HOT SET: Playing with Fidelity (A romantic suspense novel) (7 page)

Amelia just ducked her head and went straight to her room, the book Sam threw in anger at her silence just missing her head
.

“
Come back here, bitch!” he screamed and threw a glass which shattered against the wall of the hallway.

Amelia locked her door and crumpled on the floor, her bag spilling a little onto the
stained carpet. Peter’s glossy card glittered.

It’ll change your life, he’d said
. It’ll change your life.

The next day at school, she did an internet search on him and found a modern, well-maintained website with several famous faces pictured
. Reviewers were positive and he’d shown his photos several times in galleries. Walking to the payphone just outside of school, she called him. He’d been so excited to hear from her and invited her into his studio that day. She broke a perfect attendance record by skipping her last two classes and caught a bus the 20 blocks to his studio.

The building was nothing more than a
concrete double-story industrial site with small square windows and a dark grey door. Intimidated and scared, she pressed on the lever to open the door and walked up the concrete stairs, following the signs to ‘Peter Denner – Photographer’. The large room had no walls or partitions, just a few desks, lockable cupboards, several different backdrops and a plethora of lights, umbrellas, props and other photographic paraphernalia spilling freely from large plastic boxes. A buzzer sounded as she passed through the doorway and Peter looked up from his camera and yelled, “whoo-hoo! Everyone, everyone. This is Amelia. I discovered her yesterday at the library of all places.”

A few people in the room called out hello, the two models posed on a grey backdrop glowered and Amelia nearly backed down the stairs at the sudden attention
. This was a huge mistake.
This guy is on something illegal
, she thought.

Peter rushed across the room and took her hand, leading her to a desk with a young, plain woman in her early 20s that was dressed in a 1950s pinafore dress, black hair severely pulled back and
red Dame Edna glasses.

“
This is Fiona, my personal assistant. She’ll help you get ready.”

“
Hi, Amelia. Nice to meet you. Let’s get started.”

She presented Amelia with some paperwork and explained what would happen, that Peter would own the images, etc
. Amelia signed the documents.

“
As a minor, we’ll need your guardian’s signature, too.”

“
Okay, I’ll get my mum to sign it when I get home and I’ll post it back.” Amelia would later forge her mother’s signature.

“
No problems.”

The next three hours blurred into a murky swamp of make-up,
hair styling, clothes, flashes, instructions, poses, props and yelling. She had little idea what was going on and was overwhelmed, nervous and very uneasy with the attention.

“
Okay, Amelia. Do you want to see some of the photos?”

“
Okay.”

“
Come over here.”

‘Over here’ was a projector pointed at a white screen,
linked to a laptop. Peter slotted in a memory card, something which Amelia had never seen before, pushed some buttons and suddenly there she was…

She
was awkwardly staring to the left of the photographer but Peter had captured that discomfort and transformed it into an emotion. Her smooth skin looked luminescent, her eyes a transcendent aqua and her long limbs were crunched uncomfortably into a pose a supermodel would professionally demonstrate.

He went through s
everal photos before stopping at one shot of her, sitting on a low chair in front of a mottled brown background. She was wearing black, skinny jeans, a fitted black singlet top and black closed-toe stilettos. Her knees were pressed together, feet turned in on her toes, hands clutched in her lap and her blonde fringe and hair straight. She was staring straight down the lens, her face neutral but her eyes full of the sad story of her life.

“
Now, this one is the best. This gets right into the heart of Amelia.” He caught her eye. “I knew you were perfect,” he said, softly.

Amelia left the studio, her head completely befuddled by what happened that day
. She didn’t tell anyone about it, sent back the signed clause, and for the next three weeks, life went back to normal.

One day, as
Amelia walked to class, there was an undercurrent around her. It seemed like everyone was watching her, talking about her but the moment she’d look their way, they’d stop.

“
Nice photo, dork,” Lisa sneered.

“
Photo? What photo?”

“
God, don’t play stupid. You’re such a stuck-up bitch.”

“
What photo, Lisa, I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Lisa
walked over to a group of girls and snatched a magazine from the hands from one of them.

“
Hey, give that back!”

“
Piss off.”

She held up the magazine in front of a very astonished Amelia.

It was a photography magazine and on the front cover was Peter’s favourite photo of her. Amelia didn’t know what to say.

“
Well, that is you, isn’t it?”

“
Buttt, yes, but I didn’t know he was going to put it in a magazine!”

“
Well… it’s a nice photo, Rhein.”

Amelia’s jaw dropped
in shock at the first compliment she’d ever received from her bully. Lisa stomped back to the owner of the magazine and threw it forcefully in her lap.

“
Ouch!”

“
Shut up, cretin.”

From that day, school changed for Amelia. Whilst not exactly friended, the hostility was
reduced. More girls talked to her, asked her what it was like to be a model. Finally, one of the girls in the popular group invited her to a movie and Amelia found herself accepted. It was amazing what popularity could do. She was still a recluse and never invited people around but she started taking care of herself, wearing better clothes and she stood straighter.

With her new-found confidence, Amelia signed up to the school play and although she had a minor role, she
found she loved living the life of make-believe character, even for just a short time. She continued with the drama club at her school and made a tentative truce with the other members, although she still wouldn’t consider a relationship, despite some interested flurries from the boys.

At home,
Karen had seen the Amelia’s magazine at a newsagency and had nearly fallen over. She berated Amelia for not telling her then shut up when Amelia received a cheque for $300 from Peter. They didn’t tell Sam about it and Karen and Amelia spent the afternoon putting half of it towards bills and the other half on a few new clothes for them both. Sam raged in fury when he found out about the money and smashed three glasses above their heads in retaliation, but they ignored him.

A year passed and
things slowly went back into routine. Amelia wasn’t called up by Peter again. The family were broke and whilst her school life had settled, her home life was terminal.

Amelia
still had her dream. She needed money; lots of it.

She
checked her arsenal. She could write, model and act. Writing she loved but she knew there was limited money in it. She’d enjoyed her drama classes at school and got high marks for it. She could continue to find modelling jobs but there was no reason why she couldn’t do both modelling and acting. She decided to give it a try.

She was one-month short of 17 when she told her mother she was leaving. Karen was
sad because Amelia was the only joy she had left and relieved because she would now be safe from Sam. A month later, a few days after Amelia’s birthday, Karen tucked more money than she could spare into Amelia’s cheap duffel bag and sobbed in despair when the bus left heading west.

It was
a determined Amelia that arrived two days later in the smoky, crowded streets of Los Angeles and she stood in a main street of down-town Hollywood and stared around her, wondering why people sought out this grubby place.

S
he found a waitressing job with hundreds of other gorgeous wannabe actors. Her self-respect fell just a little bit more every time she tied on an apron and fended off vulgar grabs from equally vulgar patrons. Living cramped in a hostel, she slowly built up enough money to get some more photos and put a portfolio together, including the photos from Peter. No one was interested. She was living from pay to pay barely scraping enough together for food, grateful she could get one free meal a day at the restaurant.

For
four months, she took the portfolio from audition to audition, modelling call to modelling call, the constant knock-backs strengthening her resolve rather than breaking her. Her sculptured face, blue eyes, high cheekbones and straight blond hair gave her a beauty that was undeniable and she was told more than once she could get the part if she sacrificed herself on the altar of the casting couch. She was continually disgusted by the offers; why couldn’t she get there on her talent? Why did they only want one thing?

Another
two months passed and her bank account was empty with three days till pay day. Her self-respect was at an all-time low and she was almost starving. She’d been in L.A. for a year and had achieved nothing.

A
melia decided with sickening dread that her body was far less important than her vow for power and money. She’d never got around to having sex before, but resolved it was just a body. Every other girl she knew had lost their virginity years ago, what was the big deal? Depression fed irrationality and she convinced herself it no longer mattered. Now, she needed a target.

Fo
ur days before her 18
th
birthday, Amelia was about to step out the narrow entrance corridor of a ratty warehouse building just after an audition for a minor walk-on in a police drama. It was hot, muggy and on the verge of rain and just inside the scratched doorway, she stopped to rummage in her brown, cloth satchel for an umbrella. Without warning, a wide, dark-suited man talking arrogantly on his mobile leaped into the entrance and crashed forcefully into her. Amelia stumbled backwards and nearly fell until the man’s large hands grabbed her upper arms and stopped her rickety descent, the sound of his phone hitting the wooden floor with a sickening crack.

“
Are you okay?” he held her upper arms, eyes widening with glee at the young beauty he’d just crashed into.

“
Yes, thank you… I’m sorry…”

“
Don’t apologise, it was my fault.” He looked around for his phone and grimaced when he saw it was in three pieces.

“
I’m sorry about your phone.”

“
It’s fine,” the man said while he bent over his bloated stomach to sweep up the pieces. Amelia decided it would be the decent thing to wait until he’d checked his phone; after all, she shouldn’t have stood so close to the doorway. The man quickly snapped them all together and pressing the power button, sighing when the opening screen lit up.

“
See, these things are tough, although I’m sure the director will be wondering what happened.”

“
I’m sorry,” said Amelia again and took a step to the side to move on.

“
Don’t be.” He reached out his hand. “I’m Bill Gaffod.”

“
Oh,” Amelia juggled her bag and umbrella to free her right hand and shook his, successfully not flinching at the moisture. “Amelia.”

“
Amelia. Pretty name for a pretty girl.” He held onto her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Amelia extricated her hand and he let it go regretfully
.

“
Well, sorry again. I have to go now.”

Not wanting to let her go immediately, he
asked, “are you an actor?”

“
Yes,” she uttered, trying to move past him without seeming impolite. He stepped casually into her way.

“
Have you just auditioned for
L.A. Force
?”

“
Yes.”

“
Ah, excellent. I’m the Executive Producer.”

Amelia’s sideways momentum halted
. This man had power, power she could use. Turning slightly, she threw a subtle glance towards her potential saviour.

He was only a fraction taller than her but must have weighed twice as much
. His expensive suit was cut to flatter his shape but still, it couldn’t hide his protruding stomach, short legs and narrow shoulders. He was middle aged, completely bald and had a pallid face dominated by a wide nose, small eyes and fleshy lips which were stretched into what she assumed was an attempt at a charming smile. She found him repulsive but slapped on her actor mask and raised an eyebrow quizzically.