Kate Forster - The Perfect Location

For all his playboy reputation, Jack was a professional in every sense of the word, and when Sapphira sat in the make-up chair, she wondered about his reaction to her.

‘Is Jack dating anyone?’ she asked Kelly as she dabbed on her pancake base.

‘Nope, just broke up with a Swiss TV presenter. No word from her yet. I thought she may sell her story to National Enquirer and the like, but I haven’t heard a thing.’

Sapphira’s reputation preceded her, and Kelly and Chris had a bet on to see how long before Sapphira and Jack were an item, at least for the remaining duration of the shoot.

Sapphira wondered if perhaps Jack was heartbroken. Not fucking likely, she thought.

Walking into the trailer, Jack kissed Kelly, whom he had worked with before and sat next to Sapphira. She knew she looked good in the chair, make-up flawless and artfully applied. Her hair was long and out. She was wearing a strapless black dress, showing off her tattoos and her tanned skin. She was the kind of woman who knew what she wanted and Jack was in her sights. She smiled at him in the mirror. He smiled back and pulled out a copy of the local newspaper, La Nazione and started to read it, much to Sapphira’s shock.

The assistant director knocked on the door. ‘All ready, Sapphira? TG wants to do your close-up, then Jack’s. We’ll be ready for you.’

‘See you then,’ said Jack from the depths of his paper.

Sapphira stood up, unnerved. Heading onto the set, she went through the motions of the close-up, standing patiently while they sorted out the angles and focus measurements for the camera. I’ll just have to work harder, she thought, having never yet given up on a challenge. This is what she felt the best at, luring her man in on her long line.

TG came on set soon after with Jack and talked them through their first scene. They were inside the Villa and in the kitchen set. ‘Ok, so I need you, Sapphira, to have your bare feet up on the table and Jack, you come in. Sapphira, your eyes are shut for this scene. You are worn out from working on the Villa all day. Jack, you rub her shoulders and then you say the lines. Want to rehearse it first for marks?’

‘Nope,’ said Jack. ‘I think we are good.’ He smiled at Sapphira, who responded to him with one of her million-dollar laughs.

‘Whatever you want, Jacky boy.’

‘Action.’ Called TG from off set.

Jack came through the door and saw Sapphira with her feet on the table but instead of walking around behind her he sat down at her feet, saying his lines. he started to give her foot a rub.

Sapphira stayed in character and kept her eyes shut while Jack rubbed her feet. He said his lines and she responded.

‘Cut,’ yelled TG.

Jack stood up. ‘I just felt he would rub her feet since it’s the first thing he sees when he walks into the room.’

‘Yeah fine, worked well from our angle. Let’s do it again for different shots, ok?’

Sapphira was panicking. Had he noticed her feet? She had tried hard to cover the track marks but did he know what they were?

She looked at him. He seemed not to notice anything unusual about her feet. They waited for the camera to move. ‘Sorry about my disgusting feet,’ she said arching her long foot. ‘They are covered in ant bites,’ she explained, laughing.

Jack didn’t look at her. ‘You take care of yourself Sapphira, ok?’

‘Of course, I always do, Jacky boy.’ She threw her head back again and laughed. This is what she felt the best at, luring her man in on her long line.

When her close-up had been shot, and Jack had come on set for his, she sauntered towards him. ‘Why don’t we meet tonight, Jack? I can come to your place and we can discuss characters, trade war stories, whatever …’ The open invitation hung heavily in the air.

‘I don’t think so. I don’t play with the talent.’ This was true, Jack always played with talent lower than him on the celebrity radar; he was always the racehorse and his new girlfriend was always the donkey. Of course, this wasn’t disrespectful but Jack’s ego and celebrity were too big for two stars, and Sapphira would be too huge a star to orbit. The pressure of them pairing up might bring the kind of publicity that opened closet doors and let the skeletons out, and this was the last thing Jack wanted.

‘That is the saddest thing I’ve ever heard. You are breaking my heart, Mr Reynolds.’

‘I’m sure it will mend, Ms De Mont,’ he said, laughing.

Sapphira felt herself relax. She refused to see not seducing Jack as failure. Instead, she understood his rules. She had her own set of rules she conducted her life by; there was a part of her which respected him.

‘Thanks for being honest, I guess.’ There was something genuine and honourable about Jack; she felt she could trust him.

‘Friends?’ asked Jack.

‘I guess, I don’t really have men as friends.’

‘What? Just for breakfast?’ Jack laughed at his own joke and Sapphira joined in.

Sapphira was quiet. ‘You want to know something?’

‘Sure,’ said Jack not looking up.

‘Today is my birthday. Please don’t say anything to anyone. I just wanted you to know.’ She stared into the distance, her face expressionless.

‘I am assuming then, there won’t be a party,’ Jack said, picking up on the change in Sapphira’s mood. ‘Well, have you heard from anyone? Family? Agent, at least? They’re always good for a useless gift and a sycophantic card.’

‘My father’s dead. My mother might as well be, we haven’t spoken in about eight years. As for my agent, he will ring tomorrow no doubt, being ignorant of the time delay.’

Staring out at the crew busying themselves, a warm breeze blew over them and took Sapphira’s mood with it. ‘Doesn’t matter, age is just a state of mind anyway.’

‘Do you worry about being older?’ asked Jack.

‘Never. I suppose I think about everything I want to do and I panic, as there’s never enough time. There’s so much to learn, to see, to experience.’

‘Amelia Earhart, look out, huh? Next thing you will need to learn is how to fly and you can see the world at your own leisure.’

‘I already know how to fly. I learned at the start of this year.’

‘Of course you did, why am I not surprised?’ he said as he crossed his legs. ‘I tell you what, I’m gonna break my own rule. I will throw you birthday dinner. I’ll send my car to pick you up at 6.00 pm. We finish early today, which will give us plenty of time.’

‘Six? I thought everyone ate later in Italy.’

‘Well, I want to take you somewhere special,’ he answered enigmatically. ‘A surprise, stay tuned, Amelia.’

Sapphira thought of another night in her library, reading and smoking and then thought of an evening with Jack. ‘It’s a date!’

‘Friends, remember?’

‘I remember,’ said Sapphira. ‘You have nothing to worry about. Your virtue is safe with me, Mr Reynolds.’ And she stood up and went to the set for her next close-up.

That evening, she was dressed for sex. She wore a Blumarine leopard print silk strapless dress, with huge Moroccan wooden bangles she had picked up on her last shoot in Marrakesh and a pair of Yves Saint Laurent black suede ankle boots. Her hair was swept back into a bun, high on her head, and she wore minimal make-up and a liberal amount of her customized Lyn Harris perfume, leaving a trail of amber, musk and jasmine.

The helicopter that picked her up in Perugia landed at Nicelli Airport at 7.10 pm and Sapphira was whisked straight into a waiting water limousine and taken through the canals towards Jack. Venice was spectacular. The sun was still up and the canals were busy. The white, navy trimmed leather seats and the mahogany panelled walls and tinted windows gave her complete privacy to watch Venice without any interruption or distraction. It truly was an amazing city, she thought, as they sailed down the Grand Canal.