Chapter Twenty-seven
Phoebe:I’m outside and Ryan-ready! Come and get me!
I was full of adrenaline as I left Blake to it and ran down the corridor, stashing my kit in the make-up room on my way to collect Phoebe. I hoped I could trust Gem. For all I knew, there were flesh-eating mites in that bag, now sprinkled through Blake’s Hollywood bouffant. I checked my phone and it was 8 p.m. So 9 p.m. would be showtime. Still no reply from Tony, but let’s face it, LA wasn’t very convenient for London. I felt my old walls coming up, my old voice in my new head let him go, move on to the next one, you’re better off on your own and it felt alien to me. That wasn’t how I felt anymore, not about Tony.
‘Mason, for Barrington,’ I called from the door, and Phoebe waved her pass at me in relief.
‘Take your time,’ she shouted at me, as Chiara let her through.
‘I am working, you know,’ I said, exasperated. Phoebe looked spectacular. Dressed to impress in black, crushed velvet, holding a traditional Venetian mask. White clay with silver and black around the eyes, the top section encrusted with gold. ‘Nice mask. Did you get me one?’
Phoebe flashed me a guilty look. ‘Er… no… I didn’t think you’d be bothered with all that.’
‘Oh. Thanks,’ I said. The two of us were a sight for sore eyes in our red and black get-up – we’d blend in perfectly with the crème de la crème of Hollywood. Even better that we could hide behind our masks and watch the show unfold, without being seen. ‘Lucky that Gem lent me a mask from the Golden Globes then, isn’t it?’ I said, producing it from behind my back.
‘Whattttt? What do you mean? Whose was it?’ Phoebe trailed after me asking questions as I walked her through a maze of corridors to the wrap party reception. It was being held in the ballroom, where the awards had taken place, and it was absolutely stunning. The art on the walls was decoration enough, but the tall gold tables and dramatic floral displays added an extra layer of glitz and glam. There were pyramids of Champagne glasses, and waiters circling with trays of canapés as we walked down the cream carpet and into the party. I half-expected somebody to announce us. The right honourable Ms Abigail Mason, with her agent, Ms Phoebe Barrington. We’d smile and wave at the crowd, our masks firmly in position.
‘Oh. My. God. This is amazing,’ Phoebe said, gaping in awe at the room.
‘Isn’t it,’ I murmured, swiping a couple of tiny tartlets from a passing waiter. I hadn’t eaten all day, so I’d need another fifty or so once he came back.
‘Is that Sofia Coppola over there?’ Phoebe whispered. ‘With one of the Kardashians…?’
‘Calm down! It’s not like you haven’t been to a celeb party before. Play it cool.’
We both took a glass of Champagne and sidled our way into the crowd.
‘There you are!’ Gem appeared by my side, with a small bowl of risotto. ‘I was keeping my eye out for the mask. It is you, isn’t it?’
‘It sure is,’ I replied, flattered that she’d sought me out, unless she was worried I’d run off with her rubies. ‘And it’s Phoebe with the scary white face, in case you didn’t recognise her. Finally finished, then?’
‘Yep. I had one last client to do while you were with Blake – how did that go by the way?’ she asked, eyes gleaming. ‘Did you do it?’
‘Do what?’ Phoebe’s ears pricked up at Gem’s tone.
‘Er… nothing,’ I said, not sure Phoebe would approve. ‘I told you – he wanted me to do his make-up for the party.’
‘Course he did. Honestly – the front of him! A freebie from you as his way of saying sorry. He needs his head read.’
‘Well, his mask looks amazing, even if I do say so myself. And he’s promised to pay me in exposure, whatever that means. He might change his mind before the night is over.’
‘Highly likely,’ Gem added, with a laugh. ‘He’s over there, talking to Javier Bardem. And I totally agree. His mask does look incredible – really beautiful work – you’re hugely talented.’
I arched my neck to see, as Blake laughed like a drain at something Javier said, surreptitiously scratching his head at the same time, as if it was part of the action. It was already working. Javier moved on and I watched from behind my mask as Blake made his way over to Benji and the wardrobe team, scratching as he walked.
‘The scratching activates it,’ Gem whispered. ‘The more he does it, the worse it will get.’ She gave me another one of her wicked smiles and walked off. Christ. I wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of her.
‘What’s with all the whispering?’ Phoebe said, nibbling on a smoked salmon blini.
‘It’s nothing really. I put a tiny bit of itching powder on Blake’s head, as part of his make-up and it’s started to activate.’
Phoebe gasped, then started to cough, a sliver of smoked salmon going down the wrong way. ‘You did what?!’
‘Just the teensiest bit, no big deal. It was Gem’s idea; it can’t be traced back to me.’
I could see Blake getting itchier from across the room, scratching more vigorously. Benji had been stood next to him, but had gradually edged away, presumably to avoid the flakes or nits or whatever he thought was the problem.
‘We could be sued!’ Phoebe said, through clenched teeth. ‘Although, it is the very least he deserves, of course.’
Blake was starting to look around, angrily, and I watched as he marched over to Gem red-faced and said something. She shrugged and shook her head as he waved his hands about. He scanned the crowd while he scratched, and then I realised he was looking for me. I was staring straight at him from behind my mask, but he couldn’t see me – he’d never spot me from this distance, anyway.
‘We might be in trouble after all,’ I said, as he started going from group to group, staring into people’s faces, and looking increasingly stressed out. There wasn’t anywhere to hide, apart from under the table or in the loos. Unless we made a run for it.
‘You said he can’t trace it back to you,’ Phoebe said.
‘He can’t.’
‘Well then. Give him a nice big smile and deny it. I’d rather not have a court case on my hands for Christmas, if you don’t mind. Your standard cheese and port hamper will do me just fine.’
I watched in panic as he got closer and closer.
‘This is stressing me out and ruining my celeb-spotting,’ Phoebe grumbled.
‘Blake is a celeb! And one you were very keen to meet a couple of months ago if I remember correctly.’
‘They say you should never meet your heroes,’ she replied.
‘In which case, maybe we should go back to the hotel?’
Billie Eilish had taken to the stage and the lights had gone down, thank goodness, making it harder for Blake on his scratch-and-sniff treasure hunt. The opening bars to No Time to Die kicked in and everyone stopped to watch. It was satisfying to get one over on Blake, even in this small way. And to feel like Gem had my back. It would have been easy for her to believe what he’d said and let me go. It made me realise how quickly my career could be snatched away, however hard I worked for it. I spotted Gem across the room talking to another fit guy in a suit and mask – she knew everyone. What a treat to have worked with her.
‘When the clapping starts, follow me,’ I whispered to Phoebe. This was our chance. Billie had the whole room in the palm of her hand, the only movement was Blake’s furious scratching across an otherwise still crowd. We doubled back to the other side of the room to stand near the wardrobe guys, where Blake’s search had started, as the applause died down.
‘Heads up – literally,’ Gem said, laughing. ‘Blake is on the warpath. He’s looking for you, but I denied all knowledge.’
‘Maybe we should leave, Phoebs,’ I said, my bravery waning as I spotted him talking to security. Chiara was nodding vigorously and trying to calm him down.
‘Absolutely not. I haven’t accidentally bumped into anyone yet,’ Phoebe said.
A waitress walked past with a tray of mini lasagnes and the smell was too delicious to resist. We all grabbed one and I put my mask on the side for thirty seconds while I ate it, turning my back to Blake. I had to eat something. But it was thirty seconds too long. He came storming over, Chiara in tow.
‘YOU did this,’ he shouted, clawing at his head, his butterfly mask fluttering beautifully.
I glanced behind me, innocently, where Gem and Phoebe were scoffing down lasagne.
‘Are you talking to me?’ I asked, in faux surprise as soon as he was close enough to hear.
‘Who else?’ he raged. ‘Is this because I got you fired?’
‘I’ve never been fired in my life,’ I said, as nice as pie, but inside I was furious. He’d admitted it, then. This selfish bastard had ruined my first ever film job, so as not to be caught with his dick hanging out.
‘I think you’ll find you have. From Moonmen. Call it whatever you like but I strongly suggested you be re… assigned.’
‘On what grounds?’
Blake shrugged and smiled. ‘On the grounds that I get what I want and Karma’s a bitch.’
‘She sure is,’ I said.
‘What have you put in my hair? I can’t stop scratching.’
‘I haven’t been anywhere near your hair,’ I said, standing my ground.
‘Yes, you have, when you did my mask, earlier!’
‘Sorry, Blake, you must be mistaken – I didn’t do your mask?’
‘What are you talking about? Yes, you did!!’
‘It’s an incredible piece of artistry, but it wasn’t me,’ I said, clicking my tongue with a tiny frown, as if trying to place who might have done it.
‘The attention to detail is unbelievable,’ Gem added.
‘SO good,’ Phoebe agreed.
‘I must insist this woman is removed from the party, immediately,’ Blake shouted at Chiara, seething. ‘She has sabotaged and viciously attacked me!’
He put both hands up dramatically to scratch his head and knocked into a tray of Champagne flutes as one of the waiters walked by. The glasses slowly toppled over, smashing to the floor one by one, and spilling Champagne everywhere.
‘Now look what you’ve made me do!’ Blake screamed in my face as I took a step back.
‘Mr Thomas, if we could talk for a moment outside to try and sort this out,’ Chiara said, with a fixed smile. ‘We can’t make accusations without legitimate proof.’ People were starting to look over, as Blake continued to make a scene.
‘I want them OUT,’ he repeated. ‘I’m the talent here, remember. She’s a nobody.’
‘Abi has been in the make-up room with me all day, Chiara, so Mr Thomas must be mistaken about her doing his mask,’ Gem said, to add fuel to his fury.
I heard a collective ping and all our phones lit up, and I noticed even more people looking in our direction.
Phoebe was the first to read it. ‘Uh-oh – looks like the news is out, Blake. Time’s up, cowboy.’
‘What news?’ Blake snarled, snatching Phoebe’s phone off her.
‘Yep. It’s been confirmed by the network that you’re being killed off on Outlaws,’ I said, scrolling through TikTok. ‘Already trending.’
‘That is not true! It is still being discussed and negotiated,’ Blake shouted, incensed, looking around at the people staring at him. ‘It’s NOT TRUE!!!’
‘Ms Mason, would you like to follow me?’ a voice said, and my heart sank. I was being chucked out. Blake had won again. I turned to find the fit guy Gem had been talking to, stood behind me. Clean-shaven, with short back and sides, wearing a tailored suit and an elaborately crafted mask. There was no mistaking that voice, those eyes, or that spicy aftershave. I nearly fainted.
‘Tony?’ I said, flabbergasted. I got up close to the eyes behind the mask. ‘Is that you?’
He nodded and smiled.
‘Mr Almagno, I’m so sorry about this disturbance,’ Chiara started.
Blake switched off his toddler tantrum and plastered on a winning smile. ‘Mr Almagno! A pleasure to meet you, sir,’ he said, holding out his hand. Tony dismissed him with a curt nod.
Why was it a pleasure to meet him? How did he even know him?
‘What are you doing here?’ I asked. My shocked face said it all.
‘I’m here every year,’ he replied. ‘Thank you, Chiara. Ms Mason is my guest, so she won’t be leaving just yet, but if you could help Mr Thomas out, that would be wonderful.’
‘Of course, sir,’ Chiara replied.
‘Your make-up is on point,’ Gem said, blowing Tony a kiss. I looked a little closer at his mask and could see it had all been done with make-up. It was an absolute work of art.
‘An excellent job as always, Gem, thank you. And I appreciate you looking after Abi as well.’
Blake watched open-mouthed and Phoebe stopped eating her lasagne.
‘Would you like to dance?’ Tony asked, as the music turned slow and sultry.
I nodded silently, bewitched by this surreal moment, and Tony took my hand. Blake gave me one last filthy look and stormed off, closely escorted by Chiara, as we made our way to the dance floor. People hushed around us, parting to let us through.
‘What’s going on?’ I asked, as he put his arms around me and pulled me in close, just as he’d done the night of the Vendemmia party. My heart was racing. What was happening?
‘I told you I worked in film,’ he said.
‘Well, yes, you did, but what the hell as?’ I looked at the people dancing near us, their eyes darting away as they pretended not to look at Tony.
‘I’m a director.’ He dropped the words out as if it was no big deal.
‘Not just any old director, from the way people are behaving.’
Tony shrugged, modestly. ‘I’ve done a few things you might have heard of. I’m one of the international jury chairs at the festival this year, which is why I had to rush off last week.’
He had the same expression on his face as when Marco Colombo had dropped out that he was the curator of the Uffizi. Who the hell was this guy?
‘Me and Gem go way back, so I knew she wasn’t working on Moonmen when you mentioned it. I made a few calls and got the lowdown on what had happened. On what Blake had been saying about you.’
‘You knew, but you didn’t tell me?’
Tony twirled us around, strong but gentle as he moved. It felt good to be back in his arms.
‘I thought if you knew, you’d go straight back to London, and I didn’t want you to. It was selfish, I know.’
‘But then you left anyway without saying goodbye?’
‘I was only supposed to be gone for one night. I’m on the organising committee for the festival and they wanted me on site. It took much longer than I’d thought it would.’
‘Paolo said you were in Verona?’
‘Yes and no. Some of the crew from my most recent film were staying there, so I got the train over to see them on the way.’
‘I tried to call, and sent you messages?’ I said, feeling like an obsessed fan.
‘I know. And Holly gave me your letter. I’ve been desperate to speak to you, but I thought it would be better to wait and explain everything face to face. I started to message you yesterday, then decided a WhatsApp message wasn’t the grand romantic gesture I was looking for.’
‘I thought you were ghosting me,’ I said. ‘That you weren’t interested.’
‘Nothing could be further from the truth.’ He pulled me in closer and we swayed to the beat.
‘I did think it was strange not to hear from you. After… everything.’
‘Everything – as opposed to anything,’ he said, with a smile.
I laughed. It felt like a lifetime ago that I’d accused him of gatecrashing my yoga class.
‘Your film was just so beautiful. I thought there might be something in it. Something between us.’
‘There is. The film was for you, Abi. I did it for you.’
‘For me?’ I faltered. Melting as I looked into his eyes. ‘Really?’
‘I’m so sorry everything got so confused. I switched my Italian SIM out for my work phone while I was with the team, and by the time I got back to Paolo’s, you’d gone. Although obviously I knew where to, as I had your letter. And I kinda knew you were coming here anyway...’
‘Because you got me the gig with Gem.’
‘I strongly recommended you for it, yes,’ he said, with a smile. ‘I didn’t realise Blake would be here – I should have checked. It can’t have been fun seeing him again.’
‘Another one of your serendipitous meetings,’ I said, as he held me close on the dance floor.
‘My inner knowing that if it was meant to be, we’d see each other again,’ he replied, eyes twinkling.
‘I did wonder why Gem was so fiercely on my side. Blake tried to get her to fire me.’
‘As I say – we go back years. She’s been doing my make-up for the big gigs since my first Oscar nomination.’
‘Oh wow. You’re a pretty big deal then?’
‘They don’t call me Access-all-areas Almagno for nothing, remember?’ I rested my head on his shoulder, trying to take it all in. I really needed to get better at knowing who was who in the film world. ‘Anyway, now we’re here together, we can solve the riddle in your message. What have you changed your mind about?’
‘You wanted to take me out for dinner,’ I said, looking up at him and hoping he still did.
‘Ohhhh, the dinner,’ he said, nodding. ‘I did say something about a dinner, didn’t I, in San Gimignano. Hmm… and you thought you’d wait until I was back in LA to say yes?’
‘Sort of,’ I said, feeling like an idiot.
‘Lucky for you I’m a flexible, globe-trotting kind of guy. First date Venice, second date LA, third date London. No problem with me.’
‘Don’t get ahead of yourself,’ I murmured, putting my head back on his chest.
‘Well now you’ve finally said yes, how about breakfast tomorrow?’ he said, slowing our dancing to an almost stop and staring into my eyes.
‘For our first official date?’ I replied, my heart a-flutter.
‘Yes. Our first date in Venice.’
‘It’s as good a place as any, I suppose,’ I said, with a shrug.
‘I’ll take that as an affirmative. Oh, and this might sound strange, but is it OK if I bring a friend?’
‘A friend?’ I wasn’t sure I’d heard him correctly. Although they did do dating differently in America.
He nodded, looking at me, thoughtfully. ‘Only if you don’t mind? It’ll be me, you and…’ He put his hand inside his jacket and pulled out Sophia Loren.
*
I opened my eyes and Tony was already reading the news on his phone with a coffee. He put it down and leant in to kiss me. The feel of his body next to mine, the satin sheets on my skin and the view of Venice from the window, were a pretty delicious combination.
‘Ready for our first date?’ he asked, with a smile.
‘Mm-hmm.’ I couldn’t wait. ‘Our very first date after all this time. We’ve been doing things in a very strange order.’
‘Works for me, if it works for you,’ Tony said, snuggling in and kissing my neck. ‘Sex first, then living together, and finally, we get to go on a date.’
‘How long have we got?’ I sank back into the pillow and pulled him on top of me.
Tony double-checked his phone. ‘That’s a very good point. I was enjoying lazing around too much and now we’ve only got twenty minutes,’ he said, leaping out of bed and running into the shower.
‘I thought you Italians were way more relaxed than that,’ I called after him. ‘Unless you’ve got a hot-air balloon landing on the roof?’ The power shower went on and there was a rattle of bottles as he crashed about, panic-washing.
‘Your turn!’ he shouted, his chest puffed out like a prize rooster and a towel around his waist. The two of us scrambled about to get ourselves ready, then raced downstairs and out the front door.
‘Where are we going?’ I asked, breathless, as he dragged me towards the water taxis. Oh no. ‘It’s not the speedboat, is it?’
The captain gave me a smirk as we whipped past. ‘No boat ride today, signorina?’
‘No, grazie,’ I replied, relieved.
We speed-walked along the waterfront, then took a sharp right under a bridge towards one of the quieter canals. As we hurried along the footpath, I could see we were heading towards a dead end – a basin of water, with a turning circle, and just one boat bobbing on the surface. But what a boat it was. A shiny black gondola with a red and gold sofa and matching velvet cushions. There was a table laid out with a Champagne breakfast for two and a stripy-topped gondolier stood waiting as the clock chimed ten.
‘Buongiorno, Signor Almagno,’ he said, doffing his hat.
‘Ciao, Lorenzo,’ Tony called.
‘Is this a scene from one of your movies?’ I asked, almost lost for words. I kissed him softly and he stopped walking just long enough to kiss me back, wrapping his arms around me.
‘If it was, it would be missing a little something,’ he said, with a frown.
I looked at him, surprised. It wasn’t missing anything as far as I could see. It couldn’t have been any more perfect. ‘Like what?’
He looked over my shoulder, put his fingers to his lips and whistled. I turned and Chiara was at the other end of the waterway with a tiny ball of fluff on a lead. I couldn’t believe my eyes. It was Nero. She bent down and unclipped him and he ran towards us as fast as he could, his little ears flapping in the breeze.
‘Whaatttt? Nero!!!! What are you doing here?’ I said, picking him up and kissing him as he licked me all over my face.
‘He’s coming back to LA with me,’ Tony said. ‘I couldn’t leave him behind or let him go to someone else. We can take him for a walk on our second date if you like?’
My heart felt like it might burst. I thought I’d never see these two again, yet here they both were – the three of us together in Venice, about to go on our first ever date. The start of another Italian adventure. What else could I say? It was time to take the plunge.
‘Works for me, if it works for you,’ I said, kissing Tony again, as he put his arms around the two of us and Nero snuggled in, giving us both a lick of approval.