"If you're set on wearing that dress," Gabby remarked, "you'd better put this on." She threw me a skin-coloured brassière which seemed to have a life of its own.
"What's this?" I questioned as I held it up.
"In simple terminology, it's called a wonder bra. It's the latest model on the market, and much cheaper, safer and quicker than getting a boob job. Considering that your natural bust seems to have momentarily evaporated with the salmonella, and that you're determined to wear a dress designed to flaunt a shapely bosom, you'll just have to flaunt a fake one!"
I tried it on there and then. It made a really exaggerated enlargement of my breast size. I thought it was a bit too inflated, but Gabby reassured me that it was okay. As I looked down on my overblown bosom, I mused that I could use it as a chin rest.
During all these days of recovery Lionel was my pillar of strength and security. He was the first to arrive in the mornings and stayed with me until late into the evenings. But he made no move to kiss me, or touch me in any other way than brotherly. I didn't really blame him either. I wasn't exactly Miss Desirable at the moment, rather skimpy and skinny after my bout of salmonella, and I really didn't need the added excitement of excessive physical contact with Lionel if I was to recover in time for the Oscars. I even heard one of the doctors say to Lionel, when they must have thought I was dozing, "Hands off, until she puts on at least five pounds and is on the road to recovery."
So where's that chocolate fudge cake?
Chapter Twenty-One
It was Oscar night, and boy was I impressed!
When it comes to glamour and style, being on the red carpet has been and always will be the high point. I simply couldn't believe that I was on that very carpet together with so many stars. They say that when the stars step on the red carpet they set the international standard for fashion and make style history. And there was plain old me, mingling with all the legendary celebrities. It really was quite an overwhelming experience.
It also occurred to me that I should have left my hair all frizzy in a gesture of comradeship with those who have the same mop-like hair as I do.
Being on the arm of Oscar nominee was quite an undertaking to say the least. The cameras simply seemed to zoom in on us from all angles. It was also the first time I had seen Lionel deal with the press. He effortlessly breezed through the hounding questions and daunting attention as if on a morning stroll through the park.
"Mr King, over here… Lionel, give us a wave…Who's the doll, Mr Lionel…? How do you feel about your nomination, Sir…?"
The insistent yelling went on and on and on. I do believe that one of the main factors that actually got me through the evening was the feeling that, as everything seemed so surreal, I partly believed that I was merely dreaming up the whole thing. Consequently, as occurs in dreams, I just let myself drift through the evening as if I had no real control over the proceedings, and that it was all just an impressive concoction of my over-active imagination.
Lionel finally broke free from the press. He took me by the arm, which I was thankful for and leaned rather heavily on, and we both moved inside the Kodak Theatre. Even though Gabby had briefed me on what to expect once we were inside, nothing could have prepared me for the impressive surroundings. Wow! I was indeed thankful for Lionel's arm, which I clung to as if it was a lifejacket. The Kodak Theatre is the epitome of all things American: big, bold and brassy. As Gabby had explained to me, the seating capacity of 3,400 is on three levels, which brings the audience close to the theatre stage. The stage itself measures 113 feet wide and 60 feet deep. If she had simply said it was "bloody massive", instead of bombarding me with facts and figures, I would have got the gist.
Lionel and I had been allocated seats down by the stage, as Lionel, being an Oscar nominee, had to be close at hand. If we'd been given seating up in one of the upper tiers and Lionel was given the award (as I was sure he would be; not only was he a talented actor, I had spent the last thirty-six hours in discussion with God about the issue), it would take a good half-hour for him to simply get down and on to the stage.
As we made our way towards our seats I was impressed by the theatre interior, which was highlighted by a "tiara," a striking oval that was intertwined by smaller ovals, coated in silver leaf that endearingly matched my silver dress. I took it as a good omen.
The impact of the entire event soon surpassed the initial awe I'd felt at being surrounded by so many stars. I was struck by the impressive organisation and supervision of the affair, and wondered what I would have to do to become a member of the organising committee. I couldn’t think of anything more challenging and fulfilling, and knew I would just love every moment of the demanding and taxing, but ultimately gratifying, task.
***
The ceremony started, and the biggest annual television audience in the world tuned in. Soon, comedian Jerry Sandstone had everyone entertained, comfortable, laughing and relaxed – although that "everyone" certainly didn't include me. The foreign, technical, musical and secondary and supporting awards came and went, then the major awards began to be announced. I could feel my stomach tighten and the butterflies take wing.
Lionel laughed and clapped during the show. He frequently turned to me to whisper something – although, for the life of me, I haven't a clue what – and shouted approval when a particular favourite or friend went forward.
Then the big moment finally came. Lionel held my hand tight and I could feel his palm was damp from nerves. It was the only indication that betrayed his outward composure. Despite the cool smile and poised profile, he was even more anxious than I was – and I was, by then, a complete bundle of nerves. I appreciated how vital this moment was for him. For an actor, being honoured with the Academy Statuette, the golden trophy, the statue of merit, was the ultimate recognition.
I also reflected that it would raise his asking price, and as a considerable amount of the money he made went to various charities, I supposed they would benefit, too.
"And the Oscar goes to…" The musical voice that floated over the microphone was that of Ms Diaz, who had been given the honour of naming the Best Actor. She paused as Jerry Sandstone, who stood beside her, pretended to struggle somewhat melodramatically to open the envelope. I was vividly aware that her dress, bar the colour, was virtually the exact same model as mine. With the camera images which kept swinging from her to Lionel and me, the similarity was made all the more obvious and tremendously embarrassing.
The envelope was finally opened. In unison, Ms Diaz and Jerry Sandstone proclaimed, "Lionel King for South of the Border."
A tremendous roar went up and I felt one and all, near and far alike, turn to look at Lionel. He, notwithstanding, held my hand fast, seemingly overwhelmed by the outcome. The director of the film, Freddy G, and all his co-stars were up on their feet congratulating him. He was slapped on the back. Nevertheless it took him a clear five seconds to respond. He got to his feet as if in a half-trance. I rose with him, not so much by choice, but because Lionel still held my hand in a vice-like grip and seemed set on not letting go. I had images of him towing me up on to the stage and me toppling over in my neck-breaking heels.
Thankfully he relaxed his grip. But only to grasp me in a passionate embrace. He pressed his lips down on mine and for an instant I was unaware of the surrounding cameras, which were picking up an image that was being flashed around the whole world. I was just conscious of Lionel's fervent kiss, the beat of his heart that I could sense pounding in his chest and I felt myself glow with pride.
I also became acutely aware and appalled by the fact that I hadn't actually got around to watching South of the Border. It had been number one on my priority list. I had even got Gabby to get me a DVD copy. But my salmonella bout had left me completely and utterly wiped out. Thus, the one and only time I'd sat down to watch the film, I'd fallen into a profound sleep before the title had even hit the screen. At the time, needless to say, I'd been much too shamefaced to admit this to Gabby, let alone Lionel
. I now dearly wished I'd had the guts to admit the fact to Gabby. She could at least have given me a scene-by-scene account. The chances were certain that I'd be asked, at some moment throughout the course of the night, for my opinion of the film. I hastily decided that if the situation arose I'd just have to pretend I'd drunk too much fizz to be able to give a coherent response.
Lionel was finally up on the front stage. The applause rang throughout the arena as he took the stairs two at a time. He looked so downright handsome that I really felt I was dreaming. I couldn't believe that I was with such a talented, thoughtful and positively gorgeous guy! He had on a single-breasted tuxedo, with a sharp peak lapel, while the formal trousers were slim and trim. He swung Ms Diaz around and, on having a clear view of her panties from where I was sitting, I made a mental note not to let Lionel swing me around in the same way.
Lionel briefly paused before commencing his acceptance speech. He looked around as if he was trying to memorise every fine detail of the evening and log it all into his mind so that he would never forget the moment.
"Would someone like to come up here and pinch me?" he exclaimed, and a roar of laughter went up as Ms Diaz saucily took Lionel at his word and pinched his behind.
"First, I want to thank Michael for believing in me and for giving me the opportunity to play such a challenging and colourful character. Thank you to the whole crew and cast members, too, for doing such a wonderful job. This year has been like a bed of roses for me in every possible way. Indeed, if I could spend the rest of my life with a certain 'Rose' at my side, I'd be the happiest man alive... Chantelle Rose, this,” (he held up the statuette) “is for you!"
Right then would have been my ideal cue to wake from the dream. It would have been the perfect cut-off. I'd been proposed to – at least it had sounded very much like a proposal – in front of millions of people on live television, but until then I'd remained pretty much anonymous. I had quite successfully avoided the camera persecution and the media frenzy. But now, as each and every camera was turned on me to get close-ups from every possible angle, I realised that this pleasant, dream-like scenario was threatening to turn into a full-blown nightmare. There goes my anonymity.
Lionel had obviously let his emotions get the better of him. It had been a tremendous slip-up on his behalf to name me in front of the whole wide world. A snapped camera image was tolerable, but having my name declared out loud in what had sounded very much like Chantelle, will you marry me? was going to make an international impact. I had images of the next edition of Trivial Pursuit including the question: Which year was Lionel King awarded the Oscar for Best Actor, and who or what was the Rose he referred to in his acceptance speech?
There was no turning back now. No walking down the street unnoticed. Still, I reasoned, if I really loved Lionel and planned to be at his side for the rest of our lives, there was nothing much for it but to turn to the cameras and smile sweetly as if everything was under gratifying control. I winked at the camera lens to my left and blew a kiss at the mobile camera above.
I'll just throttle Lionel later, after I've had a drink or two to calm my shattered nerves.
***
Several drinks later, at one of the private parties, I was actually much too giddy to do anything but hold precariously onto one of Lionel's arms. Still on the road to recovery after the salmonella poisoning, I'd got pretty much legless on just a couple of glasses of champers. I had the underlying impression that everyone was scrutinising me with critical eyes, whilst thinking: What on earth does Lionel see in her?
Then again, I actually wondered the same thing myself.
"Lionel, you fox," called out Al P as he approached. He looked even more wasted than I was. "Congratulations, boy. And I’m not just referring to tonight's award." He winked at me and I wondered if there was a contagious eye twitch going around which was causing everyone to blink, and all at me. I didn't give it much more thought, however, as I suddenly spied Sandy, the stunt girl and my caravan-buddy in the Nevada desert, poised against the wall on the other side of the room. I slipped my arm from Lionel, who remained engrossed in conversation with legendary Al, and tottered over to where Sandy stood.
She threw her arms around me in an energetic bear-hug that almost toppled us both over. I started to wonder if someone had spiked the wine, which would explain why everyone seemed so energetically merry.
"I hope you plan to sue," she blurted with a slight slur.
"Who? Robbie?" I replied, though Christ only knew how she'd found out about the threatening letters and poisoned meal.
"Who's Robbie?" she asked back perplexed, and I didn't know who was more pissed, her or me, for the conversation was going around in circles. I certainly didn't know what the hell she was referring to, and she was obviously just as bemused by my mumblings.
"No-one," I replied back "Sue who?"
"Sue the magazine Hollywood Blue, of course, for publishing that article. Surely you've heard. Crystal Lee's just furious. Then again, she doesn't come across well at all. She's ridiculed as too fat-arsed to do nude scenes, whereas the mysterious Chantelle Rose, which is you of course honey, is actually the one with the exquisite figure. There are loads of stolen photos from the shoot. Real clear ones of you baring all."
Sandy suddenly paused, almost certainly on seeing my expression of utter horror. It wasn’t by any means the first time she’d innocently let slip something which I simply didn't want to hear.
It came to me with shocking clarity why everyone had been looking and winking at me the whole evening, as if I was some provocative loose tramp. Not only had my anonymity been lost that evening, my integrity had gone too.
I suddenly had a vision of my mother looking down on me from the heavens above. She would be forced to use her maiden name up there from now, on I reflected despondently.
"Sorry, Mum." I whispered. To Sandy, I muttered, "I think I'm going to be sick."
I stumbled out onto the lower balcony to get some fresh air. I was in desperate need of some cooling breeze to clear my mind and my wheezy stomach. The champagne and wine mix hadn't gone down well at all, and the devastating news about Hollywood Blue was the decisive ingredient of a lethal concoction.
I leaned over the balcony breathing heavily. My head cleared somewhat. If it hadn't been for Lionel, and the fact that above all I didn't want to ruin his special night, I would have left there and then. A mighty leap into the gardens below would have been on the cards, except I didn't think my high heels would have taken the strain, and the dress, flimsy as it was, would probably have torn right down the back and left me nearly naked. Not that this was a novelty to anyone anymore… I'll count to one hundred, I thought, and then go back inside and face the music.
I didn't know why it bothered me as much as it did that the whole of Hollywood (and all movie fans, so we were talking of a goodly proportion of the world's total population) now knew that the girl in the nude scenes in Lionel King's latest production was me. Okay, my name had been given to the photo images of my nude behind. Then, that name had been given a face, and that face was mine. Everyone had seen it after Lionel's well-intended but regrettably untimely announcement.
When I'd decided to go ahead with the nude scenes, it was because I'd been assured that no-one would ever find out that, firstly, Crystal Lee had been in desperate need of a body double, and secondly, that the body double was me. Why was I so devastated that the information had got out? Let's face it, I'd earned more money than I'd ever dreamed of, it had been a fantastic adventure, I'd been treated like a princess by everyone – and I'd met Lionel King and he was truly, madly, deeply in love with me. Indeed, if you put the issue into perspective, what with all the starvation in the world, the terrorist attacks that were devastating the lives of so many, the hate that was evident on almost every street corner, the natural catastrophes which were just rocking the world, was it really such a big deal that everyone knew what my buttocks (and not just my buttocks) looked like?
In any cas
e, the damage was done and there was sod-all I could do about it. So I decided that I'd sue the magazine and give all the money to charity.
With this decision in mind I was left feeling greatly relieved. Just as I was about to turn to brace myself for the sly looks of those inside at the party, I felt someone place strong, powerful arms around my waist. I didn't have to turn to know it was Lionel. I had breathed in his characteristic cologne and my heart starting flapping at his intimate embrace.
"What do you say,” he murmured into my ear, “if we made a quick exit and left the guests to their own entertainment?"
"I couldn't agree with you more," I whispered back.
"Do you think you could jump over the wall and into the garden?" Lionel asked.
"I'm not too sure if I'll get away without a scratch, but I'll give it a shot."
It was about a metre and a half jump to the grounds below so I removed my high heels and positioned myself. After my flying leap onto the cottage garage back in England not so long ago, this jump was a piece of cake. Before I knew it both Lionel and I were scampering over the green lawn and running to the car park and freedom.
I had no idea where Lionel was planning to take me, but it wasn't a concern. I was just fully aware that, at long last, we were alone together and there was no Vivien to ruin the moment by hurling hefty items at us, and no doctors around to warn Lionel not to excite me – but in any case I was beyond being calm. Lionel drove through the darkened night in relative silence, caressing my hand that he held in his until my whole body tingled. It was just as well I wasn't driving. I was way too distracted by his tender touch to have been able to coordinate a vehicle anywhere.
Sometime later he pulled into a silent port area. It was night time but the area was familiar and with growing excitement I knew that he was taking me to his yacht, the Chantelle. Maybe it was destiny, him and me. I must have behaved extremely well in a previous life to deserve such good fortune in this one. We left the car in the car park and walked down the wooden walkway that led to the speedboats. Strange; Lionel's was the only one moored up and ready.
A Little of Chantelle Rose Page 19