by Lucy Coleman
I know she’s right.
‘Have you seen some of the trolls’ book reviews popping up everywhere? They are looking for other ways to make my life a misery. I doubt some of them can even read given the awful spelling mistakes and poor grammar of their one-liner rants. They’re cruel and downright merciless in their attacks. Because I’m not strikingly beautiful and thin, they have turned me into a target.’
‘I know this is easy for me to say, Brie, but you can’t let a bunch of sad, attention seeking, green eyed individuals drive you into the ground. Their problem is that they need to get a life. You have a very productive life, but it’s out of balance and your reaction to the pressures reflects that. I know it’s not fair but you have to shake it off and rise to the challenge.’
I can see by the look on her face that she understands, today is the day to draw the line.
‘Not everyone is on Twitter, Facebook or Instagram, Brie. And decent folk will ignore what they see in print because everyone knows most of it is made up. It hasn’t harmed your career. If it had, then they wouldn’t be pressing you to finish that next book. Not all bad press is necessarily bad publicity, is what I’m trying to say.’
I sigh, not even sure that makes sense. Either way it’s publicity I don’t want.
‘The truth is that my heart feels starved of love and now I’m not even loving myself. I’ve lost hope that there are other true romantics still out there, so what’s the point in what I do? Every book I sell seems to endorse the fact that it’s all about physical love, but the most intense part should come from in here.’ I thump my chest.
Mel chews on her lip, looking at me sorrowfully.
‘Oh, Brie! You are your own worst enemy, you know. I love your books and so do a whole army of loyal readers. You add the spice we need to perk up our lives a bit when things feel rather mundane. I’ve spent many a lonely night imagining I’m wrapped up in the arms of one of your testosterone filled heroes. Your stories have gotten me through some of my difficult moments, which is a wonderful thing. Don’t let anything erode that kudos, because escapism is like taking a break to get away from the negativity. Goodness knows there’s enough of that in everyone’s lives these days.
‘Paul Turner looked the part and he seemed genuine enough, but he’s a marketable commodity and he knows that. Falling in love is a luxury he can’t afford, even if he wanted to. He has to make money while he can and that means as much red carpet, tabloid and TV exposure as he can get. Everyone he dates is scrutinised and I should have warned you what you were getting yourself into. He’s so charming, though, and I don’t for one minute think his attraction to you was fake. But his business head dictates his decisions, because no one knows how long fame and public favour lasts. You mustn’t confuse that type of existence with real life. It’s about putting on a show.’
I look at her, shame-faced; she’s trying so hard to make me feel better.
‘He thought I was… boring, Mel. That bit was real. And I am. Look at me – I’m thirty-one years old and I live in my PJs most of the time. I seldom go out these days and I’ve lost touch with the world out there. All the posh frocks, facials and professionally applied make-up couldn’t disguise the me underneath it all.’
‘Look, Paul was one smooth guy in public, but in private even he was using drink and a few choice recreational drugs to cope with the pressure. That alone would have been tough to handle in a relationship, but the personal attacks you suffered were beyond belief. Now, well, you’re just going through a bit of a rough patch in the aftermath of it all.’
‘And some. Every time I look at myself, I fear the trolls have won. I don’t go out any more because none of my clothes fit me and I don’t feel like me. I’ve let myself down by allowing the trolls to erode my confidence and that’s a horrible feeling. They’ve stolen my sense of… worth. The truth is that I’ve done this to myself and now I feel like I’m a prisoner in someone else’s body.’ Mel sidles up to give me a hug as the tears begin to roll down my cheeks.
‘Hey, it’s not that bad. We can fix this. You’re one strong lady, Brie, and now you’ve come to your senses you will turn this around. You wouldn’t be human if you didn’t occasionally get a bit lost. Personally, I think we learn more from our mistakes than we do from our successes, but it’s a painful process. First of all, we have to sort out that hair. I mean, it looks like you’re wearing a stuffed cat.’
I look at her and laugh. ‘It’s a bit matted, I’m afraid.’
She looks around the room.
‘How about we do a makeover of the house and you at the same time? I’ll get on the phone and call in the cleaners to spruce this beautiful cottage up a bit. You and I can then head off to a spa at the weekend to kick start your programme. What do you think?’
That gives me two days to get my act together, ready to face the world outside my door. My brain might have stopped functioning but at least I still have a sense of pride.
‘I think you’re a life saver, Mel. You’re the one person who really understands me. So yes, let’s do it.’
‘Your problem is, Brie, that you spend too much time talking to your characters rather than talking to the people who love you. And that includes Carrie. She isn’t just your agent, she’s a good friend and she’s concerned about you. This was her idea, actually.’
I smile. ‘That doesn’t mean she still doesn’t scare me at times. She’s ballsy and I wish I had a fraction of her energy and bubbly personality. When she enters a room, everyone is well aware of her presence whereas I slink in and hide in the corner.’
Mel stands back, giving me a stern look.
‘Don’t you ever apologise for being you! We wouldn’t be friends if you were some over the top, conceited author who was constantly seeking the spotlight. That’s why I should have realised Paul was wrong for you, from the start. You aren’t an attention seeker, Brie. But you wear your heart on your sleeve and maybe you need to toughen up a little. Let’s get the old, confident Brie back. The one who was content and optimistic about finding her Mr Right one day soon.’
I sigh. ‘I guess I was a little dazzled by Paul’s charm and it was a bit like stepping into one of my own storylines. Do you think my hair is fixable?’
‘Well, I think a short style might be the only answer.’
My heroines always have long hair; but they’re not all body perfect and don’t wear their clothes like models. I put my hands around my waist, gently squeezing the wobbly tyre that fills my hands as it sits upon my hips.
‘I’ve gained nearly two stone in weight. When I’m standing, I can’t see my feet any more,’ I moan, dejectedly.
‘Pack your trainers and we can also hit the gym. Dieting isn’t the answer to this, Brie. It’s time for a lifestyle change that will turn your mental approach to stress around. In future, everything in moderation. That includes easing back a little on work to give yourself time to take care of you.’
Mel has come to rescue me as the loyal and caring friend she is, so the least I can do is not let her down.
*
‘Have you been ill?’
The hairdresser, whose name is Zena, stares at my reflection in the mirror and I glance nervously at Mel. She’s standing behind my chair with a look of optimism reflected on her face.
‘Yes, Brie had a bad case of the ’flu and couldn’t do much with her hair. She’s thinking of a complete change. What do you think would work?’
Given that this young woman is probably about nineteen years old and is sporting a bright pink Mohican style cut, I’m wondering if this is going to be a little too radical for me.
‘What are we aiming for?’ She tilts her head to one side, gazing at my now lop-sided up-do.
‘Something vibrant, a bit of a statement, isn’t that right Brie?’
I take a hard swallow. ‘Yes. But not too short. Or too bright.’
She turns, grabbing a hair magazine from the shelf and flicking through it, before stopping and holding it out for us b
oth to see.
‘How about this? A tapered bob cut longer at the front and allowing some of that wave to give it some bounciness? I’m thinking I just lighten the brown a little to lift it and then maybe do a few red highlights to make it pop.’
I let out a weary sigh and then realise they are both staring at me.
‘Yes, that sounds perfect, thank you.’
Mel gives me a reassuring look and saunters off in the direction of the coffee machine.
Zena begins using a detangling brush on my hair.
‘You’re better now, then? The new style is going to really perk you up. There’s a lot of that ’flu going around, and some people have had it quite badly. How long were you off work?’
Oh, here we go. I hate telling little white lies.
‘I work from home, so it doesn’t really affect me too much if I take a little time off. I often work long hours which might mean starting very early or working through the night if I’m on a roll.’
‘What do you do?’
‘I’m a writer.’
‘Ooh, anything I might have read?’
Warning bells sound in my head. Duck and dive, Brie, duck and dive.
‘Probably not. It’s very busy in here today, isn’t it?’
‘It always is on a Saturday. Wednesday is our quietest day but even then, we have at least three stylists on shift. The spa offers mid-week discount breaks so you could grab yourself a bargain next time around. Brie, that’s an unusual name.’
I can almost hear her brain ticking over.
‘Yes, although it’s growing in popularity.’
Suddenly she stands upright and peers at me.
‘All I can think of is that Brianna Middleton. Wow, that lady knows how to write a sex scene. Just thinking about the gorgeous guys she features in her books is enough to get me in the mood to jump into someone’s arms!’ She laughs and for one moment a look of horror passes over my face.
Oh, dear! Am I unwittingly killing the art of romantic love by concentrating on the intense passion and the hot sex? Isn’t that a modern day disease, anyway? We want everything instantly and it seems that people forget that some things are worth waiting for. Wasn’t it more exciting when couples didn’t jump into bed before they’d had a chance to get to know each other? And then when they did get to that point it held more meaning. How many people wake up the next morning regretting the night before, I wonder?
‘Guess we’re all looking for a hero.’ I smile up at her in the mirror, doing my best to push aside my concerns.
‘Tell me about it! I can’t remember the last time a guy held a door open for me. Or picked up the tab for a meal out without expecting to go Dutch.’
I nod, glancing in the mirror and relieved to see that my face isn’t giving anything away.
Zena excuses herself to go and mix up the colour for the first step in the transformation. She returns wheeling a cart with two black bowls both containing a creamy white mixture. I’m keeping my fingers crossed the colours aren’t too loud.
‘Can you turn up the music, please?’ She addresses the receptionist who is manning the desk. ‘I love this one.’
Relief washes over me. It’s not a record I know but at least it curtails the conversation. I’m not being moody but the less said the better.
Closing my eyes for a moment to rest them, I’m horrified when a sudden jolt rouses me. There’s a buzzer on the shelf in front of me and it’s jumping around. I can’t believe I fell asleep.
Zena returns, and I follow her over to the basin. I’d forgotten how good it feels to be pampered and the head massage alone is a tonic. I didn’t realise I was quite so stressed out and now I’m longing for that full body polish and massage Mel and I have booked for later this morning.
After wrapping a towel around my head, Zena and I walk back to her styling station. She begins by twisting the majority of my hair up on top my head, securing it with a clip. Scissors in hand, she turns her attention to the first layer at the back and begins cutting.
With my head tilted forward slightly, I look at the growing pile of debris on the floor. The colour looks okay but then it’s still wet and it’s hard to tell how it will look once dry. It’s been a long time since I wore my hair this short, that’s for sure. I glance across at Mel but she’s engrossed, listening to her iPod. Usually I love thinking time, but my head is in such a mess that what I need now is a distraction. So instead I grab a magazine from the shelf in front of me and read about the latest red carpet event in Hollywood. I can identify with the sadness behind some of those fake smiles.
The cutting seems to go on forever and I lose interest. I decide it’s time to stop looking in the mirror and wait for the reveal. Eventually the scissors disappear back into the neat little pouch strapped around Zena’s slender hips. She uses a generous squirt of mousse to scrunch up the longer hair at the front, with her hands, then the blow drying starts in earnest. My head is feeling curiously lighter and it’s a fight to avoid glancing in that mirror.
‘I think we’re done.’ Zena takes a step backwards, sounding pleased with herself. The girl from the reception desk walks by on her way to the coffee machine.
‘On fleek, Zena. A hot new look there, Ms Middleton, it’s time for a new author photo! I rang my mum and she just popped in with one of your books, so I wondered if you’d sign it for me? I have them all! I couldn’t bear to miss one of your hot, sexy heroes.’
I feel the heat rising up around my ears as my cheeks begin to burn; Zena’s jaw has dropped. Fortunately, Mel steps in, making a big fuss over my new hairdo and then whisks me off to the reception desk. I do my usual writerly scrawl just inside the front cover of the book lying on the counter, while raising a smile and trying to look composed.
It isn’t until we’re out through the doors and walking down the corridor to find the nail technician that I feel I can finally breathe. I stop to catch my reflection in a glass panel and swish my hair from side to side.
‘You look gorgeous, Brie. On fleek, even!’
She looks at me with a big smile on her face.
‘I don’t feel like me. I look my age; I look like I’m ready to party.’
‘Well, after some new nails and a relaxing massage you will be. Tomorrow we hit the gym and I’ve booked us a session with a personal trainer. Tonight, we are dining in the spa’s acclaimed Nature’s Best restaurant. Nude food is the theme, as nature intended. They’ve stripped everything away and it’s all about the quality of the produce and keeping it simple.’
‘You have to let me pay for this, Mel. It’s way too much. Just the fact that you’ve organised all this is more than I deserve. I’ve been a very bad friend, lately.’
I lean in to give her a hug.
‘Hey, it’s me. Remember? The one you bailed out when I couldn’t make the mortgage repayments on my flat and you wouldn’t let me repay you. It was a tough time but now I’m through it and things are looking up.’
It’s no wonder that every single one of my heroines has at least one staunch friend who is always there for her. Mel is, unwittingly, the role model.
3
The Butterfly Emerges
With gorgeous new gel nails, eyebrows shaped to perfection and all the knots in my shoulders nicely pummelled away, I’m feeling renewed. In fact, even better than the old me.
‘You really do look the part now, Brie. You’re a kick-ass author whose heroines give the guys a run for their money. It’s like the cover now matches the contents. Just don’t mention the L-word and no one would be any the wiser.’
I’m really enjoying the plate of mostly raw food in front of me, with delicately poached chicken on the side as if it were an afterthought.
‘So, Mel, what’s new with you? And don’t try to fob me off, as I can tell there’s something on your mind.’ As soon as I finish speaking Mel gives me a decidedly shifty look.
‘I’ve joined a dating website. I haven’t been on an actual date yet, but I do have a shortlist of po
tential candidates. I’ve narrowed it down to three and am thinking I might make contact and see how it goes. I’d want to chat a little first before I meet up with anyone.’
My eyebrows shoot up.
‘That’s good to hear and it’s about time, Mel,’ I enthuse.
After a very long engagement, Mel’s world was turned upside down when out of the blue Justin broke the news that he’d had a one-night stand – and it wasn’t his first, apparently. It was simply the first time he’d been caught out, after a mutual friend had spotted him. She gave him an ultimatum – come clean or she’d do it for him. Mel was off work, virtually inconsolable, for two whole weeks. I stayed over at her flat for the best part of that first week and after that I called in on her every day until I could see she was going to be okay. So this is a big step and I’m proud of her.
‘If it works out then maybe you could join, too.’ She toys with the food on her plate, while casually trying to assess my reaction.
The waiter comes across to replace our glasses with two more very healthy, non-alcoholic cocktails. He smiles down at me and his eyes linger for a second or two. I look away nervously and see that Mel is fidgeting in her seat.
As soon as he’s out of earshot she leans forward and whispers excitedly, ‘Did you see that? He was so checking you out, Brie. Honestly, this new look suits you, lady. Even your body language has changed. And you must get a new author photo taken. The old one is cute but now you’re in another league. It’s time to acknowledge your achievements, I think, and become that inspiring woman who grabs what she wants in life. Just like the stories you write. You haven’t really given up on finding love, have you?’
I chew on my raw carrot stick, wondering the exact same thing.
‘First I have to nail the start of my next story and reassure myself that what I’ve been through is merely a temporary blip. Then I need to write this other story that keeps fogging up my brain, even though I have no real sense of direction with it. But at least if I get the words out of my head and onto that screen then maybe it will be content to sit there untouched for a while.’