call me. You know I'm always here for you. Day or night."
"I hate goodbyes,"
Lara said, giving them both a quick hug and jumping in the car, her luggage already loaded. She didn't look back as the car left the driveway.
Her loyal assistant, Cassie, met her at Nice airport. Cassie was an overweight woman in her mid-thirties who bore a fleeting resemblance to Elizabeth Taylor in her Larry Fortensky years. She'd worked for Lara for six years and made sure everything went smoothly. Today she was anxious to get Lara on the plane to Paris, where they would make a connection to New York.
"I'm tired,"
Lara said, yawning.
31 "You don't look it."
A man from the airline fell all over himself to help them aboard. Another airline representative met them in Paris and escorted them to their Air France flight to New York. Lara settled into her firstclass window seat. Cassie handed her the script of The Dreamer, and a large plastic bottle of Evian water.
"Thanks,"
she said, taking an unladylike swig.
"If I fall asleep, don't wake me."
"Not even for food?"
"No, Cassie, especially not for food!"
A businessman across the aisle was stretching his neck to get a better look at her. Finally he couldn't stand it any longer and came over.
"Lara Ivory,"
he said, his middle-aged voice filled with a mixture of awe and admiration.
"That's me,"
she said brightly, knowing exactly what he would say next.
She was right.
"You're far more beautiful in the flesh,"
he managed.
She smiled, dazzling him - even though it was still morning and she had on casual clothes and hardly any make-up.
"Thank you,"
she murmured.
Cassie ran interference, placing her considerable bulk between Lara and her admiring fan.
He took the hint and returned to his seat.
"Civilians!"
Cassie muttered.
Lara wondered what it would be like to go out with a civilian. The only men she came in contact with were connected to movies
- actors, producers, directors, the crew. She'd met Lee while working on a film - Richard had set up their first date. Lee had been painfully shy - a condition not helped by being thrust into the limelight as her boyfriend. They'd spent most of their year together at her house in LA. She'd known two months before the break-up that it was coming. There was no passion left in their relationship, and Lee wasn't happy living in her shadow. Plus she was being tracked by an obsessed stalker which made him crazy. Eventually they'd agreed to part amicably, and she hadn't heard from him since.
32
"The steward wondered if he could get your autograph,"
Cassie
said.
"Sure,"
she replied.
"Tell him to come over."
A few minutes later, the steward - a gay guy with impossibly long eyelashes and gentle eyes - knelt beside her seat. Tm so sorry to disturb you, Ms Ivory,"
he said in reverent tones,
"only my friend would hang and quarter me if I dared to come home without your signature. Is it a terrible imposition if I ask you to sign his book?"
"Of course not,"
she replied, with a faint smile.
"Do you have a
pen?"
"Right here,"
he said, fumbling in his pocket.
"What's your friend's name?"
she asked, taking the blue leather book from him.
"Put "To Sam, the man of my dreams"."
Graciously she did as he requested. Some stars wouldn't sign autographs at all, others made their fans pay for it. Lara felt privileged that she even got asked. Being a movie star was a big responsibility - people looked up to her. She remembered seeing Demi Moore on David Letterman once, stripping off to an almost non-existent bikini. At the time Demi was the highest-paid female star in the world, and it seemed so dumb that she would get up and blow her image in front of millions of viewers - becoming just another babe with a body. Of course, she'd redeemed herself with a stellar performance in Gljane, but was that enough?
Lara slept most of the journey, waking half an hour
"I hate goodbyes,"
Lara said, giving them both a quick hug and jumping in the car, her luggage already loaded. She didn't look back as the car left the driveway.
Her loyal assistant, Cassie, met her at Nice airport. Cassie was an overweight woman in her mid-thirties who bore a fleeting resemblance to Elizabeth Taylor in her Larry Fortensky years. She'd worked for Lara for six years and made sure everything went smoothly. Today she was anxious to get Lara on the plane to Paris, where they would make a connection to New York.
"I'm tired,"
Lara said, yawning.
31 "You don't look it."
A man from the airline fell all over himself to help them aboard. Another airline representative met them in Paris and escorted them to their Air France flight to New York. Lara settled into her firstclass window seat. Cassie handed her the script of The Dreamer, and a large plastic bottle of Evian water.
"Thanks,"
she said, taking an unladylike swig.
"If I fall asleep, don't wake me."
"Not even for food?"
"No, Cassie, especially not for food!"
A businessman across the aisle was stretching his neck to get a better look at her. Finally he couldn't stand it any longer and came over.
"Lara Ivory,"
he said, his middle-aged voice filled with a mixture of awe and admiration.
"That's me,"
she said brightly, knowing exactly what he would say next.
She was right.
"You're far more beautiful in the flesh,"
he managed.
She smiled, dazzling him - even though it was still morning and she had on casual clothes and hardly any make-up.
"Thank you,"
she murmured.
Cassie ran interference, placing her considerable bulk between Lara and her admiring fan.
He took the hint and returned to his seat.
"Civilians!"
Cassie muttered.
Lara wondered what it would be like to go out with a civilian. The only men she came in contact with were connected to movies
- actors, producers, directors, the crew. She'd met Lee while working on a film - Richard had set up their first date. Lee had been painfully shy - a condition not helped by being thrust into the limelight as her boyfriend. They'd spent most of their year together at her house in LA. She'd known two months before the break-up that it was coming. There was no passion left in their relationship, and Lee wasn't happy living in her shadow. Plus she was being tracked by an obsessed stalker which made him crazy. Eventually they'd agreed to part amicably, and she hadn't heard from him since.
32
"The steward wondered if he could get your autograph,"
Cassie
said.
"Sure,"
she replied.
"Tell him to come over."
A few minutes later, the steward - a gay guy with impossibly long eyelashes and gentle eyes - knelt beside her seat. Tm so sorry to disturb you, Ms Ivory,"
he said in reverent tones,
"only my friend would hang and quarter me if I dared to come home without your signature. Is it a terrible imposition if I ask you to sign his book?"
"Of course not,"
she replied, with a faint smile.
"Do you have a
pen?"
"Right here,"
he said, fumbling in his pocket.
"What's your friend's name?"
she asked, taking the blue leather book from him.
"Put "To Sam, the man of my dreams"."
Graciously she did as he requested. Some stars wouldn't sign autographs at all, others made their fans pay for it. Lara felt privileged that she even got asked. Being a movie star was a big responsibility - people looked up to her. She remembered seeing Demi Moore on David Letterman once, stripping off to an almost non-existent bikini. At the time Demi was the highest-paid female star in the world, and it seemed so dumb that she would get up and blow her image in front of millions of viewers - becoming just another babe with a body. Of course, she'd redeemed herself with a stellar performance in Gljane, but was that enough?
Lara slept most of the journey, waking half an hour
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