sex with the guy on smack was beyond anything she had ever felt before. It lasted for hours and Sapphira recalled a continual searching for something elusive, not finding it, yet still being incredibly satisfied.
‘Ethan,’ she said out loud. ‘That was his name. Ethan.’
She felt strong enough to rise up from the bed and finally explore her surroundings. Walking downstairs, she took in the frescos on the wall, depicting magnificent gardens and angelic characters. Grabbing the map and the large set of keys from the hall table, she stood in the foyer and tried to get her bearings. Sapphira loved this part best: being in the mystery, finding her way. Wandering from room to room, map in one hand and lit cigarette in the other she was almost happy.
Where the church had originally sat in the centre of the monastery had been transformed into the most amazing sitting room. The pews were now around the outside of the walls; the vaulted ceiling had angels and demons carved into the ancient stone. While the space was awe-inspiring, however, it was not really to Sapphira’s taste. A little too overdone and European, reminding her of her father’s house in LA, filled to overflowing with his family’s heirlooms.
Looking at the map, she took in the pool, the pool house, the kitchen, the bedrooms and the bathrooms. She noticed a smaller room on the other side of the property; biblioteca, it read on the map. Padding barefoot through the villa, Sapphira felt at home. She had an almost chameleon-like ability to feel instantly at ease wherever she was, one of the few benefits that came from her gypsy-like childhood. Touching the silk tapestries that covered the walls, she headed down the hallway and checked the map of the villa. The biblioteca should be here, she thought, as she stood in the huge passageway. She could not see a door anywhere. Stopping, she tried to get her bearings. Yes, there was the room there on the map. So where was the freaking door, she wondered, loving the mystery unfolding before her.
Standing in front of the huge tapestry where the door should have been, her eyes squinted at the needlework of knights and maidens in front of a doorway. In the doorway was an angel, holding what seemed to be the Holy Grail and a book. Sapphira stood and looked and then got the message. Knowledge is God.
Pulling back the heavy tapestry, she found the doorway to the room behind the image. The door was heavily carved in Latin, but Sapphira didn’t know what any of it meant. She tried the brass handle but the door was locked. She grabbed the set of keys from her pocket and looked for the oldest one. There were three. She tried the first one but it did not turn; the next one didn’t work either. Finally, she heard the click of the lock as it opened for the third key.
Filled from ceiling to floor with books of all shapes and sizes, it was the most beautiful room she had ever seen. There was a long sofa, as wide as a double bed, filled with cushions and covered with blankets and quilts. The room was long and had thin tall windows along the top of the walls. Running across the centre was a table, similar to one in a royal dining room, but this had Tiffany lamps on it for the readers who sat at it, poring over whatever tome they were interested in. Wooden ladders on wheels leaned against brass rods that ran around the walls of the room to enable its climbers to visit the highest realms of knowledge. Sapphira looked up at the ceiling, which was covered in a painting of the nine muses dancing under the moonlight. A bit racy for the old monks, she thought, noticing the exposed breasts of some of the dancers.
A small, single-arched doorway seemed almost hidden among the books and wooden panelled walls. Sapphira walked over and discovered an exquisite small bathroom, with a shower and walls of azure mosaic tiles. This is perfect, she thought. I can live in here, surrounded by books and I will have no one looking in on me!
She had found her secret hiding place. Her dream come true. She used to hide in the tower of her father’s house when he had his infamous parties, escaping the noise and the endless parade of people who used her father for drugs. The hidden library made her feel safe. It was comforting to be surrounded by all the knowledge. She wished she had more schooling, even though she knew she was smarter than most actresses around her. She could learn anything if she was shown a few times, she thought defiantly.
Looking at the many books, she was pleased to see some were in English, and she clapped her hands in joy and ran out along the hallway and dragged her bags into the room. Scrabbling through a suitcase, she found her iPod and Bose portable speakers. Plugging them in, Billie Holiday filled the room singing ‘Strange Fruit’ and Sapphira sang along.
Looking around the library, her eyes searched out the perfect hiding spot. Crawling under the long table with the Comme des Garçons zippered purse, she felt along the underside and sought out the ledge she instinctively knew was there. Placing the purse on it, she clambered out and stood in the centre of the room. She was safe.
CHAPTER FOUR
Sometimes film sets can be magical places. When everyone comes together with the same goal, and egos stay off the set, great films are made.
TG thought that hosting a dinner at his villa with the female actors in attendance would create a connection between everyone. Giulia, his Italian assistant, had been working for the last two weeks with Italy’s premier party planner to create the perfect welcoming event. Lanterns had been strung across the vast courtyard in the centre of the villa. Candles were all around the outside, giving the place a ceremonial feel. There were two long tables running down the centre to seat the sixty guests and armfuls of sunflowers had been placed in tall vases with lengths of grapevine laced between every place setting. The soft orange linens lay on the table with an array of glasses in different sizes and shapes.
Local chefs were to provide a Tuscan feast for the crew. When asking for the dietary requirements of the leading stars, Giulia was relieved to find that there were not too many quirks to cope with. Calypso was a vegetarian, so Giulia ensured that there were delectable pastas that would appeal to her as well as salads and breads. The thought quickly passed through her mind that maybe this American actress was ‘carbophobic’, but she pushed it away again. Who doesn’t love pasta, she mused as she moved the chairs around the tables.
Upstairs, TG was being interviewed on the phone by a Variety reporter about The Italian Dream.
‘Tell me about the film, it seems very different than your other films, more of a chick flick,’ said the reporter.
‘I don’t know about that,’ said TG, trying to keep the exasperation from his voice. Why wouldn’t Hollywood ever allow you to change, he wondered. ‘But, yeah, it is, very different,’ said TG. ‘It’s a story about three women in Italy all at a crisis in their life. Sapphira De Mont plays the role of the woman mourning the loss of her husband and trying to renovate a villa so she can sell it to return to the US. Rose Nightingale’s character plays a woman discovering herself after leaving her husband who cheated on her and Calypso Gable is a young backpacker who finds love in Italy. It’s an ensemble piece and I’m really excited about working with such great women,’ said TG. He was actually terrified of fucking it up but he didn’t say such a thing. Variety wanted to hear about the biggest film to be released next year, destined to be a critical and commercial success, provided TG could pull it off.
‘Your last film had the most expensive car chase ever filmed. How are you going to go from filming such high-impact scenes to filming women talking about their feelings?’ laughed the reporter.
TG paused. He asked himself the same thing every night since he had agreed to direct the film. ‘Telling the story is what I do. So whether it’s a car chase or an interchange between two actors, I do my best to get the story across.’
As the interview finished, TG hung up the phone and ran his hands through his hair and walked over to the large window in the study, staring at the amazing view in front of him. The hills of Umbria rolled out in front of him, the violet skies signalled twilight and TG knew the party was soon to start. He sent a small wish out as he saw the first star start to twinkle. Please let the shoot go well, he thought and laughed to himself, wondering what the Variety reporter would think of him, if he knew he was wishing on a star.