Touching Shadows

A paper trail

BRITTANY

The fasten seatbelt light turns off above me, and the slow movement on the tarmac wakes me from my daydream.The plane has just landed. I'm finally back on home soil after that last modelling job in Italy.

Walking out of the airport, I dodge the onslaught of photographers and fans, heading out towards the private exit. I slide into the car and the door closes behind me. Removing my oversized sunglasses, I thank god for blacked out windows.

I need some time alone to recover before monday. Shooting for the next season of 'The Real Housewives' starts again, and I am dreading our first meeting next week. I have a 3 year contract with them...something I didn't think would be an issue before Cohen left. Now I have no idea how they are going to spin things for my story. The real housewives don't end up alone.

Forty minutes later and the car pulls up in front of our place...

My place.

The white cantilevered balcony and the lap pool below is awash with light, making it seem more welcoming. Like someone is waiting up for me to come home.

I get out of the car and head inside. The driver will grab my bags. I just want to run a hot bath and drink a bottle of vodka in peace.

I head straight to the ensuite, that used to be our sanctuary. The large, open room has a oval shaped tub in the middle. Cohen used to soak in it after his games, as I'd tell him about my latest contract while I washed off the days makeup at the mirror. Or we would lather each other in body wash, before moving from the bath to our king bed to entwine ourselves together.

I turned on the taps and watched the stream rise, fogging up the mirror so I didn't have to see myself in it. The tired eyes and empty face staring back at me.
I pushed the intercom and ordered a bottle of Stolichnaya vodka to be brought in to me. I added French bath salts, then removed my clothes and lowered myself into the scalding water.

I lay back and closed my eyes. Marta came in with a tray in hand, a full bottle and glass ready for me. I pouted a drink and dismissed her. I wanted to be alone.

The water eventually goes cold and I got out, drying then lathering myself in body balm. Wrapping myself in a fluffy robe, I made my way to the bedroom, vodka in hand. Marta had laid out a baby blue négligée on my bed. I slipped it on and hung up my robe to dry.

A knock on the bedroom door startled me, and I turned to see her back again.

"Mrs Francis?"

I signed, frustrated.

"Did I not tell you to leave me be, Marta?"

I'm terribly sorry to interrupt, but there is someone at the door for you ma'am."

A visitor at this hour?

"Why didn't Phillip take care of it? That's what I pay him for!"

"Yes Ma'am, but this man will only talk to you. We tried to send him away but he said he would stay on the front step until he spoke to you personally."

"For fucks sake, this better be good", I muttered to myself. I slammed back the rest of my drink, and stomped down the stairs to the main entrance.