Sofia

I was obsessively scrubbing the bath when there was a knock at the door.

          “I’m not making any noise! Seriously! I’m just cleaning the…” I pulled the door open and was face to face with Sofia. She looked radiant, stunning, glorious, heavenly…every single adjective that had never been used to describe me.

          “Good morning George. My friend let me down and Van mentioned you needed a dress for the premiere so I thought…” she trailed off, strangely self-conscious.

I stood staring at her, rubber gloves on, hair pulled into a messy bun and a scrubbing brush held in midair.

          “Come in, come in before you get murdered!” I said.

She laughed, but I wasn’t joking.

          “He shouldn’t have let you come here, it’s so dangerous!” I said in a squeaky voice, freaked out and ashamed at the state myself and the flat were in.

          “He obviously hasn’t told you that I’m a third Dan in Taekwondo. I’ll be fine. You live here alone?” She asked. “You’re such a little thing.” She placed a hand on my arm and I didn’t know what to do.

          “I’m so sorry about the state of the place, but it’s just a complete dump no matter what I do and…” I was babbling.

She held up a hand and smiled reassuringly.

          “I was born in a trailer park my sweet, this is a palace in comparison.” She was being serious, there wasn’t a hint of teasing in her tone. I was waiting for the love to turn to hate, because I was DESPERATE to loathe her, but each time I spoke to her, I was a little bit more in love with her. Not in a gay way, just in a ‘I want her to be my best friend/sister/aunt/roommate’ kind of way.

I noticed that although she was immaculately dressed, she didn’t have fake nails, her brows weren’t plucked out and redrawn in and she didn’t seem to have had Botox from the way her forehead actually moved when she smiled. Please God don’t tell me she’s naturally that beautiful! Urgh!

          “Oh. Um…I just need to go changed and then…I would say make yourself at home but I don’t have any chairs…”

She laughed, the sound so full of light and joy

Nothing I owned was remotely suitable for shopping with a world famous super model, so I gave up and settled on clothes I would wear for work. Everything else I owned was flip flops, band t-shirts and jeans with half the knees worn out.

          “Don’t look so worried.” She said when I reappeared, scraping my hair into a ponytail as I hadn’t had time to wash it.

Why couldn’t I have woken up looking half decent for once?

          “Van’s given me some money for a dress and shoes, and warned me you hate shopping so I’ll go easy on you.” She linked her arm through mine and lead me to the door.

I grabbed my keys and other junk and chucked them in my huge bag.

          “George, I need to tell you something, or several things. I also hate shopping, but it became a necessary evil for my job. I hate spending more than $20 on an item of clothing and most of what I own was given to me. You look terrified, but you don’t need to. We’re far more alike than my job would imply.” She squeezed my arm in a way that reminded me of Van, and I felt guilty for trying so hard to hate her.

          “We’re going to have fun, I promise. We’ll get lunch, I know an amazing Vegan restaurant and we’ll bitch about Van and men in general.” Her smile was deliciously wicked and I knew that I had found my role model in life. Obviously I’d never be anything like her, but she was utterly perfect in every way that I could see.

 

What a day! Sofia is everything a girl could want in a friend; she’s fun, humble, sweet, as charismatic as her ex, generous with her time (and unfortunately her money, I felt so guilty) and unfailingly polite to everyone. She also has a wicked sense of humour that I wouldn’t have expected from how sweet she was, but I spent most of the day laughing my ass off and snorting in a really unattractive way. I know for a fact we were photographed, but couldn’t be surprised about that. She was apparently the most successful super model of our time. I admitted to her that I hadn’t heard of her before I met Van, and she thought it was brilliant.

          “There is nothing more awkward than having everyone know your name when you know none of theirs. It makes me feel incredibly rude.”

          She was closer to Van’s age than mine, but could have been my sister. Up close I had hoped to find at least one tiny flaw, one hair out of place, but she truly was perfection incarnate. She won me over effortlessly and we found an amazing dress to boot. Shopping hadn’t been remotely painful, in fact, I didn’t remember ever having so much fun in my life. Even with Van. I was getting a girl crush on my beloved’s ex. I hoped I never had to take sides as I would probably take hers. God she was wonderful. She also now had someone who would defend her to the hilt as I was damned if I’d ever hear a word said against her in my lifetime.

          She was also incredibly wise and intelligent.

          “Van and I met when we were very young. We got on wonderfully and I think we both confused that for love. I adore him and I will always love him, but I was never in love with him, I just wanted to be. It was the same with him. The newspapers loved us as a couple to the point where we weren’t really sure what was true and what was fiction. Luke was a happy accident, neither of us had wanted kids at that point, but I have no regrets. Van is the most amazing father and my son is the light of my life.” She looked so blissfully happy in that moment that she was even more beautiful if that were possible. Her radiance lit up a room, her presence making everything seem a little better. And her laugh! She had the dirtiest laugh I’d ever heard! It was brilliant! She could have been laughing at me and I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself joining her it was so infectious. So I was now a little in love with Van’s ex. Maybe the three of us could get married? I wasn’t remotely gay or bi, but I really wanted her in my life, she was unearthly. I was in absolute awe.

          I think she even guessed how I felt about Van, but she was tactful enough not to say it in so many words. I was a little sad when the day ended, but she promised that if I followed Van back to NY, we’d make it a regular thing. Why would such a successful, amazing woman want me in her life?

 

The dress was hanging from the shower curtain rail, covered in layers of protective plastic, but just having it here made me worry it was going to end up contaminated. It was simple in style, but elegant and made me look like an adult rather than a child playing dress up. Sofia had suggested the perfect hair style to go with it, along with colours for makeup that would suit my colouring and make my paleness almost iridescent rather than washed out. She’d given me the number of a local makeup artist and hair stylist she used locally and had emailed them her ideas. I was truly grateful. I had NO clue about that kind of thing.

          I gazed at the dress for entirely too long, excited about it in a way I’d never been about clothes before. It was a soft pink, one shouldered dress of taffeta and gauze looking like something a fae or elf might wear. I loved it. When Sofia had headed straight for it in the shop, I was happy to see we’d both zeroed in on exactly the same one. There was also the fact that it was made by a small designer who would benefit from exposure and it had cost nothing in comparison to some of the others we had looked at. The designer (and owner of the small boutique) was euphoric to know it would be worn at a premiere, and hid her disappointment well when she realised it was me and not Sofia who would be donning it.

          Now that all that was arranged, I was left with the all-consuming terror of how to behave and how in the hell I was going to make it through the evening without flipping out, swearing or spilling something down the dress. I was comforted by the fact that Van used his ‘one fingered salute’ in every situation imaginable, so that may make it less horrific if I do swear at an inappropriate time (the whole evening). There would be famous people here, and I might actually have heard of some of them. How would I manage not to freak out and go ‘fan girl’, screaming and pointing with a ‘OH MY FUCKING GOD IT’S JARED LETO!’ I hoped to god Jared Leto isn’t there as it would not be possible for me to control the squealing and ensuing embarrassment as I start crying or stalk him all evening. Van would probably find it hilarious, but I doubted Hollywood royalty would. If I was really lucky, I would be beneath all their notice and I could just hide, enjoy the movie and leave having crossed another first off a list I hadn’t realised existed in the PA stakes.

          I was in so over my head it wasn’t funny. So far I had managed to get by, I was even starting to excel at some things, but this…this was seven kinds of hell for me. I knew it wasn’t Van’s cup of tea either, so hopefully we could hide somewhere together. This was his movie though, not just some random premiere, so he would be hassled on the red carpet constantly. Did I have to arrange those interviews or did they just grab him as he walked by? And there would be tons of his fans there, would they be pelting me with rotten fruit or rocks? This was going to be so bad!

          No. No, this was going to be awesome. People would kill for this, so I am going to enjoy myself regardless of what happens. If I mess up, well, it’ll be in the paper and Van will get more column inches which will help spread awareness of him. Plus I might actually get the crown for most hated girl in America, not just this state. I was being a selfish, unprofessional cow. This was Van’s night and I needed to focus on that, not my own petty little problems, after all, there were an infinite number of worse situations to be in. I was going to enjoy this and make it as awesome as possible by keeping my mouth shut and smiling politely at everyone. I couldn’t promise I wouldn’t lash out of people said my accent was ‘cute’ though. That might be the line I will cross.

 

I was gazing lovingly at my dress again, fantasising about how Van would fall in love with me when I was all dolled up and we’d run away into the sunset together (the stuff of fan fiction actually), when my phone rang. I rushed to pick it up before my crazy bitch neighbour started banging on the door. It was an unknown number. Could it be Masanobu?

          “Uh…Hey, Georgiana. I’m really sorry I didn’t call before, but I ran out of credit.”

He was poor like me! Awesome! As much as I know I would trade in a lung, kidney and half my liver for a relationship with Van, it would be too uneven. He was wealthy, I wasn’t. He was talented, I wasn’t. He was beautiful…well, you get the picture.

          Masanobu on the other hand had a normal job and was struggling to get by, like I had been until I met Van. Sure I wasn’t rolling in it, but I was content and he was pretty generous with covering costs, travel etc. and always paid for our lunches etc. With Masanobu I would feel more sane. Life would be grounded and domestic and…did I just say life? Was I seriously thinking long term when we hadn’t even had a date yet? Hollywood was getting to me, this place was like a virus entering your brain and changing your perception of everything around you until you were flipping out about stupid things and staring at dresses like they were magical.

          “Hi! I’m so glad you called.” I said, trying to hold back the desperate.

          “Are you busy tonight? I was hoping we could grab a drink or something…” He trailed off.

          “I would love to. What time and where?”

          “I’ll come pick you up, in an hour?”

I gave him my address etc. and hung up, wondering what the hell I was going to wear. On the plus side, my band t shirts and well-loved jeans would probably be more acceptable with Masanobu, and we were going for a drink, not a formal dinner. I couldn’t have afforded dinner anyway, I was saving up to get something for Van’s birthday next month, though I had no bloody clue where to start. He wasn’t one for material possessions, and I just couldn’t think of something more personal to get him.

          I settled on the only none destroyed pair of jeans I had, though they were a little tight. My top was black with lace capped sleeves. It was cute, but casual and not me trying to be someone else.

I walked down to the lobby to wait for Masanobu, not wanting to step outside as the usual posse were gathered around the door, smoking god knows what and shouting to each other even though they were only stood a foot apart.

          Masa’s car pulled up and I instantly loved it. It wasn’t brand new, it wasn’t a Bentley and it looked well loved. Perfect. It was an old school Chevy truck, the kind of thing Van would appreciate. Masa caught my eye and looked slightly ashamed of his ‘humble’ truck with its faded paint, but I couldn’t have been happier. I hated the way everything was ‘perfect’ here, it was an illusion and so false. I liked things that were lived in and worn because they were real. Masa probably earned less than I did working where he did, and for that I felt a little guilty as I really didn’t deserve the good fortune I’d had with my job.

          “Hi!” I said, opening the door and jumping in before a shoot-out erupted or a crack whore tried to garter business from my date.

          “Looks a lot like where I live.” Masa said with a laugh, pulling away.

          “I love feeling like I’m going to be murdered every time I open my door. But at least it keeps me on my toes.” I said. “So where did you want to go? I haven’t really explored much as I have a habit of getting lost in my own street.”

He laughed and caught my eye in the rear view mirror. He looked even more beautiful than the last time I’d seen him -if that were possible. His eyes were brighter, his hair a mussed up style that looked effortless and obsessive all at once, his clothing was similar to mine with the jeans and tee, but his had Kanji all over it. I could only hope it didn’t say something like ‘Death to all English Girls!’

He caught me looking at it and translated for me.

          “It says ‘Gaijin not permitted’” He laughed.

          “Gaijin is barbarian or foreigner isn’t it?”

He nodded.

          “I thought it was funny as I would more than likely be the Gaijin here, or at least my mum would be. My dad’s all American, but my mom is from Kyoto.”

          “Very cool.” I said, jealous that he had such an interesting background.

The extent of my family tree was that my dad’s side were English, my mum’s Irish. That was it, I didn’t speak a second language or even have a cool Irish accent. It was only my Nana and a couple of my aunts and uncles that did. I could only imagine how crazy the Americans would go over an Irish accent if they thought my English one were cute.

          Masa was constantly sneaking looks at me when he thought I wasn’t looking. Whenever I caught him, he would blush a little, staring intently at the road like I had imagined it. We stopped at a small bar about ten minutes from my flat. The neon flashing sign was in such an elaborate script that I couldn’t make it out, but it looked nice enough. It was dead inside, which suited me down the ground. I’m not good in busy places. We found a table and Masa left to head to the bar.

          I looked around at the sports paraphernalia nailed to the wall; framed baseball shirts, baseball mitts, photos of sport’s stars…it was all lost on me, but the colours were nice to look at and I used the opportunity to familiarise myself with some of the teams in case it ever came up in conversation.

He returned with my diet coke and I was relieved to find no trace of alcohol in it when I took a sip. Van was notorious for sneaking booze into my drinks, though it was never much, it was there. He gave himself away with the awful ‘innocent’ smile he would always use. He was guilty as sin.

I shook myself. I was here with Masanobu, I shouldn’t be thinking about another man, it wasn’t fair.

          “So how was your day?” I began.

 

The evening was pleasant enough. Masanobu was endearingly shy and sweet, asking me a lot of questions but not answering many of mine. I didn’t mention who I was PA to as I didn’t think it was fair to Van, besides, people could try to use it against us. I had no doubt that people would ply me with sneaky questions that I would answer innocently enough, but that could cause Van all kinds of problems.

          As much as I enjoyed Masa’s company, I didn’t feel the all-consuming attraction and spark that I got every time I saw Van. Had I been ruined now? Would no one come close to him and his chain smoking, caffeine dependent self? I tried to list his faults, but came up short, he had so few.

We agreed to meet for a second ‘date/drink/thing’ but didn’t set a specific time due to us both working weird shifts. I would see him again as he was easy to talk to, we were both Vegan so could have a good bitch about Omnivores and I really did enjoy his company. I just didn’t feel like I needed to see him again, which was a tugging on my heartstrings that I got whenever I left Van’s side. I was clearly a messed up individual if I was pining after a man I could never have. Never, ever, ever in a million years, even if I had a personality transplant, extensive surgery and won the lottery, it just wouldn’t happen. He didn’t see me like that.

Masa dropped me back in front of my flats and I let myself in.