The Modeliser (33 page)

After they had ordered, in typical forthright style, Simone
launched into a question.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” she stated her eyes drilling into
Talia’s. Immediately Talia began to squirm. Simone’s instinct for nosing out
deception was uncanny and she hoped the glare of the sun would stop Simone from
spotting her embarrassment.

“I’ve just been busy, re-writing the script. You know…” Talia
trailed off, she’d always been a terrible liar.

“Don’t bullshit me. You’ve not been that busy. You’ve been
avoiding me and it started after the Rough Draft party last week. What’s the
deal?” Simone set down the tall glass she was drinking from and folded her arms
across her chest her eyes narrowed and intent as she waited for her friend to
speak. Talia gulped down her pineapple juice and weighed up her options. Even
if she could stall Simone now, it would only be temporary because once she got
her teeth into a mystery, Simone didn’t let go, which was why she was such a
good documentary maker. Besides, Talia, admitted to herself, she was dying to
confide in someone.

“You know how Alex and I shared a cab that night….” Talia
watched as Simone nodded.

“Yeah so…”

“Well… something happened.”

“What happened?” Simone asked genuinely confused and Talia
sighed.

“
Something
happened.” She hissed the words with emphasis, adding a small
wiggle to her eyebrows to underline the point. Talia watched the expression of
confusion clear to be replaced with one of stunned shock that froze Simone’s
face. Her friend began to cough, spluttering up the breadstick she’d just been
chewing. In her haste to grab a drink, Simone almost upended the carafe of
water all over them both. Talia felt a beat of irritation. “It’s not that
improbable, I’m not a monster,” she felt moved to say.

“Sorry, sorry…” Simone took a breath. “When you say something
happened, what are we talking here? First base, second base…” Simone trailed
off as though the mere possibility of anything beyond that was outside of her
comprehension.

“I’m not great at American sporting metaphors,” Talia mumbled
as another wash of warmth flooded her cheeks. Perhaps telling Simone hadn’t
been one of her better ideas.

“Come on Tal,” Simone urged. “First, second, third, home
run?”
 
Talia gulped down her drink
and spoke quickly.

“He hit a home run, several. Yeah he hit a triple,” She
admitted. Her mortification intensifying as Simone let out a whoop.

“You nailed…” Talia’s look hushed Simone up. “Wow. Wow
– when you let loose you do it in style.” Simone was smiling at Talia
with a mix of bemusement and glee and then a look crossed her face.

“What?”

“Does Helena know?” Simone asked carefully.

“Of course not,” Talia replied quickly, she’d avoided
thinking too much about how this gaping secret might affect things with
Helena.
 

“You going to tell her?”

“No. I don’t know. There’s no need to. It’s not going to
happen again,” Talia finished firmly.

“Hold on. It was a…”

“Yes,” Talia said firmly.

“You don’t do one-night stands,” Simone reminded her.

“Well I do now.”

“Alex is such a player.”

“Actually it was my decision,” Talia stated with as much
dignity as she could.
 

“What! He wanted to see you again?”

Talia
nodded.

“Then why not?” Simone was now looking at her like she’d
turned into a whole new species.

“It wouldn’t go anywhere and besides I want to enjoy this.”
Talia explained, wishing she’d not started the conversation at all.

“Enjoy what?” Simone yelped.

“Enjoy cutting loose, being out there. Do you know Max
Maguire gave me his number that night,” Talia said.

“You’re on a roll.”

“I’m not going to call him,” Talia continued quickly. “But
you know I’ve spent too long being a workaholic. Maybe I just need to have some
fun, get a life like the rest of the world.”

“Well I think you’re crazy. I would never kick Alex Golden
out of bed.”

Talia
shrugged off Simone’s comments and the nagging feeling of doubt. She knew what
she was doing, knew well enough that getting sucked in by Alex “The Modeliser”
Golden could only ever end in tears for her.

Her
curtains had been drawn closed for days, since her meeting with Vassily. But
finally Tamara had decided that enough was enough. She put on a simple shift
dress and a heavy layer of make up to conceal the dark circles that marred her
usually perfect skin. With a flash of her old spirit, Tamara walked across her
sitting room to dramatically draw open the curtains. They had stayed closed for
too long, she decided. She started in surprise as she saw that it was almost
dark outside. The day had passed by, without her even realising it. She’d been
licking her wounds for far too long. As she sat in a wide armchair, she flicked
on a lamp when she heard a key in the door. Her eyes narrowed. Only one other
person had a key to her house. Tamara turned towards the sitting room door as
footsteps moved down the hallway until finally Casey appeared, hovering in the
doorway. Tamara stared at the girl in silence for several long moments. She had
balls. She’d give her that. There was a hint of defiance in Casey’s eyes as she
moved into the room. She’d had her hair cut, an expensive cut, Tamara could
see.

“I thought I should give these back,” Casey said, placing the
bunch of keys down on the coffee table. Tamara continued to stare at Casey in
silence and she could see that the girl was spooked. Perhaps she’d expected to
find Tamara broken and in tears. This thought brought a smile to her face
– she was made of sterner stuff than that. She leaned back in the chair
and allowed a small smile to curl across her face. She was never better than
when she had an enemy in sight.

“Don’t you want to know why I did it? Casey asked. There was
a plaintive note to her voice and Tamara could have laughed. Poor confused
Casey, even now still seeking her approval.

“Not particularly,” she replied. “You’ve returned the keys,
you can go.”

Casey
hovered uneasily in the doorway.

“I bet you wish you’d been nicer to me. Be careful who you
walk over on the way up because, you’ll meet them on the way down.” Tamara made
no attempt to conceal the snort of laughter.

“Is that what Angelina told you? Did she tell you she’d help
you? Get you some auditions?” From the flare in Casey’s eyes, Tamara knew she’d
hit the mark. Slowly she rose and she felt her strength returning to her. These
amateurs, they’d struck a lucky blow but she would take them on and win. “Poor
Casey. You’re on the cover of every paper selling me out. How much did they pay
you? 5 grand? Do you think anyone will ever trust you again? Or take you
seriously?” Tamara watched Casey pale. “I would say you should head back home
to the other side of the world but you know I have friends there too. Your name
is mud. Your dreams, they’re dead. Trust me Casey, you should have been loyal
to me.” Tamara moved toward Casey and saw that the girl flinched as they stood
toe to toe. Tamara reached out and stroked a finger across Casey’s cheek and
saw that the she was close to tears.

“You can go now,” she said. And Tamara watched as Casey
jumped and all but ran from the room. As she heard the door slam, Tamara took a
deep breath, her strength was coming back, her confidence, her conviction it
was all coming back.
 
Somehow, she
would find her way back, of that, Tamara had no doubt.

“It’s here.”

The
squeal broke into Helena’s daydream and was followed by a thud as the 300 page
plus Centenary issue of Époque was dumped on her desk by Chloe, who was
bubbling with excitement.

“Tobias just sent this down for you. And god Helena you look
amazing.”

Helena
glanced down at the cover and the breath caught in her throat. The cover
photograph was one of the dawn shots that they had taken at Versailles. The
photograph was hauntingly beautiful and with her editorial eye, she could see
at once that Gabe had succeeded; the cover was exquisite. Somehow, Gabe had managed
to capture a look between mother and daughter that seemed so natural, as though
they were utterly in tune with each other. Helena gave a small harsh laugh;
well everybody knew that the camera lied.

“Nice,” she said.

“Nice? IT IS AMAZING! The blogs are already going crazy.”
Chloe was practically hopping from foot to foot in her Manolos and Helena
wondered why this level of enthusiasm eluded her. “Anyway,” Chloe was
continuing, “champers on the 17th floor. Apparently Tobias is in such a good
mood he’s cracking open the Bollinger.”

Helena watched Chloe race out of the office and she leaned
back in her chair. She felt a now familiar ennui settle over her. The feeling
had been present since she returned from Paris, before that even. Since her
grandfather’s death, she’d not been able to ignore the feeling of being
stifled, which she now realised had been with her for a long time. Her eyes
drifted across the walls on which were mounted many, many of Époque’s past
covers. She remembered when aged 8 she had started flicking through her
mother’s copies of the magazine, drawn first to the photographs and then later
to the articles. She had spent all her working life at Epoque, the editor’s
chair her goal and yet she was happiest when off working on her occasional
freelance photography commissions, away from the stifling bitching and
affluenza that ruled Epoque House. Helena knew that this afternoon she’d
finally have her dream job, that her scheduled meeting with Tobias would see
him offer her the editor’s position and suddenly, she knew it was time to
leave.

“You’re doing what?”

Alex’s
bemused question was perhaps not the reaction Helena had been hoping for. Once
her decision was made, she’d acted on it at once. For once the grass wouldn’t
be allowed to grow under her feet, she would not give practicality the chance
to quell her impulsive decision. She had marched right up to the 17th floor and
had watched the colour drain from Tobias’ face as she had broken the news to
him. She was leaving Époque to follow in her father’s footsteps and become a
photographer.

“But, but, but…” Tobias had said over and over as words
failed him. By the time she had left the building for lunch, the news had
spread like wildfire. Already the jockeying to be next in line had begun and
Helena had caught some of the pitying glances from women who would have killed
for her job. Privately they would be saying that they’d known Helena couldn’t
hack it, that she wasn’t up to the job. And yet she did not care, as she told
Alex as they sat on a bench in a private garden off Sloane Square.

“I’m quitting Époque,” she repeated firmly.

“You love that job,” Alex said.

“I loved the idea of that job but what I always really loved
was photography. I want to do what I love,” Helena finished, her eyes pleading
with Alex to understand.

“What happened in Paris?” Alex asked quietly and Helena was
quiet as she contemplated the question.

“I decided to stop hiding in your shadows – yours,
dads, mothers and start living my own dreams.”

“You weren’t hiding?” Alex said.

“Yes I was.” They were quiet for a moment and then Helena
felt Alex reach for her.

“You’ll always have my full support,” he said enveloping her
in a hug. Helena felt the tension drain from her, she’d taken a step out into
the unknown and yet it felt right, if a tad overwhelming. Pulling away, she
glanced at her watch.

“Shouldn’t you get back to rehearsals?” She asked.

“I should,” Alex said as they gathered the remnants of their
lunch and began the short stroll back to the theatre. “What are you doing now?

           
Helena
smiled. “Camera shopping, I’ve already got my first commission,” she said
proudly.

Talia
had just received the telephone call of a lifetime.

The call had come as she and Simone had strolled through the
grounds of Regent’s Park. They’d been power walking up the hill in an attempt
to burn off some of the calories from their massive brunch, when Talia’s mobile
phone rang. She’d stared at the display, which showed that the caller’s number
was not available.

“I’d better take this,” she said as she tapped on the display
to answer the call. “Hello,” she said. Talia’s brow furrowed as a broad
American accented voice spoke. Within moments her life had changed.

“Hey Talia Blake? Joshua Levine here.” Talia felt the breath
catch in her throat. Joshua Levine was the Hollywood agent to some of the
biggest screenwriters in the world. Mentally, Talia was reeling as she tried to
keep track of what Joshua was saying. He’d read her script and he wanted to
sign her, in fact her script was a perfect vehicle for one of the stars in his
agency and several producers and a studio were already showing interest in the
package.