Private Lives

40



It was beautiful, there was no other word for it. Jessica walked barefoot through the sunken living room and through gently billowing voile curtains out on to the wide marble terrace, its gleaming white surface ending at a bright blue infinity pool. She stopped at the water’s edge and took in the view, an uninterrupted sweep of dramatic volcanic coastline with a crescent of bone-white sand at its centre. Someone knew what they were doing when they made Hawaii part of the United States, thought Jessica with a smile.

‘Here she is, America’s most wanted!’ Jose Silveira, the camp Brazilian photographer came towards her from the other side of the house, his arms spread wide. He was wearing a completely open silk shirt and tiny hipster shorts. ‘How’s this for a location, huh?’ he said, evidently pleased with himself, and rightly so. Jessica had been on Maui for four days already – ‘HQ magazine are paying,’ Sylvia, her publicist, had said. ‘Why not make a holiday of it?’ – and she had fallen head over heels for its lush vegetation and dramatic landscapes.

Sylvia had initially been against the idea of Jessica doing the magazine’s December cover, arguing that her client needed to draw more attention to her acting and less attention to her body, especially after the Joe Kennington incident. But Utopia, the sci-fi action movie that Jessica had shot in last year’s summer hiatus, had been moved to a November release date, and the studio pointed out that Jessica’s contract specified publicity support. It also specified that unless she did it, they were entitled to withhold her fee.

So Jessica, her mother and Sylvia had all flown out just before the weekend. There were only three weeks to go before season five of All Woman began shooting, so this was an ideal chance to recharge and tan. Freshly Botoxed, waxed and eight pounds lighter than she had been at the start of the summer, Jessica actually felt pretty good. She was happy that the magazine had agreed to use Jose for the pictures, too. He had a genius for producing gorgeous, glossy iconic shots of women – ‘I could retouch a baboon’s backside into a thing of beauty’ he boasted – and she loved his over-the-top personality too: no flattery or sycophancy was ever enough for his subjects.

‘Dahling, you are looking so gorgeous today,’ he said, eyeing her up and down. ‘So goddamn hot, I can even feel myself turning for you.’

She giggled.

‘Just make me look even more hot, okay?’

‘Don’t you worry, I make you like the centre of the f*cking sun,’ he purred.

Jessica was about to say something else, but she was distracted by raised voices down by the pool.

‘Your publicist, darling,’ pouted Jose. ‘She’s have a blazing row with the creative director. She wants to keep this gorgeous body covered in a sack or something. I say to her, be free! Do not be scared of the sex! Let the world see how sensual my darling Jess is, but she just pull a face like an old cow.’

Jessica stalked over to Sylvia, annoyed that she was causing problems before they’d even started. She knew how mercurial Jose was; if he didn’t feel the vibe was right, he had been known to flounce off the set.

‘What’s going on?’ she said.

Sylvia was having a heated discussion with Daniel Moore, the creative director.

‘The shirt would be closed, just a few buttons open at the top,’ explained Daniel hastily.

‘When we talked about this on the phone, they said shirt dress. Not shirt,’ snapped Sylvia.

‘But this is the sort of mood we were thinking of,’ he said, holding up a film still of Julie Christie in the sixties movie Darling.

‘I’m sure I don’t need to point out that the character in Darling was an unscrupulous model who slept her way to the top?’ said Sylvia coldly. ‘I’m not sure we want to be channelling those undertones after everything that’s happened this summer.’

Jessica looked at the iconic image of Julie Christie.

‘Actually, I think it’s a good idea,’ she said, giving Daniel a coy smile. She knew it was as important to get him on side as Jose. He was just one tiny cog in the machine, but he was a useful cog. All it would take was a little flirting to make him feel wanted, and he would rush back to his dull little office, desperate to please Jessica by choosing the most flattering shot or making sure the retouching was perfect.

‘Look, I know you’re a men’s magazine,’ Sylvia said through tight lips, ‘but Jessica is a respected actress, not some centrefold.’

Jose came behind Jessica and wrapped his arms around her waist.

‘This woman is the sexiest bitch on the planet,’ he declared. ‘She makes all those so-called models look like cheap whores! And I, Jose, will make her look like an angel!’

Jessica laughed and showed the picture to Jose. ‘Can you make me this beautiful, Jose?’

The photographer took her face in his dainty hands. ‘Darling, I make all the men in the world want to f*ck you,’ he said sincerely.

‘Oh Jose, you say the most wonderful things.’

Jessica breathed a sigh of relief; finally she was on her own, having slipped away to an empty bedroom in a far wing of the villa for lunch. She loved the attention, of course, being fussed over by hair and make-up girls, having everyone tell her how amazing she looked, but as the day wore on, it was beginning to make her feel anxious. I mean, what if they’re wrong? she thought. What if I look hideous? After those lies that fag Joe had been spreading, she simply had to look like a goddess; nothing else would do.

The room was cool and serene after the blaring music and heat of the shoot, with a wrap-around balcony that overlooked the ocean, lying like a shimmering pool of mercury in front of her. She sat on a rattan sunlounger, legs placed on either side, and laid out her lunch: a slice of melon and a can of Diet Mountain Dew.

She wanted something to read. Sylvia had declared a ban on media while they were in Hawaii – ‘we’re here to relax, remember?’ – and while Jessica could see the logic, it was making her jumpy to be so out of the loop. In her business, what people were saying was everything.

A young girl in shorts and a tank top popped her head into the bedroom; Jessica recognised her as one of the make-up girls.

‘Jose wants to start shooting in ten,’ she said nervously. ‘Can I get you anything in the meantime?’

‘Got any magazines?’

The girl looked awkward.

‘We were told no media at the location house.’

‘Really?’ Jessica frowned. ‘Why?’

The girl was chewing her lip.

‘I think it said so in the contract.’ As Jessica glared at her, the girl opened the satchel she was wearing. ‘But I’ve got an iPad if you’d like.’

‘Sure,’ said Jessica, wondering why they’d been told no media. ‘But let’s keep it between the two of us, all right? Now leave me.’

She immediately logged on to the New York Post. Some scandal had broken about an East Coast politican. Yeah, like that’s news.

She typed National Enquirer into Google, then rolled her eyes. Not Charlie Sheen again; didn’t he ever take a week off? Tutting to herself, she logged on to Celeb magazine, and gasped as the page popped up.

‘Tragic Jess Heading For A Breakdown?’ it said.

‘Tragic?’ she gasped, staring at the screen in disbelief. ‘Breakdown?’

She quickly clicked on the article and began reading:



Friends fear heartbreak has driven All Woman star Jessica Carr to the edge, writes Lindy Snape in Los Angeles. Her split from hunky Brit actor Sam Charles was only the first in a series of career disasters, quickly followed by the news that Uniglobe Pictures have ordered a reshoot on her movie Slayer in which she stars alongside Joe Kennington. ‘Jess just wasn’t convincing as a romantic lead,’ said an insider. ‘There was zero chemistry between her and Joe, so Judd the director took the decision to kill her character off.’ Friends fear this may have unhinged the highly strung actress, who was then revealed to have thrown herself at co-star Joe. ‘She was drinking pretty heavily,’ said a witness. The ageing starlet, 32, is said to be worried that she’s losing her looks. ‘When a woman begins to feel that she can’t hold on to a man, that’s got to make you desperate,’ commented TV doctor Gillian Toomey, presenter of Channel Nine’s What’s Your Problem?



Rumours have also circulated that Jessica was spotted smoking what appeared to be a marijuana joint on the balcony of her Malibu beach house last Tuesday. LAPD declined to comment over whether they would investigate.





Jessica felt faint as she clicked on the four-page photomontage and timeline – stunning photographs of herself dated a year ago, that became increasingly unflattering as the story went on. ‘Unhinged’, ‘ageing’, ‘can’t hold on to a man’? Even worse, the article was illustrated with a huge long-lens pap shot of Jessica leaving the Primrose Gym on Mulholland, her face puffy and pink. How the hell did they get that?

Why hadn’t she known about this? Why hadn’t Sylvia known about this? Mentally she calculated how long she’d been on the island. They had arrived Tuesday – the day Celeb magazine hit the news stands.

‘Holiday my ass!’ she sneered. ‘That bitch Sylvia knew all about this.’

She jumped to her feet and stormed through the villa and back to the pool, where she found Sylvia was on the phone. Jessica grabbed the cell from her hand.

‘Jess!’ squealed Sylvia. ‘What the hell?’

‘We need to talk. Now,’ said Jessica, grabbing her arm and virtually dragging her back inside.

‘What the hell’s wrong with you?’

‘I’ve just read the Celeb magazine story, that’s what’s wrong with me.’

Sylvia looked out towards the pool, where the whole crew were watching, then closed the patio doors.

‘You knew, didn’t you?’ spat Jessica.

The PR glanced at her, then down at the floor.

‘I heard they were running it, yes,’ she said. ‘I didn’t think it would help to tell you about it – looks like I was right.’

‘You think you can hide things from me? How dare you?’

‘It’s just a gossip story; there’s no substance to it. All we need to do is keep our heads down . . .’

‘Bullshit!’ cried Jessica. ‘Celeb has like five million readers. The media are like sheep. One prints “Tragic Jess, she’s losing her looks”, the others are all going to do it.’

‘This will blow over.’

‘You said that three weeks ago, and it’s only getting worse. Why don’t you do something?’

‘We have to stick to our strategy, Jess,’ said Sylvia firmly.

‘Oh yeah? Well it looks to me as if your strategy is to do nothing.’

‘I’m doing the best I can, Jessica,’ said Sylvia. ‘And I’m not sure how much I can help you when you go off-piste, arranging your own long-lens photography. Do you think I am stupid? I know that was you.’

‘So now this is my fault?’ said Jessica, her eyes wide.

Sylvia sighed. ‘Okay, we should both calm down here.’

‘There’s no “we” any more, Sylvia,’ said Jessica, hands on hips. ‘You’re fired.’

The older woman looked at her in disbelief.

‘Jessica, please . . .’

‘I said you’re fired!’ she screamed.

Sylvia looked at her for a moment, then nodded, turned and walked out of the villa. As soon as she had left, Barbara opened the patio doors and stepped through.

‘Honey, what’s going on?’ she asked, her face full of concern. ‘Jose told me you were having some almighty screaming match with Sylvia. What’s happened?’

‘Celeb magazine, that’s what happened. A four-page photomontage of my misery.’ Jessica began to cry through narrowed eyes. ‘This is your doing, isn’t it?’

‘What the hell are you talking about? I never speak to the media, you know that. Not unless you ask me to.’

‘Someone’s been talking. How else would they know Joe Kennington turned me down, except from you?’

‘I didn’t know, honey.’

‘You saw him at the house. You know he didn’t stay over . . . Admit it, you’ve been selling stories to the press, haven’t you?’

‘No!’

‘Well explain why all this has only been happening since you moved in, Mother?’

‘It’s a coincidence,’ said Barbara, flustered. ‘I swear to you . . .’

Jessica pointed her manicured finger towards the door. ‘Take the next flight back to LAX and get out of my house,’ she said, her voice trembling in anger.

‘Honey, no,’ said Barbara, tears beginning to run down her face. ‘I’m your mom. You can trust me.’

‘From now on, I trust no one. From now on, I’m going to be in charge of my life. Me.’

Jose put his head around the door. His eyes were sparkling and his cheeks were flushed. It was obvious he was loving every moment of the drama.

‘Is everything okay in here?’ he asked. ‘Is just we’re ready to shoot again.’

Jess inhaled sharply and looked at her mother.

‘Barbara’s just going,’ she said, ignoring the other woman’s sobs and stepping out into the sunshine. ‘But I’m ready when you are. And why don’t we try a few shots with that blue shirt?’

Jose clapped his hands with delight.

‘Oh darling, that’s a marvellous idea.’

Jessica went into the pool house they were using as a changing room and slipped out of her clothes. Naked except for her lace thong, she stared at her reflection in the full-length mirror. Long tanned legs, flat stomach, toned arms and the best goddamn tits in the business. Ha! Tragic Jess? Such crap. She had never looked more beautiful in her life.

She pulled on the shirt the stylist had left for her and rolled up the sleeves. The tails just skimmed the top of her thighs and, at the back, gave just a hint of her ass. She had to admit, that dorky guy Daniel was right: she did look pretty hot.

‘Oh honey!’ purred Jose as she stepped out. ‘You look soooo beautiful.’

He came over and positioned her next to the pool, before stepping back to fire off some shots. ‘Give me more tiger, baby.’ He bent to check the shots on his laptop. ‘Wow, you’re sensational, Jessie.’

Jessica looked across at Daniel and fingered the material of the shirt.

‘But is it sexy enough?’

‘Oh yeah.’ Daniel blushed, unable to take his eyes from her. ‘You look great.’

‘Only great?’ she said. ‘I think we can do a little better than that, don’t you?’ She reached up and, one by one, undid the shirt buttons.

As Jose carried on shooting, Jessica shrugged the shirt off one shoulder, flashing her golden flesh at the camera. She felt sexy, liberated. For once, she was in control, and that was all that mattered.

‘How about a little more?’ she laughed, turning away from the camera and letting the shirt slip from her arms and on to the floor.

‘That’s it!’ said Jose. ‘Give it to me, baby!’

She crossed her arms across her chest and looked back at the camera with a toss of her hair and a mischievous smile that said ‘Come and get me.’

Tragic Jess? she thought, laughing. This would be the hottest, sexiest shoot of the decade. No one would be pitying her now.