A Star in My Life Read online

  That damned ten million dollar insurance was continuously blinking and hooting like a police siren in her mind and she finally decided that, to not get in even worse trouble, the best thing to do was to humor his guest’s domineering nature.

  She could fall asleep only at 5 a.m. and after two hours her alarm started to go off like a machine-gun, but Berenice was having none of getting up. She forced herself to fall asleep again, putting her pillow over her ears until the alarm went off .

  Surprised by the unusual mercifulness of his vintage alarm, she woke up again finding in front of her the man who made her have a sleepless night just thinking about him.

  “Only an insane person would use an alarm like this to wake up in the morning,” railed Marc at once, still being short of breath with fright. He was still sleeping when he suddenly leapt out of bed, having a terror of being catapulted to a war movie.

  “It’s the only one that can wake me up in the morning,” she apologized, pulling the blankets to her nose to hide her embarrassment.

  “You’re crazy, do you know that?” he finally pontificated, stepping out of the room, but not before leaving a note on her bedside table.

  Just after Marc closed the door behind him Berenice had the courage to come out of her den and take the sheet he had written.

  "To Berry.

  in spite of your eye trouble, i hope you can read this short and simple list of things that i want you to do for me. of course just after preparing my breakfast.

  M.

  P.S. For breakfast i’d like black coffee, fruit and wholegrain"

  Few lines. Those plain lines were enough to make her feel more irritated than ever still before getting up. Suddenly the after-effects of her last sleepless night vanished into thin air to give way to her anger that she had to suppress.

  She unfolded the sheet and in it there was a list of almost fifty items of clothing and male hygiene products whose brand, size and active principle were underlined.

  She stopped briefly to look at about twenty branded clothes that he required and bit her tongue with envy while reading “Slim Fit Style”, “Slim Design”, “Straight Model”… Well, all clothes that only a perfect physique could wear.

  When she got at the beauty treatment part she had to keep from laughing. There were about ten different kinds of cream that he wanted her to buy and all of them cost a fortune.

  She had just one day cream that she often forgot to apply to her face before the foundation, and she was a woman, whereas Marc wanted an arsenal of skin care products she would have never dreamed to apply .

  At the end of the list there was even a disposable mobile phone.

  Who had written that list was evidently unacquainted with Berenice’s salary and her monthly budget!

  She was about to screw up the sheet and throw it somewhere, when she saw what was written in big block capitals on the back: a torrent of threats and blackmails that Marc would have put into practice if someone had found out about his presence at her home or what had happened to him.

  If that were needed! I’m not gonna tell anyone my bad luck!

  She stepped out of her bedroom more frustrated than ever.

  She passed by her special guest’s bedroom.

  Another sheet was hanging on the door:

  "Don’t disturb me because i’m sleeping and don’t make any noise because i’m a light sleeper. Thank you."

  At least this time he wrote “Thank you”. That’s an improvement.

  She choked back some other curses and contented herself with having a quick shower and wearing the first clothes that came her way with a pair of flat pumps, so that she could walk without making any noise.

  She avoided having breakfast, thanking herself for having the box of chocolate plain biscuits in the drawer of her desk and the coffee machine next to her office. At least she wasn’t going to die of hunger till lunch time.

  With an irritated gesture she took the note and put it into her pocket, but before leaving she decided to answer him:

  "No. 1: I’m not far-sighted, but short-sighted, so I see very well from close up.

  No. 2: I’m sure that in the kitchen you can get a bite to eat for breakfast even if it’s not something wholemeal and the fruit can be just a little bit ripe.

  No. 3: I’ll try to meet all your needs according to my budget that covers two-three listed products on average, so I’ll take the liberty of choosing what to buy.

  No. 4: On the fridge you’ll find a note with all contact numbers (including mine) to use JUST in case of emergency.

  No. 5: I’ll leave you the keys of the car that YOU made me wreck. If you aren’t too busy, could you call someone (see no. 4) who would tow it before my next-door neighbors and the administrator of the condominium blame me? I’ll be grateful to you.

  Have a nice day.

  B.

  P.S.: don’t flood my house. Don’t set fire to my house. Don’t destroy my house. But above all, DON'T GET HURT!

  P.P.S.: I forgot to tell you that I’m not gonna come back home for lunch, so you should make something to eat on your own. I had no time to make you something since I had to get out earlier because from now on I’ll have to go to work on foot because of you."

  To her great satisfaction, she showed off her note in front of the coffee machine and went out without being careful to make noise while turning the key in the lock of the front door.

  Walking along the streets of the town early in the morning helped her clear her mind and relax.

  When she got to work she realized to be ten minutes early so, without waiting for Sandy, made for the hot drinks vending machine to have a cappuccino.

  The girl was just starting to sip her hot drink comfortably sitting at her desk, when she heard her cellphone ring.

  She read the name on the display: “Home”.

  “Hello,” she answered.

  “Number one: you may not be far-sighted, but you’re surely illiterate, because my requests weren’t absolutely negotiable!” shouted Marc on the phone, making her jump out of the chair. “Number two: the fruit you wanted to dish me up wasn’t ripe but rotten! That’s gross! Number three: I absolutely do not trust your choices and I don’t care about your budget! Ask for a loan! And as if that wasn’t enough, do I even have to prepare lunch by myself? Are you joking, aren’t you? You surely don’t want me to be cut while I’m slicing some bread or to burn my hand while I’m using your oven, or to be electrocuted while…”

  “I got it!” she cut off exasperated. “Order something to eat.”

  “With what money? You didn’t even leave me two cents. Not even a beggar would be treated like this.”

  “You’re a famous and rich man,” she hissed, lowering her voice to not be heard by her colleagues. “How is it possible that you don’t have any money for a pizza?”

  “Oh, now the fault is mine, isn’t it?! You know, yesterday I didn’t think that an insane girl carried me away from the set in her rotting clunker and finally broke my nose… If only I had known about my kidnapping maybe I could have…”

  “Kidnapping? Now would I even have kidnapped you? You’re out of your mind!”

  “And how do you call a handsome, rich and talented boy like me being held incommunicado in a messy house that is full of mildewy food? I feel like a hostage.”

  “If you want to go away, you can open the door from inside,” burst out Berenice in a towering rage.

  “I don’t want to go away. Not with a swollen and aching nose! Now I’m only hungry, ok? I couldn’t have breakfast too.”

  Berenice sighed in sign of surrender. “I’ll try and do the shopping tonight,” she tiredly calmed him down, thinking about how many things she should have done for him and his needs that evening. But there was something else. Something that she was forgetting.

  “Can you have a pizza delivered to me for lunch at least? I’ve only my credit card and…”

  “Do you have your credit card? But then why do you want to use my money?”
she lost her temper again.

  “Berry, you don’t get it, do you? I don’t use my credit card and my cellphone just to not be traced by my manager! Why do you think I also wrote a disposable mobile phone in the list?”.

  “And how was I supposed to know that?”

  At last, after an endless discussion about what kind of pizza he wished, Berenice could hang up.

  “Nice, you made me hungry! With whom were you talking about pizza at this time of the morning?” intervened Sandy, sitting comfortably in her chair next to her friend’s desk.

  “With James, my cousin,” she lied.

  “Never heard about him.”

  “He lives in Chile and I never see him. He arrived yesterday by plane and is gonna stay at my home for a few days since Roy’s bedroom is vacant,” continued Berenice referring to James Cork, her real second cousin who lived in Chile and whom she hadn’t seen in fifteen years at least.

  “Ah, maybe you told me about him once.”

  “Sandy, can I ask you a favor?” she changed the subject avoiding some other questions. “Can I borrow your car at lunchtime today? I’ ve a few urgent things to do and this morning I had to take mine into the shop.”

  “Did it break down again?” asked Sandy, ready to find an explanation in the stars.

  “The engine doesn’t start any longer. I think this time it’s definitively done, but the mechanic told me that he’ll do his possible.”

  Luckily the arrival of new matters to deal with distracted Berenice and the whole morning finally flied serenely as usual.

  5

  The lunch break was a race against the clock and Berenice could only buy a pair of jeans that cost her a fortune, together with one of the T-shirts Marc had described in great detail in his list. Her last savings were spent in an expensive perfumer’s shop. When she had gone out that morning she had set herself the goal of spending the bare minimum, but she had finally felt guilty and been influenced by the fact that Marc Hailen was not an ordinary man. Not to mention that swollen nose that she could not forget…

  She did not even time to have lunch and in the afternoon used up all her stocks of biscuits with some hot chocolate to be more dynamic until the evening.

  “Shall we have a cup of ice cream with whipped cream?”, suggested Sandy while switching off the pc at her desk.

  “I’d like to, but I’ve to come back home,” apologized Berenice who now had very little money left in her billfold.

  “Want a lift?” offered Sandy, going out.

  “I’d rather walk,” lied her colleague, being worried at the thought that Sandy could invite herself at her home.

  “You didn’t start a new diet without me, did you?”

  “No, I didn’t,” she hastened to clarify, knowing how much her friend wanted to not stay alone in the world of large-sized women.

  Once she was free at last, Berenice could relax in spite of the physical exertion and the three heavy bags that she was carrying.

  She had almost arrived at her house when noticed a new shop next to it.

  Every day she passed by that shop, but by car and in the traffic jam she never paid attention to it.

  It was a small shop selling organic products and in its window there was a table laid out for breakfast with fruit-, wholegrain- and maple syrup-based natural products.

  She decided to go in, prompted by Marc’s words.

  The shop was spacious, well-lit, clean and sweet-smelling.

  In better spirits because of such warm atmosphere, she ventured between the shelves where a couple of about forty was finishing to arrange the rice and soya milk cartons.

  She found a myriad of natural skin products and the brand of some of them was the same of those listed by Marc.

  She touched her face. It was smooth and soft, but certainly not as perfect as Marc’s.

  Maybe she should have been more careful about her appearance too…

  She sighed while leaving the fragrance department and went to the food one where she decided to buy wholemeal rusks, biscuits and crackers, promising herself she would eat them too instead of all that junk food that she usually bolted down.

  Unluckily she had little money and the credit card was now off limits if she did not want to be called by her bank, so she opted for some apricots, plums, apples and bananas.

  U nexpectedly happy for the most genuine shopping that she had ever done, she headed for the cash desk where the cashier thanked her for her purchases and filled the shopping bag with several face cream samples, some of which had the brand written down by Marc. Finally the cashier informed her that the shop would have been open after 9 p.m. in order to promote the summertime.

  When she got home she still felt happy like a child, but as soon as she opened the front door she only wanted to cry.

  The house was in a piteous state. There was a mess everywhere. More than usual.

  Sprawled out on the sofa, in front of the tv, she found her hateful guest submerged by chips and popcorns, empty cans of beer, crusts of pizza and demolished yoghurt and pudding pots.

  “Why have you arrived at this time? You could call. I was about to call one of the numbers listed in the note stuck on the fridge,” he burst out, noticing her presence.

  “I did shopping. For you,” she answered tartly, handing him badly the bags, and Marc suddenly rummaged in them critically.

  “And where’s the rest?”

  “T hat’s all.”

  “That’s all? A T-shirt, a pair of jeans, two soaps, do they seem all to you?”

  “Today I’ve drained my savings for you! I’ve never spent so much money even for my boyfriends or friends.”

  “The typical tightwad girl,” he remarked in a low voice, taking his bags to his bedroom.

  “I’m not tightwad. I’m just not as rich as you’re,” she shouted at him, offended in the doorway.

  She was expecting another insult and instead saw Marc turning to her and handing her one of the shopping bags.

  “This one, is it for me too?” he asked, showing her what she had bought at the organic shop.

  “Yes, it is. You told me you want something with wholegrain and fruit, so I popped round to the new shop that has been set up near here. I hope these things are to your liking.”

  “I like them very much. Thank you. I didn’t ask you for them, but you bought them anyway. It was very kind of you,” he said with an unusual soft and warm voice.

  “I’m glad to hear that. I’ll go and put everything in the kitchen, so tomorrow you’ll have the breakfast you like,” answered Berenice awkwardly , ill at ease for his closeness and for touching his hands for a second when she took the bag, but above all for that unexpected kindness.

  She rushed into the kitchen to put the shopping in the cupboard, to tidy up the counter and… collect her ideas.

  All she needed was that she started to like Marc!

  The girl had almost finished to clean up the counter and load the dishwasher with the dishes that had been left to soak in the sink for two days, when she saw Marc going out of his bedroom wearing the new clothes.

  She caught her breath from the shock: at that moment she realized to be in front of the famous movie star and former violinist Marc Hailen. The very famous Marc Hailen.

  At once her legs turned to jelly and her heart began to race like mad, making her brain go haywire.

  “Well, how do I look?” asked Marc, showing off one of his most beautiful smiles.

  “Do I really have to answer you?” hardened Berenice, pretending to pay much more attention to an invisible stain on the kitchen counter.

  “Yes, you do.”

  “As if you didn’t know…”

  “I like to hear that I’m very sexy and charming.”

  “As if your huge ego really needed that.”

  “ What’s that got to do with it?! Everybody likes to be complimented.”

  “Maybe…”

  “Don’t you?”

  “I don’t. I hate both complime
nts and those who pay them to others.”

  “Why?” he asked, surprised.

  “Because they aren’t often heartfelt,” muttered Berenice, still feeling hurt by the put-ons of her liceo classmates who enjoyed laughing behind her back. Even though many years had passed, she would have never forgotten the day when she had overheard her friends laughing at her and at her excess pounds from behind the toilet door… or the wedding of a distant cousin of hers, when she overheard her aunt remarking with her mother on how the dress the girl was wearing did not suit her, when only a few minutes earlier her aunt had complimented her on her wonderful formal dress.

  “What about you? Are you heartfelt?”

  “Yes, I’m.”

  “Even at the risk of offending anyone?”

  “ On principle I’ve never offended anyone. If I like something, I’ll make it explicit. If I don’t like anything, I’ll answer that it’s eclectic.”

  “ Eclectic?!”

  “Yes. It’s a word that means nothing special, but people love it.”

  “What about me? Am I eclectic with these clothes on?

  No, you’re gorgeous!

  “A little bit,” she lied just not to give him the satisfaction of conceding it.

  “And do you know how I figure out what people think about me?”

  “I’m all ears.”

  “I deduce people like me not from what they say but from other elements.”

  “What kind of elements?”

  “For instance I deduce I made an impression on a girl who’s in front of me when she goes as red as a raspberry or if she looks at me with wide-open eyes,” explained Marc, insinuating, while coming closer to her. “So I know you like me.”

  “What a stuck-up boy!” immediately defended herself Berenice, flushing still further.

  “The girl who’s just spoken has all The Dark Angels’ cds, the photos taken at a concert of mine and other ones downloaded from the internet where, for some mysterious reason , I’m always bare-chested!”