Pieces of Us

Chapter 9 Shine On

Amity, 24—Now

Relaxed, my limbs and mind are slacken as I enjoy the tranquillity of my oceanside condo. I could have chosen anywhere to live in Los Angeles, but Malibu is where I feel the most at peace. As I sit comfortably on my plush, oversized lounge, I’m as breathless as the first time I saw the vast coastline of the Pacific Ocean from here.

It has been months since I’ve had the pleasure of just sitting and enjoying the view, where the only worry on my mind is whether or not I should have sashimi or tacos for dinner.

Taking a deep breath, I’m reminded how bone-tired I am after a long summer of interviews around the world.

Hollywood thrives pretty much from January to September, with award season taking up the first half of the year before summer hits in the middle. I have a slight reprieve in September until it all starts back up again in October for Halloween. Then, Thanksgiving is in November, closely followed by Christmas and New Year. While seventy-five percent of my interviews stem from celebrities and musicians, I also gained millions of followers the past couple of years after I began interviewing athletes.

I adore my career. Although I barely get a minute to myself, I enjoy meetings, my interviews on my entertainment show, Bras and Stars, the travel, my segments on some of the world’s largest entertainment and social media platforms. And I love wearing gorgeous lingerie and bikinis that aren’t even out on the market yet. The industry parties and mingling with celebrities are fun, too.

A lot of people dismiss my profession because I barely wear clothes, and according to some of my old classmates, ‘anyone could do an interview’, but nothing could be further from the truth.

I worked my ass off to get—and stay—where I am today. I graduated with a Master’s Degree in Media and Communications, completed via correspondence, and I made it a mission to stay savvy with current trends.

Not to mention the fact that my most challenging part of being in front of the camera is ensuring I ‘look the part’, which means staying thin. To be at the top of my profession, I need to fuel my body with the right foods and exercise—something I work on daily.

Admittedly, there have been some serious setbacks and a stint in rehab to help overcome the monsters I’m constantly fighting. I’m better now. I just have to remind myself that my worth isn’t measured by how I look. I’ve learned new ways to cope with my emotional pain, and better behaviours to keep my mind and body healthy.

Despite my tumultuous journey over the last seven years, I’m immensely grateful for my good fortune and good luck. And knowing how close I was to straddling life and death, I never take what I have or the opportunities afforded to me for granted.

The events that transpired on that fateful trip to Los Angeles in my senior year were serendipitous. Who knew that literally fleeing from my heartbreak would set my life on the trajectory that it did?

It all started when I was frivolously trying on sample lingerie while Mum airbrushed a suite of supermodel faces. They were all so down to earth, encouraging me to have some fun. One of them randomly asked me what I wanted to do after school, and when I replied, ‘Become a journalist’, she offered to be my very first interviewee. She even gave me pointers on how to stand, tilt my head and work the camera to my best angles.

Although she was a Victoria’s Secret angel, she was and always will be my guardian angel. It’s like she knew I needed something good to come out of what I’d been through.

After taking another sweeping glance at the coastline, I take a sip of Ami-tea and grimace at having let it cool to a tepid temperature. Ami-tea is my very own collection of bespoke teas that focus on restoring the body. They should only ever be drunk if iced or sipped hot. Never in between. This cool side empire began because of a gimmick. Everywhere I went, I’d either be pictured with tea or choose it as my choice of drink when interviewing. So, one day, a lucrative offer came across my desk, and I took it.

One of the most important parts of this venture was that I was involved every step of the way. After my issues, I wanted to create a product with health at the core. One that was part of my new story.

Sluggishly moving to the kitchen, I pour the tea down the drain and make another. Plucking an Ackee Amaretto teabag, I place the string over the edge of my cup and deftly fill it with hot water from my automatic water system. While I wait for the aromatic flavours to seep in, I scroll through the notes on my phone to remind me of my to-dos for this week.

-Look over sample lingerie

Smiling, I’m reminded that a few months ago, I partnered up with a luxury lingerie brand to have my own line. I wasn’t going to be able to stay in the limelight forever, so expanding my business empire with things I’m passionate about makes me a smart business woman.

-Go to the farmers’ market and pick up fresh fruit

I frown. Truth be told, I don’t want to leave my cosy comfort, but the alternative is that I starve.

Just because his son obliterated me to pieces doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to stay in contact with his dad, who is like my second father.

When my tea is sufficiently seeped, I take it with me and trudge to the lounge to encase myself in a thick woollen blanket before stepping on my balcony and repositioning myself on the lounge chair. As the seasons slowly start switching, I can feel the weather starting to cool down in anticipation of winter.

As I take a sip of my tea, I’m interrupted by melodious sounds of Dad’s personal ringtone, ‘Guardian Angel’ by Red Jumpsuit Apparatus. Having personalised ringtones is so old-school, but it’s one of the ways I can identify if it’s urgent or not, and Dad’s calls will always be urgent.

‘Princess.’ My dad’s jovial voice fills my ear. ‘How was the Barbie premiere? Your interview with Margot was iconic. It’s everywhere. Both of you in pink bikinis is going to go down as legendary. Two Aussies. I’m just so flipping proud.’

I laugh with pure joy at Dad’s ramblings. He has become quite the entertainment expert, and even though he gets shit from the guys at work, he couldn't care less.

‘Thanks, Dad.’

‘What’s next, kiddo?’ I think I detect a slight wince in his voice, but it could be that he’s multitasking while we’re talking.

‘I’m off to Ireland in a couple of days to interview Cillian Murphy and the rest of the cast of Oppenheimer. We’re going to do the interview in an Irish bar.’

‘You need to get Uncle Jacob an autograph. He lives and breathes Peaky Blinders. He and Linc have been rewatching the entire series again.’ A jolt of something prickles in my heart. Sadness? Sorrow? Anger? Anxiety? Disappointment? Desire? Nostalgia? Numbness? Heck if I know. Choosing not to dwell on it, I change the topic but make a mental note that this would be a perfect birthday present for Uncle Jacob.

‘Enough about me. What about you? Anything new?’ I sip my tea, savouring the flavours. The Ackee is meant to promote digestive health, stabilise blood sugar, enhance weight loss naturally, improve heart health and bone health, strengthen the immune system, and protect against macular degeneration.

‘Someone spray-painted Hump pink.’

Spitting out my tea, I gasp. ‘What?’ Hump is one of Gold Coast’s famous camels who frequents the camel racing scene. How could someone do that to a national treasure?

‘Yeah. Made headlines all over Australia. She’ll never be the same again,’ Dad says wistfully.

‘What else? What else?’ I thrive on the normalcy of our conversations. Sometimes I get so swept up in the Hollywood scene, I forget that I’m not living in the real world.

‘A couple got married at the Chinchilla Watermelon Festival. He wore a suit with watermelons all over it, and she carried a watermelon bouquet.’

Cracking up at the visual, I can’t help but shed a tear. ‘Get out of town. Send me the pictures now,’ I demand. ‘Tell me more.’

He pauses before sighing.

‘What?’ There’s an urgency in my tone.

‘Don’t overreact,’ he warns.

‘What?’ I use my don’t-mess-with-me voice.

‘A week ago, I had an accident on the building site. The scaffolding wasn’t erected properly and I shattered my knee. Just got out of the hospital after surgery.’ He says the last part so sheepishly, like he knows he’s in a world of trouble.

‘Excuse me!?’ I shriek, scaring the birds on the balcony away.

‘You had your big Barbie week. I couldn’t tear you away from that, honey,’ he explains exasperatedly.

‘Dad, what the fuck?’ I’m livid, but I’m also sick with fear that he’s not going to cope.

‘I swear, baby, I’m okay. If it was serious, Uncle Jacob or Mum would have told you. I’m back at home, and a nurse is going to come by every day to check on me.’

There’s no way I’m relying on some nurse to look after him. She or he will be there for an hour max and then choof off. Nuh-uh, no way.

Pacing the deck, I’m already itching to make it home to him. ‘I’ll be there next week.’ I’ve already made up my mind.

‘You have work.’

Mentally going over my diary in my head, I actually don’t. The Oppenheimer interviews were my last for a few weeks. I was going to meet up with Mum in Paris, where she’s doing Paris Fashion Week, but all my interviews were pre-done with the models, so I don’t technically have to be there.

‘The only things I have on are catching up on some business stuff for Ami-tea and this new lingerie line, but I can do my meetings from anywhere.’ Bouncing on the spot, I’m jubilant that this has all worked out. I would have felt terrible if I couldn’t help Dad.

‘What about…’ He doesn’t finish his sentence. I haven’t been back to the Gold Coast since I left at eighteen, the memories of Lincoln and Billie too painful to bear. They were also the catalyst for my downward spiral with my health. But that’s in the past. I’m better now. I’ve never once asked about how he is or what he’s doing, and thankfully Dad and Uncle Jacob haven’t mentioned him either, unless it’s something trivial.

I wave my hands around at no one in particular, but the movement makes me feel calmer. ‘It’s fine. I’m fine. I’m a big girl now. I have a fabulous new life. I’m coming. End of.’

Twice a year since I left, Dad has met me in a fancy new country and we explore the sites and cities together. Once a year, I go back to Australia to focus on Australian content, but I’ve managed to avoid the Gold Coast. The closest I got was Cairns and Hamilton Island.

‘Only if you’re sure. I don’t want to be a burden.’ I can hear Dad’s worry.

‘Dad. Stop. I’m coming. Plus, I want to get started on that investment property I want you and Uncle Jacob to design and build for me.’ I was always going to be into architecture. It comes with the territory, growing up around them.

An audible, pained groan slips from Dad’s lips. ‘There’s something I have to tell you.’ He hesitates before continuing. ‘Linc works at the company now.’ My stomach lurches at the mention of this new information.

Stopping dead in my tracks and standing in the middle of my balcony, I register what this really means. Logically, this was always the plan. He wanted to follow in the footsteps of his dad. Realistically, I refused to think about it becoming a possibility.

He takes a deep breath on the other end of the line. ‘Honey? Are you there?’ Dad asks when I’ve been mute for too long.

‘Hm? Oh, uh-huh. Totally fine. I mean, it’s not like I didn’t know he still lives there. So I might see him around. Big deal. I’ve moved on, remember?’ I don’t think I’m very convincing in playing off my panic.

‘There’s more,’ he mutters.

Jesus Christ, seriously?

‘Well, you know how Marsha went off on maternity leave?’ Marsha being the receptionist. ‘Well, an agency sent us a temp.’ His deafening silence tells me I’m not going to be very pleased with what he says next. ‘It’s Billie.’

It’s who now?

What. The. Fuck?

Trying to talk myself off the metaphorical ledge I’m on right now, I need to remind myself that my self-worth isn’t tied to them or their actions. Years ago, I made the mistake of putting them at the centre, signalling my downward spiral, but I’m healed now. I won’t let them be a trigger for me anymore.

The salty sea air evokes a wave of calmness to wash over my body. Being near the water always stills me, and right now is no different.

I look down at my wrist, where a semicolon is inked deep into my skin. I got it after. It’s meant to represent hope and resilience for people who have struggled with mental health issues. The very definition of the semicolon reflects sentences that could have ended, but didn’t, just like a person’s life. Even now, it anchors me. It reminds me that I’m alive. The sweetest part of all of this is that everyone who has been with me on this journey—Dad, Mum, Lily, Rome and Jagger— has a matching one.

‘That’s fine, Dad.’ I reside myself to the fact that I’ll be bumping into my past. It will be freeing to get complete closure on a very dark chapter in my life. ‘I can’t wait to see you. I’ll text you my flights,’ I say, changing the subject.

‘Will Jagger be joining you?’ What a nosy parker. Rolling my eyes, I inwardly laugh at how Dad’s as subtle as sledgehammer when it comes to prying into my love life.

Jagger is one of America’s most prestigious NFL players. He’s also one of the hottest. We hit it off when I did an interview with his team at the very beginning of my career. Since then, he’s been my big, bad protector.

‘No, Dad, he’s not.’ I leave him in suspense over who Jagger really is to me. The tabloids paint us as a couple because we’re always together, but sincerely, he is more like my guardian angel. He was one of the first people in the industry to notice I was drowning. If it wasn’t for his intervention, I don’t know where I would be. Sure, we fuck from time to time, but it’s just a horny release for both of us. We are the definition of best friends with benefits and zero feelings.

‘You two seem awfully close at the after party the other night. Sitting on his lap and everything…’

‘What can I say? There were no chairs.’

‘Uh-huh.’ He doesn’t believe me, and that’s fine. I’d rather him believe I’m head over heels for a hotshot NFL player than have him know the truth: I’m too damaged to ever love another guy again, after Linc.

‘Love you. See you soon!’ I make a series of kissing noises before hanging up.