“What?” Pearl blinked rapidly as if trying to swat away Saffron’s words.
“That I need rest. Not two days at a spa. A real break. Away from facial trainers, makeup artists, cameras, fans, sets, and…” Saffron tapped the title page of the script.
“You don’t have to read it. I have. It’s perfect.” Pearl repositioned in her seat. “What if I can convince them to push back the start date for filming? Will you commit then?”
“I can’t agree to make a film I haven’t read the script for. That’s something I’ve never done, and I don’t plan on starting now.” Saffron massaged her brow.
“Okay, fine. Take it with you. I’m sure I can clear your schedule for a week or so.”
Saffron shook her hands in the air, the fingers curling with rage, before sitting on them to avoid someone catching her in the act. The paps would have a field day with that. “You’re not listening. No one ever listens to me.” Her chin trembled, and she had to shut down her emotions before uncontrollable tears fell from her eyes. Once again, she stared at the artwork.
“That’s rich, coming from Hollywood’s hardest working actress. You were in three movies last year. Everyone on the planet was listening.” Pearl tossed her head back, smiling smugly.
“No, they were watching me say someone else’s words. That’s not the same thing.” No one knew the real Saffron, not even those closest to her. She’d become an amalgamation of all the characters she’d played, and even Saffron couldn’t remember if caramel macchiato was actually her favourite drink or if it was Amanda’s, the American TV character she’d played for ten years on a hit sitcom that made her a household name, before she made the leap to film at the ripe old age of 25.
Pearl let out an anguished sigh. “Two weeks.”
“This isn’t a negotiation. I’m going away for at least one month, maybe two.”
“What will you do? You haven’t taken time off like that since I’ve known you.”
“Exactly!” The tension behind her eyes made the lids heavy with sleep. “I want to know what it feels like to be human again, not a commodity.”
“No one treats you that way.” Pearl pursed her lips.
“Hey, Saffron. I prefer you without clothes.” A teenage boy made a crude gesture and ran out of the café with two giggling friends, none of them old enough to shave.
“You were saying?” Saffron waved for Pearl to mount her next line of attack.
“If I agree to this—”
“You seem to think you have a say—”
“Let me finish.” Pearl gave Saffron her steely agent glare typically reserved for negotiations with media moguls. “Go away to this magical town by the sea, but take the script with you. I’ll give them the straight arm”—Pearl held out her own arm, with her palm out in a protective manner—“long enough for you to have the time you need to come back, refreshed and better. How does that sound?”
Pretty good, aside from the coming back bit. “I can live with that.” It wasn’t like Saffron had a choice. This was the movie business. If you were hot at the box office, everyone wanted a piece of you.
“Will you please tell me where you’re going. You’ve probably told Michelle, who’s only your assistant, not your pit bull in the ring getting you the respect you deserve.” Pearl hooked her thumb, jabbing it at her own chest, proud of her tenacity.
Michelle had arranged the house in Sandy Cove, but Saffron knew not to share that with Pearl, who hated Michelle for not betraying Saffron, even though Pearl badgered the assistant non-stop. “Not a chance in hell. I don’t need you sabotaging my holiday.”
“I wouldn’t dream of doing such a thing.” Pearl batted her lashes as innocently as possible.
“Yes, you would. Like the time you scheduled a magazine spread after my appendix burst.”
“That issue was about women juggling work and the stress of everyday life.”
“Please.” Saffron gazed at the exit, wanting this exchange to end. “That was a medical emergency, not me trying to figure out how to find the time to shop for groceries and pick up the kids.”
“You don’t have kids.”
“You’re missing the point.”
Pearl heaved a sigh. “I don’t understand why you still get upset about it. It was ages ago.”
“You had a makeup artist and photographer in the recovery room.” Saffron stiffened in her chair, her stomach twisting into knots.
“Argue all you want. That’s one of the most visited articles on the internet, and millions of people wished you well.”
