(harry's pov)
I flickered through the photos. The screen of my laptop was the only source of light in the scruffy little rented room with the cracks in the ceiling and disgusting dark patches in every corner. I should feel horrifiedly annoyed, but instead I couldn’t help smile into the darkness over how things had evolved.
It was the photos from that morning where she had been crying and I had gotten my wonder shot; where she had looked just as broken as she truly was. Instead of the look in her eyes that had hid her broken state so well as she had suddenly grabbed my camera, ejected the memory card and while looking directly at me - dropped it in her new gin and tonic without even blinking.
She had sighed slightly while her smile had rested on her lips, ”your French is just as horrible as your try of easing things out. If you would please leave, I’ll not call security.”
It had come as out of nowhere; suddenly the thin crack I had managed to work into her facade was replaced by sharp cold words, ”besides,” she had even smiled at me and tilted her head slightly, "as far as I recall you were never the one nominated for an academy award for your acting.”
A bitter chuckle escaped my lips as my head kept spinning after the bottle of liquor I had bought was missing a decent amount of the content. Why was she so bewitching? I watched the screen, watched her face in the picture; the perfect jawline and shadows falling on her neck.
I was going to get my damn shot. I was going to get my money and make it big eventually, I was going to make it. I wouldn’t be stuck in the category being the targets for loathing and hatred from people like Naomi Fay with her annoyingly beautiful eyes and smart mouth. The room was spinning as my mind was clouded with the alcohol that I tried drowning my failure with.
”She’s just a girl. She’s just like the rest of them, you fucking idiot,” I mumbled to myself in the cracked bathroom mirror before pulling off my shirt and jeans on my way back to the bedroom, ”just a girl disguised as an angel." I forcefully managed to shut the laptop and almost stumbled over the double mattress on the floor.
I lay there a few minutes looking up at the lights running over the ceiling from the cars passing outside, how the cracks seemed alive like a constantly changing pattern. My breathing was heavy as my bare chest rose and fell - the blanket only covering my lower body as the nightly summer heat was warm enough as it was.
She was a girl. Maybe not easily deceived, but not impossibly.
Before I fell asleep late in the night I concluded this was - now - suddenly a game I was willing to play with only one outcome I could approve of, which was to win. Get that shot. Get it and make it big. No matter what it took. I would make the money I so desperately needed; I would get them the only way I knew.
(Naomi’s pov)
”What is it with you?” Louis’ voice sounded through the phone.
”Sorry -” my words were mumbled as I removed the last evidence of the make up from the night before. The early sun stood in through the high ceiling windows as I watched my reflection in the mirror of the wooden make up desk.
”Well it’s not like it matters that you listen anyway, I’ll send you a mail with everything - has anything happened?” I could clearly hear the worry in his tone but I forced myself to brush off the feeling of self pity and despair that apparently could be heard across an ocean.
”Jet lagged,” I lied adding the ’and hung over’ in my head. My eyes seemed so naked without the usual amount of darkness surrounding them; fake sensual darkness. Now they were, yes dark, but for other reasons - a more natural one being one of tiredness and emotional exhaustion. I was tired of being angry with him, that prick. I couldn’t stop imagining them together - in the bed we had shared. Him smiling at me with the taste of her on his lips. I felt nauseous. Before I knew of it his eyes had changed into a green pair which had watched me with such a strange gaze I couldn’t possibly read…
”I’ve booked a time for you at that little French nail place you love, the classy one with the - with the flower boxes outside and, they had some kind of bird as image, whatever they are called?” He was rummaging around with papers in the other end of the phone, I could tell. Busy as usual and forever thoughtful.
”You’re my hero in shinning amour, you do know that right?”
The smile still lingered at my lips after he hung up, naturally the email from him had already arrived. I sighed in pleasure as I realized the sunbeams had managed to crawl a little further in over the floor and was now softly warming my bare back. My hair was messy but some of the curls from yesterday still hung sluggishly down over my shoulders. It had been a while since I’d had time to just sit and listen to the birds outside, the people in the streets, acknowledge the movement of the sunbeams. Once again recall the green color in those eyes, the way they had travelled over me - cooly but with the tiniest flicker of a concealed flame far beneath the ice surface. Or had it just been my imagination?
He’d been so young, I barely remembered his name - if he had even told me? It all seemed a little blurred by the white wine - or maybe it had been the gin and tonic. Now I couldn’t barely understand why I had made him come closer, why I had thought it would be a good idea to talk to him - he was a paparazzi! I shook my head a single time before getting up from the wooden bench and searching for something simple to wear.
I tried desperately to not let my thoughts linger to the reason of my broken heart; Patrick and his fear of settling down. How had I not seen he wasn’t capable of loving just one person - and doing so unconditionally? I just thought, thought we had had something special - shared some miraculous peace of mind. I sighed heavily as a darkness climbed up over my heart, digging it’s raw deep claws in whatever pumping vein it could find that still held a little light.
My fingers were trembling; I knocked over the Chanel cologne and a slight gasp escaped my lips as I quickly picked it up. Nothing had happened luckily. I played with the lid as the adrenaline fumed making my skin tingle, tingle with the shadow of the darkness from my heart. I took another deep breath; sprayed a few times and got up quickly. Grabbing my jacket and stuffing a credit card in the pocket, black ray ban sunglasses on.
”Could we go to my flat?” I asked with a strange small voice, as I hid behind the dark glass of the sun glasses even though we were still in the lobby of the hotel.
”Absolutely ma’am,” my security guard replied not reacting at all to my weak voice, ”there’s quite a crowd today.” Great. It flashed before me just then; the pictures I had found of Patrick and her. She had been blonde too, I had recognized her immediately as one of his models from the spring exhibition he did a few months back. I blinked hard trying to drown out the black and white polaroid shots of the two of them; tangled in white sheets, sun light streaming in very like the beams did now through the windows of the foyer.
”Miss Fay!” A crowd of voices started the second my security guard pushed the door open for me. I frowned, feeling too weak for this right now. I tried smiling calmingly but didn’t have the energy to sign anything nor take any photos. I didn’t want Patrick seeing me like this, hiding behind shades and drowning in darkness because he hadn’t returned my love.
”Excuse me -,” my security guard helped me through the crowd as politely as he could manage. I was holding my breath as fans - young as old - streamed closer. If only I could get to the car. How did they know I was here anyway? I had never understood how they got the confidential information? And he - the green eyed handsome paparazzi from last night - had been here before anyone else had even managed to catch the sense of me. I had seen him before; back in the states. Those pair of green eyes had haunted me in my dreams and hunted me in my awoken hours, watching me, watching my moves and fake smiles. Always.
”Naomi! Are you in Paris because of your break up with Patrick? Any comments?” I could hardly utter a word, the crowd only seemed to come closer and closer. All I ached for was some peace of mind, to walk the streets without being recognized, be in awe over the buildings and sounds, colors and smells that I knew so very well, that before had given me peace of mind. I hadn’t come for this.
”Miss Fay has no comments, now back off!” My security guard responded with a hard tone and threatening features. A few of the hotel guards helped out as well, I inched closer and closer to the car. I could see the black shiny surface - finally. A hand opened the door for me. A hand with a cross tattoo, none of my guards had tattoos. I could barely breathe from the anxiety of too many people gathered here in the small street of Paris just to get a glimpse of me, pressing in towards me.
I released a sigh of deep relief as I was finally within distance of the car, looking up to see who had cleared the door for me. Green eyes. A glimpse of recgonition washed in over me, before I was seated in the back of the Audi R8 with the toned windows and black leather seats. The door already closed behind me. As if my head was under water the sounds died out from the outside, I tried making sense of it - it was him. But he hadn’t taken any photos? Why?
I shook my head the slightest as my security guard slipped in on the passenger seat and the driver pulled out of the street, leaving behind a choir of ’booo’s’ from the disappointed crowd.
”Hell always breaks loose in Paris, doesn’t it?” My security guard mumbled to himself and turned to watch me, ”you okay, miss Fay?” I gave him a faint nod and smile that wasn’t even close to reaching my eyes. Naturally I wasn’t okay. I was heartbroken. Grateful for the sunglasses to hide my teary eyes, I looked out the window as Paris flashed by; but today I wasn’t really a part of the city as I wanted to be. I was just someone watching in awe unable to reach the beauty and peace.
(harry’s pov)
I watched along with everyone else as the car disappeared around the corner, I wished she hadn’t been wearing sunglasses so I would have been able to see her eyes. I stuck my hands in the pockets of my denim shorts which reached till just above my knees. The white t-shirt still seemed to hot for this weather; I noticed a few of the young female fans of Naomi’s were staring at me, but I hardly paid attention as I strolled on. With the camera in a strap across my body, I had a faint idea of where Miss Fay was going for the afternoon, but since I wasn’t sure of the exact position of her address here in Paris - the flat she had owned since way back - I had half the day for myself, just wandering around in the city I knew she loved more than anything.
I wandered along the river, watching how people were seated at the edges near the river surface in the sun with bottles of wine, fruit, picnics, a few even played guitar every now and then. The trees were a wonderful color of green and Notre Dame towered up in its white pride and holiness while the young parisians mixed with tourists though their laughter and chatting was combined to one wonderful mix of summer. I snapped a few pictures of the scenery, taken aback by the peaceful atmosphere. I made my way down to the riverside walking a little closer to the wall as the space up to the river side was crowded, ripped for spots in the sun. Couples were in loving embrace, small circles created by friends or families, radios playing the scratty old tunes of Paris, which reminded me of my conversation with Naomi about Edith Piaf the night before - the little sparrow. I snapped a few more photos, adjusting the light slightly. I enjoyed taking pictures of people when they were unaware of it, there was something more natural and real in their expression. As if they let me capture them as they were - nothing posed or fake, no facade nor walls.
Though the view was just enchanting I couldn’t stop thinking about her; imagining her sitting there like the young woman did with the glasses. Her nose in the book and dreaming of a far away place while the sun kissed her hair. I could imagine Naomi like that; a slightly younger more carefree version of her. With proud French and her hair slightly shorter like I had seen in photos of her younger self. Not wearing heels; just flat worn converse.
I blinked overwhelmed with how mesmerized I had been with the imaginary scene. I shook my head and let my hand through my hair, narrowing my eyes in confusion. Why did she cloud my mind like that?
”Excusez-moi?” Confused I looked up to find a brightly smiling girl looking at me, perplexed I looked around me almost expecting her to talk to someone else. She wasn’t bad looking, quite the opposite in fact.
”Je.. no parle .. eh French,” I mumbled with a smile of bitter awkwardness remembering how I had been scolded last time I had tried speaking French in Naomi’s presence.
The girl giggled and threw her hair over her shoulder, ”no worries,” she answered with a strong accent, ”what are you up to?”
I smiled confused at her, ”not much.” Just stalking the hell out of a famous movie star in a try to be sickly rich in the near future.
She had brown eyes and long brown hair which parted in the middle, ”American?” I nodded in respond. Her smile was giggling, ”you must come and join us then, what’s your name?”
”Harry,” I grinned widely - what was going on? Her accent was so insisting I couldn’t help but be a little intrigued.
”Geri, nice to meet you Harry!” At first I didn’t get what she’s saying - but then realized Geri must be her name, her accent was much stronger than Naomi’s, I couldn’t help thinking. Puzzled I kept grinning back at her as she spun around slightly, her hair swaying in the wind of the turn. Her eyes travelled up and down of me without embarrassment of any kind while the water kept streaming past us in the Seine and French chatter sounded everywhere. I could feel my cheekbones had gotten too much sun already just from walking around in the city one day, Geri was tanned too and a few freckles was scattered over her nose like stars thrown at a night sky.
”Well come on, then!” Her laughter blended with the music from the scratty French radio that two elderly men were sitting with while they painted the scenery of the untroubled youth. She held out her hand and caught mine before I could object or get away, pulling me with her to a certain group that waved at her - a few of the girls were smirking as Geri arrived with her catch.
In that moment I was lost to Paris; lost to the smiles and intriguing questions of strangers and Geri’s eyes which constantly flickered to mine with blazing interest and French passion; I couldn’t describe it with any other combination of words. Most of them were in their senior year of uni and wanted to move abroad, I kept shaking my head at them - I hadn’t even been in Paris for two whole days and still this place had got me deeply entangled in some weird twisted love relationship with a city that seemed as old as time.
I had in that moment forgotten about my job and pursuit - for a moment letting Naomi have her highly precioused privacy all for herself, though I knew the value of it in cash if captured at the right moment.
”Will you take a picture with me?” Geri asked and leaned in to lightly touch the camera that was still hanging across my body. It was five in the afternoon and the sun was on retrieve from it’s mericless heat, it was just bearable now. We had watched earlier as a few daringly jumped into the river, though Geri had wrinkled her nose at them while muttering a low and extremely French ’yirk’.
I stiffened a little by her request, ”I’ll take one of you?” She pouted at first but then seemed to like the idea as her excited confident smile broke forth, she started laughing as a few of her friends told her something in French that I naturally didn’t understand. A blush started spreading in her cheeks that suited the light sunburn and her confidence perfectly; smiling I brought the camera up before my eyes and snapped the photo right as she bravely sneaked a glance up at me.
”Geri you’ll be the new Naomi Fay in no time now! An American has gotten his eyes open for you, vas-y ma chérie!” Geri leaned back in a fit of laughter while I felt my smile faint, there was something about the mentioning of her name that washed in over me as an ice bucket of water. The fact that I was sitting here surrounded by strangers - just one stranger among others - in Paris the city of her heart, photographing a girl who was laughing hard over the idea of ever becoming a Hollywood movie-sweetheart, loved, chased, wealthy.
I couldn’t help thinking for the briefest of moments if Naomi Fay was even happy for the life she led now?
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