by Patricia Mar
“Sara?”
A voice with a marked foreign accent – the voice of the ultra-sexy model she had just been kissing. If she kept going and pretended she couldn’t hear him, he might give up.
“Sara!”
Nope, he wasn’t going to give up. Right – put on a smile, calm down, don’t feel embarrassed.
“Yes, Daniel?” She spun round, flashing him a beaming smile as fake as a Monopoly banknote.
“Why did you run off like that?” he asked. Now that they were under the bright lights of the building and there were no shadows altering their features, Sara could see the perfection of his jaw blurred by a few days stubble, the blue of his eyes and his slightly tanned complexion. He was gorgeous and she felt small, ugly and insignificant. It was really not her day.
“I ran away because I was embarrassed and… Ok, I’m sorry…” Great, she was stammering! “I read somewhere that kissing helps calm people down when they’re suffering from panic attacks and so I thought it was worth a try. I didn’t want to kiss you, I just wanted to help you. I don’t normally go around kissing topless strangers in lifts… or even ones with shirts on… in lifts, I mean… I’m babbling, aren’t I?”
Daniel laughed and gave her face a gentle caress. “Relax – I get what you mean and it worked, I was totally distracted. You’re a very good kisser.”
“Are you trying to make me turn as red as a tomato? I’d rather not, if you don’t mind.”
“Ok. You’re a character all right.”
Sara ran her hands through her hair and began to laugh. “That’s just what every woman in the world wants to hear after being kissed. Come on, I’m kidding.” Finally she felt comfortable – she’d stopped feeling agitated and embarrassed. More or less. The whole thing had ended in the best possible way.
She saw Daniel taking his phone from the pocket of his jacket.
“Can I have your phone number?” he asked, as though it were the most natural question in the world.
“What for?” said Sara, staring at him in genuine puzzlement.
“What do you mean, what for? Come on, give me your number so I can take you out to dinner to thank you for helping me get through my panic attack. You’ve got your methods, my girl, and they work.”
“All right then, call me whenever you want…” she said, with enthusiasm. “Not to kiss you, though, eh?” Sara’s shoulders slumped and she lowered her head. “I’m weird, I know.”
“A bit. You do seem to be constantly explaining everything, but there’s nothing to explain here – I just want to take you out to dinner, what’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing,” said Sara, and gave him her number, with absolute certainty that he would never, ever call.
They walked down the stairs together, chatting about their adventure, and said goodbye with a smile as they exchanged a few pleasant words and a promise to meet again. Sara was sure it wouldn’t happen – Daniel was immediately surrounded by a swarm of screeching young girls equipped with phones, pens and autograph books, desperate to get their hands on some memento of the most handsome model in the world. He smiled kindly, as though he enjoyed being in the middle of the crowd and the chaos.
As Sara was about to leave the building she turned to look at him one last time. Daniel was smiling back at her. And he gave her a wink before disappearing from sight, swallowed up by his fans.
Chapter 4
Ommm Ommm
The tapping of fingers on the keyboard indicated that Sara was busy updating her Facebook profile, updating the curriculum that was obviously of no particular interest to any of its recipients, and chatting with a virtual friend who went by the absurd nickname of Ildebrana33.
Sara liked calling herself a multi-tasker, perfectly capable of doing several things at once and doing them all well. The only one that seemed impossible was finding a bloody job.
By now she was down to reading the newspaper ads – the seedy ones near the adverts for phone sex lines. Things were not looking great, money was getting tight and the rent on her two bedroom apartment wasn’t paying itself. She’d decided to let her sister Virginia move in back when, thanks to her previous job, she was able to afford to live in peace, but now her savings were running out. Virginia, who was on a scholarship at university, couldn’t help with expenses and Sara was too proud to ask her parents for help. She was a grown-up, independent woman who had learned to look after herself and manage her own bank balance.
The sound of the keyboard was interrupted by her ring tone – Only Girl by Rihanna – announcing the arrival of the one phone call that came every single day.
Sara snorted, pushed up the sleeves of her sweatshirt in readiness for battle, grabbed her phone and, after taking a long breath, answered.
“Sara dear! You took your time answering.”
“Hello, Mum – I was in the other room…” Lie number one – Sara grimaced.
“Hmmmmm.”
Sara’s lips shrank to a slit.
“So? What’s new?” asked her mother, with a sigh. Caterina De Michele was a woman of fifty-three with a lean physique, perfect hair, flawless make-up, watchful eyes focused like binoculars on her goals and a very Zen concept of life.
Sara walked over to the kitchen area and opened the refrigerator, taking out the orange juice. With methodical, almost slow motion, movements, she put the container on the counter and poured the juice into a glass, wondering which answer would sound least pathetic.
“I see – nothing, eh?”
“It’s not easy, Mum. There’s a recession on, you know?”
“Oh, of course. You’ll see, something will come up. Do you remember Luisa Candelari, our neighbour? Her daughter teaches step work-outs, you could do that.”
Sara sat down on the stool, feeling like Snoopy in Joe Falchetto mode.
“Mum, I don’t do ‘step’. I don’t even know what ‘step’ is, I’ve never set foot in a gym in my whole life.”
“If only you knew how good it is for the glutes! It makes them wonderfully firm, you know.”
Most of the time she tried to forget just how embarrassing the woman was capable of being: from a mother you could expect anything except comments on their firm buttocks. When it happened, she just tried to ignore it.
“Your father says the proof is in the pinching,” her mother added, with satisfaction.
Sara downed her juice, wishing that it was a double whiskey.
“And what about these dates you’ve been going on? I’m starting to worry about you dear – a healthy love life lengthens your life, you know.”
From her mother’s slightly laboured breathing, Sara imagined that she must be sitting on her exercise bike while talking to her daughter about her pathetic sex life.
“Mum, please!”
“Sara, what harm is there in having some sex? I mean, you’re all grown up now, enjoy your life! And don’t be so picky in your choice of men.”
“I wondered how long it’d take you to get to that,” Sara muttered, in annoyance. For her, making love was important, and she wanted to do it with someone special, not just for the good of her skin and her circulation.
“You’re so old-fashioned, it’s hard to believe you’re actually my daughter.”
“They must have me swapped me with another baby in the hospital.”
Caterina laughed her silvery laugh – the laugh that many years earlier had enraptured Sara’s father, a painter with a poetic soul, a dashing heart – and not a lot of cash in his pocket.
“I’m saying it for your benefit – you’ve been single for… what is it now? Three years? They’re all either too tall, too short, too stupid or too clever. You do realise that if you go on like this you run the risk of ending up as a spinster?”
“I’m only twenty-five!”
Caterina wasn’t even listening, however – she just carried on talking.
“Even your sister’s going out with someone. I think he’s a loser, but it doesn’t matter. What matters it is that she�
��s not alone and that she’s happy.”
“You’re certainly not one of those typical mothers who dreams of a wealthy husband with a bright future and a supplementary pension for her daughter, are you?”
“Oh, good God, no – I’m not that silly, for goodness sake.”
Sara couldn’t help smiling – her mother was completely out of her mind. She loved her, even though it was often hard to show it because Sara felt like the more mature, sensible and down-to-earth of the two of them. They looked as though they’d walked straight out of Meet the Fockers: Caterina was a slightly less over the top Barbra Streisand and she was a cuter Ben Stiller. The woman was like a ticking daughter-embarrassing time bomb – and her daughter never knew when she would go off.
“Anyway, Sara, Prince Charming doesn’t exist, so stop looking for him.”
Her words made Sara grow gloomy: how could she forget that her father, Leo De Michele, had never been her mum’s Prince Charming? Nice way to destroy my rosy childhood vision of my parents, Mum – they were unusual, certainly, but she loved them a lot.
“Listen, it’s not like I’m the last of the romantics, but I just need to feel something intense before I get intimate with someone.”
“Never mind getting the flutters from falling in love, a good sex life helps to understand the person you’re with. Otherwise how can you know if the one you’re with will be right for you forever?”
“If you put it like that, you make everything sound like market research!”
“I’m just being practical! And I don’t like the idea of you on your own, and without a job to boot.”
“I’m not alone – Virginia lives with me.”
“You know what I mean.”
“All too well – and it’s embarrassing.”
“You’re always the same old prude.” Sara imagined Caterina smiling. For all her precious progressive advice, her mother knew she would never change.
“And if you’d lived in the sixties, you’d have been a hippy!” said Sara, affectionately.
Caterina laughed heartily. “I’m afraid so, darling! Anyway, I’d better be off – the girls will be here before long for the session.” She had opened a centre for celestial and spiritual relaxation and harmony, whose existence Sara was still trying to ignore. She sighed again. How many sighs could she get out in the course of a five minute phone call? Thousands, if it was her mother and the world of Zen on the other end of the line.
“Go on, I’ll see you soon.”
“Sure… and remember to smile at life. It’ll smile back at you too.”
“Bye, Mum.”
“Bye, dear – and say hello to Virginia.”
With a thud, Sara let her head fall onto the counter. It was terrifying to think that her mother had a more satisfying sex life than she did.
Only Girl interrupted her thoughts. What did she want now? Wasn’t annoying her with one phone call a day enough?
“What is it now?” she grunted.
“Sara?”
The girl immediately sat up straight at the sound of a voice as warm as a cup of hot chocolate in winter. A familiar accent tickled her ears. There they were, those flutters her mum had teased her about, deep inside her chest.
“Sara, are you there?”
She could imagine the folds of his lips, which that miraculous twist of fate had allowed her to sample, curling sexily.
“Errrr, I’ve made a fool of myself again, haven’t I?”
“Do you always answer the phone like that?” He sounded amused.
“Oh, only when I know that I’m going to make a fool of myself in front of you…”
Daniel laughed. “Sorry I didn’t get in touch earlier, I’ve been busy.”
“I didn’t think I’d hear from you. I mean, it’s been two weeks.”
“Hmm, that’s interesting – you’ve been keeping count!”
Lightning, strike me down here and now and get it over with. Hang on a second, had Daniel Gant really phoned her? And was she really sat there wearing an old tracksuit and drowning in a sea of orange juice while she spoke to the stunning model? It couldn’t be happening.
“I meant that I didn’t think you’d call.”
“But I said I would… And you’ve been counting.”
“Well I’m obviously going to remember the date when I missed out on getting a very good job,” she lied.
“But you met me.”
“Just listen to him, the arrogant so-and-so! Do you really think that meeting you was that big an event in my life?”
Were they flirting? They couldn’t be.
“You haven’t written the really important one on your calendar yet,” he whispered, with conviction.
“We are sure of ourselves, aren’t we?”
“A little – does it bother you?”
“No, I find it reassuring.”
“Reassuring? Really?” He sounded intrigued.
She couldn’t know it, but at that moment Daniel was lying on a sofa, his eyes gazing out over the modern landscape of the vibrant city of Sydney.
“Certainly, given the idea that I had about you.”
“Well, now you’d better tell me what idea that is.”
“And show my hand?”
“What, are we playing poker?”
“This conversation is getting weird.”
“No it’s not, it’s getting interesting, I’ve learned a lot of interesting stuff.”
“What stuff?”
“That you’ve been counting the days, for example.”
“But I haven’t…”
Yes, she had.
“And that you’ve been fantasising about me.”
“I never said that!” protested Sara vigorously, as a wave of heat swept over her now burning face.
“You said you had an idea about me, and that implies that you’ve been thinking about me. Well I’ve got an idea about you too.”
“Oh, really?”
“How about if we meet up to compare notes? For that famous dinner that I owe you?”
Slow down, my heart, or you might just kill me.
“I thought you were joking.”
“You must have some really strange ideas about me. And just think, you’ve seen my hidden side that nobody else knows about. You ought to be flattered, instead of judging me by appearances.”
Now he sounded a bit piqued even if he was trying to camouflage it with sarcasm.
Sara remembered the minutes they’d spent in the lift. She could almost smile at the memory now, but it must have been pretty horrible for Daniel. He’d displayed a fragile side of himself, a side that he would certainly have preferred to hide, and she had been there when he had needed her. It sounded like the beginning of a love story – Prince Charming and the glass slipper. She could already imagine her mother teasing her over her childish fantasies.
What on earth could she ever have in common with Daniel Gant? She could aspire at most to being a passing flirtation in his stormy love life.
Yes, she had thought of him in those two weeks, dreaming that he would call her out of a crazy desire for excitement to shake up her monotonous existence and allow her to meet his lips again. But fantasizing about him had made her indiscreet. She’d looked into him and discovered that his life was a series of whirlwind romances that all ended at the speed of light – and which were all documented in the gossip pages. In all honesty, even though he was as attractive as hell there was no way he could give her what she was looking for. A bit of temporary personal fulfilment, a memory to cherish and perhaps a bit of self-esteem maybe, but that was all. What a mess it would be if she’d fallen for a model who would never feel anything serious for her.
She was a methodical, rational person, and she wasn’t ashamed to admit it – everything had to be organised, budgeted and planned, and there wasn’t much room for spontaneity. With two parents as eccentric as hers, it would have been impossible for her to grow up without trying to create a wall of stability around herself. Being
out of work had knocked her off balance and not having a boyfriend had only made it worse. Getting a call from Daniel was flattering, and she almost felt like saying ‘yes’ just to pamper her wounded ego, but her head was saying ‘let it go, this isn’t right for you, you’ve got nothing in common with that man and his absurd life’.
She tried to remember what she had been saying. “Look, I’m flattered, even though I have to remind you that you didn’t really have a choice about displaying your weakness. I was just a casual spectator.”
“Come on, come out for dinner with me. I’d really like it. I’m in Sydney at the moment, but I’m coming back to Rome tomorrow. I’ve been here for a photo shoot – it’s really boring, but the city’s beautiful. Come on,” he repeated, with more conviction this time, and with a hint of tenderness and of mystery, “come out for dinner with me.” And that singular accent of his made the hairs on her neck tingle.
“Daniel, we shouldn’t.”
Hush. A long silence. She could hear the gears spinning without biting.
“Why not? Don’t you like me?” He sounded absolutely amazed.
“On the contrary, I think you’re delightful!” she joked. “But to be honest, I just think that we’re from such different worlds…”
“I get it – my reputation has preceded me.”
“My sister has millions of magazines full of interviews and articles, it’s impossible not to end up reading one.”
“Especially if you’re looking for information,” retorted Daniel, trying to sound friendly, but in a voice which sounded less sure of itself.
“Let’s say that I found what I was looking for.”
“There’s no ulterior motive behind my invitation, I just want to talk to you and thank you, and be friends. I don’t see what’s so wrong with that. Are you scared that I’m going to come on to you?”
Oops. Had she misjudged the situation? Could he really just be offering her friendship? Of course he could! What the hell had made her daydream anything else?