The St. Tropez Lonely Hearts Club (32 page)

She had insisted that he pick her up at Le Gorille, a restaurant in front of the port, but he was late. He liked to keep them waiting just a little bit – it kept them insecure. She looked beautiful in tight pale blue jeans, sandals and a flowered top. She wore no make-up as usual, but her red curls had been freshly washed and framed her face perfectly.

He took her to see an old Fellini movie at the cinema in the Place des Lices and then he bought her dinner at a charming little
boîte
in one of the back streets of Saint-Tropez. Gabrielle found him amusing and intelligent, full of gossip and anecdotes about the rich denizens of the Côte d’Azur, where he claimed to have been a waiter for three years now, with an ambition to become a master chef, he told her.

When he walked her back to her car in the underground parking lot, he kissed her gently. Gabrielle was leaning back against her car and she enjoyed the touch of the handsome waiter’s lips on hers, the feel of his body against hers. But when his kiss began to be more insistent she pulled back.

‘No, I’m sorry, I can’t,’ she said.

‘Why? Don’t you like me?’

‘Yes, but please, I’m working on a case and I cannot get involved with anyone. Try and understand.’ She wriggled free and jumped into her car. ‘But I enjoyed the evening, François, and I promise we’ll do it again when this is all over.’

‘Okay.’ He slumped against a concrete pillar, watching the car’s rear lights disappear up the incline.

‘Frigid bitch,’ he muttered. ‘I’ll get you yet.’

Carlotta and Sophie had become extremely close during Sophie’s recuperation. Sophie loved Carlotta’s freshness and innocence, often remarking, ‘You remind me of myself when I was young.’ Carlotta had recently confided to Sophie the horrors of her dreadful marriage to Nicanor and Sophie had been most understanding and sympathetic.

‘But now, my dear, you must forget all that distress. You must move on.’

‘I want to,’ said Carlotta, ‘I really want to put that nightmare life with Nicanor behind me, but when I try to . . . to become closer to Nick, those awful memories come flooding back. Oh, God! Nick is being so patient with me. He loves me and I think I love him, but I’ve still not been able to . . . to . . .’

‘To have sex with him,’ Sophie said firmly but gently.

‘Yes. He wants to come and live with me but I’m frightened.’

‘Of what?’

‘Of giving myself and then getting hurt again.’

‘My dear, you simply cannot go on reliving the past. The past is history, tomorrow a mystery, and today is the present – which is a gift! You must live for now, Carlotta. You’re too young and beautiful not to have a rich, fulfilling life with someone who loves you. You know I’m an astrology buff and you and Nick are so compatible. Your signs – Gemini woman and Libra man – denote you are meant for each other.’

‘I hope so,’ said Carlotta haltingly. ‘He has asked me to marry him.’

‘One step at a time, my dear. Let him move in with you and then . . . well, just let Nature take its course.’

‘You know so much about men, Sophie,’ said Carlotta admiringly.

‘My dear, not at all. What I know about men actually could be written on the head of a pin. They are not all so different. Remember that book –
Men Are from Mars, Women Are from Venus
?’

Carlotta nodded.

‘That about sums it up. I never married, Carlotta, because I became bored of my lovers too soon. And there were many, many men.’ Reminiscences flooded Sophie. ‘I’ve had many lovers from all walks of life, all ages, all nationalities and religions – and yet I still don’t know what makes men tick.’ She laughed. ‘But an expert blow job usually pleases them all!’

Carlotta joined in the girlish laughter then said, ‘Do you think it’s true that men think about sex five times a day, like the research says?’

‘Oh no, my dear, it’s much more than that. I doubt they ever stop thinking about it!’

‘Have you ever watched porn movies?’ Carlotta asked tentatively.

‘Oh heavens! I did once or twice, long ago, when they had some sort of plot and the sex scenes were quite erotic.’ She shook her head. ‘Now what passes for adult entertainment is nothing but filth.’

‘Oh, I agree,’ said Carlotta. ‘Nicanor used to watch the most revolting images.’ She shuddered. ‘I can’t even begin to tell you.’

‘Don’t,’ said Sophie. ‘I can imagine. I don’t know what has happened to romance, my dear. It has been totally demystified, because sex is served up on a plate twenty-four/seven and it’s as easy to get as a hamburger at McDonald’s.’

Sophie looked at Carlotta with motherly tenderness, ‘Give Nick a chance, dear. I’m sure it will work out for you two.’

By dint of persuasion and coercion, Carlotta, Nick and Adolpho managed to get Sophie to agree to attend her own birthday party at Carlotta’s rented villa.

It was a balmy warm night, and for once there was no mistral wind to blow the ladies’ hair into disarray. The house was pretty and elegantly furnished, without the vulgar ostentation of many of the newer homes in Saint-Tropez. Sophie, having spent three hours with her ‘glam squad’, arrived early, looking beautiful in a ‘Valentino Red’ gown that showed off her creamy cleavage to perfection, and a blonde bouffant wig upon which Adolpho had fixed a white gardenia. Although she lived close to the beach, Sophie never took the sun.

‘I don’t want to look like a wrinkled hag like some actresses who live here,’ she sniffed.

Needless to say, none of her celebrity friends had shown up for the event, with the exception of Dirk Romano, still coasting on the mischievous charm that had made him famous back in the 1970s. His cheeky bedroom eyes hidden by trademark shades, he came to the party alone, looking for action and not doubting for one minute that he would get some. He had always been catnip for females of all ages. Dirk walked over to the coolly beautiful Vanessa Meyer and unsuccessfully tried to charm her. Her husband was nowhere to be seen, but Vanessa seemed unconcerned as she chatted animatedly with the gigolo Fabrizio Bricconni.
What was he doing here without Lara
? Dirk thought.
That bitch is not going to take too kindly to her boyfriend chatting up her ex-husband’s present wife
.

Dirk’s thespian instincts were finely tuned and he noticed the definite body language between them. The way Vanessa smiled at Fabrizio while playing with her long hair gave the game away, and his hands lightly resting on her elegant waist, sheathed in silver silk jersey, left no one in any doubt. Not that anyone really gave a damn in Saint-Tropez. Flirting and affairs were rife, but none of them were taken very seriously.

‘If Lara sees that she’ll shit a brick!’ Dirk whispered to Monty.

‘Yeah, and if Jonathan sees it, ditto!’ he grinned.

Zarina and Sin arrived fresh from Ibiza, wearing matching silk togas that barely covered their panties. Although they had announced they were ‘in love’ with each other, nevertheless they made a beeline for Dirk. He made no protest at all when they bundled him down to the pool-house to smoke a joint.

Sophie was doing the room in a flurry of red chiffon and feathers. The years had fallen away from her face, thanks to Adolpho’s brilliant ministrations. She looked vibrant and was charming the pants off everyone. Marvin Rheingold stood in the doorway observing her and wondering again if it was perhaps not such a bad idea to cast her in
Suddenly, Last Summer
. Tonight she looked as if she could show the vulnerability that Katharine Hepburn had evoked so brilliantly. He thought he almost had a lock on Angelina Jolie for the Elizabeth Taylor role. ‘That is, if she doesn’t adopt any more kids,’ he told his partner Joe Schwartzman, and he was hoping for Ryan Reynolds for the Monty Clift role.

‘If I get those two it could be the casting coup of the decade,’ he told Roberto LoBianco, who was investing some money in the project, as they smoked cigars while observing the fray.

‘Yeah, but if you don’t get Reynolds and Angelina, what do you do then? Aren’t you supposed to start shooting in two months?’

‘Sure, sure, I know. And we do need the weather, but it’s still good down here as late as October,’ said Marvin.

‘How long did you say you needed to shoot in Saint-Sébastien?’ asked LoBianco.

‘Four weeks maximum. Then we’ll do the studio stuff in Nice for six or seven. We should wrap by November.’

‘Well, Saint-Sébastien is all ready for you,’ said Roberto. ‘It’s an Eden – gorgeous beaches, unpolluted water and no goddamn tourists gawking at your stars. A producer’s heaven.’

Marvin smiled. ‘Talking of heaven, I can’t wait to see Angelina on the beach in that white bathing suit Liz wore.’

‘Wow, was she hot!’ said Roberto.

‘Yeah, well, Angie will be hotter,’ said Marvin.

But he was worried. Miss Jolie’s agent had told him an hour ago that he hadn’t a hope in hell of getting the delectable actress to appear in
Suddenly, Last Summer
.

‘Even if it is artistic shit, she’s booked up till 2020 – writing scripts, directing scripts. No way, man, sorry,’ barked the workaholic CAA agent.

Marvin’s backers were banking on him getting a major star for the female lead. He had many contacts, and tomorrow he planned on calling some of them. In a conference call the previous night, one of his backers had said, ‘None of today’s bankable actresses have the “in-yer-face” sexiness that Marilyn, Ava and Liz had. Where are the broads like that today?’

‘Gwynnie could do it,’ Marvin replied.

‘Yeah, but she ain’t got no sex appeal,’ the backer retorted.

Marvin reluctantly agreed, his mind working overtime. He’d tried to interest Cara Delevingne, but then who wouldn’t? He was considering Margot Robbie, who was so hot in
The Wolf of Wall Street
. If he couldn’t get her, he might have to cast an unknown.

Yeah, that might be the cool thing to do
, Marvin thought.
Great publicity – the search for Scarlett O’Hara in
Gone with the Wind
had become the stuff of legend. The search for a beautiful fiery actress to replace Elizabeth Taylor in
Suddenly, Last Summer
could be mega
.

He strolled over to Sophie, who was gracefully accepting congratulations, compliments and presents from the guests. A burly security guard took each gift from Sophie and handed it to an even burlier security guard, both pre-arranged by Captain Poulpe. The gifts would be thoroughly checked before Sophie was allowed to see them. Marvin offered his gift, a tiny blue box from Tiffany.

‘Oh, darling, thank you,’ trilled Sophie. ‘I always say the tinier the box, the bigger the present, and you know how I love presents.’

Marvin grinned. Boy, did he know! When Sophie was at the top of the tree in Hollywood, she’d had a clause in her contract that the producers had to give her a gift every day of shooting. It could cost anything from a hundred dollars to ten thousand dollars, but she had to have one. Due to her immense stardom at the time, her gifts kept on coming, and some of them were legendary. She preferred jewellery, and often got it, but she was always delighted to accept a stuffed animal or a fine-art book or even a scented candle. But the producers knew that to stay in her good graces, toys were not enough all the time, so every movie budget had a contingency for ‘Sophie Silvestri’s treats’. To Sophie, the more stuff people gave her, the more she believed she was loved, and tonight, judging by the amount of gifts she was receiving, she was very loved indeed.

‘How’ya doing, honey?’ Marvin gave her the Hollywood hug and she gave him a kiss that left a big red lipstick mark on his cheek.

‘I’m wonderful, Marvin, so happy. This is such a lovely party that sweet girl Carlotta is giving me.’

‘Yeah, sure.’ Marvin looked around for some celebrities but he could only see the usual suspects. ‘I thought Lauren Bacall was coming?’

‘Oh, poor Betty! She died last year, didn’t you hear?’

‘Shit, I’ve been down here too long prepping the movie! Y’know, I’ve been thinking about you for Violet Venable. Are you interested?’

Was she interested
? Of course she was! Mrs Venable was a plum role made iconic by Katharine Hepburn. But she knew never to show too much interest when a prime role was dangled before one like a carrot. Negotiations would be necessary – as Bette Davis once remarked, ‘I’m not to be had for the price of a packet of peanuts.’ Although Sophie hadn’t worked in years, the name Sophie Silvestri was still very well known, and she was considered a star even though many people believed she was dead.