Towards the end of the following week I waltzed through my last two scenes, shooting them both on the same day. They were solo scenes and much easier to pull off than those shot with Lionel, especially as they were less of a strain on my emotions. The scenes were sequential; in the course of the first I had to strip slowly in the half-light of the bedroom. My character’s lover (or rather, Crystal’s character’s lover – I was only her body double, after all) had abandoned her in his attempt to save the world, as only occurs in typical Hollywood action films. And so, sadly, she/I undressed whilst silently pining for him.
“Great, sugar,” was all the director could say as I seductively took and re-took off my clothes in several takes. I was thankful that we weren’t filming in the middle of winter, as my tits would have frozen off by the second take. I also pondered whether or not the director actually knew my name; what with "sugar," "honey," "sweetie" etc, I sounded like I belonged on the Pick & Mix range.
During the second scene I had to remain poised on the bed for several seconds as if asleep, then slowly stir and stretch out my arm across the mattress. Realising I was alone, I silently sat up and then moved over to the moonlit window and pensively gazed out – whilst the cameraman took every feasible angle of my lower body.
Remarkably, by the end of this lot of filming, I felt relatively comfortable standing nude in front of so many people. What got me through the scenes was my belief that my face wouldn't be exposed on the film. No one would actually know it was me, so I acted with total freedom, letting go of all inhibitions.
The day following my final shoot, Freddy G said that he would be returning to LA that very afternoon and would be taking me back with him. I felt rather reluctant to leave, though I was aware that the others would be following shortly after. So, with Sandy’s words of “See you at the cast party," I was whipped into one of the sand jeeps and rocketed across the desert terrain in a mighty scary ride with Freddy G at the wheel.
Never again will I step into the passenger seat with Freddy G, I declared to myself, as I shakily got down from the jeep forty minutes later feeling I’d just been on a two-hour roller coaster ride. Hair all askew I climbed aboard the private jet and tried to relax on the brief flight despite the continuous turbulence. What with Freddy G’s maniac driving and the rocky flight, I felt awful, and was sick in Gabby’s 4x4 as she drove us back to the cottage, much to her distain and to my mortification. I left a nasty, sickly pong inside the vehicle, and I was sure she’d have me up at three in the morning to get her own back for this.
But Gabby didn’t have me up at three in the morning the following day. Amazingly, she actually let me have a lie-in, which was obviously what I desperately needed as I didn’t stir until 2 pm. She had, as of habit, let herself in, and sat waiting patiently for me in the lounge, a large salad lunch prepared for me. Gone were the freshly-baked rolls and pizzas, I realised. I sighed. Some things never change.
Chapter Ten
The next couple of weeks passed in a paradise of serenity – that is, if you overlooked the compulsory morning runs and low-fat diet. I spent the first few days lazing around the garden flicking leisurely through glossy fashion magazines, or amiably strolling along the beach at dusk. I felt like I was on holiday. But this soon changed when Gabby announced that the whole movie crew had "elected" me to organise the cast party – with her help, of course. Finally, the great day arrived, and I was buzzing. I even managed to out-sprint Gabby up the garden path, much to her surprise. Gabby and I had done a lot of work for the party and I think we both proudly felt that it was our personal creation.
The party was to be held at the main house. I had the swimming pool decorated with floating candles, and there was a huge flower arrangement right in the middle on a buoyant pad tied to the sides by invisible cord. The lawn was decked with tables and chairs for the buffet dinner, and I had used a colour scheme of blue, peach, pink and yellow to harmonize the outdoor furniture with balloons of the same shades, which hung from every tree. Large candleholders were spiked into the soft ground to illuminate the night when the sun had set.
I'd personally spoken with the catering team to organize the menu. I deliberately didn’t let Gabby near the food list, as she would've swiped off at least three-quarters of the menu in horror, but I did request a generous amount of salad varieties, stir-fry vegetables and low-fat desserts to keep her happy. I selected Mexican tortillas, risotto dishes such as almond and lemon pilaf and sesame millet with pan-fried courgettes, asparagus and avocado cream. I organised veggie dishes of couscous with spiced tofu and mixed pepper sauce, red bean and lentil chilli, griddled courgette quiche with pine nuts, leek and feta parcels, and artichoke and red pepper gougère. For the non-vegetarians I chose sushi, together with dark-red mottled lobsters, pale pink poached salmon and seafood salads of squid and octopus. As a surprise for the American crew I ordered up good old English shepherd's pie as well as fine roast beef to be served cold, a wide selection of cheeses and generous amount of cold hams.
I really let myself go on the desert selection too, which was a real treat after Gabby’s constant calorie-counting. I ordered apple cake with maple syrup and lemon, raisin and almond flapjack, apricot lattice, ricotta cheesecake, fruit pavlova, lemon wedges and my all-time favourite: chocolate mousse.
To keep Gabby happy I put her in charge of organising the drinks. I think she was quite bemused at finding herself being bossed around by me, but I loved it – not just bossing her around, though I admit that was fun after all she’d put me through, rather the whole organisation of the affair. It was as if I'd been dormant and had ultimately revived with the thrill of getting everything coordinated to perfection.
I got to know the musicians, a four-piece band who would entertain us with a little light jazz throughout the meal, then subtly swing things up a touch to get people up and dancing. I had that allocated off to the right of the lawn beside the private terrace and Italian garden. I just prayed the weather would hold, because I had no Plan B except to have everyone leg it into the stately home. And, civilised as we all were, I just knew that the house would get trashed if the crew were turned loose in there.
The day passed agonizingly slowly. I toiled over painting my fingernails and toenails in an attempt to kill time, though all I managed was to get the varnish smudged on my fingertips. But I was too excited to care. I wanted to dash up to the main house to supervise the final preparations, but Gabby had strictly forbidden me to do so. Finally there came a point, however, when I didn't care anymore about her instructions – I just had to see for myself that all was operating efficiently.
I skipped up the path that led to the main house and pushed hard on the dividing gate, which, to my disbelief, didn’t budge. It was locked. What a cow, I thought. Gabby was obviously behind my imprisonment. She'd evidently sussed that I'd get so excited that I wouldn’t pay any attention to her orders. Not intending to be thwarted by the locked gate, however, I looked for a possible way to climb over, and as I did so I came across a slip of paper that was pinned to the side of the dividing fence. It was addressed to Chantelle.
I tore the scroll open. The handwriting wasn’t familiar and I instantly knew that it wasn’t from Gabby.
My Dearest Chantelle;
If I know you like I think I do, you'll be reading these words, as you would have attempted to cross the gate to supervise the final preparations. I've been told that you've done a magnificent job in the organisation of the whole affair and from what I've witnessed during the course of the day, tonight will be the best planned fiesta ever held at the main house. Believe me when I say RELAX, everything is under control.
I cannot wait to see you later tonight, please reserve a dance for your loyal servant;
Lionel.
P.S: Look under the switch for the sprinklers.
The paper fluttered in my shaking hands. As much as I tried to pretend otherwise, I was thrilled at the thought of seeing Lionel again, and this letter from him sent me into a state
of jittering nerves. I'd originally intended to try to avoid Lionel that evening, and during future events, in order to protect my heart. Now, however, I was rapidly changing my mind.
I dashed across the cottage garden toward the sprinkler switch and rummaged around. There, partially hidden and wrapped in delicate silver foil, was a rather large gift box. Unable to stop my heart thumping, I tore the wrapping off and opened it.
Inside, on a red velvet cushion, was a pair of blazing diamond chandelier earrings. I almost keeled over on the spot.
I was aware that the gift was far too expensive to accept without losing my dignity. I mean, my mother had taught me that nice girls didn't take jewellery from men just like that. But after mooning my backside to a movie camera crew for days, plus knowing that images of me naked would shortly be exposed to the whole wide world, I figured I didn’t have much dignity left over to fuss about. So, titanic chandeliers in hand, I zipped back into my wooden château (as I liked to call my flashy accommodation) and proceeded to try on the earrings in front of the bedroom’s full-length mirror. Earrings in place, I swished my hair from side to side admiring how the diamonds sparkled in the light. They'd be as good as torches on a dark night.
I removed the precious stones from my ear lobes and placed them safely on the dressing table for later that evening and re-read Lionel’s note, which I then hid safely under my pillow in a daft bout of romanticism.
The magnificent gift had sidetracked me, somewhat, and it was after reading the note a second time that I twigged that Lionel was not only back in LA but had also been at the main house that morning. That he'd stood right outside the cottage not so long ago and I would be seeing him later on that evening. Where did he live? What was his house like? Would he ever take me there?
I also realised that I felt truly, madly, deeply for the guy and that not even wild horses could curb my emotions. Finally admitting to myself what had probably been obvious and inevitable from the start was a real weight off my shoulders. I wasn’t going to play any juvenile games this evening and if he offered to take me back to his place for the night, I would ignore all my parents’ (God bless them) good upbringing and words of wisdom.
***
It was nine o’clock. Gabby would arrive at any moment to escort me up to the main house. I glanced at myself one more time in the full-length mirror. Gabby’s military routine and the beauty sessions had done wonders. I almost didn’t recognise the girl in the mirror. My long dark hair cascaded down my back in a cloud of silky waves, I wore it swept back from my oval face, which had lost the slight puppy roundness I'd always had, and I realised I actually had high, slanting cheekbones. My honey-coloured eyes against my golden tan shone bright like huge liquid almonds, thickly lashed (thanks to my Max Factor mascara, and, of course, Hannah's tips). I had generous lips that had always been Tammy’s envy. The look was completed by the shining diamonds, which I admired and tenderly reached to caress with my hands, as they glinted from my ears. I half-turned in front of the mirror and craned my head around to view myself from that angle. I wore a cream-coloured lace dress that hugged my figure showing off my curved breasts and, of course, what I got paid to flaunt: my high, petite, rounded rear. My million-dollar asset.
But despite the sexy image that was reflected back at me, I was in a state of nerves. At the end of the day, behind the make-up and expensive clothing and diamonds, I was still just simple Chantelle Rose from South London. I felt way out of my league, and deep down, I also felt that Lionel King was way out of my range.
Gabby finally called for me some twenty minutes late, which for her was totally out of character. So, of course, I'd started panicking that the catering staff hadn’t shown up or that the musicians had copped out.
“Everything is under control,” Gabby was quick to say, on seeing my alarm- stricken face. She was clothed in a softly flowing emerald dress that exposed the whole of her back. It was the first time I'd actually seen Gabby out of sports gear, and she looked remarkable. Indeed, she looked more human in her elegant attire than in her daily sportswear when she often looked intimidating and slightly scary. I wondered for the first time if she was married or had kids. She'd literally thrown herself into becoming my shadow since I'd arrived, so that I'd just assumed she was single and desperately bored.
We crossed through the dividing gate together. Already the garden was milling with guests.
“Looking as amazing as you do,” Gabby whispered to me as we moved together up the path, “it would be a sin not to make a late entry. You are going to be the Belle of the Ball, despite Crystal Lee being here, and all the other rich and famous. Mark my words, kid, tonight is gonna be your night.”
There was genuine pride in Gabby’s voice, which wasn’t really surprising considering she'd played such an important role into moulding me into the figure at her side.
There was a hush as Gabby and I approached the main circle of guests who were standing close to the pool. Everyone turned to stare at me. That, and the silence that enveloped the group, was almost enough to send me scampering back down the pathway. I was rescued, thankfully, by my tennis partner Ken as he took me by the arm and led me towards the bar area.
“You rock, Miss Chantelle,” he declared.
“Why, thank you, Ken,” I sweetly replied. “You’re not so bad yourself,” and leaned heavily on his arm for support. Despite the mass of people around I'd caught sight of Vivien Francis glaring at me, her face a mask of pure loathing. Her eyes looked slightly glazed, too, I noticed, as I moved past her, and I was also aware that she swayed somewhat and wondered how much she'd drunk. I'd a horrible feeling she was going to scream abuse at me and cause a scene. She remained silent, but her look of hatred intensified as it seemed she’d become aware of the diamond earrings which flashed in the evening sunshine. With her knife-like glare stabbing my back I escaped to the bar and ordered a double martini.
Martini in hand, I did the rounds checking all was top-notch. I felt like the lady of the manor as I glided from one select group of guests to the next. Those who knew I was behind the “wonderful” organisation congratulated me and I just glowed with pride. Others congratulated me on how “fantastic” I looked, which made me blush with embarrassment, especially as the majority of the comments were directed to my bosom rather than my face. Having swept over the party area checking it all out, I was acutely aware that Lionel was nowhere to be seen. Close to an hour had passed since I'd made my appearance, and if mine had been a late entry, then Lionel was on the verge of being a much-lamented "no show."
Refusing to let him spoil the evening, I downed my second double martini and, chocolate mousse in hand, made my way over to the dance area where several members of the cast, including Sandy, had gathered. Gabby soon joined us and we got a bit of boogying going to Eurhythmics' Sisters are doin’ it for themselves. I was really warming up, thanks to the generous helpings of martini, when the lights on the dance floor suddenly dimmed and a low murmur came from the musicians’ corner.
Silence came over the guests like a blanket, and a totally different melody started from the darkened stage. I had the name of the song on the tip of my tongue. So concerned was I with placing the tune that I was unaware that a spotlight had been focused on me and that the voice that sung was familiar. Blinded by the light I could just make out a silhouetted figure move in my direction. I remained rooted to the spot as the crowd around opened up to let the figure approach. My pulse quickened. It was Lionel.
For some reason I was surprised to find that he could actually sing really well. I identified the melody, My Girl, as he embraced me with one arm, the other holding the microphone. He gazed deep into my eyes as he held me tight and swung me around. I followed his lead, oblivious of those around, so much so that as the tune slowed to a finish, I was caught unawares by the clapping that followed.
Someone whisked the microphone away from Lionel's hand and he held me close for the next slow song.
“Sorry for arriving so late, I was
dealing with an uninvited guest,” he whispered to me as we swung around on the dance floor. I wondered if he meant Vivien, as I hadn’t come across her again during the course of the evening, and I doubted she would have witnessed Lionel’s romantic performance in polite silence.
“You are by far the most beautiful lady here tonight,” Lionel continued, murmuring softly into my ear as he then tenderly kissed my ear lobe right beside the flashing diamond.
“These earrings belonged to my mother, and her grandmother before her, and now I want you to have them.”
I stepped back a pace bewildered, and looked him straight in the eyes. I might have lost my principles in filming nude scenes, but I still had my tact and discretion. I couldn’t possibly accept a family heirloom that was worth a small fortune. The earrings belonged to Gabby, or to Lionel’s future wife. And it was far too ridiculous to even imagine that he might be considering marrying me.
But before I was able to reply, I heard a horrific commotion coming from the house veranda.
“THAT FUCKING HUSSY…” screeched out over the music, which, giving credit where credit is due, was quite an achievement.
Everyone around, including the band, paused in silence. Then, before I knew it, red-faced, big-busted Vivien hove into sight. Black mascara ran down her face, which was turning blotchy pink and white, and I wasn’t sure if it was a reaction to the alcohol she'd consumed or from the fact that she’d obviously been crying. I actually felt sorry for her and remembered my vow to be kind to her, but my good intentions disappeared in an instant as she charged towards me like a maddened bull.
A Little of Chantelle Rose Page 10