Her eyes were mahogany brown, and their light sent the shadows beneath them into stark relief; so that my first impression of her, conscious, was that she was ill.
“Of course, it’s wholly unfair; I was scaling the heights. And then that came along, and where was I then? I was good, great, but I could never compete with… with that.”
It came out in a rush, as if confided to a life-long intimate, and I was open-mouthed and quite at a loss to know what to say.
Then her eyes refocused suddenly, and she snapped, “And who might you be, if I might ask?”
“David,” I stammered. “David Conway…” I gestured back to the Mantis. “I live there.”
She sat up, wincing, a graceful hand bracing the small of her exquisite back. “Well, Conway, why don’t you make yourself useful and help me back to my place?”
I stood and reached out, not quite knowing where to touch her, for all the world like some flustered flunky at her beck and call. I grabbed her elbow and eased her upright. Perpendicular now, she stood a good few inches taller than me; her breasts fell a little and filled the material of her dress, and I was made more aware of her curves. (Maddie playfully accused me of sexism when I recounted this, but I set this down as an accurate account of my response to the woman. Recall, I had been alone and celibate for more than five years at the time.)
“Well, don’t just stand there gaping at me, Conway.” She pointed to a large villa a couple of hundred metres away around the curve of the bay. “Help me home, if you would be so kind.”
I slipped my arm around her waist; she leaned into me and I struggled with her through the shifting sands. Ten minutes later◦– she walked like a zombie on valium◦– we made it to the verandah of her expensive domicile and I eased her up the steps.
She opened a sliding glass door, shrugged me off and staggered inside. I had a glimpse of a dark lounge hung, I thought, with works of art. At the far end of the room, in the shadows, I made out a beautiful, dark-haired girl, and her similarity to the older woman made me assume it was her daughter.
“You don’t make a habit of sunbathing this early, do you?”
My words halted her progress into the room. She turned, and the look in her eyes could be described as venomous. “Don’t be so bloody ridiculous, Conway.”
I backed off and raised my hands in surrender.
She glared at me, then said, “You don’t have the slightest idea who I am, do you?”
I opened my mouth, doing a fair imitation of a landed jackeral.
Before I could agree that she was indeed correct, she said, “Of course you bloody well don’t!” and pressed a panel on the wall beside the door which swished a pair of curtains across the plate glass. The show was over, folks.
Smiling to myself, and wondering exactly who the hell she might be, I made my way home.
Two
“You mean to tell me, David,” Maddie said, leaning forward incredulously, “that you hadn’t heard she had moved to Magenta Bay?”
It was late afternoon, and I’d slipped into the Fighting Jackeral for a beer to find Maddie ensconced in a lounger on the verandah, a fruit juice before her on the table. Matt was beside her, contemplating his ice cold beer as a man might a pot of gold.
Maddie stared at me and said, “No, seriously; I mean, you hadn’t heard?”
Matt winked at me and said, “Maddie, the poor man obviously hadn’t. She only moved here a few days ago, after all. Leave him be or tell him, or something.”
I smiled. “Obviously I don’t get out enough. Go on, who is she?”
Maddie sat upright and announced, “Only Carlotta Chakravorti-Luna, is who.”
I blinked. “Sorry, none the wiser. An artist?”
“You are a sad specimen, David Conway,” Maddie said.
Matt came to my defence. “To be honest, David, I only heard of her last week when Maddie said she was moving here.”
Maddie leaned forward. “And you’ve actually met her, David. Lucky you! What was she like?”
“Lucky me? I don’t think so. She was positively… Well, I don’t know how to describe her. Arrogant, dismissive◦– and probably drunk and drugged, or both.”
“Tell me again exactly what happened?” Maddie asked like a sensation-seeking teenager.
So I recounted the meeting again, this time describing the little I’d seen in the woman’s lounge.
“Apparently she has a holo-deck playing all the time,” Maddie said. “She’s obsessed. The gossip writers say it’s pathological.”
“I don’t understand–” I began.
“Luna is◦– was◦– a big holo star on Earth, back at the turn of the century. She’s the daughter of the famous Indian director, Ramesh Chakravorti, and the Italian actress Gina Luna–” Maddie stopped suddenly and stared at someone standing behind me.
I turned.
Carlotta Chakravorti-Luna stood over me, appearing at least seven feet tall from my seated perspective. She looked stunning in a scarlet dress, with midnight hair falling over one eye. She had a hand lodged on one hip and her bearing was imperious.
If she’d heard Maddie, she had the grace not to let on. Instead she nodded to Maddie and Matt, then looked at me. “Conway, I do think I owe you an apology. The way I behaved this morning was way beyond decency, and I owe you not only an apology, but an explanation. If you are free some time…?” She let it hang.
I spluttered something like a callow juvenile.
“Come round to the villa one evening, for drinks. Would tomorrow suit? Eight, say?”
And with another nod at Matt and Maddie, Carlotta Chakravorti-Luna swept from the verandah, sashayed through the main bar of the Jackeral and exited at the front.
Maddie was watching me, eyes the size of moons, her jaw halfway to her knees. Matt merely leaned over, jabbed me playfully in the ribs, and winked.
I sat back, wondering how I felt about the summons to the villa of a once famous but still ravishing holo star.
“So… tell me more about Carla Chakrawhatever-Lunacy,” I said.
Three
The next day, I strolled around the bay to Matt and Maddie’s place. They lived on the southern headland opposite mine, in a two-storey beachfront dome backed by pines. Last night, before last orders, Matt had invited me over to take a look at what he was working on. It was mid-afternoon and hot when I arrived. Maddie was sitting on the verandah overlooking the bay, reading a novel I had loaned her.
She looked up and shaded her eyes when I climbed the steps. “And might the footsore traveller be in need of a beer, by any chance?”
“You’re a mind-reader, Maddie.”
She fetched me an ice cold bottle from the cooler and escorted me through the dome to Matt’s studio.
“Isn’t it tonight you have the assignation with Magenta’s biggest celebrity?” Maddie asked with a sly smile.
“Hardly an assignation, Maddie.”
“I’m not so sure. If you want my opinion, I think she has the hots for you.”
I laughed. “Come on! Is that likely?” I think I coloured as she grinned at me.
“I don’t know. You’re quite a catch, David. Lean, fit, personable. And famous, in your own right.”
I snorted. “And you know what I think about fame,” I said.
We came to the studio, a light-filled space on the dome’s ground-floor. Matt was wearing only a pair of baggy shorts, his preferred attire when working. He stood over a computer keypad and played it like a musician.