The Perfect Location (32 page)

‘Yes, yes. Well, when you do get in touch with yourself, then I would consider it. He is a good man,’ he muttered. ‘And he likes women,’ he added cheekily.

Sapphira sat back in her chair and looked at the people walking by alongside the canals. Couples holding hands, posing for photos. It seemed so foreign to Sapphira, mundane and frightening. What she wanted did not exist, she thought. Someone she could be herself with, not be tied down to, no posing for photographs, ever. She looked at what were clearly honeymooners laughing and hugging as they tried to get onto an overpriced gondola ride.

Arriving at the restaurant, Alex jumped off the boat first and held Sapphira’s hand as she disembarked. His touch made her jump and she hated Jack for putting the thoughts into her head. Not that she hadn’t entertained them herself but it was too complicated for her current frame of mind, she’d decided. She had tried to avoid Alex at Jack’s palazzo as much as possible, without much success. He seemed to always be around, coming into the kitchen when she did, reading quietly while she worked on the laptop in the living room, asking after her health everyday, making her a cup of coffee just when she was thinking of getting up to get one herself. Unused to the attention or care, Sapphira found herself snapping at him sometimes, which he took with good grace, laughing off her moods and guessing she was a Scorpio, because ‘she liked secrets’ so much.

‘Come on,’ said Jack as they walked towards the restaurant. ‘Everything here is incredible.’

Walking into the restaurant, Sapphira felt all the eyes of the diners turn to them. It felt odd after weeks of being away from the public. Sapphira became nervous. Alex looped his little finger through hers. ‘Not gonna leave you, pinky promise.’

Sapphira looked up at him and smiled shyly. ‘I haven’t heard that since I was a kid.’

‘My sisters used to do it when we were kids,’ he said laughing, and Sapphira instantly relaxed.

Jack was talking to the owner of the restaurant; they were laughing and slapping each other’s back. He led them to a table at the back.

Jack ordered for them; the food and the wine kept coming. Jack ordered mineral water for Sapphira but she decided to drink anyway. ‘Easy on the moonshine, Amelia,’ he said softly.

‘Come on, it’s one drink, Jacky,’ Alex said, filling up her glass again.

Jack looked at her and raised his eyebrows. The doctor had told him Sapphira was not to drink while she was in recovery. It was a slippery slope and anything could replace the heroin – alcohol, sugar even.

Sapphira ignored Jack’s admonishment and Jack, not wanting to cause a scene, let it go. But Sapphira could tell he was pissed with her, which made her anxious and she drank more. Her system was so delicate from what her body had been through, she became drunk quite quickly. Alex seemed funnier than she remembered, she thought, as he regaled them with hilarious stories of his childhood and being a waiter in LA before he got his break.

‘You guys are such good friends,’ she said wistfully, her cheeks flushed from the wine.

‘Friends are important,’ said Alex. ‘Who are your close buddies?’

‘I don’t have any,’ she said simply. ‘Never was in one place long enough.’

‘Liar,’ said Jack. ‘We’re friends.’

‘I suppose we are although I’ve taken a lot from you in the past few weeks,’ she said sorrowfully. ‘Not a very balanced friendship.’

‘You, my dear, are a sad drunk. There is nothing worse. Weeping into her wine, bemoaning her lack of friends or lovers. Get over yourself. If you want friends then you have to make them. You make an effort and be interested in people and then they come.’ Jack laughed at himself.

Alex watched the interchange with interest.

Sapphira bristled. ‘I’m not a sad drunk!’

‘Yes, you are,’ teased Jack. ‘There are three kinds of drunks – a sad drunk, a happy one and an angry drunk. Get happy, you are here with the best looking and most entertaining men on the planet.’

Sapphira laughed at his ego. ‘No, there is a fourth kind of drunk. An egotistical one, which is what you are.’

‘Game, set, match – to Sapphira,’ said Alex.

The ride back to the palazzo in the boat was filled with Jack singing Italian songs at the top of his voice and waving at people as they sailed past. Sapphira and Alex kept their heads down, doubling over in laughter.

‘He is crazy,’ said Sapphira.

‘Not crazy, just happy,’ said Alex, smiling at Jack as he waved his suit jacket at a bunch of Japanese tourists.

She wasn’t sure if it was the wine, the romance of Venice or Jack’s infectious mood, but Sapphira was filled with an intense joy she had never felt before. ‘Alex, I want to kiss you,’ she said, her words slurring a little.

‘Well, when in Venice, do what you heart tells you,’ he answered sexily.

Sapphira leaned forward and kissed him passionately. Then she leaned out of the boat and threw up.

Jack carried her upstairs. The wine, the Chinese herbs she was taking and the medication made for a bad combination and she passed out on the bed, fully clothed. Jack came downstairs to where Alex was drinking a large glass of water.

‘Poor kid, she’s gonna feel like hell tomorrow. She can’t drink. At all,’ he said pointedly to Alex.

Alex took another sip and looked at Jack. ‘What’s she got, Jack? It isn’t Epstein-Barr, I know that much.’

‘Sorry, confidential code of friendship, you know that.’

‘Come on, man. She looked like hell on earth when I arrived, then avoids me and then tonight kissed me. I want to know. I like her, I think about her all the time. I follow her around. I’m like a creepy schoolboy. Can I help her at least?’

‘Listen, Alex. Sapphira is complicated. I’m not saying don’t go there but she has some shit to work out and I think a relationship – hell, even a fling – could set her back to where she was, which, by the way, was not a good place. I won’t tell you her story, it’s not mine to tell. If she wants to talk to you then she will. Just give her some space. Okay?’

Alex looked miffed at Jack’s explanation. ‘But …’ he started.

‘No buts. This is bigger than you, Alex. It’s real and she needs support, not to be fucked with. She needs to be careful when it comes to her health. When I told her not to drink tonight there was a reason, okay? You have to take my word on this one.’

Alex drained his glass and walked out of the kitchen. ‘Point taken,’ he said as he went to his bedroom. As he walked up the stairs he paused outside Sapphira’s door and then kept walking.

Jack left for London early the next morning and Sapphira went downstairs for a much-needed coffee mid-morning. Alex was sitting at the table, reading a script.

‘Hey,’ he said.

‘Hey,’ said Sapphira and poured herself some coffee.

‘How you feeling today?’

‘I feel like shit actually, but thanks for asking,’ she said tiredly.

‘Ah well, try and punch through and then have something greasy at about three this afternoon,’ he said expertly.

At the thought of food, Sapphira’s stomach turned. ‘I don’t think I can eat anything ever again.’

‘Famous last words. Stick around, kid, and we’ll be on the grease express later today,’ said Alex as he left the kitchen.

Sapphira put her head on the table. Perhaps she could sleep here, she thought. Closing her eyes, Alex’s face came into her mind. The memory of last night’s kiss flew back into her memory and she sat up straight. ‘Fuck.’ She lay her head back on the wood.

Sapphira slunk back to her room, had a bath and then slept for a few hours. Waking up, she found she was hungry. Ravenous, in fact. As she was looking in the kitchen for something to eat, Alex walked in. ‘The three o’clock munchies?’ he asked.

Sapphira made a face. ‘Listen, I’m sorry about last night. I kissed you, I think.’

‘Indeed you did,’ he answered casually as he walked to the fridge and stood next to her, peering in at its contents.

‘I’m really embarrassed. I’m so sorry,’ she said, avoiding his face.

‘No need. It was quite nice. Anytime.’ Sapphira couldn’t breathe. Was it shame or lust? She wasn’t sure what she felt anymore. Alex’s nearness made her stomach flip and she walked away and sat down at the table.

‘So, what do you want? Eggs, bacon? BLT?’

Sapphira looked up at him. ‘That sounds good.’

‘Done.’

Ten minutes later he had two delicious looking BLTs and a coffee in front of them. They ate in silence.

Sapphira finished first. ‘That was good,’ she said with her mouth full of the last of the sandwich.

‘I’m glad you enjoyed it. Cigarette?’ Alex asked as he pulled the packet from his shirt pocket.

Sapphira took one and they smoked in silence again. Sapphira didn’t know what to say to him and Alex didn’t seem to mind the quiet. Stubbing out the cigarette, she stood. ‘Thanks, that was nice,’ she said and left the room.

Alex watched her leave, his face impassive. ‘No problem,’ he said to himself.

Sapphira sat in her room. The energy in the kitchen between her and Alex was too much for her. Thank God she hadn’t thrown up on him, she thought, remembering leaning over the edge of the boat and Alex holding onto her hair.

At seven o’clock she decided to brace herself and see if Alex was around, test the waters and see if they could be in the same room together without her going weak at the knees. Walking down to the living room, she found him alone there, watching television. ‘What are ya watching?’ she asked.

‘One of your movies,’ he answered, his eyes staying on the screen.

‘Oh no, that’s so bad. Please turn it off,’ she said, throwing her head back and closing her eyes.

‘No, I’m enjoying it. You’re about to climb the mountain and find the treasure, I think.’

‘Come on, Alex. Please.’

‘No way, it’s good. You speak Italian well, by the way.’

‘What?’

Sapphira perched on the edge of the sofa. The film was dubbed in Italian and Sapphira was fascinated by the words coming out of her mouth on screen. ‘I look good speaking Italian.’

Alex laughed. ‘It’s pretty good, actually. You tear up the screen.’

‘Thanks … I think,’ said Sapphira.

She sat back and looked at herself on the television. It was one of her early films; she had been taking heroin for two years when she made it, going on OxyContin during the shoot. She remembered a hellish time, feeling like shit and having to push her body to do the physical stunts required for the role. It seemed like another person on the screen and another time.

Alex looked over at her. ‘I’ll turn it off if you tell me how it ends.’

‘Okay, well, I get the treasure, the angry sultan comes and tries to steal it off me and we fight. Then I get away by hanging off a helicopter, as you do, and then I give the treasure to the country that it was stolen from and return to my lover’s arms to live happily ever after.’

‘As I thought,’ said Alex gravely.

‘Well, it ain’t Lars von Trier, that’s for sure,’ laughed Sapphira. ‘I never watch my films, I hate seeing myself on screen. I’m always finding ways to do the line better or change the character. Drives me mad, so I don’t look now.’

Alex nodded in agreement. ‘I know, I never look back either. No reason. Always look forward, I say.’

He clicked through the channels, stopping on each one until Sapphira said ‘next’. He stopped on a channel that showed an African mother and her baby at a refugee camp somewhere. ‘Stop,’ said Sapphira. There was something about the look on the mother’s face that Sapphira recognized. Anguish.

Alex got up. ‘Coffee?’ he asked.

She nodded, engrossed in the documentary.

Alex walked back in and handed her the coffee. She accepted it silently and drank it as she watched. As it ended, she turned to Alex. ‘It’s so sad. These women in Ethiopia who had prolonged labours or problems get terrible injuries and they are sent away from their villages and their communities. There is this Australian doctor who operates on them. Most of them can be healed. She’s lived there for fifty years, and she’s eighty-five years old and still does the surgeries. Amazing,’ said Sapphira, moved by both the work of the doctor and her patients.

Alex watched her so enthralled in the plight of these people so far removed from her life.

‘I know what I’ve got to do now.’ She turned to Alex, her eyes bright. ‘I’m going to Africa.’

Sapphira was filled with enthusiasm. ‘I really want to help them, I don’t know why, it just spoke to me. People should not be punished because they are hurt, it’s pure ignorance,’ she said passionately.

‘That’s great, Sapphira, really exciting for you. Let me know if I can help in any way.’

‘That’s great, Alex, thanks. I’m so excited to do this, I hope I can help them.’

‘Are you kidding? They will be thrilled to have you on board. I don’t think women’s health problems post-birth in East Africa get a lot of attention. Not really a sexy charity, as they say.’

‘Who cares about sexy?’ asked Sapphira. ‘Sexy is bullshit. I’ve spent my whole life being told I was sexy. Sexy gets you nowhere, trust me,’ she said.

‘Hey, hey, I didn’t say you were sexy. I was talking in broad generic terms.’

‘Sorry.’ Sapphira played with her cup, moving it around the table.

‘Not that you aren’t sexy, you are. I mean you’re beautiful. You’re … shit,’ said Alex, floundering.

‘I’m shit?’ she asked, amusement in her eyes.

‘No, no, you’re not sexy, you’re not shit.’ Alex was struggling.

‘That’s the nicest thing anyone has said to me in a long time,’ Sapphira laughed.

Alex stood up. ‘I have to make a few calls,’ he said and left the room abruptly.

Sapphira giggled to herself. Flirting with Alex was fun, harmless and fun. She wandered upstairs to her suite, pausing outside the door. She wondered whether she should go up and flirt more with Alex but decided against it. Opening the door to her room, she reached for the light switch. It didn’t turn on. The globe must be broken, she thought, as she clicked it on and off. Walking toward the bedside table, to turn on the lamp, she felt something cover her mouth and her arms pinned behind her back. And then she passed out.