by Zoe Wildau
In Bova’s scene with Maya, the bishop is alarmed to learn that Blaylock had revealed himself to Sofia. In the lore of the story, the appearance of an angel before a mere human was an event orchestrated from above, tightly controlled and scripted. The stuff of miracles. Blaylock’s appearance to Sofia was completely unauthorized and would get him in big trouble. The kind of trouble that could find him falling from heaven, straight to hell.
Bova had been well-cast, Jake was pleased to see. He was extremely handsome and his authentic Italian accent made every line he delivered sound interesting no matter how banal.
It was a shame that Allegrezza would be killing him off, Jake thought. Although he quickly revised that thought as the scene wrapped up and he watched Lilly walk up to Maya and greet Raoul with a broad smile. Yet another rival. The trio fell into an easy conversation. Jake was too far away to hear what they said, but Lilly and Maya’s laughter rang throughout the courtyard. Jake was going to have to find a way to win over Lilly before he imploded.
“Care for a pint?” Alan asked, pushing off of the stone wall.
Jake glanced up at the clock tower.
“Why the hell not,” he said. He could fulfill his duty to Clara by inviting Alan to dinner and warn him off Lilly in one fell swoop.
“Lead the way, friend,” said Jake.
“Leave it to you to find an Irish tavern in the middle of the Italian countryside,” Jake remarked to Alan, shaking his head as he settled into the old wooden booth at Finnegan’s.
Jake watched as the younger man salted the foam on his heavy stout and asked sourly, “How do you drink that and keep from getting too bloated to film?”
“Oh ho!” exclaimed Alan, making a show of hefting his pint to his mouth. “It’s in my genes. You Americans have weakened your constitution with your nancy light beer.” Alan squinted at Jake’s offending beverage and shivered in disgust. “It’s despicable.”
Jake laughed and lifted his pinky in a dainty salute as he sipped his light beer. Changing the subject, he said, “So, it seems we’ve been invited to a home-cooked meal this evening.”
“Is that so? Who is doing the cooking?” Alan asked.
“Maya, Lilly and Clara. Clara says that they want to try their hand at authentic Italian cuisine.”
“Well then, count me in. Was it Maya’s idea to include me? That would be jolly good luck.” Maya had rebuffed Alan on more than one occasion, much to his chagrin.
“Apparently it was Lilly’s,” said Jake, watching Alan’s face carefully. Alan was well aware of Jake’s interest in Lilly, but Jake wasn’t sure that their newly formed friendship had enough miles to keep Alan from poaching on her.
Alan’s eyebrows rose in a sudden spark of interest, and he turned on the thousand watt smile that had won him the part of Blaylock.
“Wee Lilly? The dishy sprite? Wants me for dinner?”
Try as he might, Jake could not hide the hardening of his jaw. Alan’s smile broke with a cough.
“Well, that’s just cocked up, that’s what that is,” Alan said, taking a swig of his stout.
“I couldn’t agree more,” Jake said dourly.
Trying to cheer him up, Alan said, “I’m sure I’ve only been included so that you’ll come.”
“Not likely. If Lilly could have found a way to invite you without inviting me, she’d have done it. A little hard when I’m staying under the same roof.”
“It can’t be that bad, can it?” probed Alan.
“Yes, it is. And I’ve got no idea how to fix it,” Jake said, scowling into his beer.
“How did it get so bollocks’d?” asked Alan.
Jake had considered this very question for weeks. He said, “Lilly told me she didn’t want to start something, and I didn’t take no for an answer. Not to sound like an arrogant ass, but the truth is no woman has ever said no to me before. I showed up at her house, uninvited, and….” Jake scrubbed his hand over his face, humiliated all over again remembering that confrontation.
“What exactly happened?” Alan asked, aghast. His expression earned a hard stare from Jake.
“Not what you’re thinking. I tried to get her to admit that she was interested in me. She was pretty mad. She thought I was abusing my position to pressure her into… a relationship. She’s right, at least, about my pressuring her. If it were anyone but Lilly, I probably would have been sued. Rightfully so.”
“You’ve blown this up out of proportion,” said Alan consolingly.
Shaking his head, Jake said, “No, no I haven’t. Her exact words were: I make her feel like giving in to my sexual needs is a part of her job.”
Alan tongued his cheek, trying to come up with a helpful response to that. Giving up, he stood and clapped Jake on the back, “Buck up, mate. I’ll get us another round.”
Jake growled in frustration at the white plastic handheld showerhead. The villa’s centuries-old plumbing left much to be desired. The “shower” was a rubber hose attached to the brass spigot of an ancient claw-footed tub. The trickle of water it produced didn’t make a dent in the stubborn, greasy hair gel that had built up after three days of filming in Italy. At the studio, Lilly had stocked his bathroom with some kind of herbal concoction that efficiently washed out the greasy gel, leaving his hair soft and minty. He would have sent someone out in search of it, but the bottle he’d left back in LA didn’t have a label. He was pretty sure Lilly mixed it herself.
Jake stared broodily at his reflection in the gilded mirror. The buzz from the beers he’d had with Alan earlier in the afternoon had worn off and left him with a dull headache. Toweling the wet clump of matted hair at his forehead, he realized he wasn’t going to be able to get a comb through it.
Jake searched the bathroom, then the suite, for anything to help him with his hair. There was nothing for it. He was going to have to ask for help. Throwing on an undershirt and sweats, he stepped out into the hallway to knock on Lilly’s door.
“If you’re looking for Lilly, she’s in the kitchen,” said Clara, who was stepping into her own room down the hall.
“Thanks,” said Jake, waving the towel he still held in his hand. He headed toward the stairs.
As he approached the villa’s kitchen, he could hear laughter and several voices, male and female.
“No, no, no,” rang out the distinctive voice of Raoul Bova, “Not like you are patting a friendly dog. Hard! Like this!” Jake entered the kitchen as Raoul reached around Lilly to smack down a lump of raw dough on the marble baker’s counter in front of her.
Maya stood next to Lilly with her own lump of dough and began mimicking Raoul’s pounding, yelling out, “Bad dog! Bad dog!”
Lilly was laughing hard. “I’m calling the PETA people on the both of you!”
“Peeta?” Raoul asked, “I do not know this reference. Is it CIA? Polizia?” Raoul was standing close behind Lilly, his arms wrapped around her as he worked the dough in front of her. The exuberant trio had not noticed Jake in the archway, nor did they hear when Alan walked up behind Jake.
For Jake’s ears only, Alan said quietly, “I don’t think either of us is the one she wanted over for dinner, mate.”
Without taking his eyes off of Raoul’s dark arms wrapped around Lilly’s middle, Jake rumbled, “To borrow your expression, this is seriously cocked up.”
At Alan’s laugh, Maya looked up. “I hope you’re not looking for your dinner yet. Raoul’s giving us a cooking lesson. But Lilly and I are such slow learners, it’s taking forever to get started.”
Maya turned to Lilly. “Where’s that traitor, Clara? Has she deserted us already?”
Jake released the seething breath he’d been holding. “She’s upstairs,” he said flatly. “She sent me this way when I was looking for Lilly.”
Lilly looked enquiringly at Jake, taking in his overall appearance.
“I need help with my hair. I can’t get the gel out,” Jake said, getting right to the point. “Did you bring any of that shampoo you make?”
“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t, Jake. But I can make something to cut through the gel if you can wait a few minutes. I think we’ve got everything here I need.” Lilly stepped away from Raoul to wash the flour and dough from her hands.
Raoul set two wine glasses on the counter across from the work area, filled each with a rich Chianti Classico and gestured for Jake and Alan to sit.
“Soon the kitchen will fill with scents as beautiful as the bella donne,” he said, swirling his wine glass toward Lilly and Maya. Bova was so fucking charming, Jake wanted to rip out his Italian throat. But instead he sat, drank and watched Lilly’s back as she gathered up fresh herbs and began crushing them in a small bowl. To the bowl she added lemon juice and a generous helping of olive oil, whisking it together swiftly to emulsify the mixture. When she was satisfied with the consistency, she covered the bowl with cheesecloth and inverted it over another bowl, straining out the herbs. When she was done, she took up the final product and turned to him.
“Okay, James Dean,” she said, “Let’s see if we can bring that hairstyle into the new century.”
Jake downed the rest of his wine and followed her out of the kitchen. Upstairs, Lilly stopped at his door and waited for him to open it. However, when she walked into his bathroom with its ornate tub and scalloped marble sink, she tsked.
“This won’t do at all. I’ll break your neck trying to wash your hair in that sink. Let’s go to my room. It’s not nearly as pretty, but much more functional.”
For the first time in what felt like weeks, Jake cracked a smile. Lilly was going to wash his hair.
In her room, Jake looked around. It was much, much smaller than his suite, and the bathroom was no bigger than her bathroom at her home in LA. But she was right. It was much more functional. She had an actual shower, and the sink had a smooth, rounded edge instead of the flowery, scalloped design in his bathroom.
Lilly set down the oil and herb mixture and pulled a chair into the bathroom. It fit, just barely. She positioned the chair with its back to the sink and covered it with towels.
“Sit here,” she said, “and lean your head back over the sink.” Jake did as he was told and Lilly stepped up close to examine the gooey mess that was his hair. His attempt to shampoo it had only made it worse. Now, instead of just sticky, it was hard and congealed.
She touched the glop at the front of his head and probed it gently so as not to pull on the roots. “Wow, what have you guys been using?” she mused.
“Dunno,” Jake shrugged, eyes closed.
Lilly picked up the bowl containing her mixture and poured it over his hair, gently massaging it into the stubborn mass.
Jake could feel when her fingertips finally nudged through the glop to his scalp. He expected her to immediately begin combing out the tangles, but she took her time to evenly disperse the conditioner, threading her fingers through his hair to make sure that when she did finally put a comb to it that she wouldn’t stretch, pull or break the strands. The process of massaging in the oil took nearly ten minutes. When she was done and finally picked up a comb, it slid effortlessly through his hair.
Jake had fallen into a state of semi-consciousness. Lilly had to call his name twice before she got through to him.
“Jake… Jake… It’s okay to shampoo, now,” she said quietly.
Jake opened his eyes and stared up at her downturned face. She was still running the comb through his hair, standing a centimeter from him, well within his reach. The effort he expended to keep from embracing her prevented him from responding to her immediately.
“You can shower here, if you’d like. Your bathroom is stunning but not very practical.”
She stepped back and opened the small shower stall in her bathroom and peeked inside. “There’s shampoo, conditioner and soap here,” she said. When she turned back to him, she looked away immediately. “Clean towels over there,” she said, pointing to a shelf above the commode, looking everywhere but at him.
“I’ll just leave you to it,” she said and fled the bathroom.
Jake sat where she had left him, looking at the plaster ceiling. He was a monster, he thought. Every movement she’d made while taming his hair, every touch, was sublimely geared toward his comfort – not his sexual pleasure. She hadn’t been teasing him before. She was just really good at her job. But still, here he sat, wanting her more than ever.
In the hallway outside her room, Lilly had no idea where to go. She was so flustered that there was no way she could head back down to the crowded kitchen. Jake had as much as told her not to touch him again, yet at the first opportunity, there she was, stroking his hair, his temples, massaging his scalp, leaning into him.
In desperation, she slipped into Clara’s room to hide for a few precious minutes and compose herself.
Clara poked her head out of her bathroom. At the sight of Lilly shutting the door behind her, having entered without the courtesy of knocking, Clara asked, “What’s going on? Everything okay?” Clara looked ready to make her way to the fire escape.
“Nothing, nothing. I’m sorry for barging in. I just thought I’d… see what you’re wearing to dinner.”
“Like you need style tips from an old dish rag like me,” Clara scoffed.
Lilly pursed her lips disapprovingly at Clara’s disparaging description of herself. True, Clara was no model. When she first met Clara, Lilly had thought she was a bit frumpy. But since then, they’d spent many long hours together. She had seen Clara from all angles, in all moods. She was a strong woman with strong facial features to match. A wide, full mouth and broad jaw line, a square chin. With her long, straight nose, there was nothing pert about Clara, but to Lilly’s artistic eye, that was a good thing. She had strikingly deep black hair and brows. Clara was beautiful in an Ava Gardner way, although a bit fleshier.
Unfortunately, Clara neglected to apply her considerable talent to her own appearance. Worse, when she’d hit forty, Clara had simply given up on anything remotely sexy, resigning herself to matronly, shapeless clothing.
Lilly tapped her finger to her lips. If she tamed her hair and did some strategic eyebrow plucking, Clara’s classic, dark beauty would stand out. Fifteen minutes later, when Clara and Lilly headed back to the kitchen, Lilly’s tweezing had revealed a graceful arch to her brow. Hair gel had tamed her frizzy locks, creating shiny black silky waves. A wide red belt cinched high on her waist accented her hour-glass shape that had been hidden under the oversized white shirt. Rich red lipstick accentuated her strong features.
Unbuttoning another button on Clara’s blouse and flipping up the collar on her shirt, Lilly said, “You’re striking. Put you in a bathing suit and lay you across the hood of a muscle car, and you’d be the perfect pin-up girl.”
When she and Clara rejoined the group in the kitchen, Raoul, who’d been explaining the importance of chopping, not crushing garlic, stopped midsentence to stare at Clara. Alan turned to see what had grabbed his attention and his mouth literally fell open.
Jake stood, offering Clara his seat next to Alan at the country table. “Italy agrees with you, Clara,” he said, smoothly acknowledging her transformation.
Raoul followed with, “I was not familiar with Gentry as an Italian name, but your ancestors must have been Italiano. Is your mother’s maiden name Bellucci, by chance?” referring to the darkly beautiful Umbrian actress and model, Monica Bellucci
Clara, unused to all the male attention, or accepting compliments on her appearance, credited Lilly.
“It’s Lilly’s work. You know she could make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear.”
Clara’s self-deprecating comment earned her a swat on the arm from Lilly. “All we did was highlight what was already there. You’re gorgeous. Own it.”
“So that’s what you were doing up there while Raoul and I were doing all the work,” Maya cut in, staring hard at Clara.
Turning to Lilly, she griped, “How come I never look this good when you’re done with me?”
Jake waved
Bova off when he pressed for another round of grapa, a potent clear liquor made by distilling the leftover grape skins and pulp from winemaking. Jake suspected that too much of the stuff would have him hallucinating.
So far, the only positive thing he could take away from this evening, from this week, was that he could stop worrying about Lilly’s professional reputation. The fear that Lilly’s abrupt change to working with Maya might negatively impact her career had been eating at him. Maya could be temperamental and vocal with her displeasure. Jake had been checking in with Maya daily since Lilly had quit working with him. At the first hint of discord, Jake would have intervened.
His concern, it turned out, was entirely unnecessary. Maya was immensely pleased with Lilly, and the two had become friends. Close friends, he realized watching them tonight.
When the dinner conversation inevitably turned to how the film was progressing, Maya said, with a smirk bordering on a smile, “Lilly’s the first person since my sister who will give me an honest appraisal. It’s terribly irritating.”
“Oh, and you’re not irritating at all,” shot back Lilly. In a fair imitation of Maya, she said, “Allegrezza doesn’t need to stab Sofia. All that blood and death. So messy. Let’s consider our alternatives.”
Maya had said this exact thing in a script meeting three days before leaving for Italy. Her suggestion would have completely altered the end of Palmer’s book, which concludes with Allegrezza stabbing Sofia, turning her into a vampire and then leaving her to die with the rising sun. Dying a soulless vampire, heaven – and Blaylock – would be forever closed to her. It was the ultimate revenge.
Maya feigned offense, “What’s so unreasonable about my suggestion? Sofia and Blaylock love each other.” Turning to Alan for confirmation, she said, “Don’t we? We should be together forever.”