Authors: Kate Metz
Stiletto Safari (20 page)
“So, Hamish, how did you get the job of escorting Sasha around for the next week? I hear you’re going to be with her 24/7, you lucky bastard,” Sam continued, ignoring Amy’s remark.
Was I hearing right? 24/7? This couldn’t be happening. Not after the last few months we’d had, and the amazing trip to Zanzibar. Why was I the last to know? Suddenly, I felt like I was going to be sick.
“Zara, are you okay?” Amy asked, her voice full of concern, “You look really pale. Are you feeling faint?”
“Uh, maybe,” I said, standing up shakily.
“Sit down, put your head between your legs, and take some slow, deep breaths,” Amy instructed as Hamish stroked my back.
Within a few moments I was feeling a bit better. “Hamish, why don’t you take Zara out to get some fresh air; it’s a little stuffy in here,” Amy helpfully suggested.
The cool night air revived me like a slap in the face. Rather than feeling faint, I was now feeling furious.
“Well?” I hissed.
“Well what?” Hamish countered defensively.
“Well, for starters, when were you planning on telling me that you’re playing exclusive tour guide to your ex-girlfriend?”
“It’s not like that, Zara; I don’t want to take Sasha around. I’ve just been told I have to do it. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“See it from my perspective: your ex-girlfriend, who incidentally has told the world that you’re getting married, is arriving tomorrow and you’re playing tour guide for a week. How exactly am I meant to feel about that? And why didn’t you tell me about it if it doesn’t mean anything to you?”
“Because I knew you’d have this irrational kind of reaction.”
By now I was fuming. “Irrational reaction. Are you kidding me? How would you feel if Nick suddenly turned up?”
“Well, I’d be fine about it because I trust you, Zara. You know, I find it surprising how little you trust me.”
“So are you planning on telling Sasha about me?”
Hamish looked awkwardly at his feet.
“You’re not,” I spat. I couldn’t believe this.
“You’re jumping to the wrong conclusion, Zara. It’s not because I’m remotely interested in getting back together with Sasha; it’s because she can be a real bitch and I don’t want you in the firing line. In a week she’ll be out of our lives forever.”
Contemptuously I rolled my eyes. “Do you really expect me to believe that crap?”
“Zara…” Hamish tried to take my hand. Roughly, I pushed him aside.
“You know what, Hamish, I have a splitting headache and I can’t deal with you right now. Please apologize to Amy and Ismail. I’m going back to my room.”
“Don’t be like this; come back to my place,” Hamish insisted.
“No thanks; I’m not in the mood.”
“Zara, why are you being like this? You’re acting like an insecure child,” Hamish exploded.
“Oh yeah? And whose fault is that?” I shouted before turning on my heel and storming back to my room.
Hamish didn’t come after me. I half expected that he would. When I got back to my room, I threw myself on my bed and cried angry, frustrated tears.
D
-day, and the whole volunteer camp was abuzz with excitement. Nearly everyone was waiting to catch a glimpse of Sasha Friend.
Other than me, the only person not excited by the prospect of seeing a supermodel was Dave, a nonchalant English biology student. When I asked him why he wasn’t interested, he shrugged his shoulders. “Why would I be? I don’t know Sasha Friend; she doesn’t know me. For all I know she’s just an air-brushed bimbo.”
I’d have to spend more time with Dave. Clearly he had a very insightful personality.
Apparently, Hamish was spending the morning giving Sasha one-on-one time with the animals so she could get used to them. The lion cubs and two of the tamer cheetahs were being used in the fashion shoot. Personally, I hoped they mauled her.
“Zara, have you seen Hamish?” Sam cornered me during the lunch break.
“No; I presume he’s still showing the
Vogue
crew around,” I answered, trying to keep my tone light and even.
“He finished doing that over two hours ago. Sasha’s manager is trying to find her. She and Hamish must have disappeared somewhere. Maybe they’re at the lodge.”
Dread suffused my entire body. They were at the lodge alone together…
And then anger rolled over me in a gigantic wave. My feelings mattered. I was a person. I was not to be trifled with. Within seconds I’d made up my mind: I was going up to the lodge to confront them.
Or perhaps I’d spy on them and then confront them. Either way, I was going to the lodge.
“Sam, you’ve just reminded me: I need to go up to the lodge. Can you drive me? You can see if Sasha is up there at the same time,” I innocently suggested.
Not suspecting an ulterior motive, Sam was quick to agree.
“If you don’t mind, we just have to stop by the school for a second,” I added. The semblance of a plan was starting to form.
As soon as we got to the school, I raced to my old classroom. The kids were still at lunch, so the room was empty. Within seconds, I’d gathered the things I was after and stuffed them into my backpack.
Upon reaching the lodge, we discovered that Sasha was staying in villa one. According to Nancy, the lodge manager, Sasha had asked not to be disturbed under any circumstances. Nancy promised to relay Sam’s message before asking for his advice on some new security system.
With Sam preoccupied, I seized my chance and slipped away. I’d been to the lodge a few times before and was pretty familiar with the layout. There were six villas in total, each surrounded by thick shrubs to ensure maximum privacy.
Opening my backpack I retrieved the items I’d taken from the dress-up bag—oversized circa 1970s sunnies and a floppy, lime green sunhat that covered half my face. Totally hideous, but fit for purpose. And the pièce de résistance: a long army-green camouflage tank top that was about ten sizes too big. It gaped at the sides and reached down to my knees.
As an inspired afterthought, I added a smear of mud to my cheeks and to my nose. I was now feeling pretty confident I would blend into my surrounds.
Time for a little reconnaissance!
Treading carefully, I picked my way through the dense undergrowth. It was hard, hot work. The shrubs were prickly, and within minutes my legs were scratched and bleeding.
Finally, I was within sight of Sasha’s villa. Willing myself not to breathe, I peered through the bushes. From my vantage point I had a perfect view of Sasha’s terrace.
“Hamish, honey, come out here and have a drink with me. You’ve totally earned it,” purred Sasha Friend. Her voice floated on the light breeze. I could see her reclined on a sun lounge, her long tanned legs glistening in the sun.
Was she topless? No, she must just be wearing a very skimpy bikini top. I crept closer to get a better look. I was now only about ten meters away. She was topless! My heart sank; this was all the proof I needed. Hamish was cheating on me.
As I shifted my weight, a branch snapped loudly underfoot. “Who’s there?” Sasha called out shrilly. “Hamish, help me; there’s paparazzi.”
Before I could run, the terrace door banged open and Hamish and a blonde woman appeared.
“Hamish, over there.” Sasha pointed straight at me before slipping on a t-shirt. Pointlessly, I tried to hide behind a gangly sapling.
“I see,” Hamish said gruffly. I could hear him crashing through the undergrowth straight at me. Within seconds he had me by the scruff of my neck and was yanking me toward the terrace.
“Who is it?” Sasha demanded, “I don’t see a camera. Where is it? What have they done with it?” There was a hysterical note in her voice.
I tried to keep my face averted, but it was useless. Sheepishly, I pulled off the hat and said as innocently as possible, “Oh, hi, Hamish, fancy seeing you here…”
“Zara?” Hamish asked incredulously. “What on earth are you doing here?”
“Oh, just a bit of this and a bit of that, you know. A field work sort of a thing,” I blustered.
“Right,” Hamish said uncertainly. “And what are you wearing? I didn’t recognize you.”
“Um, oh, it’s a long story. Actually, it’s a long, complex story…”
Hamish looked perplexed. He seemed on the verge of asking me to explain, but was fortunately interrupted.
“Zara, it’s so good to see you again! Are they vintage sunnies?” I looked away from Hamish to see Kelly, the
Vogue
sub-editor, beaming at me.
Sasha looked confused. “Who are you?” she demanded imperiously. “And why do you have mud all over your face?”
“It’s…um…a local sunscreen I’m trialing,” I tried to lie convincingly.
Kelly jumped in, “Sasha, this is Zara Hamilton. Zara is our number-one most inspirational volunteer. She also has quite an Internet following.”
Now it was my turn to look confused. Blankly, I looked at Kelly, Hamish, and Sasha, and then back at Kelly again. “An Internet following?” I said helplessly.
“Haven’t you heard, sweetie? Everyone has loved reading your e-mails.”
“I didn’t know your e-mails were online, Zara.” Hamish was eyeing me strangely.
“Oh yes, they’re a great read,” Kelly said cheerfully. “Is that awful guy still hanging around? I can’t for the life of me remember his name.” Kelly looked like she was deep in thought.
“Um.” I was fidgeting nervously with my green hat and was too scared to look at Hamish. “He’s, um, not actually that awful anymore,” I finally managed to stammer in a weak voice. This was turning into a disaster.
“How do you two know each other?” Sasha demanded, eyeing Hamish and me suspiciously.
Hamish gave a nervous little cough before awkwardly replying, “Zara is my, um…”
“Go on,” Sasha said impatiently.
“Zara is in my research group,” Hamish quickly got out.
And with that one sentence I knew where I stood—nowhere. Hamish could have said “girlfriend,” but he didn’t. Angry and humiliated, I stood there like an idiot.
Hamish looked down at his watch. “Well, I’ve got to be going; I’ve got an appointment in town. Zara, I’ll drive you back to the camp. Maybe you can tell me all about your e-mails and about the field work you’re doing?” Hamish’s eyebrows were arched. He didn’t look impressed.
“Ah, thanks, Hamish…um, I’ve got some things to do, so you go on without me.” There was no way I was ready to be quizzed by Hamish.
“Will you come and have dinner with me tonight, Ham?” Sasha cooed flicking her long blonde hair seductively and batting her eyelids.
“No, I’m tied up with my research work all this week,” Hamish answered before turning his back and abruptly leaving.
Sasha looked disappointed and pouted at Hamish’s back before smiling smugly at Kelly. “He’ll be back. See you for drinks at six. I’m heading in for a nap.” As an afterthought she threw over her shoulder, “You can join us too, Zara. You can tell me what Hamish has been up to.”
“Oh, that’s a super idea,” Kelly enthused. “If you don’t mind talking a bit of shop, we can plan out the feature. Ideally, I’d like to do your interview and shoot tomorrow morning so we can spend the rest of the week on Sasha.”
“Terrific.” I found myself dumbly nodding. Of course I’d rather have my teeth drilled than have drinks with Sasha Friend, but I didn’t think that would go down well with the sub-editor of
Vogue
.
“Kelly, you’ve left your bag in here,” Sasha called from inside the villa.
“Okay, I’d better grab it. See you tonight, Zara,” Kelly said kindly before wandering into Sasha’s room.
Too late I realized I was locked out on the terrace. Just perfect! So my options were to bang on Sasha’s door and ask her to let me out, or to pick my way back through the bushes. Crossly, I fought my way back through the bushes. There was no way I was asking Sasha Friend for a favor.
All I could think about on the eight kilometer hike back to the volunteer camp was how the hell my e-mails had ended up online. Surely, it was all some gigantic mistake. There must be plenty of
Zara Hamilton’s
after all. One thing was certain, if they were my e-mails I was screwed.
“I
smail, Amy, you have to let me in.” I was banging furiously on their door.
Amy finally opened the door. “What is it Zara? Are you okay?” She looked really tired.
“I really have to use the Internet,” I breathlessly exclaimed.
“Sure, but I’m going back to bed.” Amy yawned. “Ismail and I had a really late night last night.”
I Googled,
Zara Hamilton,
and within a few moments the screen filled with text. As I scanned through the entries I felt like I was going to vomit. All my e-mails to the girls were online. To make matters worse, people had commented on my e-mails. It was like the whole world was talking about me behind my back.
But how had it happened? Frantically, I pulled up my most recent e-mail to the girls. I read it and then re-read it before it hit me. How had I not noticed? I had included Clare Lay (evil Clare) on my e-mail list and not Clare Levy (nice Clare). When I inevitably got sacked from Harvey & Rose for defamation, bringing the firm into disrepute etc etc I would have to remember not to put “pays attention to detail” on my resume.
I felt like I was witnessing a train crash. No worse, I was in the train crash. My life had been made public!
I e-mailed Sal and Emi:
Girls, I need your urgent help. I think Clare Lay has posted all of my e-mails (and your responses – so sorry) on the web. Can you work out a way to delete them? It would be nice too if you could kill Clare, what a stupid cow! I’m so screwed…
xZ
Utterly depressed, I logged-off and wandered back to my room. As my eyes adjusted to the dim interior light, I saw a single wildflower and a note on my bed. Tossing the flower to one side, I read the note:
Zara
,
Dinner tonight at my place? I’ll cook! I missed you last night and am sorry for upsetting you. I have to show the Vogue crew around this morning and then I’m taking a sick cheetah to the vet, but I should be back around 8:00.