The next morning we enjoyed an early breakfast as Sky prepared to leave for an interview. We were just finishing when Wally came in with a grim expression and a newspaper in hand. “You’d better be prepared. Breaking news.” He tossed the paper on the table.
There we were beneath the blazing announcement, “Trouble in Paradise.” My picture was less than flattering, an unsmiling image taken at the movie premiere where I had worn the spiky boots, while Sky’s grim expression in his photo resembled a mug shot.
“Sorry to hear that,” Sky noted in a nonchalant tone. “He seemed a decent sort. Great taste in women!”
“Well, according to this,” Wally pointed, “You two are having lover’s brawls and shouting at hotel maids. Raised voices, loud crashes, slammed doors; the whole lot.”
“Wow.” I reached for the paper. “We’re so wild.”
Another picture in the text of the story made my breakfast curdle in the pit of my stomach. A glamorous, sultry Karina gazed back at me. The caption beneath her photo read:
“Supermodel Karina, Sky’s ex, says violent behavior no surprise.”
A snort of derision burst out of me. “She’s one to talk.” The horrible scene of Karina’s backstage showdown with Sky swept over me: mayhem, my face bleeding, Sky’s hand punching through a wall, Karina led away in handcuffs.
But one thing in particular confused me. “Wait. We just had our rather, um, loud discussion yesterday afternoon. How is this in the paper today?”
Wally’s mouth was a hard, grim line. He pointed to the story’s byline: Duffy Hempton. Ah yes, Hempton, the spiky-haired reporter who had plagued us from the beginning of my relationship with Sky.
“He’s rather fast on the draw, don’t ‘cha think?” I asked.
“Wouldn’t doubt if he’s paid a maid or two to report anything out of the ordinary,” Wally answered.
“Shouldn’t we complain to the manager or something?”
“That would be exactly what he wants,” Sky said. “Probably has another article prepared for just such a scenario. Probably best to just let it pass.”
“Unless… ” Wally tapped his forehead.
“Unless what?”
“You’d better not be thinking what I think you’re thinking,” Sky muttered.
“It’s inevitable. Might as well get it over with,” Wally mumbled.
“It can wait.”
“It’s best to just remove the mystery.”
I was tired of their conversational keep-away. “Get what over with? What mystery?”
Wally ignored Sky’s warning look. “Carson, Arsenio, Letterman and a couple others have been begging to have both of you on their show. Maybe we should agree.”
“Wally, I’ve told you, that would just create a media feeding-frenzy.”
“I don’t think so,” Wally countered. “I do agree Donahue isn’t a good bet. Too serious. But Arsenio’s style is friendly and relaxed.”
“Why do you think this would help?” I prompted while keeping a wary eye on Sky. His squinted eyes and tight grip on a fork looked like he was ready to ventilate Wally’s head.
“People are naturally curious. Satisfy their curiosity a bit and the hounding may subside.”
“Or get worse than ever,” Sky interjected.
“So you’re wanting both of us to appear on a talk show?” I pushed my plate away as appetite vanished. “Together.”
“At least you’ll get to be part of the conversation. Either you supply information or they’re going to invent it.” Wally directed his words to Sky who stood up as if the chair bit him.
“Listen, I’m fine with the criticism. It’s part of the game. But I’m not willing to put Esther on display like an album seeking critic approval.”
“Oh come on, Sky. Small-town girl marries her prince. They’ll eat her up.”
“Exactly.” Sky folded his arms and leaned against the wall.
“Is anyone going to ask me what I think?” I looked from one stubborn face to the other. Silence. “Okay, guess not. Anyway, I see you’re trying to protect me, Sky. I appreciate that. But Wally’s right. It’s best that we try to at least guide what’s talked about. I’m willing to give this a shot but I would want some coaching so I don’t end up acting like a fool.”
Sky winced. “I don’t think you need interview training like some pageant doll. Plus, Arsenio isn’t the type to shoot for an on-camera emotional breakdown.”
Wally clapped his hands together. “So it’s settled?”
“No, it’s not,” Sky retorted. “I just want Esther to know I believe she could handle herself. That’s not the issue.”
“Then what …”
“I don’t want our love on display!” Sky blurted.
Wally and I blinked at each other.
“It’s just,” Sky rubbed his hands over his face, “the public has consumed just about everything else. I want to protect what’s precious.”
“No one’s asking you to take a camera into your bedroom,” Wally countered.
“Ew!” The wadded napkin next to my plate bounced against Wally’s head.
Wally ignored the projectile. “Just make sure you’re not being selfish with what’s precious.”
“Huh?” We responded in tandem.
“Look,” Wally notched his chin higher, “I haven’t had a lot of beauty and real love in my lifetime. Seeing your story unfold has encouraged me. It’s made me… less jaded, a bit more hopeful. Lord knows our world can use a dose of that! Maybe sharing just a peek into your,” Wally emphasized with large eyes, “secret garden can make this ugly ol’ world more beautiful. Sure a lot of people won’t understand. But there are some who might be desperate for it.”
Wally sniffed and opened his mouth to say more but whatever it was got caught in his throat. He exited the room, slamming the door with a vengeance.
Sky and I stared at each other.
“He feels a bit strongly about this.”
“Appears so.” Sky walked to the picture window and looked out over the garden courtyard. “He’s right. I am selfish. But I’ve seen what publicity can do to a marriage.”
“Okay. But let’s think about what’s different.” I stood behind Sky and wrapped my arms around his waist. “You’ve changed. You’re smarter about all this now. Also, I’m not desperate for publicity to boost a career. And, if we keep our focus on encouraging people, like Wally said, some good might come of it.”
The notepad list I’d seen in Sky’s hand came to mind. “But, if I’m doing interviews with you, it would delay sending me home. Is that a good or bad thing?”
Sky turned to face me. “You saw the list, eh?”
I nodded.
“Look, I was just seeking a way to get you away from all this stress for a while,” Sky assured.
“So, I’m your anchor, but you want me to go away. Are you sure it’s not so you can do what needs to be done without having to hear my opinion?”
Again, the slump of the shoulders like the world rested there. “Is this about the song?”
“You tell me.”
He glanced at his watch. “Look, I don’t—”
“Have time for this now,” I finished for him. “I know. I’ll cut to the chase. I don’t want to be here if I’m in the way, and I don’t understand the business of all this. James and Chloe are heading to London tomorrow after the reception. I’ll travel with them. Let me know when you want me to rejoin you.”
“I don’t want you to leave.”
Those words warmed my soul like the first kiss of spring. “I’m glad to hear that.”
“But it’s probably for the best, especially for the next couple weeks.”
Shortest thaw ever.
Sky gave me a hug and hurried kiss. “The limo will be here for you at five. I’ll see you later, okay?”
The Arctic blast had taken my breath away. Sky was out the door before I could respond.
~~
Chloe arrived soon after. The night was a big to-do, a charity event with a star-studded, Who’s Who guestlist. Princess Diana was scheduled to dedicate a new Children’s Wing of a hospital and Margaret Thatcher would give a speech. For Chloe’s sake I tried to muster excitement for the gorgeous dress she had created for the occasion.
It was a dusky purple shade Chloe called “amethyst.” The neckline plunged past my comfort zone and the skirt slit up past the knee but the softness of the fabric and simplicity of its design made it daring rather than vulgar. My favorite feature of the dress was flowing strips of fabric around the neckline, arms, and up to the hips on the full skirt that gave it a flowery whimsy. Chloe had cranked up the glamour by edging the entirety of the gown—every single hemline and petal—with amethyst-toned beads. When the dress settled on my shoulders, its sparkle, shimmer and weight felt extravagant indeed.
The team of make-up artist, hairdresser, and manicurist felt ridiculously lavish but Chloe insisted she wanted me to feel my most confident. And, of course, she wanted her dress displayed to its best advantage. I remembered how pampered I had felt the first time I was professionally prepared for an appearance. As “Gregorio” applied finishing touches to my hair and “Lizette” dried my nails, I looked into the eyes of the expensive girl who stared back at me. I had a sudden longing to bolt from the chair and run through a rain-soaked field.
Instead, I broached the subject of traveling with Chloe and James back to London.
“Good. I’m sure you could use a rest,” Chloe commented without meeting my eye. “Aren’t these lovely?” She held up my shoes for the evening, a strappy, beaded, amethyst-toned confection.
“Is this what I’ve become, Chloe? A paper doll to display your fashions and smile next to Sky?” I winced as the words left my lips. I sounded like a spoiled brat.
Chloe didn’t miss a beat. “I think that about does it,” She addressed our beauty team. “Thank you. Esther and I will finish up in the other room while you gather your things.”
I followed Chloe like a petulant teen expecting a scolding.
She was quiet as she brought out a drippy amethyst pendant, earrings and bracelet. As I put the last earring into place, she said, “You look beautiful, Esther. But I know you’re unhappy.”
“Something’s not right, Chloe. Can’t you tell me what’s going on?”
“First, remember twenty-five percent of all profits from Chloe’s Creations goes to our charity in Africa,” she informed with a grin. “So try to feel good about being a paper doll.”
“That’s not what I’m concerned about and you know it. When are you guys going to let me in on the secret?”
“There’s no secret…”
“Bull!” The word exploded out of me and I bit my tongue on the expletive dying to attach itself to the end. “Sky is not acting like himself and I want to know why.”
The always-calm, cool and collected Chloe fidgeted under my gaze. She hesitated and nibbled her lip. “You’re right. He is under pressure. Sorry, but I can’t say more.”
“Who’s putting him under pressure? The record company? That guy who came to our reception at Helena’s? Who?”
“Don’t worry about it, paper doll.” Chloe gave my shoulder a squeeze. “By the way, the jewels are yours. A gift from the guy at your reception.”
“A gift? I don’t even know his name. Why would he send me jewelry?”
“I guess he thinks you and Sky are doing a good job promoting,” She shrugged. But the hard expression in her eyes said more. Lots more.
“Is he behind the pressure on Sky?”
“Just enjoy the jewels. I designed the dress to showcase them.”
“I don’t want to wear his jewels. Pick out a different dress. Anything.” The thought that my entire ensemble was a tribute to someone troubling Sky made my skin crawl.
Chloe took hold of my shoulders and turned me to face her. “Wear it. But know this. No one owns you. You hold your head high and let Draper know that.”
~~
Draper, huh. The name rolled over and over in my mind as our limo moved through the sparkling, rain-soaked streets of Paris. I glanced toward Sky and discovered his eyes on me.
“You look beautiful, you know,” he murmured.
“Why thank you. You’re not so bad yourself.” I glanced over his lean frame. “Kinda channeling James Bond in that classy tux.”
“And you can be my Bond girl.”
I slid closer. “Only the one who makes 007 toe the line. None of those easy girls who just swoon into his arms, ‘Oh, James!’”
He put an arm around my shoulders. “But I thought that was part of the contract of marriage. Forevermore, you are to swoon into my arms.”
“My contract read, ‘Forevermore the husband will endeavor to inspire swooning.’”
“If that’s my job, our roles are reversed. You, my love, are swoon-worthy. Shall we forget the charity and tell the driver to head back to the hotel?”
His breath, warm against my neck, sent delicious chills down the length of my body. “Seriously? Or are you just teasing this poor country girl?”
Sky kissed my palm. “Poor country girl who has me in the palm of her hand.” He gazed where his lips had left their mark, his expression troubled.
“Are you reading my future there? Or did you make a face at yourself?”
“Hmmm?”
“My palm? You’re in it?” I sighed. “Wow. I actually had you all to myself for a moment.” A little risk was in order. “Thinking about Draper?”
Sky’s eyes snapped to mine. “Draper?”
“Isn’t that the guy who came to our wedding celebration at Helena’s?”
“Who told you about him?”
“Just a name I overheard. Put two and two together.” It was technically the truth. “Who is he?”
“An executive at Vista Records. His grandfather founded the company.”
“An executive, huh?” I snickered. “He struck me more like a guy named ‘Vinny’ who hires thugs to rough you up in an alley. Diamonds on every finger, a girl on each arm. ‘I’ll make you an offer you can’t refuse.’” I thought my Brando impersonation was pretty good but Sky didn’t join the jest. He just pulled me closer and rested his cheek against my hair.
“When are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
“We already discussed this.”
“But there’s more. I just know it.” I insisted. “Ever since this Draper crashed our party at Helena’s house, you haven’t been the same.”
Our limo slowed before a brilliantly lit, carpeted walkway. The flash of cameras came from all sides like an attack of crazed fireflies. Already a valet in tuxedo held an enormous umbrella above our car door. I put a hand to Sky’s forearm. “Whatever’s going on, you can tell me.”
He smiled, looked deep into my eyes and kissed my forehead. We exited the limousine, hand-in-hand. I truly couldn’t tell where our intimate conversation left off and the public persona began.
I smiled and tried to show my amethyst garb to its best advantage but all I could think was, “To. Be. Continued.”
This event was one of those times I felt completely out of my league. My fine feathers were as grand as anyone’s but I was no head-of-state or movie star and certainly no princess. I took note of the glorious décor, opulent, historic surroundings, newsworthy celebrants, jaw-dropping jewels, stunning gowns, magnificent floral displays and exquisite food. But the new had worn off. I perused the gold-embossed program in my hand. A pediatric cancer facility, huh? That was commendable.
Mostly I stood at Sky’s side and smiled as the occasional reporter asked exceptionally shallow questions. Our main job was to be seen, to be among the adoring fans of Princess Diana. Everywhere I looked people posed as if each party attendee had an internal camera detector. Each conversation played to its audience, every face angled its best side. Head up, shoulders back, gut sucked in a tad.
Bright lights shone on Sky and me. A well-coifed blonde in a sequined gown asked Sky the usual benign questions. I angled toward him to display my amethyst-petal shoulders. However, after the customary two questions, the reporter aimed the mic my way. “Are you eager to meet the princess?”
She had caught me off-guard so spontaneity took over. “I’m just a pizza and root beer gal in a caviar world. Why would the princess want to meet me?”
The reporter laughed. Ha! I had caught her off-guard. Sky chuckled and tucked my hand around his arm. It felt good to see a real smile on his face.
I couldn’t help but respond to the high-profile adrenaline. I had been to several events in recent months but the glitterati of stage, politics, film and music were in abundance. Plus, there was music. Elton John, the Liberace for a new generation in a glittering lavender tux, played and sang a short set. I even caught a glimpse of Paul McCartney with his wife, Linda and whispered to Sky, “They’ve done well. Maybe we should ask for pointers.” Linda’s dress, hair and make-up were low-key. To me, her style showed confidence, like she was comfortable in her own skin and didn’t need to call attention to herself. But I suppose, as the wife of a Beatle, attention was unavoidable whether sought or shunned.
A wave of excitement swept the crowd as Princess Diana arrived. When she walked in the door, resplendent in a red, off-the-shoulder gown, camera strobes flashed and continued to do so, determined to record her every breath for posterity. It was quite daunting to see her famous, dark blonde feathered locks coming closer. Even Sky, usually immune to beauty and fame, straightened his tie and stood a little taller. How could I blame him? One didn’t get to meet royalty every day.
I remembered waking when it was still dark to witness the most famous wedding in modern history when Diana officially became a princess. She still captivated the world, though rumors swirled that her life was no fairytale.
I studied her shy smile, the gracious way she grasped the occasional proffered hand, the lovely eyes peeking from beneath perfectly coifed bangs. She was so graceful and seemed to handle the media’s scrutiny with ease.
Was it a trick of the lights that caused the sudden dark circles beneath her eyes and sharp shadows under the lovely cheekbones? Pity clutched my heart as a simple phrase poured through my mind. “She is loved by so many but does not know love.”
My situation was much different but I could relate to sudden public interest due to marriage. If I found the attention exhausting and a strain on my relationship with Sky, how difficult must life be married to the Crown Prince?
Those famous eyes flitted to my husband. They widened almost imperceptibly. Oh my. Princess Diana was a fan! So there was one more thing we had in common—a love for excellent music. And, more than likely, an eye for a handsome face.
Surprisingly, it was me she addressed when we were face-to-face. “Congratulations on your recent wedding. Perhaps later we can raise a mug of root beer in celebration.” Diana’s eyes twinkled with mischief as she offered her gloved hand.
I stammered, “Oh wow. I would love that!” I pumped her hand then gushed, “Can I hug you?”
It was her turn to look surprised but next thing I knew, I was pulled close to that famous head for a squeeze. “Bless you,” I murmured.
As she stepped back, there was a flash of stark vulnerability. A quiver of the chin, eyes shiny with unshed tears. But she blinked, smiled calmly and extended a hand to Sky. “Such a pleasure.”
Sky kissed the gloved limb and murmured, “The pleasure is mine.”
Diana moved on to other guests while my head buzzed with the phrase, “Ho-leee-Cow!”