The Perfect Location (26 page)

Leaving the meeting with her agent and a copy of the tape, she realized nearly four hours had passed since she touched down in LA. She checked her phone and saw she had six missed calls from TG and three from Leeza. Greg dropped her home. Getting out of the car, he opened the door for her and brought her bags to the door.

‘You okay?’

‘No, but I will be. Thanks for being so great about this. It’s so fucking awful, I don’t know what to say.’

Greg smiled at her; she was a good kid and talented also. ‘Calypso, I know what you’re thinking but I want you to know this much. You are where you are in your career because you are talented, not because of your mom, okay?’

Calypso smiled. ‘Thanks, Greg,’ she said, but she didn’t believe him.

Her house welcomed her and she relaxed slightly being among her familiar things. The light breeze coming in over the pool blew the cobwebs away from too little sleep and her overactive mind seemed to be turning in circles.

Calypso lived in West Hollywood in a renovated house that had once been a pool-house for a former mansion, long since pulled down. Built in the 1930s, it was light and airy, with polished floorboards and white shutters. Nice and private, it had a large wall and gates that kept the fans and the paparazzi outside – most of the time. A hot-pink bougainvillea grew up over the side of the house and a huge frangipani tree swept gracefully over the kidney-shaped swimming pool in the backyard. Somehow the pool house survived during the great destruction of Hollywood’s architectural history during the 1980s and Calypso had lovingly decorated it in her own inimitable style.

Bohemia meets the Jetsons, is how she described it when asked by visitors. French chandeliers hung over a modern Danish dining table and the walls were painted in bright Indian pinks and turquoise. Framed movie posters of some of Calypso’s favourite films were hung on the walls next to convex mirrors and Calypso’s collection of framed antique fans.

Calypso liked quirky and crazy, something she was finding it harder and harder to be since her star was on the rise. Hollywood is a processed city. Everything you say, wear and eat is watched, supervised and analysed. To show your real self is rare and frightening to the studios. Calypso wondered what the studio would think of her house if they saw it in all its glory. It certainly wasn’t interior decorated within an inch of its life, to be ready for the pages of an
In Style
magazine shoot.

Calypso used to frequent the flea markets in Hollywood when she had the time. Nothing made her happier than lugging home a new find and restoring it to her own taste. Chairs, dressing tables, even clothes all found a place in Calypso’s heart and home. Now she settled for eBay, having her treasures delivered to her parents’ house, or her manager’s office. The thrill of the find was all part of the attraction for Calypso.

Taking a shower, she emerged to find two more messages from TG. She didn’t listen to them; she had to deal with her mother first. He could come later, she thought.

Picking up her phone she dialled Leeza’s cell phone. ‘Hi, Mom, I need you to come over to my house now, without Dad, okay?’

And not giving her mother time to speak, she hung up on her.

Leeza was over within thirty minutes. Letting herself in with her own key, she came into the living room where Calypso sat waiting.

‘Baby, what’s wrong, what’s the emergency? You okay?’

‘Sit down, Mom,’ said Calypso.

Leeza ignored her and walked into the kitchen. ‘You want a juice, some tea? What can I get you? Did you eat in Italy? You look thin.’

‘Mom, sit down now.’

Leeza came back from the kitchen, her eyebrows furrowed. ‘Okay, okay. What’s the problem?’

She sat on the chair opposite Calypso who turned on the TV with the remote in her hand.

‘Am I going to see what you did in Italy, baby?’ asked Leeza, sitting forward.

Calypso was quiet and let the tape speak for her. She watched her mother’s face, not wanting to look at the screen again.

‘That’s Jerry Hyman, what a mess he is in,’ she said. ‘I’ll tell you all about it.’

‘Just watch, Mom.’

Then Leeza came on the screen and Calypso saw her recognize herself. She saw her sit back in her chair. ‘Turn it off,’ she said quietly.

‘No, Mom. I had to watch it today, I think you should sit through the director’s cut.’

Leeza started to cry. ‘Turn it off, Calypso, goddammit!’

Calypso stood up, calm. ‘No, I won’t turn it off, Leeza, just like I could never fucking turn you off. “Try harder, Calypso, don’t eat that, Calypso, you have to work more, Calypso, we need this, Calypso”. You are such a tyrant and you sucked other people’s cocks to get me to where I am. How do you think I feel about that fact, Leeza?’

‘I did it for you, baby,’ said Leeza, crying. ‘It was so hard in those days. Do you remember? You worked so hard and your dad and I went without so much. And look at you now. It’s everything you ever wanted.’

‘It’s everything
you
ever wanted, Mom. What you wanted was this career for yourself, you never asked me. My life was predestined before I could even talk,’ Calypso snapped back. ‘And now I’ve got to sort this out. Do you know what I have to do? Pay some asshole two million dollars or he is going to release this to the media. No head job’s gonna get you out of this one, I’m afraid.’ Calypso’s voice was pitiless.

Leeza was stunned at the revelation. What had she done? Who else knew? The questions ran through her mind.

‘Oh God,’ she said and leaned over her knees as though she was about to faint.

‘Get out of my house, Leeza, get out of my house and out of my life. Do you understand? I never want to see you again for as long as I live.’

Calypso walked to the front door and opened it, waiting for Leeza to leave.

‘No, Calypso, no, please, I am sorry, I really am. I don’t know why I did it, please don’t hate me.’

‘I don’t hate you, I just want you to get your own life, your own dreams. You’ve lived through me long enough. It’s too much responsibility to make you happy. God knows, I can’t do it for myself,’ said Calypso sadly. ‘Just go, okay. I will let you know what happens. I will get Greg to call you. Give me my house key.’ She held out her hand and Leeza dropped the key into the waiting hand with a little cry.

Leeza stood, wobbly in her white high heels, clumsily trying to hug her, the tears and snot running down her face, make-up streaked. Once she had been the ringmaster of Calypso’s life, now she was just a sad clown, Calypso thought as she gently pushed her mother away.

‘Go,’ she said, and Leeza walked out the door.

Calypso walked back into her sitting room, noticing that TG had called her again. Not yet, she thought. She had a feeling he would be there for her forever and she had to get her own life in order before she let someone else into it. Pulling off her clothes as she walked to the back garden, Calypso stood naked at the edge of the water and dove in. Water always helped her think, she thought, as she sank to the bottom of the pool.

Three weeks had passed and Sapphira was doing well detoxing, better than she had expected. With Jack’s insistence she had managed to eat a little more and her stomach had settled down. The daily massages had released her body of the tension and helped soothe her restless legs. The acupuncture was helping her sleep and she had not yet had one of the awful nightmares, even after the terrible intrusion in Italy. The police were no further forward in their investigations, warning that her stalker would be following her to where he thought she was.

‘Lucky there is your likeness out in the world,’ said Jack as he leafed through a magazine, showing photos of their doppelgängers, shot from a long lens at a ski resort in Switzerland from a few weeks before.

‘But they’ve finished their gig now,’ said Sapphira. She had been worried about the girl, hoping the stalker didn’t try to contact her or attack her, but thankfully she had been safe.

‘Well, he doesn’t know we’re here, so you’re safe till they find him,’ said Jack as he walked over to the window, looking out. All of Jack’s windows had reflective tinting so he could see out but the public and media couldn’t pry into his life.

‘I feel like I’m wasting your time. Surely you could be doing other things rather than minding me?’ said Sapphira as she tidied the kitchen for something to do.

‘When you bore me, I’ll kick you out. Meanwhile I’m happy you’re doing so well. So shut up with the needy whining and let’s play some Scrabble.’

‘Scrabble?’ asked Sapphira.

‘Yes, I am the king and you shall be shocked and awed. Get ready,’ said Jack, walking towards the huge Louis XIV sideboard in the sitting room, opening the door and pulling out a well-loved box of the game.

‘Get ready, Mr Reynolds. I’ve got words you ain’t even used yet,’ said Sapphira as she clicked her fingers in front of her face.

So Jack and Sapphira settled into a routine. Her chosen therapy in the morning, lunch, a rest, then an afternoon of games. Boggle, Scrabble, Monopoly, even Operation. Jack had every single board game imaginable. He was crazy about them and incredibly competitive. ‘Splenetic is not a word,’ he yelled.

‘Yes, it is,’ defied Sapphira. ‘In fact, you are being it now. Jack Reynolds is a splenetic man.’

‘I’m looking it up,’ he said, reaching for his computer.

‘You know the rules, if the word is in the dictionary then you lose a turn,’ she said, leaning back in her chair.

Jack’s cell phone rang. ‘Saved by the bell,’ he said, answering the phone.

Sapphira laughed and went to the kitchen to give him some privacy. Making herself and Jack a coffee, she thought about her life in Italy. It was surreal and safe. The idea of heading back to LA anytime soon scared her immensely. LA was easy to score drugs, the group of ‘friends’ there were mostly addicts of some kind. Heroin, sex, cocaine. Sapphira knew she wasn’t ready to go back but she wondered how long she could stay with Jack. She knew he had put his life on hold for her and while she was grateful, she was unsure of where to go next. Her therapist had told her to wait till she had the implant inserted, which stopped the cravings for heroin and nullified the hit if she did shoot up. The physical cravings were gone but the mental desire for the drug was still in her system and until it left her, she was afraid of the outside world.

Jack came into the kitchen. ‘Hey, that was a friend of mine from LA. Alex Wright. Do you know him?’

Sapphira shook her head. ‘I know of him, seen him at awards and such but I’ve never actually met him,’ she said, vaguely remembering a tall, blond-haired man.

‘Well, he’s broken up with his girlfriend. All very ugly and in the media, apparently. He wants to come and visit me, get away for a while. I said I would ask you first. I don’t want you to feel overwhelmed, but he is my closest friend, I guess. Great guy. I’ve known him for years. He knew Armondo, was amazing when he died. Stayed with me for weeks. I didn’t say anything about you, just said you were taking a break here. If you aren’t cool with it then I will let him know. I’ll just say I have stuff on.’

Sapphira shrugged. ‘I don’t care either way, not that I am much company. I will just do my own thing. It’s fine.’

‘Thanks, Sapphira, it means a lot to him. Might be nice to have some other company anyway. You must be getting sick of me.’

‘Never,’ she said as she walked past him, chucking him under the chin with her hand and heading to her floor.

It was true Sapphira didn’t care either way about Alex staying at Jack’s palazzo. Sapphira thought about nothing or anyone else but herself. She was constantly checking in with herself to see how she was feeling, craving, wanting. It was sending her more into herself and Jack was hopeful the arrival of Alex might help her integrate herself slowly into the world a little more.

Alex arrived the next day on a private plane, coming straight to Jack’s palazzo, and entering through the back entrance away from the odd paparazzo who was hanging around outside hoping for a sighting of them, although it was unconfirmed they were still in Italy.

Sapphira heard Alex and Jack greet each other warmly, with much laughter from downstairs. She stayed in her room, giving them time to catch up, a little afraid of meeting someone new in her fragile state. Sapphira was not a vain woman but she knew she looked unwell. The weight had fallen off her since her detox and she had not seen sunlight properly for a few weeks. She was pale, with black shadows under her eyes. Her hair long and unkempt, she knew she needed sunlight, a haircut and to eat more. The tiredness overwhelmed her at times, and she wanted to sleep at the oddest hours of the day. Sometimes even after she had only been awake for two hours. It took enormous effort to do the smallest tasks, and Sapphira, who had always fired on all cylinders, even while on heroin, felt as though her body was trying to recharge at a deep cellular level. For the first time she listened to it. If she was tired she slept. She craved odd things, like fruit and vegetables. She wanted to stretch, her muscles feeling unfamiliar and weak. Jack had organized a private yoga teacher, who came most mornings to gently coax her body into flexibility again and Sapphira felt her body responding, waking some mornings sore from the exercise but not from the cravings.

‘Saph,’ she heard Jack call through the intercom. ‘Come and meet Alex.’

Sapphira walked downstairs, instead of using the lift. She was trying to get stronger and the stairs, although just a few flights, took an effort to manage. Walking into the living room, she held onto the doorframe for a moment, while the dizziness stopped. Jack came over and grabbed her arm and led her to the nearest chair.

‘You okay, babe?’ he asked, concerned. ‘Sapphira has had a terrible case of Epstein-Barr Syndrome,’ he said to Alex who was standing, looking with concern at Sapphira. ‘She picked it up in Perugia, so I brought her back here. She lives alone in LA and doesn’t have anyone else to look after her. Can’t really heal in a hotel room, so Nurse Jack is doing his thing,’ he said cheerfully.

Sapphira felt her head clear and she smiled at Jack gratefully. ‘I’m fine now. Sorry about the dramatic introduction,’ she said, and stood to walk over to shake Alex’s hand.