Authors: Kate Metz
Stiletto Safari (22 page)
Your things.
Hamish
Opening the lid, I discovered everything I’d left at Hamish’s place. I slumped to the floor, resting my head on my knees. I’d been dumped! Recalling the events of yesterday, it wasn’t exactly a surprise, but I still felt sick to my core.
After a good cry I realized I had two options. I could try and win Hamish back or I could pack my things and leave forever.
Still crying, I started packing. I knew there was nothing I could say or do to change Hamish’s mind. Not only had I made a complete idiot of myself, but I couldn’t realistically compete against Sasha Friend. Who was I trying to fool?
Feeling anything but inspirational, I finally made my way up to the school to meet with Kelly and the crew before fleeing to the airport.
Kelly had decided to conduct our interview in my old schoolroom. As soon as she saw my face, she knew something was wrong.
“What is it, sweetie? You look totally depressed,” she mothered, sitting me down on a little wooden chair.
“Hamish broke up with me,” I confessed, fresh tears springing to my eyes.
“Oh, honey, that’s too bad,” Kelly said, giving me a sympathetic hug before saying, “You know, we don’t need to do this today. I’m around all week.”
“No, I’m fine, really,” I replied dabbing my eyes with a tissue. “Besides, I’m all packed. I’m going home.”
“Are you sure you want to leave?” Kelly asked.
“Uh-huh.” I nodded.
“Well, let’s keep the interview short—I’ll just pad it out later, if that’s okay with you.”
I nodded my assent.
True to her word, Kelly kept the interview mercifully brief. Even though I was trying hard to concentrate I found myself answering her questions on autopilot. All I could think about was Hamish. My heart ached. How could I have been so stupid? I’d killed the very best thing I’d ever had.
Following the interview, the makeup artist tried to make me look half decent. I had tear streaks all down my face and my hair was a mess. She spent ages straightening my hair and applying all manner of products to my face. “No more crying before the shoot,” she warned as we both surveyed my fresh new look in the mirror.
The crew took some shots of me pretending to teach the kids. The excited kids were wearing their new uniforms with such pride I nearly started bawling again. I was an emotional wreck.
Just as the shoot was wrapping up, Nelson appeared. Hurrying over, I told him all about the Nick Hansen Scholarship Fund. He was blown away. Bowing his head, he said, “This kindness will alter the lives of many. It is a very great thing to give opportunity where previously there was none.”
Despite my broken heart, I felt really positive about the scholarship fund. I was so pleased Nick’s money was being put to good use.
As the crew packed up, I bid a tearful goodbye to all the kids. Of course, the most tears were reserved for Gabi. Like Ismail, I’d grown to love her plucky spirit and energy.
Just as I was leaving, I handed Gabi a bag. “These are for you. You might like them when you’re a bit older. Remember to always work hard for the things you want and to love the things you have. Also, remember me when you’re a rich and famous doctor!”
My last image of Gabi was of her cradling my snakeskin stilettos. My favorite shoes had found a new and worthy home.
“Y
ou can’t be serious. You’re not really going, are you, Zara?” Ismail looked completely taken aback by my announcement. “But why on earth are you leaving now? You’re not due to leave for a while.” I was perched on Ismail and Amy’s tiny kitchen bench.
“Hamish broke up with me,” I explained, my throat catching on the words.
“But why? You two are perfect together.” Ismail looked shocked.
“Well, I did some stupid things, and let’s face it, I’m no match for Sasha Friend.”
“What do you mean? What’s Sasha Friend got to do with anything?” Ismail looked genuinely surprised.
“Everything,” I sobbed, “She and Hamish used to date. He’s the reason she’s here.”
Ismail looked stunned. “Hang on; is this some kind of joke? Hamish and Sasha Friend? No way!” He was shaking his head in total disbelief.
“No, it’s all true,” I wailed. “He didn’t want anyone here to know, probably because he always intended to get back together with her. I only found out because a friend sent me some gossip columns. It turns out I was just the rebound girl.”
“Do you want me to punch him for you?” Ismail asked, straightening up and feinting left, then right.
A faint smile touched my lips. “Could you? Usually I don’t condone violence, but on this occasion I think it’s completely warranted!” Tears started to slide down my cheeks as I hopped off the bench.
Ismail came over and gave me a long hug. “Oh, you poor thing—I can see why you want to go. I can’t believe Hamish is such an ass. I’m going to miss you, Zara Hamilton, and Amy is going to kill me for letting you go. Promise me you’ll come visit us in London. We’ll be back in two months, and Sam will be back in three months. We’ll have a grand reunion.”
“I’d love to,” I truthfully replied before adding, “I’m really going to miss you guys.”
“You could stay,” Ismail cajoled.
Shaking my head, I sadly replied, “I can’t. Imagine if Amy dumped you; surely you’d leave too.”
Ismail nodded.
“Now if you’ll excuse me for a second I need to check my flight options.” Connecting to the Internet I discovered there were no flights to New York but a surprisingly convenient flight to Melbourne. Taking it as a sign, I decided to cash in the ticket my parents had given me and head home for Christmas.
“Time to go, Ismail,” I said, patting my bags. “My flight leaves in a few hours.”
As we were pulling out of the volunteer camp, I caught a glimpse of Hamish. He was walking away from me with his back turned; Sasha Friend was dangling off his arm. Ismail muttered angrily under his breath and I gave into a fresh bout of crying.
I insisted that Ismail drop me off at the terminal rather than come in. Goodbyes have never been my thing, and I knew there were many people waiting for him back at the clinic.
After check-in, I found myself with some time to spare. I found an empty Internet terminal and logged into my e-mails:
There was an e-mail from Sal.
Hi Zara,
Your e-mails have been deleted from the web. I called Clare and she didn’t deny she posted them. I also called IT support at Harvey & Rose to see if she had posted the e-mails from work. I suggested the e-mails were highly defamatory so I suspect they’ll block her e-mails for at least a while. I’m not going to sugar-coat it. I think you should start looking for a new job.
How has Hamish taken things? Were you able to explain?
I know you’re probably feeling pretty awful, but this will all blow over. In a few weeks you’ll be able to laugh about it!
xxSal
I typed back a response:
Hamish dumped me. I’m on my way to Melbourne to lie low for a while. Thanks so much for everything you’ve done. I owe you so much.
Z
I wanted to write more, but I couldn’t think of anything to say. I felt so hopeless and helpless. I’d fled New York because my life was in a mess and all I’d managed to do in the last few months was screw it up even more.
The loudspeaker above me crackled: my flight to Australia was boarding.
I
spent the first two weeks in Melbourne recovering. After the crazy few months I’d just experienced, I was physically and emotionally exhausted. With the exception of some long Skype sessions with Sal and Emi, I avoided contacting any friends; I just wanted some time out.
Nick’s
let’s get back together
e-mail was still haunting me, so one sunny day when I was feeling a bit stronger, I called him. We talked for hours, and for a moment I really considered giving things another go. The only problem was that I couldn’t stop thinking about Hamish, wishing it was him on the other end of the phone.
In the end I told Nick everything—the whole sorry saga. My confession felt good, and best of all, it didn’t come as a surprise to Nick because he’d already read my e-mails. At least my online e-mails were good for something! Nick was even kind enough to say that he didn’t find Sasha Friend that attractive, and he agreed that she sounded like a complete bitch.
He was chuffed when I told him about the Nick Hansen Scholarship Fund. Surprisingly, he even said he’d like to go and visit the school sometime.
We ended the call amicably. Perhaps we really could be friends.
The only other noteworthy event in my life was the release of the December issue of
Vogue
. The moment I’d been longing for turned out to be an anti-climax. When I went to the newsstand to buy my copy I was assailed by not one, not two, but three magazine covers featuring Sasha Friend. Of course, she looked amazing in all three cover shoots. In vain, I looked for her picture under the headlines “Hideous Stars Without Makeup” or “Plastic Surgery Disasters,” but to no avail.
To add insult to injury, I found myself purchasing all three magazines before heading to my favorite café. In total, I spent about fifteen minutes reading
my
feature article and about four hours looking for physical flaws in Sasha Friend. Unfortunately, I couldn’t find any and had to content myself with the thought that she was an awful person.
I was actually pretty happy with the way my article, “Meet Our Inspirational Volunteers,” had turned out. There was something about the inky black text that made my experiences sound—dare I say it?—a little bit inspirational.
True to her word, Kelly had included all the good bits—the new school uniform and rubbish revolution—while leaving out all the bad bits—failed romance with world-famous wildlife biologist, love triangle with supermodel, volunteer stint abruptly cut short.
Best of all, however, was her mention of the Nick Hansen Scholarship Fund. Apparently the fund was a world first, and it gave me a real buzz to know that I’d helped set up something meaningful.
The pictures accompanying the article were fantastic. Without exception, the kids all looked really happy and confident. Gabi in particular looked amazing. In her new uniform with her hair braided, she was a far cry from the crumpled little girl I’d first met. Just looking at her transformation brought tears to my eyes. For once, I was even happy with the photos of me. I don’t know if they’d been Photoshopped, but I looked tanned, skinny, and gorgeous.
After reading my article, I turned my attention to the
Who
magazine I’d also bought. The cover featured a fresh-faced Sasha Friend, while the accompanying caption sensationally read, “My near-death experience in Africa.” Intrigued, I flipped to the article. Scanning the page, I was disappointed to learn that Sasha’s interpretation of a near-death experience was having her Birkin ripped apart by the lion cubs:
It was so scary; we were preparing for the shoot and suddenly from out of nowhere two enormous lions attacked us. They totally destroyed my limited-edition Birkin. The guide was useless. He didn’t do anything to try and save my bag. I still have nightmares about the incident. I don’t think I’ll ever go back to Africa…
I snorted audibly, causing a group of women at the next table to turn around. What a bimbo!
Finally, I moved on to the
Cosmo
. The article Sasha appeared in was entitled “Get Your Ultimate Beach Body.” Sasha was quoted as saying:
I eat really well; I know a lot of girls in the industry have to starve themselves, but I just couldn’t. I’m just so lucky to be genetically blessed…
What a fraud; I felt like throwing up. The one thing I actually remembered from That Night was that Sasha Friend didn’t eat. I was pretty sure she was allergic to food and got by on booze and cigarettes.
Outraged, I did the only thing I could do—I grabbed a pen and added devil horns to all her pictures. It was a completely impotent gesture, but a much more authentic look. Paying for my coffee, I left the
Who
and
Cosmo
on the magazine rack.
My mood improved when I got home. Letting myself in the front door, I heard my mum calling, “Zara, is that you? Your phone hasn’t stopped ringing the whole time you’ve been out.”
I hadn’t even noticed I’d been cell-less. It made me realize how quickly I’d forgotten the crazy world of Manhattan. Grabbing my phone, I discovered I had twenty-one missed calls. Impatiently, I started listening to the messages. Nineteen were from close friends, including Sal and Emi, raving about the
Vogue
article. Just hearing the excitement in my friends’ voices made me feel excited too. I was in
Vogue
! Repeat: I was in
Vogue
!
The remaining two calls were intriguing. The first was from Trish, the HR cow at Harvey & Rose. The other was from Linda at Earthwatch wanting to discuss “an interesting opportunity.”
Curious, I called Linda first. She had seen the
Vogue
article and was ringing to offer me a job! The role sounded fantastic. I’d join Earthwatch as a volunteer coordinator—I’d get to travel the world checking out their volunteer programs to make sure they were fun and rewarding. I’d also get to scout for new volunteer opportunities. Surprisingly, the pay package was commensurate with what I was earning at Harvey & Rose. The only downside was that I’d be based out of London.
After having a really good chat with Linda, I promised to think about the role and get back to her before Christmas with my decision.
Next I called Trish. Usually she was a bit of a bitch, but today she was in kiss-up mode. She was calling to tell me that the partners at Harvey & Rose were “delighted that one of their very bright, up-and-coming lawyers had been recognized for philanthropy. In recognition of my outstanding potential, the partners had decided to make me a senior associate and the firm wanted me to spearhead their new recruitment campaign.” To say that I was surprised was an understatement.