into the moment. Her
eyes widened as once again he raised the camera and snapped a shot of her and
something in her snapped. Helena writhed and stretched, unleashing the
sensualist in her that was usually kept so tightly under wraps. She sat up
again and shrugged the robe off allowing it to fall off the bed. She heard him
gasp and slowly she sat back on the bed her hands toying with the hem of her
camisole. She watched the flare in Gabe’s eyes and then he was moving up the
bed towards her. Thankfully, Gabe’s camera had fallen silent again.

“Take it off,” he said quietly and without thought Helena
pulled the flimsy camisole over her head and tossed it carelessly aside. She
lay back down, surprised that the sheets were cool against her back even as the
rest of the room seemed to have heated up. Helena moved restively in the bed
and tossed her blonde head from side to side. She was caught up in a storm,
riding a wave and for now at least she wanted to go with it and let it take her
away. She reached up her hand and grabbed at his belt buckle: Époque, her
mother, the shoot, the centenary issue; it was all forgotten. All pretence was
gone. Helena met and held Gabe’s eyes. His hand once again was reaching for his
camera but Helena stopped him with a look.

“Are you going to put that camera down and fuck me?” She
demanded. With a smile, Gabe set aside the camera, he shucked off his t-shirt
and in a heartbeat he was on her, the harsh denim of his jeans rasping against
her soft thighs.

As he
lowered his head to her mouth, he quietly answered her question.

“Whatever the lady wants…” She was ready for him when their
mouths finally fused in a deep intense kiss unlike anything she had experienced
in a long, long time.

Alex
was filled with fear, a pounding, racing, adrenalin-filled kind of fear –
the kind of fear that came only with doing theatre. In the weeks since he’d met
with Margot, things had moved quickly. He had re-joined her roster of clients
– Avital would continue to take care of the film side of his career but
Margot he had charged with finding him a play – something to sink his
teeth, something to help him find that kick of excitement again and boy had she
delivered. It was a contemporary new play, already slated for a run at the
Regent Court Theatre downstairs. Alex was to play a brash city banker who found
himself caught up in an intricate insider dealing scandal that culminated in a
shocking revenge. The play dealt with big themes and ideas and Alex had been
blown away. He had found himself more nervous than he’d been in years when he’d
gone in to read. Alex Golden movie star was always offered the role, he never
auditioned and yet as a theatre actor he found himself relishing the changed
circumstances. Avital had been scathing.

“Doll,
you’re English – everyone knows you can do theatre. It’s Americans who
need to do that shit to prove their chops.”

“Avi,
I’m doing it for me?” Alex had replied. Avi had fallen silent.

“I wish you’d get back here – we could sort you out some
psychodynamic therapy shit, maybe get you out to Circ Lodge for some
counselling and rehab and have you working again.” Alex sighed. He’d been a
fool to attempt to explain his reasoning to Avital – the woman worshipped
at the altar of her 20%. Her only god was money; of course she wouldn’t
understand his need to shake things up in his life.
 

“I need to do this,” he’d told her and as he’d said the words
he knew it was true.

Though details of his involvement had initially been kept
under wraps, the news had quickly leaked out and within days of the box office
opening, tickets for the play had sold out. For some the chance to see a movie
star up close and personal was an opportunity not to be missed but Alex knew
too that plenty was riding on this. He’d been away from the stage for a decade
– did he still have what it took? Could he deliver night after night,
push beyond the fear and find the performance and make it mean something. He
knew that Hollywood critics would be watching – a critical success would
legitimise his appearance and his London jaunt. Avital, the queen of spin had
managed the Defender disappointment, she’d suggested that Alex had walked away
from the project that he’d wanted to spend some quality time in London. But if
the play flopped, it would all have been in vain – nobody wanted to be
tainted with failure. Alex knew that his status hung on a knife-edge; he could
not afford to sink any lower.

He put aside these thoughts as he strode through his hotel
lobby and went up to his room. He showered quickly throwing on a brand new pair
of trousers and a crisp blue shirt that had been delivered from a Saville Row
tailor that morning. He was still buzzing from the first day of rehearsals,
which had gone well, brilliantly well, better than he could have expected. As
he’d left the bar at the Court having spent some time drinking and bonding with
the rest of the cast, he had found that he wanted to celebrate the moment, to
share it with someone and almost unconsciously he’d reached for his phone and
tapped a number and only as the call connected did he realise that he had
called Talia. He realised with surprise that she was the only person he wanted
to share the day’s news with.

As he pulled on the blue shirt, throwing on a jacket, Alex
winced as he caught sight of himself. He looked like he was trying too hard. It
wasn’t a date for Christ’s sake – just dinner between friends. He
shouldered off the jacket and instead pulled on a leather jacket. He ran his
fingers through his hair as a voice in his head taunted him.
Just Friends.

“Christ I’m fucked,” he muttered to himself as he finally
exited his hotel room.

Talia
put down her spoon and gave a blissful sigh.

“In another life I’d be a chef.”

“You cook?” Alex asked.

“Nah. I’m a terrible cook. It’s the eating part I love.”
Talia glanced down at her empty plate and for once felt no guilt that she had
eaten every morsel of the black cod, which was the signature dish of the swanky
Japanese restaurant that Alex had brought her to. When he’d suggested dinner,
she had expected something local, rather like the small places were they’d
often taken lunch or dined at when she was feeding back her script notes to
him. But thankfully, she had decided to dress up a little. The figure hugging
body-con dress that she wore was a high street copy of a Designer original and
in it, Talia felt like she’d unleashed her inner diva. The fitted material
sucked her curves in to create a sexy hourglass silhouette. And as they’d
walked into Zuma, they’d turned heads. For once Talia hadn’t minded that people
were staring at Alex and that she was by his side.

“So how far along are you with the script?” Alex asked
turning the subject of conversation to Talia’s project. She’d planned to keep
her scriptwriting efforts a secret but somehow over the main course, after
they’d discussed Alex’s rehearsals, she had found herself admitting that she
was writing a script of her own. Alex had made encouraging noises but Talia was
sure he was just being kind.

“Slowly, but it’s happening I’m actually writing…”

“I’d like to read it, when you’re ready,” Alex said and Talia
nodded. “Seriously Talia, I’d like to read it.” Looking into his eyes, Talia
realised that he meant it.

“Ok, when I’m ready.”

They
walked together through the restaurant and Talia felt Alex’s hand in the small
of her back as he guided her through the tables. They were almost at the exit
when a voice called out.

“Golden!” The voice was loud and Talia felt Alex stiffen as
they turned and watched Max Maguire thread his way towards them. “Alex, hey
man.”

Alex’s
arm stayed in the small of her back and Talia felt him squeeze her gently as he
shook hands with Max.

“Max,” Alex drawled, politely detached. Max didn’t seem to
notice Alex’s detachment.

“Mate good to see you. No hard feelings about the whole
Defender thing, eh… Best man for the job and all that.”

Talia
looked up and saw a vein pulse in Alex’s jaw but he continued to give Max the
same bland smile.

“Well we were leaving,” Alex said. But Max turned to Talia
with a look of appreciation.

“You’re not going to introduce me to your friend?”

Talia
could tell that Alex was rapidly losing patience and she thrust her hand out at
Max.

“Talia Blake, nice to meet you.”

“Pleasure is all mine,” Max said, his eyes raking over her in
a way that made her cheeks go warm.

“We’d better go,” Alex repeated and Talia nodded as they
walked towards the exit.

As
they emerged into the cool night, Talia glanced up at Alex.

“You alright?” She asked.

“Fine,” he fired back glibly. Talia nodded quietly, their
encounter with Max had somehow ruined the mood.
 
Talia glanced back and she saw that Max Maguire still stood
in the doorway, watching them go, a cryptic smile on his face.

“He looks taller on screen,” Talia said, turning back to Alex
and she was rewarded by a bark of laughter from him. Within minutes, Max
Maguire was forgotten.