The Perfect Location (14 page)

‘I can’t stay in this hotel any more,’ she said quietly. ‘But I can’t stay by myself.’

‘Well, you can stay with me if you want. The villa has too many rooms and an Italian woman who is either trying to feed me or marry me; I’m still not sure. Come home with me tonight and I will send for your things tomorrow.’

Calypso was silent. Her head was beginning to clear and she thought about her options. Perhaps she could stay with TG? That would be okay for a little while. She would be safe, but should she tell him about Raphael? If she spoke up now then she would ruin the picture, and then there was her reputation to consider. Hollywood was an unforgiving town and she didn’t want to bring her own reputation down. She didn’t want to say it, for then it would be real.

‘Thank you. I’ll stay with you.’

‘Do you want to talk about what happened?’ asked TG gently.

‘Not yet,’ she answered, shaking.

Going to her wardrobe, he pulled out a pair of sweat pants, a t-shirt, underwear, a bra and a pair of sandals. When he walked back into the bathroom, Calypso had got out of the bath and was now wrapped in a towel. She took the clothes from him and TG walked out, closing the door.

Looking at the vomit, he thought it best to clean it up. Whatever had happened in here, he knew the last thing Calypso would want was some maid selling secrets about her wild drunken night in her hotel room. Opening the mini-bar, he found a bottle of soda water. He took the bed sheet Calypso had wrapped herself in and cleaned up the vomit as best he could.

Opening the door, Calypso found him on his hands and knees, scrubbing the floor. ‘Thank you so much,’ she said, her eyes tearing up again.

‘No problem. Grab what you need now and I will get the rest tomorrow, okay?’

Calypso took her handbag, papers and jewellery from the safe and walked outside into the hallway of the hotel. TG stuffed the dirty sheet into a laundry bag and they walked down to his car together.

They drove back to his villa in silence. Not an awkward silence but the quietness of those who have just been through a battle and come out alive. Arriving at the villa, TG finally spoke. ‘There’s a whole wing you can have if you want, then you never need to see me and can be happy and safe at the same time.’

Turning in her seat to look at him, she grabbed his arm, sounding terrified, her voice cracking. ‘I can’t be by myself, I just can’t,’ she said, shaking her head like a small child. ‘Can I stay closer to you?’

Her intensity was shocking and for a moment TG was unsure of the right answer. ‘Sure. I will give you the room next door, okay? There’s a door which interconnects between the rooms so if you need me, just knock, okay?’

‘Thank you. Please don’t tell anyone about what happened to me,’ Calypso said as he stopped the car.

‘Of course not,’ he answered, not reminding her that he still didn’t know what had happened to her.

Walking inside, Calypso felt exhausted. TG noticed her skin turning grey. ‘All right, off to bed,’ he said bossily and bustled her upstairs to the room.

The room was large, with an 18th century four-poster bed with a canopy against one wall. The bed linen was white and gauze curtains were tied to each post. The ceiling of the canopy was embroidered with gold stars. There was a chaise longue covered in white and a dressing table with a white gauze underskirt. A huge tapestry of Diana the Huntress hung on one wall and on the other was a painting of one of the villa owner’s ancestors. There was a bathroom off the bedroom with a bath big enough for four people. A small door connected the bedroom and the one next door.

Pulling off her sandals, she pulled back the covers and got into bed. TG moved to leave the room, then Calypso pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes and spoke slowly. TG stood still, waiting.

‘I was kind of seeing this guy from Perugia. It was good, I thought. We went out to dinner and stuff and then sometimes he would stay at the hotel with me.’ She did not move her hands from her face, as if afraid to look at him, because then she would lose her courage.

‘Well, we went out to dinner with Raphael from the film last night. They drank a lot, and I left early ’cause we had shooting today. But Raphael and Marco went out. I went to bed and was woken up at 3.00 am by knocking. I let him in, thinking it was Marco. It was dark and I was half asleep. Anyway, he started to touch me and then he had sex with me, but he was rough and it hurt and he pulled my hair, he called me names. When I turned around it was Raphael. It was awful and I’m so ashamed. I shouldn’t have let him in. And I didn’t go to the police because people will say I’m just a cheap “puttana”, which is what Marco said I was to Raphael. This will ruin the film and my career and my mother would kill me but I don’t know how I’ll film next week. I just want to go back to my life before Italy.’

Calypso took her hands away from her face. The tears ran down her cheeks and TG rushed to her side. He pulled her to his chest and let her cry. ‘Oh God, Calypso. What a fucking asshole.

‘You didn’t do anything to deserve this and you made an innocent mistake. Of course I understand, no one needs to know. No one needs to know anything. This is between you and me and I’ll fix this. Don’t worry about filming. I’ll sort it out.’

‘Really?’ Calypso asked, her voice resonating against his chest.

‘Really.’

She pulled away and with her face almost touching his she said, ‘Do you think I’m a slut?’

TG shook his head. ‘No, you’re not a slut. You are a person who someone took advantage of and I will deal with it. Do you trust me?’

She nodded and rubbed her eyes. ‘I feel like a fucking loser. Like some stupid little girl. I imagine him and Marco talking about me, planning this somehow.’

TG felt anger welling inside him but he pushed it down; there would be time to deal with that. Instead he stayed present with Calypso.

‘Do you need to see a doctor?’

‘No, I don’t think so. I hope he hasn’t got any fucking diseases or anything. Christ, what an asshole.’ Sharing the pain with TG had relieved the burden somewhat and surprisingly she felt a tiny bit better. ‘Thank you for being my friend, TG. We’re friends, aren’t we?’

‘Of course, we’re great friends! You’re going to give me self-help lessons when we return to LA, remember?’

Calypso laughed. ‘Yes, well, not a lot of good any of it has done me.’

TG held her hands and raised them to his mouth, kissing them. ‘You are amazing and I’m happy we’re friends. What you have been through is terrible and I wish it had never happened to you.’

She smiled and closed her eyes. ‘I’m tired now. So much crying. It’s driving me insane, I swear.’

TG moved towards the door.

‘Can you leave the door open?’ she asked.

‘The one to the hallway?’ he asked, confused.

‘The one to your room,’ she said.

Walking through the room, he stood, his hand on the interconnecting door handle. ‘Good night, Calypso,’ he said quietly.

‘Good night, Tim,’ he heard in the darkness and his heart skipped a beat.

TG sat in the darkness, the anger like a torrent running through him.

He wanted to kill Raphael, not just for Calypso but for himself. Ridding the world of men like him was no great loss. TG imagined himself punching Raphael over and over until he was in a bloodied mess. He had never felt such anger in his life. He needed to get control. He needed someone to help, but who did he know in Italy that could bring down Raphael and protect Calypso?

There was only one person who had the contacts and the ability to remain discreet in Italy. He picked up his phone in the dark and dialled.

Jack’s phone rang as he and Sapphira were sitting in silence. The shock of his confession was a lot for her to take in after the events of the past few hours.

‘Hello,’ said Jack, answering his phone. ‘Hey, TG, what’s happening?’

Sapphira looked up at him. Why was TG ringing?

Jack walked to a chair and sat down. ‘Yes, that’s fine. Come on over, it’s a party. Sapphira is here. Yes. It’s her birthday, we’re having a little celebration.’

She raised her eyebrows at his comment. Not quite, she thought.

Jack continued speaking. ‘No problem. Come here and I’ll send my boat to pick you up.’ He hung up the phone.

Sapphira panicked. ‘Why’s he coming here? Does he know about me? Did you ring him and tell him before?’ Perhaps TG knew and was coming to confront her like those awful rehab shows she had heard about where the family has an intervention.

‘Not everything is about you, darling,’ said Jack as he sipped his drink. ‘He said he needed my help and I was the only one who might know what to do. Poor guy sounded desperate. I don’t know what it’s about. If you don’t want to stay and find out then I suggest you head upstairs and try to sleep for a while.’

But Sapphira was still nervous about TG coming to see Jack. Had he found out about her and Jack’s night? Was Jack lying to her? Why would he lie when he shared with her the biggest secret of his life? The questions spun around in her mind. Sapphira had been stunned by Jack’s admission and his composure while telling her. Jack Reynolds gay? She could hardly believe it and yet so much of it made sense. Not that she was surprised in hindsight. Jack had not showed the slightest interest in her sexually, which was unusual for a single man. Not that Sapphira was egotistic about it; it was just how it was for her.

Looking around his palazzo she saw nothing that inferred he was gay. No large Mapplethorpe photographs or zebra skin rugs, which she saw in some of her gay associates’ houses. Instead Jack surrounded himself with the best of everything. His suits, wine, surroundings, even the city he chose to live in were of the highest quality.

‘But you are so not gay,’ said Sapphira incredulously. ‘Not even a hint of fag,’ she said as she drew back on her cigarette.

‘I am a man who sleeps with other men. As far as the whole “fag” thing goes, as you so delicately put it, I see no reason to act like a woman and give up who I am and what I like. It’s a sexual preference but not who I am. Being gay doesn’t define me, never has.’

‘Jesus, Jack, I don’t know what to say. You have kinda blown my predilection for smack outta the water, you know?’ she said, shaking her head.

‘Well, I don’t know about that. Pretty funny though, looking at you and me, the smack addict and the fag. What a field day the
National Enquirer
would have with this!’

Sapphira drained her glass of wine. ‘More please,’ she demanded and Jack refilled her glass. ‘So what’s with the girlfriends I hear of? How do you manage that and how the hell has it never come out?’

‘Well, they agree to see me at social events, we go out and get snapped by the paps and then I help them in their career and give them some starting money. They’re mostly nice girls. I enjoy their company. Unlike some men, gay and straight, I like women’s company. I love women, actually.’

‘Does anyone know? How do you keep it secret?’

‘Some people know, close friends, but not too many. The person I spoke of who died from the overdose was my long-term partner. He was a lawyer, we were together for ten years. I worked with him to try to get him off the gear for good but …’ Jack paused, clearly moved by remembering him. ‘Well, you know how the tale ends and I don’t want it happening to you.’

Sapphira was touched and held his hand tightly. ‘Thank you for caring, Jack, I’m touched by your honesty and your concern. I don’t know what I’m going to do but when I do you will be the first person I call, okay?’

Jack smiled at her. ‘Okay, kiddo, you call me when you need me.’

‘Shit,’ she said, lighting another cigarette nervously. ‘What the fuck does he want? He must know about me.’

‘Get over yourself, girlfriend. Why do you think this is about you?’ laughed Jack as he tidied the room.

‘Because it usually is,’ answered Sapphira darkly.

Calypso’s reading of her tarot cards had unnerved her more than she had let on. The references to her self-destructive habits, the psychic child and death had unnerved her – not that she had let sweet Calypso know. The reading gnawed at her, coming back when her mind wandered. Now she wondered if the card, which heralded betrayal, was about Jack. Had he told TG and he was coming for a ‘carefrontation’ to try to get her into rehab?

TG arrived in Venice via a chartered helicopter. He still had no answers on how to deal with Raphael but was confident that Jack would be able to help him, although he wasn’t sure why. Jack had a confidence TG admired, a refinement and cavalier attitude TG wished he could bottle for himself. He felt like a schoolboy around Calypso, shy and silly. Fuck, he had even tried to dance like Will Smith around her; only close friends from college had seen him dance like that and only after he had been drinking. Thankfully Calypso had not noticed his awkwardness or stumbling attempts to comfort her.

He sailed down the canal on the boat. He had to sort this out tonight and get back to Calypso. Arriving in darkness at Jack’s palazzo, TG didn’t notice the incredible sights of Venice or the splendour of Jack’s home; he only had Calypso on his mind.

Jack opened the door. ‘Hello, director, what brings you to my fair city on this lovely night? Venice is just picking up now. Perhaps we could go out for a drink and take in the sights and sounds?’

‘I need to talk to you, Jack. I’ve got a serious problem and you’re the only one I know here who knows how to work the system.’

Jack nodded. ‘I’ve been working the system since I was born, kid, come in.’

‘Hi,’ he said absently to Sapphira who was standing in the centre of the room.

‘Hi, TG, do you want me to stay or leave?’ she asked nervously.

‘Stay, if you don’t mind, maybe you can help me, I don’t know.’

Sapphira noticed how stressed and anxious he was.

‘Okay, so shoot,’ said Jack, nursing a glass of red wine.

TG looked at them both. ‘Something has happened to Calypso. I can’t tell you the details, but needless to say it’s shocking and I’ve got to get Raphael off the set as soon as possible without bringing the producers into it in any way. I cannot have them know of this. Can I trust you guys? Can you keep a secret?’