was a scrolled crest on the gates and ivy grew on the walls on either side. With its palm trees and green lawns, the property looked like an oasis, Sapphira thought.
As the gates swung open, the car drove slowly along the gravel drive and soon the villa appeared. A tower rose from the centre of the building, with a cross on the top. Remembering it was once a monastery, Sapphira prayed it was a sign of protection while she was in Italy.
When the car pulled to a stop, a stylish young woman came out of the arched oak doorway. The woman smiled warmly. ‘Welcome, Ms De Mont, to Villa Castello Saint Carolina. I hope you enjoy your stay here.’
‘Please call me Sapphira,’ she said and indicated to the driver to take her cases and bags inside.
‘I am Giulia, TG’s assistant while he is in Italy. He requested I come and ensure you have everything you need.’
‘Thank you, Giulia. I appreciate it,’ Sapphira said, wishing she were upstairs in the privacy of a bedroom.
Giulia walked inside and stood in the magnificent foyer. High above them was a ceiling mural of Madonna and the baby Jesus, surrounded by cherubs in the Garden of Eden. It was breathtaking. Sapphira stood with her neck craned back trying to drink in the picture.
Giulia spoke again. ‘I have your set of keys and your map of the property as requested. The kitchen has been stocked to your requirements and all your other requests have been fulfilled.’
Sapphira nodded her approval.
‘The security are on site at all times and will do their best to not disturb your privacy, but please contact them or myself if you should require anything extra during your stay here. If you give me your phone I will punch my number into it so you can contact me day or night.’
Sapphira dug into her handbag, searching for her phone. Her hand ran over her secret and she felt like she might vomit. Finding her phone, she handed it to Giulia who expertly keyed in her number and name.
‘Bene,’ she said. ‘Finito.’ She handed it back.
Sapphira stood waiting. There was an awkward silence. ‘Well then, I go,’ said Giulia.
‘Thank you, Giulia,’ Sapphira said, relieved.
‘One more thing, you want me to take your bags to your room?’ asked Giulia.
‘No,’ said Sapphira a little shortly. ‘I’m fine.’
Giulia looked at her almost skeletal arms and wondered how on earth she would manage the array of cases the driver had left in the foyer up the flight of stairs.
‘The staff will come by every morning to make up your room and restock your kitchen once you are on set, as requested. They have all signed the confidentiality papers and these have been faxed to your agent.’
Sapphira nodded and Giulia walked out the door. ‘Thanks again,’ Sapphira called as Giulia climbed into her red Alfa. Sapphira closed the door behind her.
Giulia sat in the car for a moment, looking for her car keys. Sapphira’s appearance troubled her. Her demands, while not extraordinary compared to some stars, still seemed covert and secretive when she had received them from Sapphira’s agent. She required no one to look after her in the villa, didn’t want a tour of the vast property, only a map to be left for her in Italian. She asked for two cartons of Marlboro Light cigarettes and an espresso maker with the best local coffee blend. Seeing her in person, she seemed edgy and anxious, and clearly could not wait for Giulia to leave. Giulia knew it was more than tiredness; she had seen it in her brother years before when he had come home from living in Rome. She picked up her mobile phone. ‘Hello, TG? It’s Giulia.’
‘Hey, how’s our star Sapphira?’ he asked as he jumped out of the shower.
‘Okay, all settled. She seems fine.’ She paused. ‘She’s a little, how you say, preoccupato. Worried. Anxious, you know?’
TG laughed. ‘That’s Hollywood stars for you, Giulia. They’re all a little crazy, although she is supposed to be great on set, so don’t worry about it, she’s fine. Kelly said so and she’s worked with her plenty of times.’
‘Okay then, I will not worry. You all okay for tonight?’ she asked as she turned on the car engine.
‘Fine, it all looks great, Giulia. Thank you, you are a star! Arrivederci.’
‘Arrivederci,’ Giulia replied and drove off down the driveway, the huge gates closing behind her.
Sapphira watched Giulia on the phone in her driveway from the upstairs window. ‘Go,’ she said as she willed her away from her house.
Finally the red car disappeared and the gates closed in the distance. Walking over to the bed, she emptied her bag out onto the crisp white bedspread.
Opening a small Comme des Garçons bag, she took out her instruments and prepared her hit.
Thankfully her tattoos were placed all over her body and so she was always accustomed to covering them up. If she knew she would be showing a lot of flesh then she shot up between her toes. Citing privacy, she always dressed herself and never allowed herself to be partially dressed in front of the costume or make-up crew. Living with her addiction for the last ten years had taught Sapphira a thing or two about secrets and how to hide them. A few of her lovers had been addicts as well, sharing her bed and her smack till she got sick of them. She had tried to get off it, taking OxyContin, which her LA doctor had only been too happy to supply. But there was nothing like pure snow, she thought.
Sapphira was a big enough star not have to go through the medical tests for insurance. Her record on set was flawless, she was a hard worker and big money earner; as far as the studio could see, there was no problem.
Coming to Italy was not a problem on the private jet, once she had been waived through Customs. She had enough to get her through the next eight weeks and then she would have to sort out her next supply. No problem, she thought. Rome is filled with drugs, I’ll send someone off to score. Who that might be, she was not sure, but there was always someone to help Sapphira De Mont, she figured.
She took an alcohol swab out of the bag. Getting her spoon, she wiped it down with the swab and placed the chunk on it. Filling the syringe with water, she squirted it onto the spoon and lit the tea light candle she carried in her kit. Melting down the smack, she rubbed her fingers with another swab and then placed a small piece of cloth on the spoon. Rubbing between her toes with the alcohol swab, she drew the shot up into the syringe and looked for a vein. Finding one between her little toe and the one next to it, she put the needle in, withdrawing it slightly to ensure she had it in the vein. Seeing a small prick of blood come out, she injected herself.
The OxyContin worked when she was doing the action movies, as she had to be fit and trained everyday. But the hit from heroin lasted longer and so she was back on it whenever she could get away with it. When she took it she felt like nothing would ever go wrong in her world again. She stopped injecting once, a long time ago but then started again after her hopes and dreams had been shattered. That was too much for anyone to handle, she had justified at the time.
As soon as the needle touched her skin she lay on the bed and felt the relaxation drape over her like a blanket. She breathed in and out, listening to the sound of herself in the silence, thinking about the first time she took heroin.
What was the guy’s name? she wondered. They had met at a party for someone whose name they didn’t even know, and the attraction between them was instant. The knowledge that Sapphira had with her a bag of coke, twelve joints pre-rolled in her father’s Cartier diamond Art Deco cigarette case was also appealing. They blew her bag of coke together in the bathroom, smoked three joints in the spa and then fucked at her apartment.
She tried heroin because she could. There was no thought that she would be hooked, no thought of her father’s addiction. She was attached to nothing and addicted to no one but the drug had other ideas. The first time she was sick. The second time she thought she was kissing God. And now all she did