The Perfect Location (21 page)

‘Sorry,’ he said and pulled away.

Calypso reached up and pressed her lips back onto his, her thin arms winding around his neck. The tension of the day gave way to passion and they were breathless, almost as if they were trying to consume each other. TG could not believe it; he stopped her and held her face. ‘Are you sure?’ he asked anxiously.

She answered by pulling her dress above her head. Underneath she was naked and TG gasped with longing. Taking his hand, she led him upstairs to her bedroom. Lying him down on the bed, she undressed him slowly, stopping to kiss him occasionally. As she leaned over him to pull the t-shirt over his head, her breasts swung above his mouth. He greedily sucked her nipples and buried his face between them.

Lifting her up by her hips, he sat her on his face and he inhaled her scent, licking and kissing her until she squirmed with desire. She pulled away and went back to her task at hand. She undid his jeans and pulled them off, his cock hard underneath his black underwear. He reached down and pulled off his socks and they sat on the bed facing each other. She smiled at him with a slow, sexy smile.

‘I’ve wanted you since you danced
Fresh Prince
style for me,’ she said cheekily.

TG laughed and rolled her onto her back. He caressed her slowly and she responded to his touch, arching her back and pushing her pelvis towards him. Entering her slowly, he watched her face to ensure she was okay. She eagerly met his gentle motions with grasping hands on his buttocks, pushing him further into her. He flipped her over and she straddled him, her hair falling about her face. TG thought he was in a dream as she rode him. He held her breasts as she rocked back and forth, grinding herself into him. He felt her tighten as they moved and he knew she was about to climax. She looked down into his eyes and held them as she came. So moved was TG by the sight of her pleasure, by all he had wanted for so long, he climaxed with her.

She fell onto the bed, breathing heavily. ‘So, you do have a crush on me?’ she teased.

‘Oh baby, I passed crush a long time ago,’ he answered softly, and they lay in silence, holding hands until they fell asleep.

Sapphira and Jack were cohabiting nicely at her villa. They stayed out of each other’s way and he said no more about her addiction. She was continuing to shoot up but she was more careful and mindful of what Jack had been through in Venice with her. Sapphira thought more and more about a life without addiction but still she was afraid of living without the drugs. Jack, to his credit never said a word but made sure she was eating properly, so in some ways Sapphira was healthier than she had been before she met Jack.

He had followed her to her lair one night without her knowledge and while he did not disturb her peace, he was happy he knew where she was at least. But Sapphira was finding herself spending less time in the library, seeking out Jack for conversation and company. They were like an old married couple and he brought her peace, which she was grateful for.

Shooting the final scenes together had been bittersweet, for Sapphira knew he would return to Venice and she would leave for the US alone again.

‘You can stay longer if you want,’ she said as they left the set together one evening.

‘I may stay for a little longer, just to make sure you’re all right.’

‘I can look after myself, thanks. I just thought, if you don’t have anything to return to straightaway,’ she answered him crossly.

Jack laughed at her. ‘Face it, babe, you are under the spell of Mr Reynolds and there ain’t nothing you can do about it.’

Sapphira hopped in the Mercedes on the driver’s side. She had given up the driver and she and Jack drove themselves to work each day. ‘You’re an arrogant son of a bitch, but I love you anyway.’

‘I love you too, baby,’ he said and kissed her on the cheek as she started the engine.

Arriving at her villa, she knew she needed to shoot up again. It had been four hours and her body was telling her to fulfil her job.

‘I’ll just be a moment,’ she called out, making her way to the library.

Jack dumped his bag in the foyer and walked into the lounge room. ‘Fuck,’ he yelled. Sapphira came running in and cried out. On the wall was a giant image of a dead foetus, with the words
murderer
written underneath it in red paint.

‘What the fuck?’ said Jack as he hustled a screaming Sapphira from the room.

He pressed the intercom for security and two men came from the back of the villa. ‘How the fuck did that happen?’ said Jack, pointing to the room.

The guards entered the room and swore in Italian. One of them crossed himself. Jack reached for his mobile phone from his pants pocket, dialling TG’s number. He yelled into the phone. ‘I need you here now at Sapphira’s. Now!’

Taking Sapphira upstairs, he laid her on the bed. She was beside herself with anguish. He heard the guards on the phone to the police, and within twenty minutes he heard TG’s car arrive.

‘I want twenty-four hour security on her. Okay?’ barked TG at the guards. ‘Where are the cameras? I wanna see the tapes.’

The guards took TG to the security room. The tapes of the front door and the sitting room were missing. Whoever had done this had been into the security room and taken the tapes when Jack had called security to the lounge.

TG felt sick. What the hell was going on?

He ran upstairs to see Jack and Sapphira, who was sobbing and shaking uncontrollably. ‘She needs a doctor,’ said TG anxiously.

‘I’ll sort it out, you go and talk to the police,’ said Jack forcefully.

Sapphira was hysterical. Running downstairs, Jack made his way to the library and saw she had pulled her kit out on the table; she must have been about to shoot up when he called her. Grabbing it and its contents off the table, he hid it under his t-shirt and ran upstairs again.

Locking the door to the bedroom, he set up the works and expertly melted the heroin and drew it back into the needle. Holding her arm, he found a vein and shot her up.

The relief was instant and Sapphira closed her eyes. She started to speak slowly. Jack listened, holding her hand as she spoke as though it were only yesterday.

‘I met a guy. He taught me how to use the needle. I got pregnant. I wanted to keep it but the doctor said it wasn’t able to survive once born. I blamed myself. I was high when she was conceived. That’s why she wasn’t right.’

Sapphira’s voice caught in her throat.

‘It was the hardest thing I have ever had to do and now I try to push myself, to feel something close to that pain but there is nothing like losing a child. Even if you are pregnant for a moment, you are a mother forever,’ she said, tears running down her perfect face.

‘Oh, sweetie …’ said Jack, unsure how to console her.

‘And when I came home from the hospital, someone had sent me a little coffin with a baby doll inside covered in blood.’

‘Oh, fuck,’ said Jack, and he sat on the bed with her until she became sleepy. ‘Who’d do such a fucking awful thing?’

‘I don’t know, I don’t know, Jacky.’ She cried in his arms falling asleep.

As Sapphira went to sleep with Jack stroking her arm, she realized she forgot to tell him about the dream she had after finding the coffin. This was a dream she had regularly since then. She dreamed of her baby that night. Sitting under the tree, the image of which was tattooed on her back, looking across the plains of some unknown foreign land, the baby spoke to her,

‘Come and find me. I will wait for you.’

Leaving her to sleep, Jack went downstairs and found TG talking to the police. ‘They want to talk to her.’

‘They can’t. She’s taken a sedative. Tomorrow,’ said Jack in a tone of voice no one was prepared to argue with.

TG looked at Jack. ‘She can’t stay here. She’ll have to stay with me till the end of the shoot. There are always people around and it’s busy.’

‘I’ll ask her,’ said Jack, knowing it would not be acceptable to Sapphira. ‘I’m here for a while longer, so we’ll see what she wants, okay?’

TG and Tom left to go back and discuss security on set and at her home. The police took photos and fingerprints, which was useless. Jack sat in the kitchen waiting for Sapphira to rouse herself. When she finally came downstairs, it was 1.00 am. The house was silent and she poured herself some juice from the fridge.

‘Thank you,’ she said, sitting down at the table. ‘I am a handful, which you may have worked out. Trouble seems to follow me.’

Jack smiled kindly. ‘What an ordeal you’ve been through. Does this person harass you often?’ Concern flooded his face.

‘Maybe. Whoever they are used to send me presents but it got weirder and weirder. I’ve had private detectives looking into it, the police in the US were no help, although they tried. They just seem to know where I am and what I’m doing all the time. It’s more than just a crazy fan, you know?’

Jack nodded. He understood crazy fans; he had a few crazed fans himself. But this was more sinister and so personal. It unnerved him, he thought, imagining what it did to Sapphira.

‘Well, I will stay here for the rest of the filming and there will be extra guards and they are putting in more cameras, if it helps at all.’

‘It does,’ she answered thoughtfully. ‘How did you know how to shoot up?’ she asked.

‘I had to do it a few times for Armondo, my lover I told you about, when he was too sick to do it himself,’ he said, not looking at her.

‘I’ve asked too much of you.’ She started to cry.

‘No, not at all. I’m your friend and I want to help you.’

She wiped her eyes and looked at him across the table. She held out her hands and Jack took them. ‘I will come to Venice with you after this is over. It is time. I cannot live in a haze hoping it will go away. I need to control my destiny.’

Jack kissed her hands. ‘It will be better, I promise.’

‘I hope so,’ she said, scared to the core of what her future might bring.

‘I know so,’ he replied.

‘So, I will see you soon. I will come over, and you can come and see me. Okay?’ she said to Milo.

‘I hope you have a good flight with them, they’re excited to be going home,’ she said lightly.

Max pulled her into his arms. ‘Thank you, Rose,’ he said, holding her tight.

‘Call me sometime,’ she said softly. They had agreed it was just a fling, nothing more.

‘Of course,’ responded Max. He walked around to the car door.

Lucia ran out of the house and pressed a canvas bag into his hands. ‘Limoncello, I made it myself,’ she said proudly. Max smiled and gave the older woman a warm hug.

As he was about to get in the car he stopped and looked at Rose and said in his best Irish accent, ‘T’was nice to know you, Rosie.’

And with that he got in the car, started the engine and drove away.

Rose was despondent when they left. Her family not visiting her had been eased by Max and the boys’ presence in her life. More than that, she felt a connection with them all unlike anything she had known before. The laughter and busyness of the boys helped her and Max navigate each other after so long of not being in a relationship. The informality the children brought to the house pushed her and Max into instant intimacy. Milo would come into bed with them some nights, much to Max’s horror and Rose’s delight. She did art projects with Jasper and timed Dominic swimming laps in the pool, to try and beat his last time. While she was careful to not push herself into the role of their mother, she found herself slipping into the role naturally.

Max was astounded at her ability with the children. ‘You are so good at this. I thought you would have kids of your own,’ he said as they cleaned up the boys’ toys from the back garden after the boys were settled watching a DVD.

‘No, I wanted children when I was married to Paul but it never happened.’ Rose had not spoken of her marriage before. Max was quiet and let her talk. ‘I’m not sure he wanted children but I did, desperately. That was the saddest thing when we divorced. I want children but want to share the experience with someone. I don’t want to be a single mother. I want to share the moments and laughter and celebrate my child with a partner. You know?’

Max smiled. ‘Yes, that’s what I miss most about Alice, sharing the moments. When she first died, I would find myself looking at the boys doing something and I would turn to share it with her. It’s hard, to have a partner go and be alone with the moment.’

Rose picked up a giant water gun off the ground. ‘What a pair we are. Morose and his side kick, Melancholy.’ Laughing at herself, she squirted the gun at Max, who received a face full of water. As he ran towards her, she ran backwards and fell into the pool. Max jumped in after her. ‘Are you okay?’ he asked, trying to catch his breath.

‘I’m fine.’ She laughed hysterically and swam to the edge of the pool. Standing up, her wet t-shirt clung to her breasts and Max looked at her intensely. ‘You need to have a shower, I think.’

‘I think I just had a bath,’ she laughingly replied.

‘Upstairs and into your bathroom, please. I will be there in one minute to check on you.’

Max sounded very serious and commanding. Rose looked at his twinkling eyes and ran up to the bathroom. Turning on the taps in her giant bath, she filled it with Gardenia bloom bath oil she had brought with her from home. The fragrance filled the air and the steam rose off the water. Standing in her wet clothes, she waited for Max. He charged into the bathroom. ‘I told you to take off your clothes, didn’t I?’ he asked, his eyes narrowing at her.

Rose stood defiantly. The ache of anticipation was starting to overwhelm her. ‘Well, I will have to take you in hand, young lady.’ Walking over to her, he pulled her wet t-shirt off. He walked around her, looking at her in her black bikini top. ‘You are out of control, Rose Nightingale,’ he said in an upper crust British accent. ‘You are unclean and rude in every way.’

He walked around to her front and undid the button and zip on her shorts. Pulling them down, she stepped out of them, standing in her bikini bottoms.

‘Did I say you could step out of them?’ he continued.