Читать книгу The Perfect Location - Kate Forster, Kate Forster - Страница 17

Calypso was having trouble keeping her co-star’s hands off her while filming and she figured if anyone had advice, it would be Sapphira.

Calypso sat on her sofa in the trailer drinking her spirulina shake.

‘Hmm, smells like toxic waste to me,’ said Sapphira, waving away the drink Calypso offered her.

‘He’s gross,’ said Calypso, sipping her drink, which left a faint green moustache on her top lip. ‘I swear he had a hard-on today when we were shooting and I’m pretty sure he wanted me to know it.’

‘Got waste?’ she asked, in reference to the famous milk ads showing stars with milk on their upper lip. Sapphira had shot one years ago and it still made her laugh when she thought about the shoot, trying to get the paste which supposedly resembled milk onto her lip.

‘What?’ asked Calypso, confused.

‘Your lip, babe. It’s green,’ said Sapphira, lighting another cigarette with the one she was smoking.

Calypso, embarrassed, rubbed her mouth with the back of her hand. Sapphira was like the cool older sister she never had and spending time with her had made her realize how much she wished she had siblings to deflect Leeza’s focus and to share things with.

‘Raphael’s a fucking asshole,’ said Sapphira, frowning. ‘I met him at Cannes last year. He was promoting some movie but it was more like he was promoting himself.’

‘I know a lot of actors like that,’ laughed Calypso.

Sapphira paused. ‘Listen, I’m not one for gossip and I hate to be indiscreet, but he is bad news. I’m surprised TG cast him. He’s seriously fucked up,’ she said as she checked the text message that rang through on her cell phone.

‘Now you have to tell me,’ said Calypso, her eyes widening. Sapphira shook her head. ‘Come on, just give me something so I know what I’m up against.’

Sapphira put down her phone and thought for a moment. ‘Just watch him, okay? Don’t get caught up in the charm. He’s a snake.’

Calypso heeded Sapphira’s warning and was careful around Raphael. Whatever Sapphira had intimated was enough for Calypso to be aloof on set and keep him at arm’s length, which was no easy feat. He flirted constantly with her. She tried to be pleasant but he was wearing and trying her patience.

The chemistry between them was not evident on the shoot and TG was at a loss to understand why Calypso was being almost rude to Raphael, who seemed to be trying hard to win her over. This shoot was harder than he had thought. Shooting on location, they were at the mercy of the weather, the planes flying overhead and the ants that crawled up the actors’ legs and bit them.

That morning on set, Calypso was constantly slapping her legs, as the ants seemed immune to insect repellant. In fact, she thought they preferred it.

TG walked over to her. ‘Calypso, you have to stop slapping your legs. All I can see is red hand marks up and down your thighs. It looks like you’ve been beaten up.’

‘I can’t help it, it’s these fucking ants,’ she said, slapping her leg again.

‘Okay, let me deal with it.’ He called out to the second assistant director. ‘Can you find the fucking ants’ nest and pour coffee down it, please? Do something about the ants!’

The assistant director, who was Italian, laughed outrageously. ‘You not get rid of the ants, TG. Impossible.’ He kept laughing like TG had just told the funniest joke in the world.

TG stomped back to his chair. Calypso tried in vain not to slap her leg. Standing with a grimace, TG looked up, and walked back over to her. He looked at her legs, reached down and flicked the soft white skin inside her thigh. ‘Ow!’ she yelled.

‘Maybe you should flick them off instead of slapping, okay?’

‘Jesus, ow, okay, that hurt,’ she said, rubbing her leg.

‘Sorry,’ said TG, not really meaning it. He didn’t know why he was angry with Calypso. Because she largely ignored him, was rude to Raphael. Always running off set as soon as filming started to be with that Italian he had seen on set occasionally.

He walked back to his chair again. He could still feel her soft skin on his fingertips.

Calypso stood confused. Was he physically abusing her now? What an asshole, she thought.

The day’s shoot was tense, to say the least, and Calypso was happy when it was finished. As she walked over to her car, Raphael ran up to her. ‘Tonight I come to town, you show me a good time.’

‘Ah no, I have plans,’ said Calypso wearily. She wished he would return to his villa or Rome, whichever was easier.

‘What are your plans? I can come,’ he said as though his presence was a gift.

Inwardly Calypso groaned. The last thing she needed was this guy sharing her car and trying to hit on her all the way back to the hotel. ‘Umm … I’m seeing my boyfriend.’ she started.

‘You have a boyfriend? Ah, I want to meet the man who vies for my love,’ he said dramatically, jumping in the front next to the driver.

Calypso got in the back, relieved she wouldn’t have his roaming hands all over her. Surprisingly, he didn’t speak to her at all on the way back, talking in rapid-fire Italian to her driver, and her driver talking just as fast back and gesticulating wildly. Calypso prayed he would keep his hands on the wheel and get her back to Marco alive.

Calypso’s relationship with Marco was all the talk of the set. He visited her and brought her flowers, much to TG’s chagrin, hanging about and talking to the Italian crew. He and Calypso went out with his friends almost every night and even spent time with his parents on their farm, looking for white truffles in the woods, with no success. What had been successful was the sex they had on the floor of the woods, with Calypso never having felt as free before in the open air, abandoning herself to Marco and the nature all around her. None of the boys back home had been so passionate and intense as him. He was insatiable; he wanted her constantly and made her feel incredible.

After he’d asked her so many questions about America one night as they lay in her hotel bed, she suggested he move there to find out for himself what America was like.

‘No, no,’ he said as he kissed the tip of her nose. ‘I will never leave Italy. This is my home. Perhaps I will visit.’

Inside Calypso was disappointed; she knew he wouldn’t want to move there. But in her fantasy, she imagined him being a hotshot LA lawyer, her being a successful actress and presenting the Best Foreign Film nominations at the Oscars and being able to say the Italian nomination flawlessly.

Listening to the hysterical laughter of her co-star and the driver, she wondered what they were laughing so hard at. What could be that funny?

The car pulled up in front of the hotel and the doorman opened the door for Calypso. She saw Marco waiting for her, leaning against the front wall. ‘Ciao, bella,’ he said sexily. Calypso felt her insides melting, perhaps she loved him, she thought.

The doorman opened up the front passenger door and Raphael jumped out. Seeing Raphael, Marco was instantly star-stuck. Rushing over and shaking his hand and talking in Italian, he gesticulated and pointed to Calypso.

‘I didn’t know that Raphael Perini was in this movie. He is my favourite actor. I love him,’ he said earnestly to her.

Calypso smiled thinly. Perhaps if he knew what an utter dick Raphael was, then he wouldn’t be so in love, she thought.

Raphael, always ready to greet a fan, grabbed Calypso around the shoulders. ‘It is decided then, we shall break bread together tonight.’

Calypso frowned. She wanted Marco all to herself, not to share him with this self-lover of the highest order.

That night they all ate together at a local bar. Every ten minutes someone came to the table to say hello or get an autograph from Raphael. He was like a god and the Italians were his worshippers. Marco and Raphael spoke Italian most of the night and occasionally interpreted for Calypso, when they remembered she was there.

Towards the end of the dinner, Marco pulled out his phone, rang two numbers and spoke fast down the phone. Calypso looked at him, questioning him with her eyes. ‘I’ve rung some friends. They will come and meet us and then we will drink, si?’

‘Not for me. I’ve gotta shoot tomorrow and we have to be on set at 6.30 am,’ she said, looking at Raphael.

‘Si si, but one drink. Come on, bella.’

She looked at Marco. He was not paying any attention to her, just looking at Raphael in adoration. Calypso sighed. ‘Well, I’m going back to the hotel. Good night.’

She left the bar, expecting Marco to come after her but deep down knowing he wouldn’t. She had been usurped by Raphael and she was pissed off. Heading back down the road to her hotel, Calypso was surprised how she felt. She really liked Marco; in fact, she thought she could even love him. His parents loved her and, let’s face it, the sex was incredible. Now he seemed like a fawning loser. Fuck it, she thought as she went up to her hotel room. I’ll talk to him tomorrow.

After taking a long bath and drinking a chamomile tea, Calypso hopped into bed. It seems too big without Marco, she thought drowsily, as she dropped off to sleep.

She was woken by a loud knocking at the door. She opened her eyes and looked at the clock next to her bedside – 1.00 am. ‘Fuck!’ she said as she went to the door. ‘Who is it?’ she called, not fully awake.

‘Ciao, bella,’ she heard.

Marco! Padding over in the dark, she stubbed her toe on a chair. ‘Oww,’ she cried, hopping on one foot. Opening the door, her foot throbbing in pain, she hobbled back to the bed and jumped under the covers, lying on her stomach. ‘It’s late, don’t talk to me. I have to be up in three hours,’ she said as she started to drop off to sleep again.

She heard him undressing and felt the covers pull back and him start to caress her back. ‘Hmm, that’s nice, but I’m really tired, baby.’

He continued, rubbing her back and buttocks. She felt her legs spread open involuntarily. He placed his fingers down between her thighs and started to feel her. She was wet and ready. Climbing on top of her, he entered her from behind, slowly thrusting and grinding. ‘Mmmmm,’ she said sexily.

He pulled her up onto her knees and then leant down and held her breasts, fucking her harder and harder until Calypso felt uncomfortable. He started to slap her ass and pulled back on her hair. ‘Yeah, puttana, you like it!’ he cried.

And then he came. Calypso turned around, shocked. In the darkness, she could just make out that it was not Marco who had just fucked her but Raphael. ‘What the fuck are you doing?’ she screamed. ‘Oh my God!’ She started to cry, pulling the bed sheet up around her.

Raphael got up off the bed, the semen dripping from his cock. ‘What do you mean? You knew it was me when you opened the door naked.’

‘I thought you were Marco,’ she said, crying on the bed.

‘Well, Marco said you were a great fuck and he was right. He said the American puttana will do anything. I like American girls.’

‘Get out, get out! I’m calling the police, get out!’

Raphael picked up his clothes. ‘You liked it,’ he said arrogantly.

‘Get out!’ she yelled again and threw him out into the hallway naked.

She sat back on the bed, sobbing. She knew she should call the police but she could not deal with the intrusion. Once the press got wind of this in America she would be exposed as a slut and her career ruined. She started to shake, uncontrollably. Who could she ring? Not her mother. Maybe Rose or Kelly?

The thought of being on set with him in the morning made her start to vomit. She rushed to the bathroom but didn’t make it, throwing up all over the floor next to the bed. Picking up her phone, she dialled the one number she knew would answer.

‘Hello? TG? I need you.’